A/N: This is the first time I've included Beauchamp in the collage. Make of that what you will...
HARRY / PAST
Nothing was the same after Paris. Even when I wasn't thinking about what had happened, it was there, in my bones. I was a different person, a different animal. It had altered my DNA.
I never kissed Louis again. He wanted to but I always had some excuse why we shouldn't. At first I pretended I was sick, then when I was clearly depressed I told him I was homesick, then I just avoided him altogether. I left the dorm before he woke up in the morning and snuck back in after he'd already fallen asleep at night.
He was hanging out with the Zayn and Liam more and more. I didn't feel comfortable around guys, even guys my own age, so I spent a lot of time with Gigi and Eleanor. They knew intuitively that something had happened to me but they didn't push me to tell them. They listened when I told them how I was feeling, but most of the time they let me sit in their room and not speak at all. Gigi was very driven and would partner with me after class if I needed her to, and Eleanor had a car and drove me to my doctor's appointment at the free clinic, no questions asked.
The tests came back negative, thank God, but I hated myself for even having to take them. I had unprotected sex with a grown man. I was so dirty and disgusting. Who would ever want to be with a guy like me? Certainly not someone good like Louis.
Rehearsal for the winter showcase was the hardest part of my day. I had to be around Louis, who I cared about more than anything, and Beauchamp, who I hated more than anything.
Even though I'd completely shut him out for weeks, Louis was always there for me no matter what. He absolutely refused to give up on me. He saved me a spot at the barre every single day, brought me water and a towel.
My injury flared up again and he ran all the way across campus to the nurse's office to get an ice pack and medical wrap and ran all the way back.
"I can do it," I said as he fussed over me.
"I want to."
He wrapped my knee, tenderly holding my calf still. I had a really bad case of jumper's knee. I had to miss a week of class and rehearsal to recover. I still wasn't a hundred percent.
"What are you doing to yourself?" he scolded. "You can't put in the hours you do and expect your body to heal. You need to take it easy."
He placed the ice pack on top of my knee and I groaned with relief as pain gave way to numbness.
"I can handle it."
"I don't know what you're trying to prove. Overworking your body isn't going to make you a stronger dancer. It's only going to hurt you in the long run. And anyway, there are more important things than dancing," he said quietly.
"Like what?" I stood up and flexed my leg, wincing a little.
Louis' cheeks flushed. "Think about it."
Beauchamp swept into the studio with authority and effortless poise, his suit jacket slung over his shoulder like an old Hollywood movie star. Louis brightened. This was the hardest part of all. Louis still looked up to Beauchamp. He idolized him. It made me sick.
I didn't know how I would get through rehearsal with a weak knee but I was determined to try. I knew Beauchamp would be waiting for me to fuck up so he could come over and "correct" me, but I danced on my knee like it was fine. I would rather feel my kneecap shatter into a million pieces than feel his hands on me again.
I landed a jump and pain shot up my leg like lightning. When he wasn't looking I bent over at the waist and caught my breath. Louis eyed me worriedly.
Oddly, Beauchamp spent most of the rehearsal ignoring me, even when I did make a mistake. Near the end of rehearsal I wasn't able to put any weight on my knee. I messed up again and again but he just walked right past. I was confused but relieved.
At the end of rehearsal he had an announcement to make. He slipped on his shark grey suit jacket and crossed his arms. The lines of his face hardened. "It's with a heavy heart that I announce to you all today that... I'm leaving."
The entire room cried out, "No!"
He smiled modestly, smoothing his silver hair. "It's true, it's true, sadly. I'm very sorry. I've taken a position with the Kiev Ballet and I fly out on Saturday. I truly wish I could be here for your winter showcase. You're all immensely talented. It's been the greatest pleasure getting to know each and every one of you." I thought I saw his eyes dart over to me. "Your instructors will see you through to opening night. They know the choreography and will pick up where I've left off."
That was it. That was the whole announcement. I breathed a sigh of relief. He was leaving. I didn't feel happy exactly but for the first time in a long time I felt hope. I wouldn't have to see him in the halls, in the auditorium, in the studio. I would finally be free.
