Young & Beautiful

Harry’s gaze continues to cut him.
And then suddenly Harry’s plucking the leaf from Louis’ hand and flinging it into the air with a
grand, swooping arm, a cheeky half smile formed on his face that bursts through the odd (odd)
mood and gloom, settling the vibe into something more comfortable.
Both heads watch as the leaf tumbles through the air, falling lazily and swirlingly until it lands on
the damp, graying ground, camouflaged amongst the mud and mole hills.
“Persephone has returned to Hades.”
And that’s the last think Louis is expecting, so he blinks as he turns to Harry, eyebrows shot in the
air. “Pardon?”
Harry turns to him, moist, clustered lashes blinking calmly. “The last leaf has fallen,” he says
simply, pointing to the ground. “Demeter’s weeping because her daughter’s returned to the
underworld.”
Louis continues to stare.
But Harry doesn’t mind, continuing in his slow, languid drip of a voice, eyes faintly pinched with
a dreamy amusement. “Demeter controls the crops and the yield and the seasons. The weather
reflects her feelings.” Harry looks up at the spitting, gray sky, squinting against the muted light
and precipitation. “That’s why everything’s gray and dead right now. She’s sad because she’s
lonely. She misses her daughter.”
Louis watches him, watches his lips form the words from memory.
“And cold as well? Because she’s unhappy?” he asks, eyes flitting across Harry’s face.
Harry nods, still staring up at the sky.
In some, inexplicable way, that pangs Louis’ insides. And while it hasn’t anything to do with
Harry, really—the boy seems the closest to happy that Louis has ever seen—it still unsettles him,
sitting with him strangely in his stomach.
Louis purses his lips before walking over to the fallen leaf, plucking it up from the ground.
Harry’s head snaps to him. “What are you doing?”
“Keeping hold of it, then.”
“Why?” he asks, startled.
“In case she ever misses Persephone, I’ll show it to her,” he explains as if this is a logical
conversation. But Harry doesn’t laugh or roll his eyes, so he doesn’t either.
“But won’t that make her sad?” Harry protests, childlike and curious.
Louis shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so. I think it’ll just serve as a reminder that she’ll be
coming back before too long.”
And then Harry grins, procuring enough light for the entire universe and momentarily causing
Louis to forget that the sun isn’t even out at all. It's sort of wondrous.
But then: