HARRY / PAST
Today was the day. Louis woke up two hours early to get dressed and fix his hair. He had a full-on fanboy meltdown in the mirror when he couldn't get his quiff to look just right.
Alexander Beauchamp had arrived at the school and would be holding auditions for A Midsummer Night's Dream that morning.
Louis was running circles around me telling me to get ready. "Hurry up! Hurry up!" He wanted to get there before the audition started so he could introduce himself to Beauchamp.
Nobody was wearing tanks and sweatpants today. We were all in our ballet best—I wore black tights and Louis wore dove grey with a white scoop-neck bodysuit. He looked so soft and pretty I wanted to rub my cheek against him.
I defied the dress code somewhat by wearing the leather bracelet that Louis gave me. I put my arm behind my back as I walked past Madame Lesauvage in the hall.
Beauchamp looked older than he did in his picture. He had silver hair neatly parted to the side and rimless glasses that cut across his heavy brow. He tossed his suit jacket on a foldout chair the second he stepped into the studio and rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt. He had an umbrella with him even though it wasn't raining out.
Louis ran up to him before our warm-up, with an old programme, the paper shaking in his sweaty hands. "Mr. Beauchamp, would you mind signing this programme?"
"I haven't seen this in ages!" he chuckled, his long elegant fingers skimming the pages. "What's your name?"
"Louis Tomlinson," said Louis, flipping to the page he wanted signed. "This was the first ballet I ever saw. It's what made me want to be a dancer."
"How old were you?"
"Five. My mum took me."
"Five," he said, and with mock sternness, "You're making me feel old, Tomlinson."
"Sorry, Sir," said Louis, apologetically. Beauchamp laughed again and handed back the signed programme. Louis thanked him profusely.
Beauchamp instructed us to take our places at the barre. I quickly hugged Louis' shoulders and whispered, "good luck."
He patted my hand. "You too."
Beauchamp walked up and down the rows of dancers with the long black umbrella in his hand, tapping the ground to keep count. He stopped next to Louis, nodding approvingly. Louis did his exercises with ease and precision as usual but I knew he was flipping out on the inside.
We did some floor work and took a break before we would each get to perform the brief solos we'd been preparing for weeks. We waited in the hall and were called in one by one.
I was a lost cause, so I wasn't really nervous. Louis was shaking. As nervous as I was for him, I was kind of glad he was freaking out because it gave me an excuse to touch him. We sat across from each other on the floor and I rubbed his thighs consolingly. He looked thick and cut in those tights... Louis' head fell on my chest and I happily gathered him up in my arms.
"It's okay. You're going to do great!" I stroked the back of his head, which was soft and slick as a seal pup.
"What if I mess up? He's my idol. I'll die."
"You won't mess up. Your technique is flawless." You're flawless, I thought.
In the midst of all this platonic comforting I completely forgot about my own audition. I was called in first.
The studio was a scary place during an audition—empty and cold—when the only body to warm it up was your own. It was amazing how different a room could look and feel when you inhabited it for a different purpose.
I gave my sheet music to the school's ballet pianist, a kind, perpetually sniffling older lady named Mary.
Beauchamp had a yellow legal pad in front of him. He asked me to introduce myself.
I didn't really have anything prepared. "Harry Styles, 15."
He smiled. "Is that it?"
"Um, yeah."
Mary blew her nose and began playing. I started my solo on the wrong count but stopped and caught up to the music. I had been working on my jumps with Louis but they were never quite right. I couldn't reach full extension in the air. Louis thought it was fear, that I bent my knees too early because subconsciously I didn't trust my body to land safely.
Beauchamp scribbled something down after my weak grand jeté.
I might not have nailed the big technical elements but I was able to get into character. It was a somber number from Giselle. I concentrated on the music, my facial expressions and my arms, moving from bras bas to the grande pose with a heavy sadness beyond my years and experience.
Beauchamp put his pen down and clapped. "You're a sensitive performer, Mr. Styles."
"Thank you, Sir," I panted, red-faced and out of breath.
"You need to work on your technique, but I think you know that already."
"Yes, Sir."
He escorted me out of the studio.
Louis was pacing the halls, chewing his nails to stubs. When it was his turn, I watched through the studio's small square window. He performed a spritely number from A Midsummer Night's Dream. He was perfect, pure sunshine and a joy to watch.
When Louis was done, he tumbled out of the studio and collapsed theatrically on the ground, the back of his hand pressed to his forehead.
"What did he say?" I asked, excited for him.
"I'm not sure. I was so nervous I think I blacked out for a second."
