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“I’m holdin’ on your rope, got me ten feet off the ground.”
Dutch jump, look down at her, kick her off, walk away.
Applause erupts from the audience section of the auditorium, where their peers and two professors are spectating. Louis grins, he’s always loved lyrical dance, this assignment was cake for him.
He jogs over to where he left Ashley on the ground, reaching down to help her up. They exchange a look before they burst out laughing, high on happiness. Louis knows he can speak for both him and his dance partner of ten years when he says that dance is a drug and each trip is greater than the last.
They traipse over to center stage, looking down at their two professors: Mrs. Dunlap and Ms. P. Both women have been dancing their whole lives, the former specializing in contemporary and the latter in lyrical. They’re damn good at it too; after all, they’ve been teaching at Julliard for some time now. Louis personally ensures that every bit of critique they offer is taken into consideration for every leap and spin he choreographs next.
“Wonderful, wonderful job you two!” Ms. P sounds downright ecstatic, which is always a good thing. “There is just such a complex chemistry between the two of you when you dance, it’s absolutely breathtaking!”
Mrs. Dunlap is half-smiling, but she has this glint in her eye that scares Louis a little (okay, a lot). “Ditto,” she says, “but Louis…”
Louis inwardly groans and Ashley stifles a laugh. They both know exactly where this is going.
“…you know I wanted to see the pair of you at least attempt a lift. In my opinion, it would’ve been better to try and fail than not try at all.”
“But miss,” Ashley tries to save Louis from total embarrassment, “we tried a lift, and it just didn’t work with the choreography-“
Mrs. Dunlap raises her hand, and Ashley’s mouth snaps shut.
“That will be all Mr. Tomlinson, Ms. Ackerman.” She turns around to face the auditorium. “Class dismissed, make sure to meet in the studio next Thursday at ten a.m. sharp. We will be discussing our new contemporary unit. That is all, good afternoon to you.”
Louis and Ashley scurry off the stage, eager to change back into clothes that are warmer than leggings.
“She was being a bit too harsh, I think,” Ashley comments once they’re in the dressing room backstage. “And she knows damn well that a lift would not have worked. I mean, ‘Apologize?’ Not exactly a dramatic song. Plus, like, half of the other dances didn’t have lifts, so-“
“Ashley,” Louis interrupts, pulling on a cream cable knit sweater, “shut up.” She narrows her eyes at him, and next thing Louis knows, he’s dodging her sweaty dance sock.
“Don’t tell me to shut up,” she hisses playfully. “Plus, we both know why we don’t do lifts together, so maybe we should explain it to her.”
“Or maybe we should stop talking about it, and just get Starbucks.” Louis pulls on his North Face bubble vest and wraps a scarf around his neck. January in New York doesn’t exactly compare to January in their hometown of Shelburne, Vermont, but they can’t exactly go gallivanting about in shorts and a t-shirt either.
“Plus,” Louis continues, “it’s a Thursday afternoon. Neither of us have classes again until Monday, so maybe we could go someplace? Like your friend, what’s-her-face, that goes to Cornell? We could drive the Audi out, hang out a bit.”
Ashley gives him a look and drawls, “Tess has better things to do than entertain your perky ass. So why don’t we take the Audi and go to Times Square? We can be proper tourists together, go to M&M world, take a selfie on those red steps.”
Louis scoffs, “I’m only doing that if you let Harry and Leigh Anne tag along so I feel better about myself.”
“And how would that make you feel better about yourself?”
He shrugs, “I don’t know about you-“
“But I’m feeling twenty-two-“
“-but seeing you trip over yourself to try to impress Leigh Anne is quite amusing. Harry and I can get popcorn and laugh at you behind your back.”
Ashley smacks him upside the head, hard, as they begin the journey to the Starbucks that’s two blocks away from campus. “It’s not funny!” She screeches. “And why don’t you just ask Harry out or something? You obviously have no problem pairing up with him.”
Louis growls and shoves her lightly. Unfortunately, she still stumbles into a man who glares and keeps walking before Ashley can apologize.
“You twat,” Ashley mutters.
“Anyway,” Louis rolls his eyes, “I will never, ever date Harry. Can you please stop talking about it? Just because he’s bi doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a girlfriend! Jade’s in our literature class, and she’s lovely, remember?”
