The Degradation (translation)

I believe in us 2

Louis' pov

Sunday afternoon. His room is finally finished. I mean, not really. It will only be finished when I finish what I'm doing.

"For God's sake! Get in there!"

Let me tell you, it's a hell of a lot of work to redecorate such a huge room. But it is even more difficult to paint the walls. Yes, maybe the painting process itself is quite easy, but when you have this fucking huge dog running around under your feet, it makes the situation a little more complicated. We washed Bastard three times. THREE TIMES. This idiot has some kind of fresh paint fetish. He turns the jar over and lies in the white liquid. No, seriously, if we hadn't dragged him away, he would have been lying there for hours. A sick dog. I'd like to take it to a psychologist. And, hell, washing huskies is harder than all twelve of Hercules ' feats combined. Harry and I got a lot wetter each time than he did, and he found it very funny. I actually fell in the tub yesterday. Literally. Bastard jumped out of it, walked around me, and pushed me inside. Do you understand? I was just taking a deep breath to start yelling when Harry suddenly laughed. For real. It was such a genuine laugh, so strong that it took my breath away. His laugh is beautiful. He was soaked from head to toe, Bastard was running around like a jerk, and he was laughing. And it was so strong that instead of starting to yell, I pulled him towards me. I grabbed him by the collar of his T-shirt to make him fall into the water, too, and kissed him. He kissed me until I lost my memory. I kissed him exactly until Bastard decided to join us and finally wash up. Asshole.

"Yes, damn it!"

That damned nail doesn't want to get hammered. I'm too small to reach the right height. I'll go crazy soon. To the list of my damned enemies, you can safely add nails and small stature - they will make an excellent company of Bastard. Couldn't I have been a little taller? No, of course not, I must be a Midget.

"Louis?"

I jump up and almost hit my finger with the hammer. Harry needs a bell to hang. He stands in the doorway that leads to the rest of the house. Hell, he shouldn't have come back from the vet clinic so early. When he's gone and I miss him like crazy, he comes home as late as possible, and when I don't want him to come back, he's right there. I keep hammering the nail.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to cope with an unexpected twinge of jealousy."

Because yes, that's exactly what's happening. I'm having a jealous fit, and I've found the stupidest way to deal with it. While he was away, I measured the frame with Samantha's photos to find exactly the same one and TRY to hang it next to it. I have no idea what went through my head, but there's probably a part of me that still wants to take up more space than Samantha. But I don't know how to tell him that, so I just keep hammering away. When we finished painting the walls, he asked if I would mind if he hung the frame with her photos back. I said I didn't mind because it was true. I would have asked him to do it myself if he didn't want to. I'm not a substitute of Samantha, I don't want him to forget her. He's loved her since she was ten, she jumped off a bridge, I think she deserves to be remembered. I just want him to have a place in his heart for me, too. He has a frame with pictures of Samantha, so I want us to have one too. Ours. But I'm afraid he'll take it badly. Maybe he'll decide that... I didn't even think about what he would say about it. As long as he didn't get angry. And, of course, my hands are starting to shake, and this nail has decided to become crooked.

"Can you stop looking and just help me?"

"Help you get jealous?"

Haha, he's a real prankster.

"Help me put up the frame."

It's not difficult. A nail, a hammer, a hole. But no, it's an impossible mission for me.