C H A P T E R    T H I R T Y T W O

Explanations and Ed

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THE BLISTERING COLD of these northern winds whipped around Louis as he trudged on, biting at the very tops of his cheekbones, nipping at his toes even through the boots he wore, freezing the moisture leaking around his eyes so that his eyelashes were probably frosted by now. He couldn't really make himself any smaller, any more compact to avoid the cold; his arms were already hugging his own torso, his shoulders already hunched, his chin tucked into Harry's scarf...

Harry. Northern winds. North Pole.

Louis closed his eyes and refused to let himself think about it. Not yet. Not now. He had to focus instead on remembering the directions to Ed's place, on not succumbing to this fucking weather. How did anyone survive here? Why did he think making this trek tonight was a good idea?

Maybe if Harry hadn't been such a...a dick, an insensitive, cruel... But no. Harry wasn't those things usually, ever. What had gotten into him tonight? Especially after Louis had told him everything? He'd come clean about this for the first time ever, and this is how Harry reacts?

It's Louis' fault, really. He knew this would all end up biting him in the ass, and though he didn't think his admitting something very personal to him would be the thing he did to screw it all up, he supposed he should have known. There's only so much you can tell a person, right? Before it's too much?

He guessed he just thought Harry would be able to take it. He waited long enough, spent enough time with him, he...he'd come to care about him far more than he planned to. Fuck.

Releasing something akin to a growl, Louis ripped the scarf off his neck – it smelled so much like Harry, even in the dead of this bloody winter – and threw it down onto the snow-covered path. He stepped on it, kicked it. Stepped on it again. He wouldn't cry, but dammit this felt like it would help.

Eventually he stepped over it and continued on, deciding he'd rather not spend any more time out here in this frigid wasteland than he had to. He was over halfway to Ed's house, if Harry's directions were accurate. It's time to keep moving.

Part of Louis hated that Ed's place was the only escape he had here. He didn't expect to need one, to be fair, when he agreed to come along, but he'd prefer to be alone. That's the best way he knew how to deal with things, to think them through. He never liked having an audience. It was of course different with Harry, but...

He stopped walking. The snow beneath his boots crunched as he came to a halt, and he began thinking about making the trip home in that bizarre, uncomfortable train alone. About going back to his flat alone, coming home to Lottie and explaining why Harry wasn't with him.

Something in his chest might have cracked at the thought.

Without considering how much time he'd be losing, he turned around and retraced his steps. When he encountered Harry's scarf, he picked it up, brushed it off as best he could with his frozen, gloved fingers, and then held it tightly as he wrapped his arms around himself again and hurried on his way.

❄●❄

HARRY WAS RIGHT – Ed wasn't home. Louis was hoping he might be by now, as he's certain he's been walking for well over an hour. But the front door was unlocked, and Louis didn't think twice before hurrying inside, expecting warmth and a comfortable sofa to rest on.

He was met with only one of those two things. It was essentially as cold inside as it was outside, only there was no wind. Louis cursed, slipping his boots off but leaving everything else on as he flipped on a light switch and scanned the room for Ed's stash of firewood. Once he found it, he quickly went to work building a fire, fearing the eminent loss of his fingers if he didn't warm them up soon.

This wasn't his house, and he obviously didn't want to touch anything, as he didn't know Ed very well yet, but he decided Harry's best mate probably wouldn't care if Louis found something to drape Harry's scarf over in front of the fire to dry. So he did that, and then he resigned to sitting on the sofa and waiting.

And really, this was what he'd wanted anyway. He was finally alone...and not halfway towards becoming the next Captain America.

Sighing and letting himself fall back into the comfort of the old, worn, obviously lived-in sofa, Louis finally let himself replay his entire conversation with Harry. He wanted to see if there was something he missed, some kind of key thing he might have said that would have made Harry think this could be a laughing matter. But there was nothing, there was abso-fucking-lutely nothing.

And it was ridiculous. The whole thing, the North Pole elf thing was genuinely the most ridiculous thing Louis has ever heard. He still couldn't believe Harry had said it. His pulse began quickening as he shook his head slowly to himself. Heat crawled up his neck, his face. Just...what had gotten into him? Louis wanted to understand only this, if nothing else. What changed?

Fuck, he's got a raging headache. So he closed his eyes, even though he knew what would be waiting there for him when he did.

For the first time in over a year, Adam was there in his entirety now that Louis had acknowledged him earlier. He was...he was...exactly how Louis remembered him, which isn't surprising, because this was all in his head. But he was wearing that outfit he wore that day out on the bridge, and he was wearing the hat Louis had given him, and he still had week-old scruff along his jaw, his chin, his upper lip. His eyes were still that icy blue.

But to Louis' surprise, Adam was not alone. Beside him, though a few steps behind, stood someone Louis hasn't seen in almost two decades. His father. And in the blinding white light of the world he and Adam currently existed in, his eyes were the same blazing blue. The same but different, because that blue was Louis' blue.

