Harry Styles, the star of London's Jermyn Street Theatre. The main part as Dorian Grey now his to do with what he knows best; to act, but there's not a single script in the world that can teach you how to be someone else when you can't even stand to...
Rất tiếc! Hình ảnh này không tuân theo hướng dẫn nội dung. Để tiếp tục đăng tải, vui lòng xóa hoặc tải lên một hình ảnh khác.
[Thursday, 17:12 p.m Notting Hill, Louis Apartment]
"Honestly, Harry, I'm so so sorry about your trousers," Louis said with pleading eyes for what must have been the fifth time since they left the cafe to take a stroll to Louis apartment three blocks away, "Did they have to be Gucci? You're not allowed to wear Gucci if you don't make more than 4000 quid a month," he shook his head as he searched for his keys, "Now I'll owe you for life."
"In my defence, I bought theme on sale, after paying my rent," Harry defended himself, waiting for Louis to unlock the door, "And also in my defence, I don't think you're allowed to live in a three-room flat in central Notting Hill if you make under 4000 quid a month either."
Louis sneered back at him as he pushed the door open, "Perhaps I do?"
"In what world does a director make 400 a month?" Harry bickered back, looking around, letting out a low whistle, "Airy."
"Perhaps I'm moonlighting as an entertainment dancer," Louis winked back at Harry as he tossed his jacket over a large couch.
Harry gulped, "That would've- that explains it," he said and placed his coat on the coat rack next to to the door. Eyed himself in the mirror hanging on the wall, bit his lip as he looked down at the stains on his trousers.
"Would you like to change out of those?" Louis asked, pointing at his legs.
Harry turned from the mirror, "Would love that. Although I live and breath for coffee, one can have enough when it's starting to imbibe your skin."
Louis bobbed his head before disappearing into a hallway, "On it."
Harry walked further inside the living room, eyes travelling over the beige couch that separated the rest of the room from the small hallway, looked like a heavenly place for a nap he thought. Stuffed bookshelves stood against the right wall, the orange light of the sunset reflecting in the pictures hanging across the room. Harry walked further inside, smiling as he caught a glance of Louis collection of LP-discs, neatly placed inside of a large wooden box.
On the living table laid an outworn manuscript, next to a small laminated note. Harry bent over to get a closer look; Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change...
"These were the only thing I could find that would at least fit you a little," Louis said from the hallway behind him, and Harry quickly looked up as Louis tossed him a pair of light grey sweatpants, "One word about my size and I'll not even consider paying for your dry cleaning."
Harry put up a finger, "I sense there's an underlying insecurity here that got nothing to do with me, but I'll shut up, to be on the safe side," he smiled and unbuttoned his trousers, dragged them off in one go and handed them towards Louis, who stood frozen, "Could you hold these?"
Louis shook his head, "Yeah, yeah- um, sure," he said as he grabbed the trousers from Harry who fiddled with the sweatpants.
He looked down at his legs, the sweatpants hugging his legs tightly and two inches too short, "These fits perfect," he stated, clapping his hands together as Louis eyed him from top to toe.