“Okay, okay,” she relents. “We’ll bring them too. But we’re going to scope out hot guys for you while we’re out.” They step into Starbucks and are immediately assaulted by the smell of coffee grinds and something sweet.
“Lord, kill me now,” Louis mutters.
…
“So, what’s the occasion?” Harry asks as Ashley navigates the car through city streets. He’s missing his Music History 101 class, but he can’t find himself to care. (Why his major, Music Productions, requires Music History is an unanswerable question.)
“Our first choreographed dance of the semester was performed today!” Ashley chatters. “I think we got an A on it!”
“What song was it to?” Leigh Anne inquires, her voice soft and curious.
“’Apologize’ by OneRepublic. It was lyrical, but for some reason we’re already moving onto contemporary,” Louis answers.
“I think they want to do an every other sort of thing this semester, Lou. Probably try to confuse us so only the best will actually be able to differentiate between the two.” Louis hates it when Ashley uses logic.
“Can we stop by Forever 21? I need to get Jade a present for our second anniversary,” Harry says, and looks only a little confused when everyone else gives him a bewildered look.
“Haz, it’s your second anniversary, and all you’re getting her is an outfit from Forever 21?” Louis’ eyebrows are raised so high, it’s almost comical.
“Well, I mean,” Harry struggles to explain himself, “I already bought an engagement ring from Tiffany & Co., so I don’t think I can really afford to get her Gucci.”
Ashley slams on the breaks as she manages to find a parking spot on the street not insanely far from the middle of Times Square. “Engagement ring?!” she demands, her voice getting high and squeaky. (Leigh Anne looks at her with endearment written all over her face, not that Ashley notices.)
“Well, if I want to marry her, then proper protocol includes an engagement ring. Plus, I already got her dad’s permission and everything,” Harry looks a tad upset at their confusion. “Why, are you guys against it or something?”
Leigh Anne lets out a laugh, “No, Haz, we’re just surprised is all.”
“Surprised is an understatement,” Louis shakes his head. “Good for you though, mate, going after her like that. So what’s the ring look like?”
Harry grins, “It’s called the Tiffany Novo, has this rounded-out square diamond and little ones set in the band.”
Ashley whistles, “And how much did that cost you? Your tuition?”
“A gentleman never tells.” The four finally get out of the car and start walking toward the crowds of tourists.
“Aw, me little Haz is getting married, I think I’m gonna cry,” Louis teases. Already, Ashley and Leigh Anne are carving the path for them, shyly flirting the whole way.
“I’ve been bigger than you since day one, and you know it, you little shit.” Harry laughs. “So, when are you gonna get yourself a stud? Wouldn’t want you to start fifth-wheeling, would majorly suck bro.”
Louis pouts. “I will find myself a boyfriend when I damn well feel like it!” he announces. “Too bad I damn well feel like it, and yet there’s no one to be interested in.”
Harry slings his arm over Louis’ shoulder. “Aw, mate, don’t feel sorry for yourself. With that attitude, you’ll get yourself stuck with some loser who doesn’t deserve you.”
He tries to shove Harry off. Tries and fails. “Oi, so little faith in me!” It’s at that moment Ashley and Leigh Anne had stopped walking, making the two boys crash right into them.
“Watch where you’re going, shithead!” Ashley chastises him.
Louis rolls his eyes and mutters out a half-assed apology.
“Anyway, hey, Lou. Isn’t that guy in our Contemporary and Lyrical Dance II class?”
“Ash, you’re gonna have to be more specific than that. There are a lot of guys here, and a lot of guys in our class.” Louis snaps back sassily. She rolls her eyes and hits his ass. Harry holds him back to stop Louis from attacking her, albeit playfully, in the middle of the street.
“Him. Bottle blond, blue eyes. He always dances with Perrie, and it’s a little weird since they look like twins, remember? I think his name is Neil or Niall or something.” Louis follows her finger, and accidentally make eye contact with the guy Ashley’s talking about. And she’s right, he is familiar, but it’s a little awkward to be staring at him in the middle of Times Square, so Louis drops his gaze.
“Ooo, Lou, maybe you can go out with him,” Leigh Anne teases.
“Nah,” Louis blushes. He’s not cute, he’s not. “I’m not really one to go for blue eyes anyway.”
Louis’s only a little disappointed when he looks back and that Niall guy is nowhere to be seen.
