Burning Skies » larry

Chapter 22

Harry was getting good at making little ice sculptures out of thin air. Yesterday, he'd shyly given Louis a flower-shaped one, telling him that it was much better than the misshapen star he'd given him the other day. Louis had stopped his ramblings by pulling him into a kiss.

Days had already passed since then, and things were suspiciously quiet lately. Katrina and Zayn still updated them regularly about news concerning Reid, but so far, all they knew was that the council was doing their best to hunt him down. Even though it was unsettling knowing that the man was out there somewhere posing a threat to Harry by merely existing, Louis had calmed down a bit regarding the situation. He still kept a close eye on Harry and barely ever left his side, but he just wasn't as paranoid as he was before, thinking that the moment he blinked, Harry would be quickly snatched away from him.

Louis was also confident in Harry himself, who had improved greatly in controlling his power. That was all thanks to their regular training sessions.

Right now, they were in Judy's basement. The room was colder than usual, Harry standing still in front of him, his eyes closed. Louis watched him closely, noticed the way his lashes fanned over his upper cheek, the way his chest rose and fell as he concentrated. Harry's right hand was outstretched, his palm facing Louis' general direction.

"That's it, deep breaths." Louis said softly as to not startle him.

Behind Louis on the other end of the room were several targets. Louis had been making sure that if worse came to worst, Harry would know how to properly defend himself and not rely on mere instinct as a way to avoid harming himself as well. Louis didn't want to think of the possibility of Harry facing Reid's mutants alone, but it was something they both knew could still happen.

When Louis had asked Harry earlier about what his move would be to protect himself, Harry had said he would probably just freeze them again like he'd done before. While that worked well enough for Harry to get away from them, Louis told him that that kind of move would no doubt wear him out quickly.

"I feel like my fire runs out whenever I make a huge flame, you know? It might be the easiest and quickest thing to do at that moment, but if you're outnumbered and the fight continues even after you make that move, you'll be at a disadvantage. You have to be wise on where you'll alot your energy." Louis had told him.

Because of Harry's little ice sculpture creations, an idea came to Louis' mind.

"Make blades out of your ice, then." Louis had said.

"I mean, I think I used to make these pointy, long sticks before? But I'm too slow," Harry'd said, looking embarrassed 

"Then we're going to practice." 

Which was why they'd been practicing this for at least three hours straight, and while Harry was obviously putting effort and trying really hard, they weren't making much progress.

Harry took a breath, curling his hand into a fist. A sharp tip emerged from the small space in between his thumb and pointer finger. Sure enough, he'd molded a blade-like form out of his ice. Louis was endlessly amazed.

"There you go," Louis said, moving to stand beside him with a hand on his hip. He inspected the ice blade—it was solid and light, sure to cut straight through the air and towards its target.

"See, I take so long." Harry grumbled.

"It's okay, babe." Louis said, squeezing his hip. "Let's try aiming and throwing, yeah?"

"Okay," Harry said.

Louis stood behind him, adjusting his stance, especially the space between his legs and the position of his arms. He lifted Harry's arm which was holding the blade and bent it backwards so that his wrist was closer to his shoulder. Louis smoothed his hands down Harry's back, straightening his posture. Harry's unoccupied hand was left hanging by his hip, slightly outstretched to the side.