Two strangers learn
To fall in love again
I get the joy
Of rediscovering you — Journey, Faithfully
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Pre-Note: I seemed to forget this is a SLOW BURN fic. Pardon me. Here comes angst and stupid heart touchy things. Have fun ',:^)
p.s. I can promise u I had a totally different way I wanted the last chapter to go that was a slow burn way but I had this flow where I just wrote and wrote and it turned out to be fluff :^/ I'm so sorry for no angst but I will make up for it i promise !! Re-read the last chapter because that's all the fluff ur going to see in a long time (maybe not long but a while) — jas

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If there's one thing Louis' learned from his stay in Jasper, is that the cold always found its way to your bones. He could bury himself in blankets, soft cashmere sweaters and sit before a large roaring fire and it wouldn't be long until the cold came nibbling at his toes. It was the same with his memories with Jackson and his parents.

His mind has been wavering between consciousness and autopilot. He's sat on a bed in a guest room of Harry's house. The sheets were thick and warm, shielding him from the low temperature of the town. He traces shapes on the blankets, drawing mindlessly. Moments later, he can faintly hear the door opening and the creak of the floorboards.

"Louis, I brought you some oatmeal." It was Harry, holding a small tray and a bottle of water.

Louis only curled further into the bed. He just wanted to be alone, and he was too emotional to see that isolation was the worst thing he could do to himself. He sniffles and watches like a hawk as Harry sets down the tray on the nightstand and takes a seat on the bed, right by Louis' feet.

"Listen, I don't want to probe but I feel like you shouldn't be this quiet." Harry decides not to mention the fact he just got off the phone with Dr. Bloom who requested another appointment with Louis and even took it a step further to suggest a therapist. "Liam wants to talk to you tomorrow, I told him I'd ask you first."

Harry is met with silence, and he tries not to show anything other than concern. This is about Louis and Louis alone.

"Louis, you know you can talk to me." Harry presses gently. "C'mon..."

The darling nickname, Blue, was on the tip of his tongue.

Louis' next words surprise Harry. "Why do you care?" His tone carries such hurt and anger, Harry feels like a target.

"Blue—"

"Don't call me that."

Harry doesn't know where this change in attitude is coming from. Harry knows Louis loved being called Blue, mostly because only Harry called him it but he's afraid he's dead wrong this time.

"Just go away." Louis looks at Harry dead in the eye, his mouth quirked into a scowl. "You treated me horribly when I got here. Just do me a favour and continue."

That made Harry realize the truth. He wasn't a close friend of Louis—not enough so that he could hold him like one. Of course, he and Louis used to be close, but sometimes things are just never the same. He understands now and sees his mistakes—his stupid, stupid mistakes. He was so foolish to think of Louis as anything other than an ex, because that's who they were to each other, ex's.

A part of Harry was simply trying to make up for how he treated Louis in the past few days. But, that part of him grabbed the wheel and took things into a different direction. The time span of two days and Harry was considering that maybe the Louis he remembers is still in there, just hiding because he's scared and alone. Now, Harry knows that's not true. That past Louis is gone and so is past Harry—and that's okay because Harry and Louis were never meant to last anyway. He's nearly convinced himself of such.

It was a rollercoaster. Going from one extreme to another, from hatred to compassion. It was all too much and Harry is lucky Louis put a stop to it before things got out of control. God knows how long Harry's been single. And that seems like a logical explanation, Louis needed comfort, Harry needed company, Harry recognized Louis as someone he once knew and there were no boundaries.

And as Harry walks out of his guest bedroom that night, he shuts the door and once again, builds up his walls, as high as the clouds this time. He shielded himself from his true feelings because somethings are just not meant to be true and he and Louis were a prime example.

Hours later, Harry returns with a first aid kit. Louis is half asleep with he feels hands moving around his cocoon. He instinctively reaches for the person, his sleepy state begging for comfort.

