In the warm purple twilights, the two men boarded the bus to Naples.
The countryside rolled past them, and when they got off, night had fallen. The sky had shifted to black and the streets were roamed by drunk young Neapolitans.
They walked to the jazz club Louis had spoken so majestically of.
He was right—it was more of a cellar than a club at all. It was rather small, bringing everyone closer together.
Inside, a band was playing on the small stage, and the audience were shouting along loudly. The sweet smell of vodka perfumed the air which was already sweaty and foggy from theatrical smoke, and dyed blue from the wild lights washing over the surfaces.
Harry looked to Louis who was wearing his ridiculous, all-black boater hat. Harry hadn't stopped twitting him about it on the bus ride.
Louis had merely brushed it off, though, claiming the hat was in in 'jazz fashion'.
Harry strongly doubted that.
Louis, with a hand secured on his waist, brought him through the crowd towards the same group of friends they'd encountered yesterday.
He greeted everyone with little pecks on each cheek.
Louis willed Harry to sit down by the table where Fausto was sitting at before taking a seat himself.
Louis and Fausto fell into conversation like old friends. It was hard to hear what anyone said over the noise of the jazz, though. Either way, they were speaking Italian, so there wasn't much to understand anyway.
It was clear as day that Louis had a burning passion for jazz. He became completely absorbed into the music. Whenever the chorus came on, he would pretend to play along on a saxophone.
Harry, surprisingly, found himself having an enjoyable time tonight. The music was better than expected, and the people were nice to him. He did have a lot to drink, too, though.
A few songs in, a pretty Italian brunette approached their table. Harry was in the middle of getting to know Fausto when the woman's brown eyes locked on Louis as she snaked herself around him, latching her mouth directly on his without warning. Louis, not totally sober anymore, kissed her back with just as much passion.
She smiled against his lips, looking to get comfortable on Louis' lap. She gently took his cigarette out of between his fingers and placed it between her own red lips. She ostentatiously took a drag of it, to which Louis raised an eyebrow at Harry.
After a while, the band stroked up the intro of an upbeat track, and the audience cheered loudly. Fausto pulled a protesting Louis up along with him on the stage.
"Ladies and gentlemen. Louis Tomlinson, all the way from America!" Fausto chanted, earning a round of applause.
The two men started to sing the cheerful jazz song. Harry was not being able to stop smiling. Louis looked really happy up there, singing and playing his heart out on a saxophone.
The song stopped for a minute and Louis grabbed the microphone. "And a big round of applause for a new friend from New York—Harry Styles!"
Everybody in the crowd cheered and turned their heads to him. Harry's eyes grew three sizes, shy and in shock.
"Come on! Get on up here!" Louis waved him up, smiling encouragingly.
Harry nervously got up and made his way up on the stage, legs slightly wobbly. He hoped no one noticed. Fausto started singing again and Louis wrapped an arm tight around Harry.
Harry wouldn't change places with an angel.
"I'll tell you when to join in on the chorus," he said in his ear. He released him and blew into his saxophone as Fausto kept singing.
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The Talented Harry Styles | L.S
Fanfiction"I suppose... I always thought that it was better, to be a fake somebody... than a real nobody." Orphaned and raised by his cruel Aunt Dottie, life wasn't always as smooth as Harry Styles would've liked it to be. He always felt like a nobody; a mere...