Done for the day, Beauchamp walked out of the studio, the wooden handle of the umbrella dangling from his wrist, his jacket slung over his shoulders like a cape.
Louis stood up immediately like a soldier and the older man clasped his shoulder. "Incredible work today, Tomlinson."
Then he glanced at me and smiled warmly, "And you, 'Harry Styles, 15,' that was a very mature performance for such a young boy."
We both nodded appreciatively with our hands behind our backs before turning the corner and jumping up and down.
***
The cast list was posted the following morning.
The only dancers in our year to get lead roles were Gigi and Liam. She would be playing Helena and he got the coveted role of Puck.
I knew before I looked at the list that I would get the smallest part available and I was right. I was cast as a background dancer.
Louis may not have landed a leading role but he got a solo. He was ecstatic.
Just because we didn't get the parts of Demetrius and Lysander didn't mean we couldn't dream about it. We'd sneak into the wings of the theatre when the main cast was rehearsing and memorize the choreography to practice later at the dorm.
Up in the rafters was the best spot to watch. Nobody could see us and we had a view of the whole stage. Beauchamp was a lot tougher in rehearsal than he was during the audition. Instead of lightly tapping his umbrella, he pounded the floor and swung it around threateningly like a sword to emphasize his point. Gigi got yelled at for missing her mark by a hair. I'd never heard anyone snap at her like that. I don't think she had either.
But maybe enduring all that yelling and umbrella swinging was worth it, because the scene was magnificent. Comical and beautiful—each character so vivid in their movements and expressions I forgot that they were students or even dancers. I was completely transported to Athens.
The best part was watching Louis' face as they performed. His nose got all scrunched up and his eyes crinkled as he laughed and smiled. He was shining from the inside out. I had a hard time focusing on the choreography because I couldn't take my eyes off him.
It had been weeks since I fell asleep during Guardians of the Galaxy and I thought I'd never find another opportunity to kiss him. We were always too tired, too awkward or too shy. It never felt like the right time. But here in the rafters, where we were on top of the world, where there was music playing and stagelight and shadow danced on our cheeks, it was perfect. The only problem was Louis was so engrossed in the rehearsal below that it was hard to get his attention.
I don't know if it was the secluded space backstage, or watching the students below profess their love to each other in epic fashion, but I felt emboldened.
"I like you," I said.
"I like you too," he responded, still watching the dancers.
I don't think he got my meaning, so I put my hand in his lap. He faced me.
"I like you," I said again, but quietly this time. It was hard to be bold when he was looking right at me.
I leaned my head forward. Eleanor said that Louis would do all the work but that wasn't true! I was really putting myself out there and Louis hadn't moved an inch.
With my eyes closed I pressed my lips against his, then immediately pulled back. I panicked. Oh God, what if I had it all wrong and he wasn't interested in me like that? What if the reason he hadn't kissed me yet was that he just wanted to be friends?
Louis blinked.
The next thing I knew his lips were on mine, soft and warm, his heart thudding against my chest, his breathing frantic. He moved into me and I fell back onto my elbows, lying down as he climbed on top of me. He broke our kiss. "Wait," he whispered. He unzipped his hoodie and gallantly spread it out on the ground behind me. He cradled the back of my head and laid me down. I touched his cheek and he was kissing me again, slow and deep and with tongue. I had no idea what to do, so I just did what felt good and moved my tongue against his. He was all over me—kissing my face, my neck, snaking his hands under my shirt to feel my bare chest and stomach. Louis kissed like he danced, with his whole body, in frenzied bursts of passion. I felt my pants tighten but for the first time in my life I wasn't embarrassed about getting hard in front of another person. All those hot, messy urges finally found a purpose and that purpose was Louis.
He sucked a kiss onto my neck and I moaned loudly. "Shhhhh," he laughed, and nestled his hips between my thighs, licking, kissing and sucking my neck until I was writhing with pleasure beneath him. It didn't take long for him to notice I was hard. A low growl escaped his lips and he started grinding against me. He was hard too. Feeling his hard on against mine through our pants drove me completely crazy. I didn't even care if I was doing it wrong, I put my mouth on his and hungrily kissed him and clawed at his back as we bucked against each other with abandon.
Then he stopped. "Harry, I have to tell you something."
No, I thought, no talking. More kissing. "Uh huh."
"I really like you."
"I know!" I grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down, urging him to keep going.
"I've had the biggest crush on you since the day we met."
"Why didn't you kiss me before?"
"Because I wasn't sure you were ready... And because you kept falling asleep."
I covered my face and groaned with embarrassment.