Harry watches in the dim light of the lamp as the man who broke his fragile teenage heart reach for him in the same way Harry did all those years ago. He shakes the memories from his head because it's the only right thing to do. He carefully cleans Louis' cuts from his nails on the boy's palms, taking his time to count each one, they looked so red and angry on such delicate skin. It was a crime. After he wrapped the London boy's hands, he gently tucked him in again. He looks at Louis' eyelashes as they ghost his cheekbones. It was uncontrollable how Harry reached out and brushed his fingertips along Louis' nose, the same nose he used to pepper small kisses on. In a trance, Harry leans forward, lips millimeters from Louis', "why don't you want me?" His words as soft as clouds. "Why do you hate me, Blue?" His fingers trace through Louis' fringe. "I'm sorry, Blue." For the first time in years, Harry feels unwilling tears prickle in his eyes. "I'm sorry for everything, I only wish you were too."

He just wanted Louis to be the same Louis he knew. He wanted the Louis from before the man broke him, tore him to pieces, and shattered his world. But here he was, feeling unexplainable emotions for a man who destroyed him. It was so cruel.

The next morning is tense, to say anything. Louis doesn't leave his bed when he sees the sun rise from behind the mountains, and Harry comes once with breakfast and doesn't say a word. Louis didn't eat a bite of it and doesn't know how long he sits in his cocoon of blankets and sorrow until a loud clap of thunder pulls him from his trap of a mind. He buries his face into his current favourite blanket, a fuzzy yellow one with small clouds on it.

Not once did he think of the good in the world, he only thought of Jackson. Seeing his phone lying on the bedspread was enough to trigger him into a whirlpool of uneasiness. The smallest part of him wanted to call out for Harry, but his mind immediately took away his voice. It was poison, a poison he couldn't escape from.

It was like the weather changed in the span of an hour, a sunny morning turned into a gloomy rainy day. To Louis' luck, the power goes out.

He pulls himself out of bed and feels the blood rush to his feet. They feel tingly and he holds onto the bed for support, it's been so long since he's stood. Just as he's a few feet from the door before it swings open and a bright light shines in his eyes.

"Hey," it's Liam of all people. "Harry just went outside to check the fuse box." He offers Louis an arm. "Let's go downstairs, it's warmer and there are candles there."

Without a word, Louis drags his favourite blanket off the bed and follows Liam down the stairs of Harry's tiny house. There were only two bedrooms, one was the guest and the other was the master bedroom where Harry slept. A bathroom at the end of the hall and picture frames hung up on the wall leading down to the first floor. The living room wasn't something Louis got a good look at when he first arrived, now seeing it in the dim glow of the candles wasn't better. He could faintly see the green and grey curtains and the faint colour of red of the fireplace bricks surrounding the dying fire.

"Sit here." Liam leads Louis to a small fluffy green couch before tending to the fire. He places the flashlight on the table and grabs the thin metal stick. "So," He clears his throat, "How are you?"

The sound of Liam's strained voice only made Louis want to return to his cocoon of blankets upstairs. He merely tugs his favourite blanket over his head and holds a pillow close to his chest.

When Liam is met with silence, he coughs into his hand. "The power doesn't go out frequently, but when it does, it lasts a while." He tries to fill the silence. Once Liam deems the fire is as good as it is going to get, he stands to his full height. "Did Harry tell you about your appointment tomorrow?"

Liam wasn't really expecting a reply and chooses to ignore the fact that Harry, who once held such distaste for Louis, offered the latter shelter in his home.

"You have an appointment with Dr. Bloom tomorrow morning and an appointment with Dr. Constantine in the afternoon," Liam explains briefly. "He's a therapist." Liam finishes and is distracted by the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut to notice Louis' tense shoulders.

Harry walks in wearing a dripping raincoat and holding a heavy flashlight. It only takes the shine from the candles to see the dark bags under his eyes. "Power is completely out, I have to go see if the generators are still working." He slips off his wet coat and hangs it on the hook. "There's some more firewood by the backdoor." He tells Liam.

"You got me a therapist?" It's so strange to hear Louis' voice after so long.

Harry looks at Louis, dead in eyes with an even more lifeless expression. A loud clap of thunder rattles the tiny house and Harry watches Louis jump but keeps his hands to himself. "You need one."

NOTE: this is one of my fave stories to write and I will never get over the opportunity of writing for such an amazing prompt. please tell me your thoughts !! new update on April 17 at 8:00 pm est.