Hello! I hope that you'll enjoy this chapter. It will include more of Harry's background as well as some of Louis'.

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"It's so cold." Louis said, shivering when a gust of wind caught him. He could hear the grass and wildflowers rustle over the moors. Large puddles had gathered where the earth dipped, brown and cold, and Louis took great joy in jumping in them. The sky over the moors had turned from white to a deep grey, and the clouds passed through at great speed. It was to rain, soon, Louis smelt the water nearing, along with the sounds of the cattle grazing in the endless fields and-when the wind blew in the right direction-he smelt Harry's aftershave.

Louis jumped into another small puddle that was hidden between grass-covered lumps of soil, and he laughed when the water splattered up his bare legs. Harry watched him, unsure. He was unsure of Louis' laughter, if it came from the joy of jumping in puddles or of having wellies and a new coat after years of wearing the same outfits. Those wellies that Louis wore, ladybug red and black, were ones that he'd vowed to never take off except to wear his ballet slippers. When he'd unwrapped the yellow anorak and retrieved it from the bag that Harry had given him, he'd smiled so truly that Harry had wondered if this boy had ever worn a coat before.

Harry smiled then, feeling the cold wind blow his curls in his eyes, and he took off his scarf. When he pulled Louis out of the puddle and wrapped the scarf around his neck, he realised that he no longer minded the cold, for Louis' happiness was the only thing that he needed to feel warmth. The boy looked up at him, confused when Harry tied a knot in the end of the scarf, and his eyes matched it perfectly. "So blue." Harry said, pushing Louis' fringe aside. "The bluest I've ever seen." He then stood back up straight as the first drops of rain began to fall on the moors. "Are you warm?" he asked, "You won't catch a cold, will you?"

Louis shook his head, "This scarf smells like you." He said, and then he pushed it up to his nose to sniff it. Harry took his wrists and lowered his arms, "Please, stop doing that." He laughed.

"But I like your smell. It reminds me of you. Of when you kissed me."

Rain fell on Louis' stripy rain-hat and slid down to drip into the muddy puddle. Harry let it fall in his hair. Cold. "Did you like the kiss that much?" He asked, smiling, still holding Louis' wrists but neither of them realised it. Harry saw the tip of Louis' nose turn pink, and he leaned in, beneath Louis' rain-hat, and buried his face into the scarf to find the boy's cheek. It was warm when he kissed it, pink and squishy. Harry kissed it again.

While he did, the grey clouds burst open, and the rain that had dripped now poured. It felt as if buckets of water were being thrown on them, but neither of them cared. They were alone on the moors where Harry had spent his childhood. During the winter, he'd spent his days at his grandparents' farmhouse, sledging down the fields, building snowmen around the farmhouse, and looking after the lambs in the barn. During the warmer seasons, when the nights were long, he'd go with Grandpa to feed the sheep and the cattle, and to see the tiny white lambs being born. It had been a quiet childhood, the happiest he could have ever wished for, when he'd been out on the moors, and that was where he'd learnt to dance freely. Harry's Grandparents were country folk, and had never enjoyed too much company, and so-exiled from the village that was a twenty minute walk away-they'd built their lives around these fields and the wildlife. Harry had learnt to love animals-he'd fed sheep, watched birds, and fed baby foxes that had been left without a mother. He'd had a whole other life out here, a life of peace, and perhaps that was why he wanted Louis to share it with him.

And so, they both laughed in the rain-showers. Their clothes were soaking, their hair dripping, they were blinded by the water that fell on their faces, but they held each others hand, and that was company. All that they ever wanted was each other's company.

"Can you see that over there?!" Harry shouted over the wind and rain. He pointed to something brown in the distance, tucked away in the moors' hills. Louis peered at it, but he couldn't tell what it was. "That's my Grandparents' house!"

"Are they in?!" Louis shouted, rain standing on his eyelashes. Harry shook his head, saddened, and it didn't take long for Louis to guess why.

"Let's go there. I'll make you a hot chocolate by the fire!" Harry said, a smile returning to his face. He stroked Louis' cheek, and then shook his head, like a dog, splashing everything around him with water. Louis put his hands up and laughed, before following Harry down the moors to the little farmhouse, tucked away in the middle of nowhere. He could see that Harry struggled to walk over the soft earth and bumps in the soil. He tripped often, his prosthetic catching on every thick tangle of grass, but he never lost his smile. Not once.

After a long trudge back through the wind and rain, Harry and Louis finally reached the little farmhouse in the clearing. It was made of old brick-as most farmhouses were-and had a little barn to the side of it. A white brittle fence surrounded it, and stepping stones lead to the front door. Surrounding the house were high hills, and both Louis and Harry paused in wonder when they saw the thick country mist begin to tumble over the top of them like white waterfalls.

"Come on." Harry said, dragging Louis behind him as they ran through the rain. They clambered over the stile in the white fence, hopping on every stone of the path, and they finally reached the old front door. Silver chimes rang above it, and Louis giggled like a child when he listened to their music. He'd missed out on these sounds as a baby, and he put his hands up to touch the chimes before Harry stopped him. "Don't. You'll disrupt their music. Let them sing to you."