Louis felt the hairs on the back of his neck, his arms, stand up. His fingers curled in, hands clenching into fists at the sight. He wasn't angry about it. He was sad.

He didn't like thinking about it anymore because it didn't matter, but this was a sight he'd always hoped to see someday, back before the Adam thing happened. He used to feel like Adam was exactly the type of person his father would have hoped he'd have ended up with. And he didn't like admitting it, but perhaps he even hoped marrying Adam would be enough to make his dad come back into his life. To want to, since nothing else could ever make him.

With his eyes closed here and now, with Adam and his father standing so close together and in the same place, nothing really happened. At first they both just stared back at Louis like they're waiting for something, and he's about to try and figure out what, and then Adam said, "Open your eyes." And a moment later, Louis' dad said, "Open your eyes."

So he did. The front door was creaking open, a gust of that frozen, festering wind whipping into the small house. For some reason, Louis half expected it to be Harry.

It was Ed, who spotted Louis very quickly and smiled pleasantly. "Louis."

Louis jumped to his feet, forgetting completely that this wasn't his place and he hardly knew Ed and wow, why had he made himself comfortable on this sofa? Who the fuck did he think he was?

Before he could say anything, Ed, oblivious to his inner struggle, asked, "Where's your lesser half?"

Louis coughed and mumbled, "His place."

"Oh. What brings you here then?" Ed was hanging up his winter gear, looking hardly troubled or ruffled by the weather he'd just been stuck in. But Louis watched him intently, watched him remove first his boots and then his coat, his scarf, his gloves, and then he reached for his hat, and... And thought better of it. He dropped his hand and turned away from his doorway, looked toward the kitchen.

"Why've you left your hat on?" Louis asked instead of coming up with an answer right away. Besides, he just wanted to see...

Without missing a beat, Ed said, "I'm worried I might have hat hair. Wouldn't want to scare you off; we've hardly gotten to know each other yet."

"I don't care, mate. You can take it off," Louis insisted.

"It's alright. I'm really self-conscious about hat hair."

"I truly won't think anything of it." After a thought, Louis removed his own hat, revealing his surely matted down mop. "See? Me too."

Ed finally paused his trek to the kitchen, one hand on the fridge's handle, staring over his shoulder at Louis through contemplative eyes that had Louis nearly squirming. But he couldn't back down. He had to know. After a moment, Ed asked, "Why are you here, Louis?"

It wasn't unkind. It was curious and suspicious.

So Louis snorted and lowered his own gaze to his hat, which he found himself fidgeting with. Right to it, then. With a sigh, he put the hat back on.

Ed proceeded with opening his fridge. The familiar sound of glass bottles clanking together alerted Louis to a much-needed refreshment in his very near future. After Ed handed it to Louis, he disappeared into another room for a moment before returning with a guitar.

And Louis was thinking that he was right. Sure, Ed wouldn't remove his hat, but this was...too normal to take place anywhere like the bloody North Pole. And if Ed was an elf, surely he wouldn't have alcohol lying around. Fuck, when Harry first encountered alcohol in London, he was so pissed he hardly remembered where he lived. For all Louis knew, that could have been a ploy to make his little joke or lie believable in the future. But Ed wasn't playing Harry's game; he had alcohol here.

As Ed sat himself on the other end of the sofa, Louis sat down again as well, trying to be proud that he'd come to the conclusion he had. He'd figured it all out, after all. But he couldn't help feeling a little disappointed, a little sad, as he mumbled around the rim of his bottle, "I knew it."

Ed was fingering the strings of his guitar, staring down at them comfortably, unbothered. "Knew what?"

Louis shook his head, pausing only to sip his beer. "Harry said the stupidest thing, I... It was fucking stupid."

"Well, spill. I get inspiration from the stupid shit he spews."

Louis wanted to chuckle, really. Ed was already being a gracious host. But he was a little put out by the realization that he was right; he couldn't find it very funny. "He said – honestly I feel stupid saying it."

Still unbothered and still staring at his guitar strings, Ed said, "Lay it on me. I know the source."

And maybe Louis was frustrated by Ed's lack of concern, of interest, almost like he hardly cared about this conversation at all, that Louis blurted, "He said he was an elf. That you were an elf, that everyone here was an elf, and that this is the goddamn North Pole."

Finally, Ed stopped playing. He reached for his own beer, which had been sitting on the coffee table in front of them since he sat down. Louis watched him, and then suddenly he was chuckling, bringing the bottle to his lips and shaking his head, muttering, "Haven't heard him lie like that in years."

Louis nodded, almost gravely. He'd been convinced a few minutes ago, but if there was any doubt in his mind... Ed had just cleared it up for certain.

Once Ed set his beer down, he continued. "Fucking half-elf claiming full blood."

Louis started. "Sorry, what?"