Louis was devastated. He clutched the barre dramatically, his head down, his lovely little shoulders caved inward.
I surprised him by poking his back and asking, "Pizza tonight?"
He turned and raised his eyebrows. "You mean you won't be eating lettuce and practicing 'till 3 A.M.?"
"I think I deserve a break."
"Oh Harry," Louis took my hand and laced his fingers through mine, "You do."
As we headed toward the door, Louis ran up to Beauchamp along with the rest of the students to say their goodbyes. One by one they threw their arms around his neck and kissed his cheek.
"I can't believe you're leaving us!" Louis cried, staring up Beauchamp with adoration. "I've learned so much working with you, Sir. I'll never forget it!"
I was the only one who didn't say goodbye. I slipped on my backpack and walked out.
Normally, I hated it when Louis fawned over Beauchamp, but now that he was leaving, I didn't care. Nothing could bring me down today.
Gigi and Eleanor had invited me over to binge watch Pretty Little Liars that night but I stopped by their room to tell them I now had plans with Louis. They were ecstatic for me.
"You seem well, Harry," Eleanor beamed, leaning in her doorway.
"I am!"
I texted Zayn and told him that Louis and I needed the room for the night. He sent me a winking emoji back.
I got to the dorm before Louis. I tidied up all the clothes that were splayed out on the floor and dusted and organized the shelves. I looked for movies on his laptop and found about three or four that we both might like.
I couldn't remember the last time I actually had something to look forward to. Maybe I wasn't too fucked up to be with Louis, maybe I could move past what happened to me and be good enough for him.
Like always, Louis came bounding into the room like a bunny, wild-eyed, and cute as ever.
"I cleaned!" I said brightly. "Look, I folded the laundry and organized all our books and video games."
"Great," he said, hurriedly taking off his backpack and sweater. "You're not going to believe this, Harry..." He ran over to the closet and started rummaging around, tossing things over his shoulder.
"What?" I said, scrambling to pick up after him.
"Beauchamp asked me to come with him to Kiev!" Louis squealed.
Every ounce of happiness evaporated from my body in an instant.
"His assistant doesn't start for two whole weeks and he said he needs someone to help him get organized. Can you imagine? Me, an assistant choreographer to Alexander Beauchamp! This is the best thing that's ever happened to me! This is the best day of my life!"
My throat went dry.
I could picture the lies curled on Beauchamp's lips as he dangled this opportunity in front of Louis. He wouldn't be assisting Beauchamp with choreography in Kiev, just like I never got to go sightseeing in Paris.
"What did you tell him?"
"I said yes, obviously!" He pulled out a large suitcase from the closet and started packing. "The job will count as extra credit in choreography and repertoire. The school even booked me a room, but Beauchamp said I could stay with him at his new apartment. How cool is that?"
"Cool," I repeated under my breath.
"We can still have pizza tonight, but I want to get to bed early. I have a lot to do tomorrow before the trip."
Louis must have called every person he'd ever met to tell them the good news. Anyone who knew him knew that he had been a fan of Beauchamp since he was just five years old. He gushed to his mum on the phone for over an hour: "He said I'm the smartest student he's ever worked with! He said I'm special."
Beauchamp had told me I was special too.
We watched the movie on the top bunk, Louis' laptop resting on our knees. I was like a zombie the whole night. I picked at the toppings on my pizza but couldn't eat. I had trouble following the movie. Every time Louis asked me what I thought of a scene, I just nodded absentmindedly. He was too excited about the trip to notice how withdrawn I'd become.
As he grew tired he leaned against me and I watched his contented expression: his long lashes sweeping his dainty cheekbones, the yawn from pale pink lips, the twitch of his nose, the rise and fall of his chest, his gentle heart beating sweetly beneath it.
***
I woke up earlier than Louis every day and the next morning was no exception. The only difference was I didn't head to the studio. I went straight to Beauchamp's office.
He and Madame Lesavauge shared an office. There were two desks on opposite sides of the cramped, airless, beige room and a wilting houseplant on the windowsill. The door was open so I just walked in clinging to the straps of my backpack.