He turned a huge rusted key in the lock, and the door opened loudly. The musky scent emerged from within the house, but instead of neglect, the smell made Louis think of an old woman peeling potatoes over a saucepan, and an old farmer returning from the fields with a sheepdog in tow. It was a peaceful thing, a pleasant smell, and Louis was ever so glad to have skipped his Monday at school to follow Harry here instead. Wherever 'here' was. Louis had never been out of his own little village except to go to town. The furthest away from home where he'd ever gone had been on a school trip to a farm when he was only seven, but he couldn't remember that, at all. The only animals that he'd ever seen were domesticated, or beheaded on the shelves in the butchers. He couldn't remember country animals, had never seen wildlife, and he wanted to, Harry was sure that he'd love it.

"Take you wellies off, you'll tread mud everywhere." Harry told Louis, when the boy stepped onto the 'welcome' mat. Louis wiggled them off, looking around the room. It was small, cosy, the bricks on the outside also lined the walls within, and pictures hung there. There were photos of an old man holding a baby goat in his arms, pictures of an old lady in a flowery cotton apron feeding a baby lamb out of a bottle. Pictures of Harry's parents were there as well, and Louis recognised them from the magazines that he'd read. Harry's mother had been as beautiful back then as she was now, with her brown curls and pale skin and green eyes. Harry's father looked like a lot like the old couple who'd lived in this house. He had the same country look about him, the same creases in the corners of his eyes, the same dimples as his mother, and the same smile as his father.

Among all of those pictures, Harry was also there-the boy with the curls, he was. Louis had never seen a childhood like this, one so happy and peaceful, and he felt jealousy. It hurt him to think that it was possible to be so happy at such a young age, and it hurt even more to think that he'd never be able to experience the happy life that he'd missed out on.

"Go on. You're about to burst from curiosity. Take a look around." Harry insisted, upon seeing Louis look at the walls. He took the boy's hat, scarf, and yellow anorak, and watched Louis scamper away, mouth open, admiring everything that he saw. He'd always been like this, ever since Harry had met him-one to see every little thing with wonder and passion and nothing less than that. Louis degraded nothing, he was cruel to no one, even though the world had damaged him so much. Louis was a rare and wonderful person, and should the world actually take the time to stop and admire what he was really like, it would be amazed by what it would find.

Louis came to stop in the middle of a room with too many walls. Behind him, in the entrance, he heard Harry grunt in pain again. A fireplace awaited in a corner, in front of that sat a sofa with an old floral print on it. To Louis' right was a kitchen area, with an old chipped table, old chipped chairs, and wooden counters and cupboards along the wall. To his left was a spiral, carpeted staircase, and a pantry with a mustard-coloured curtain.

"Oh, you've made a puddle on the floor. Harry said, draping a blue towel over Louis' head. "You're cold. I'll fill the bath for you. It's an old tin bath, I hope that you don't mind."

"Tin?" Louis asked. Harry nodded; "My Grandparents were quite old fashioned. Besides, plumbing doesn't reach out here. When I was a boy, I used to sit in a tin bucket by the fire. Even as small as you are, I don't think that you'd fit in a bucket. Don't worry, though, I'll get you nice and warm."

"What about you? You're cold, too." Louis asked, following Harry up the spiral staircase.

"I can have a bath after you."

"Can't you have a bath with me?" Louis said, watching Harry's ankles as he walked up the stairs. The prosthetic squeaked loudly.

"A bath with you?" Harry repeated calmly. He reached the top of the stairs, and two white doors awaited on either side of a dusty bookshelf. He opened the one to his left and Louis followed him into the room.

"Well, you'd have to reheat the water again. So I was thinking, have a bath with me." Louis looked around the bathroom. The wooden floor had been painted white, the bricks on the walls had, too, and little nautical knick-knacks decorated it. He saw the tin bath, and peered into it. It was a tall bath, but narrow at the bottom.

"I would have to reheat the water." Harry said. "It's all heated by firewood and kettle water. I suppose that I should have a bath with you. It's a shame that we don't have more time. That we can't stay all night. I would have loved to show you the stars. At night, foxes come out, and hedgehogs too."

"Are there deer?" Louis asked, eyes glistening in wonder. He'd never seen a deer, and he wanted to. To him, deer were like unicorns, and he wanted to see a real life deer more than anything.

Harry smiled, putting a hand on Louis' head and stroking it. "Many of them."

*

Louis sat in the tin bath, water up to his neck, and then he slid under the water, blew some bubbles, and emerged with his hair in front of his eyes. Harry laughed from the edge of the bathtub, and then laughed again when Louis splashed him. "Stop, Louis, that's not fair." He said raising his hands in front of him as a shield. Louis laughed with him and leant on the side of the tin bath, looking at Harry and smiling peacefully, "Then come in here with me."

Harry shook his head, "I can't." He said.

