𝐍𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐬 ✓

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓢𝓲𝔁

PUBLISHED ONLY ON WATTPAD

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"Oh God, oh God, oh God," Harry mutters. "Oh God!" then yells.

"Don't panic, my little princey," Louis says, standing up. He groans, bending a bit and putting a hand over the wound. "We have to find healing plants and tie something around my torso to stop the bleeding."

"W—what about the — the arrow that is inside?"

"We leave it there. The broadhead itself might provide the pressure needed to stop the bleeding and allow clotting to occur around it," Louis shakily says.

"Okay… Okay. And plants?"

"It's autumn, I'm not sure if we could find them. Can you help me take off my jacket?"

"Yes," Harry says and helps Louis stand straighter so he can easier strip the jacket. Louis takes the flask with water after the jacket is off, pushing the shirt up so the wound is again visible. He pours a bit of water around the wound to clean it, managing not to yell and then lets the shirt fall. He takes the jacket Harry gives him, ties it around his torso so that the sleeve knot is pressing on the wound.

Harry is watching him with concerned eyes. It is his fault he is hurt. They will not come near any people who can help him, who have medical supplies, in days. Harry hopes Louis will survive that long, that he will not bleed to death.

"Let's go. I hope, even though we're officially still enemies, you'll hurry your ass so I don't die," Louis grunts as struggles to go uphill.

"Who says we are still enemies? I think we are past that. I mean, you did have your hand in my pants. And you have saved my life. I do not think enemies do that."

"Maybe I'm trying to stay on your good side to kidnap you without struggle," Louis is lying and it is pretty obvious.

"Doubt it. Let me help," Harry offers, not waiting for Louis to deny or accept. He picks him up, carrying him bridal style. Louis squeals, not expecting that from Harry.

"Don't your feet hurt?" Louis teases through the pain.

"Do not remind me or I might let you fall."

"You wouldn't. You need me."

"You have taught me how to find the south so…"

"But you don't know how to hunt."

"Like hell you are hunting in this shape!" Harry stops, looking at Louis angrily.

"You're cute when you're mad," Louis says, putting one hand on Harry's cheek and leaning in. His lips touch Harry's, they are so soft, like the finest material. Harry and Louis do not move their lips or use tongues, they are just pressing them together. They have their eyes closed, the wind is lightly blowing as the sun shines on them. They pull apart from the kiss.

"You are saying I am not cute when I am not mad?"

"No, you're not. You're beautiful then."

"No. You are beautiful, I am handsome."

"Harry… it doesn't matter," Louis says and goes for another kiss that Harry welcomes.