Beauchamp was alone packing up his things in a cardboard box. He was formally dressed, in a crisp white shirt and tie, even though he wasn't working that day. Sunlight gleamed off the gold Rolex on his heavy wrist. His dark eyes slowly met mine. He looked down his long Roman nose at me and pushed up his glasses.
He was surprised to see me. "Hello, Harry. I wasn't expecting you. Have you come to say goodbye?"
I took a deep breath and braced myself for what I was about to say. "Take me to Kiev instead of Louis."
I had thought about it all night. There was no other solution. If I told the administration what had happened to me in Paris there was no guarantee that they would do anything, and if I told Louis there was no guarantee that he wouldn't go with Beauchamp anyway. Louis idolized Beauchamp and was blind to his faults. I could see it every day in rehearsal when Beauchamp was too hard on a student or misremembered the choreography. Louis defended him no matter what. If I told him what kind of man Beauchamp really was, Louis might not believe me. I couldn't take that chance. There was no way I would ever let Beauchamp do to Louis what he did to me.
"You heard me. Take me to Kiev instead of Louis," I said firmly.
Beauchamp gracefully circled around his desk, his fingertips skimming the books and paperwork. He closed the office door. My stomach twisted.
"I want Tomlinson," he said.
Over my dead body.
"He's a good boy," Beauchamp mused. "Eager to please and very... obedient."
I panicked. "I'm obedient! I'll do whatever you want, Sir. Take me instead. Please!"
He laughed to himself, closing the space between us, and twirled one of my curls around his finger. "You've been so cold to me, Harry. You didn't even say goodbye in the studio yesterday. That really hurt my feelings. I was starting to think you didn't enjoy our time together."
He wasn't going to make this easy for me.
"I enjoyed it," I said, just above a whisper. I rose up on my toes to meet his lips and kissed him with my mouth closed.
He seized me by the waist and pushed me up against the wall. His chest was almost twice the size of mine and crushed the air out my lungs. He forced my mouth open with his tongue. His stubble scratched my cheeks and my nostrils filled with the scent of his pungent cologne.
"You little tease," he mouthed in my ear. "I knew you liked it. You were just playing hard to get, weren't you?"
"Yes."
"Do you want me?"
I swallowed. "Yes."
He pulled back and examined my face. "Prove it."
Without taking his eyes off me, he undid his belt and unzipped his pants. My entire being sank with dread.
I looked at the door and pleaded, "Come on, not here."
"I thought you wanted me? Don't you want to come to Kiev?"
I shifted in my sneakers. "Yeah."
"Then be my good boy." He lifted my chin. "Okay?"
"Okay."
I dropped my backpack and got on my knees. The floor felt cold through my jeans. My injured knee ached. You can do this, I told myself. Just do it. Just do it and get it over with.
I took him into my mouth.
It was so much worse than I remembered: the smell, the taste. He thrust into me and hit the back of my throat. I wasn't ready. My eyes watered. I choked.
He patted my head. "Good. Good." His breathing became uneven. "This is so good. God, I've missed your mouth, Harry."
I hated hearing him say my name. I wanted to be called nothing at all when I was doing this. I wanted to be dead.
"Such a good boy," he moaned. "You're my special boy, Harry."
He fisted my hair and thrust faster and harder. He was so rough. Why did he have to make it hurt? I was doing as I was told. I was being good.
He finished and I coughed and wiped my eyes with the back of my hand.
"We're going to have so much fun in Kiev," he said, panting, doing up his belt. "Two whole weeks..." he smiled. "You looking forward to it?"
I nodded and forced a smile, quietly reliving the hell he put me through in Paris, wondering if I had the strength to go through it all again. I did, I realized, because now I wasn't doing it because I was weak. I was doing it for Louis. I had to be strong to protect him.
A/N: This chapter got a lot more graphic than I'd originally intended, but Harry is essentially sacrificing his body and soul to protect Louis and I wanted to emphasize just how big of a sacrifice that is.
I was interested in the idea of Louis being saved by Harry but not knowing it. I didn't want Harry to just be a victim in this fic, but noble and brave too. I wanted to write about an act of total selflessness.
What do you think about Harry's choice? Do you think it's brave, sad, tragic? How do you think Louis will react when he finds out he's not going to Kiev?