"I'm not afraid of you, you know. You're not any less of a person because you're incomplete. The world loves you for your heart, for your smile, for your love.. not for what you look like, but even that is beautiful."

"But, it's weird. It would creep you out." Harry said, dragging a finger along the ridge of his prosthetic beneath his jeans.

"Your fear is stopping you from being free. If you don't give me a chance, you'll always be trapped like this. Don't let fear stop you. Ever. If you do, then you'll never be free, you'll never fly, and you have places to go."

Harry looked doubtful, but Louis pulled his hand from the bubbles and touched the man's cheek. He pushed those wet brown curls behind Harry's ear and smiled at him. "Do you trust me?" he asked, and it was only then that Harry smiled back, resting his face in Louis' hand.

"I trust you."

'What if we could find someone that Harry would dance with? Surely there must be someone that he trusts enough?'

'If there were one person left in the world that he would be willing to dance with-it's Louis.'

"What are you thinking?" Harry asked, "Did I say something wrong?"

Louis blinked, looked at Harry, and shook his head with a smile. "It's lonely in here without you. Ducky is sad." He picked up a worn out rubber duck and Harry smiled when he remembered all of the times that he'd played with it.

"Actually, his name is Gerald." He nodded at the duck and pulled his shirt off. It splattered on the ground in a wet pile of rainwater and mud, but he didn't care. He stood up, and unbuckled his jeans. He pulled them down slowly, hesitantly, and sat back on the rickety chair when they reached his knees. Louis' eyes were on him, but as strange as it was, Harry felt no judgement. He pushed his jeans down, exposing the prosthetic, and-after kicking off his socks-he took his jeans off completely. He pulled down his boxers, took off his necklaces and placed them in the windowsill. Outside, the mist was gathering, and the sheep had come down from the moors' hills to take cover around the farmhouse. Harry turned to his prosthetic and jumped when he saw Louis' fingers feeling it. He flinched back, and Louis did, too, but then both of them came back to one another. Louis moved his hand down the leg, and found a button by the ankle.

"Push it." Harry said, and Louis did as he was told. The prosthetic clicked, and Harry pulled it off. He then removed the first layer of material, and a second one with a sharp pin awaited beneath. His fingers slipped beneath the band, and he hesitated once more. There was only one layer between Louis' eyes and his amputated leg. Only one layer.

"No fear is greater than just before you let it go. Once that it's been overcome, it's not so terrifying after all." Louis said.

Harry looked at him, and the boy smiled. "I promise you that."

And so, the King of Ballet slipped the material down, and he pulled the remainders of his prosthetic away. He looked at Louis, terrified of the reaction, but as Louis looked at his leg, at the limb cut off just below the knee, there was no fear, no judgment, no disgust, and Harry began to wonder why he'd been keeping it hidden for so long.

Sure those blue eyes stayed on Harry's leg as he slid into the bath, but they were not cruel like he'd believed all of this time. Perhaps, in the end, it was just curiosity, and the feeling of being observed like a wild beast in a cage was all part of Harry's imagination. Louis had always known it, and now Harry understood as well, that difference was not always feared but wondered. And wonder comes from wonderful things only.

"It's warm." Harry said, sinking into the bath water. He dipped under it, and emerged again, feeling the heat sizzle on his cold skin. Steam shivered over the surface of the water and floated up to hide the reflections in the mirror and the view outside the window. Harry could feel Louis' body beneath the water. He was sitting cross-legged, taking up as little space as a puppy in a great dane's basket. Harry put a leg out and rested it over Louis' thigh. He kept his amputated leg tucked away, but Louis frowned and searched for it beneath the bubbles. His fingers touched Harry's skin, and the contact made tingles run through Harry's body. "Stretch your legs, you'll get stiff joints." Louis said, pulling Harry's leg out and resting that one on his other thigh. Harry felt uncomfortable, but when Louis returned to piling bubbles on the Gerald's head, he relaxed, and he smiled.

To think that someone who thought so lowly of themselves, someone who thought that no one in the world loved them, someone who would get surprised when they'd receive kindness.. To think that someone like that could be so important, could change someone's life so much and in such a short amount of time was incredible. Yes, Louis Tomlinson was a wonder, and there was no greater word to describe him.

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Hello again!

(I have a weak spot for people who analyse my story, honestly it makes me really happy idk)

This chapter is to teach you that:

- Fear shouldn't ever stop you, and you have the power to overcome it, if only you'd trust yourself.

- If you feel like people are staring at you, they aren't, and even if they are, it is not judgemental. It is always curiosity, and that is never a bad thing.

- If you feel like Louis-unloved and unnecessary-I promise you that you make other people's lives worth living. There will always be more to you than what you think. Don't let your life or yourself determine your worth. If you do, you'll never understand how great you truly are.

As I said, this book is to you, so I'm here to give you all of the advice. There is nothing but Love in this book, and no matter who you are, you'll always be welcome here.

Again, I hope that you liked this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please vote, comment, and share.

With my love, Lucy.