He took my hand away. "But you're awake now."
"I am."
He kissed me, smiling against my lips.
"Hey!" one of the sixth year girls barked. "What are you doing up here?"
All of the dancers below looked up at us. Louis grabbed my hand and we ran like hell, bursting through the stage doors into the corridor, laughing. My face was still hot and my clothes twisted on my body from making out. Louis began leaping and doing petit jetes around me. I chased after him, my strides punctuated by endenetes and pirouettes.
I got so dizzy I didn't see where I was going and crashed right into Gigi.
"What are you two idiots up to? Shouldn't you be rehearsing with the other background dancers?"
"Shut up, Gigi! We're Demetrius and Lysander," Louis called, spinning past her.
"Yeah!" I echoed.
We danced our way to the studio, cackling. I wished we didn't have rehearsal. I was desperate to go back to our room and continue what we'd started in the rafters.
At the barre, I looked in the mirror and examined my face. My lips were puffy and red, my pupils dilated, and my chest and neck blotchy. I turned around. Louis looked as wrecked as I did.
I stripped down to my tights and his blue eyes flashed with desire for me. I wondered what would happen later that night when we were in bed, in just our underwear...
Beauchamp walked into the studio and Louis gave me a quick kiss on the neck, which made me smile stupidly. I couldn't stop smiling. I had no idea how I was going to get through rehearsal.
But I did. Beauchamp worked us as hard as he did the leads, yelling, stomping his umbrella and issuing sharp corrections roughly with his hands. I was singled out the most because of my lack of technique. At this point I was getting used to it.
Louis on the other hand continuously elicited praise from Beauchamp. "Excellent, Louis," "Well done, Louis," "Impeccable as always, Mr. Tomlinson."
By the end of rehearsal I was drenched with sweat and exhausted, my muscles trembling. I crawled toward my backpack when Beauchamp called us all to the center of the room. He had an announcement.
"As many of you know my wife Irina Beauchamp is a prima ballerina with the Paris Opera Ballet. I am going to see the company's production of Swan Lake on opening night and, like last year and the year before that, I like to bring one promising young student with me."
Louis' whole body tensed like somebody stuck a rod up his back. He'd mentioned this trip before. The last student Beauchamp took to Paris got a spot in a company before he even graduated from RBS. We all assumed he'd be taking Liam or one of the other leads.
Beauchamp approached Louis and I held my breath. This was a huge honor. I was so proud of him! Surely this gave me bragging rights. I was officially best friends (maybe boyfriends) with the most promising student at the Royal Ballet School!
However, Beauchamp kept walking and stopped beside me. "Harry, I'd like to take you with me."
I looked over my shoulder. "Me? Are you sure?"
He laughed. "I'm sure."
Louis shut his eyes, completely gutted.
I wanted to say no, but I didn't know how. Beauchamp was in charge, he was famous and important and the whole room was watching.
"Thank you, Sir, I'd love to."
"Wonderful. I'll need a permission slip from a parent or guardian. We'll leave on Thursday. You'll have two days of sightseeing in Paris before the show. Have you ever seen Swan Lake?"
I lowered my voice so the rest of the dancers wouldn't hear. "I've never been to the ballet."
Snickering echoed throughout the studio.
Beauchamp nodded sympathetically. "This trip will be good for you, Harry."
As dancers shuffled out of the studio, I turned around to look for Louis. He was by the door, about to leave without me. I caught up to him and he swung his bag over his shoulder nonchalantly. He was acting like what just happened was no big deal, but I knew him. I could tell that he was upset.
We stepped into the hall. I began walking toward Jebsen but Louis headed in the other direction.
"Don't you want to go back to our room?" I asked.
"I'm going to the gym."
"Can I come?"
"I'd rather go alone."
We stood there for a moment shuffling our feet.
"I'm sorry, Louis. I didn't want him to pick me. He shouldn't have picked me. I suck."
Louis softened. "You don't suck. You're a special dancer, Harry. I can see that and Beauchamp can see it too."
"Please don't be mad at me."
"I'm not mad, just jealous. That's all."
"I don't want you to be jealous! I want you to like me!" I cried, my voice cracking. I didn't even want to go on this stupid trip! I didn't care about Beauchamp or Paris or Swan Lake. All I wanted to do was make out with Louis and be his boyfriend!
Louis gave me a weak smile. "I still like you."
I kissed his cheek and he walked away. His shoulders slumped as he turned the corner.
A/N: THEY FINALLY KISSED. Unfortunately, they won't be kissing again for a while... Everything is terrible. The fluff is over (in the "past" chapters at least).