Ed began plucking again. "He's not full elf – his father was human. It's why he's taller than the rest of us and has ears like you and not me." As soon as the words were past his lips, he removed his hat and tossed it over his shoulder. "Don't mind my hat hair."

In place of the usual, rounded ears Louis expected to find were delicate points, familiar only because he's seen movies and illustrations in children's books. But they were there, right in front of his eyes, and they looked a lot like the carriage driver's. They looked really fucking real.

When Louis' breathing felt like it was becoming shallow, Ed finally met Louis' gaze. He smiled softly and set his guitar down, reaching up to ruffle his hair as he adjust his body so that it was angled more toward Louis. He reached for his beer again. "Ask."

But Louis' tongue wasn't working, and even if it was, he didn't know what to say. He just continued to stare.

Ed took a gulp of his beer and glanced up at his ceiling. "There are different jobs we can have here. Gemma and Anne are teachers. You can be a worker elf, which are the ones you've likely heard most about. Make the toys and all that. You can train the reindeer. You can be a Hit-Maker Elf. That's what I do; that's what Harry did.

"But," he went on, "Harry quit a few months ago because our elders canceled Christmas, and then he went to London. He met you. And him leaving was...that's not something anyone here does, ever. When he came back the first time, it was because Anne wanted him to speak with the elders about Christmas, but he – "

Louis finally regained control of his tongue. "Stop. Just...stop."

"Too much?"

"Not too much, too impossible. This is impossible. There's no explanation that would make bloody sense, like – "

"Why do you need an explanation?" Ed asked, his voice unnervingly calm, as it always is. "What if there isn't one?"

Louis threw his hands up. "It's totally logical to want an explanation – "

"Explanations limit the human experience. And the elf experience." A wink, damn him. "They're not always necessary. People accept lots of things without explanations."

"Name five."

Grinning at the challenge, Ed sat up straighter and began counting on his fingers. "Certain aspects of religion, love, my good looks – "

At this point, Louis had given up and began downing the rest of his beer. Ed noticed and began chuckling, unable to finish his list. For the first time all night, Louis was able to chuckle with him. "I'm going to need another one."

Ever the good host, Ed fetched him another, and when he's sat back in his spot, Louis reached out and touched one of his ears. Because they didn't look fake, but neither did the pointed elf ears in the movies, and they obviously were. Or were they? Now he didn't know. He didn't fucking know anything.

"What's a Hit-Maker Elf?" Louis asked then.

"You should probably ask Harry that."

And Louis wasn't sure where he stood on all this, what he believed or thought about it, but at the very least he was at the point where he could agree with Ed. He should ask Harry the rest of his questions. He should let Harry explain whatever it is he'd wanted to explain before. He should go back.

So he nodded and stood. His second beer was still mostly full, but he set it down to redress, wrapping Harry's mostly dry and very warm scarf securely around his neck again. It still smelled like him. Like Harry and campfire.

He grabbed his beer as he maneuvered around Ed's legs and the coffee table in the small living room, and before he reached the front door, he paused and turned. Ed was watching him, having pulled his guitar back onto his lap. Louis said, "You're alright."

The carrot-top grinned again. "As are you, though I already knew as much. Harry has good taste."

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THE WALK BACK seemed to take less time than the walk to Ed's place, though it was absolutely no less cold. Again, Louis was pretty certain his fingers were moments away from falling off by the time he finally hustled inside. And again, he was greeted with a freezing house.

"The fuck," he whispered to himself, expecting Harry to have gone to bed by now. Through the faint night light plugged into an outlet in the kitchen, Louis could see that he had. Just on the sofa.

He stripped off his outerwear, hanging Harry's scarf back on the hook he'd taken it from, and then he built another fire. What was it with these people...elves? Whatever they were. Didn't they get cold?

Once he was sure it wouldn't go out, Louis approached the sofa. Harry's expression was troubled, even in sleep. There was a crease between his brows, his lips pursed in a slight pout. Louis wanted to reach out and smooth that crease with his fingertips, ease away the pout. Instead he brushed some of Harry's hair out of his face, which was enough to jostle him into a somewhat conscious state.

Louis quickly put his hands on Harry's shoulders, as he was already trying to sit up. "Easy, H. It's me. Scoot over, 'm fucking freezing."

Harry's eyes were mostly closed, just barely parted, but he acted as though he was awake. His head tilted up like he was looking at Louis towering over him, and then he was scooting, sliding further into the sofa so that there was room for Louis to climb onto it as well.

Harry's arms were around him immediately, pulling Louis tight against him, and he's almost instantly warmed up. Harry has always radiated heat, Louis remembered, but he didn't think he was ever properly grateful for it until now. No wonder he wasn't cold without the fire.

Louis' face was tucked up into Harry's neck. When Harry sighed breathily, contentedly, Louis felt the heat of it on his own neck, felt his entire body ease into relaxation along with Harry's as he settled back into sleep. As he shivered from something entirely other than the cold, he decided he could never go home without Harry. Not now.