…
“So,” Mrs. Dunlap claps her hands together way too enthusiastically. It’s ten a.m. on a Thursday morning, a.k.a. way too early for this. It’s not that Louis doesn’t love contemporary dance, he’s just a little nervous about this new assignment. Mrs. Dunlap always has this way of throwing them curveballs, which both excites and annoys him.
“As you know, we’re going to rapidly be changing from lyrical to contemporary and vice versa throughout this semester,” she says, sounding way too happy about it. “And right now, we’re entering the world of contemporary dance style.”
Ms. P takes over from there. “However, we’ve noticed that, for the past year and a half of teaching this group, you have a tendency to stay in the familiar. While it’s nice to dance with someone you know, in the professional world, your partner is not always going to be your best friend.”
Louis’ breath hitches; no, no, no.
“Which is why,” Mrs. Dunlap grins, “in addition to assigning songs, we’re also going to be assigning pairs for this project.”
The reaction is the same from everyone: groans. No one protests, but it’s clear that the students are not happy about their professors’ decision.
“None of that!” Ms. P exclaims. “Now, this dance will need to be at least two minutes long, and of course, contemporary style. You must also include at least one significant lift, but having a backstory to your dance is completely optional.”
Louis’ world is completely upside down. Most of these girls weigh more than Ashley, I can’t lift, I can’t do it.
“With that out of the way, I assume you all know by now what studios are free at what times, so you have someplace proper to practice. I suggest as a class, you come up with a schedule so you have equal practice time. Ms. P, I do believe you have the list,” Mrs. Dunlap eyes her colleague, who rushes to pull out a piece of paper.
“Here we are,” Ms. P adjusts her petite wire glasses and clears her throat. “Ashley Ackerman and Benjamin James, ‘Someone Like You.’”
Ashley glances over at Ben, who smiles and waves. They’ve never talked before, Louis knows, but the guy isn’t terrible, and they’ll probably be a great pair. That doesn’t mean Louis isn’t bitter, because he absolutely is.
“Perrie Edwards and Hylla Greene, ‘Breathe Me.’ Louis Tomlinson and Niall Horan, ‘Say Something.’”
Louis tunes out the rest of the list, it isn’t very relevant anymore. He glances over at the guy, the one who he saw just last week, the one who he accidentally stared at in the middle of the street.
To be honest, everyone in this class has been together since they all started at Julliard, but somehow Louis has never seen Niall dance. He doesn’t really look like the kind of guy to major in dance either, and it’s all very confusing.
Most of all, they have to come up with a contemporary dance, something very obviously intimate. It’s easy to do that with Ashley, they’ve been dancing together for a decade, but Louis doesn’t know Niall at all. He can already feel his GPA dropping.
The professors go on to show them videos of professional contemporary dancers, and the class gets a lecture on essential footwear and overall technique. Louis is itching to go out and do something by the time the ninety minute class is over.
“Remember! We want the cut of your assigned song by next class! And also, begin working on choreography, February 19 will be here before you know it!” Ms. P reminds them.
Louis only half-ignores her, trying to get Ashley out of the room before Niall confronts him. Unfortunately for him, she’s adamant on scheduling a meet up with Ben right now. That’s when he feels the tap on his shoulder.
“Hey mate,” Niall says, sounding much too cheery in Louis’ opinion. Louis is also very annoyed to find that Niall is several inches taller than him, meaning Niall will probably. It’s very much out of his comfort zone.
“Hi,” Louis mumbles. “I guess we’ll trade numbers, or whatever.” Niall looks at him oddly, but is otherwise undeterred.
“Yeah, here.” He has Niall’s phone in his hand, and he hastily gives his own over.
“I guess, we’ll text or something? I don’t know, guess we should both listen to the song so we know what parts we want and don’t want.” Louis grabs his iPhone back the second Niall clicks ‘save.’ It’s borderline rude, but he doesn’t really care.
“Lewis!” Ashley screams from across the room, breaking the tension between the two boys. “His majesty, Prince Harold, is hosting a movie night, and he’s requested that I drag your ass there. Sorry Niall, but we must be going.”
Louis relaxes, a smirk on his face. “The minute Harry becomes a Prince is the minute I hop on a plane to England,” he replies, equally as obnoxious, as he gets pulled out of the room.
…
“Harry, you don’t understand, I can’t dance with him! He’s probably god awful!” Louis complains, splayed over Harry’s lap. Someone would think that that would annoy Jade, but she’s perfectly content to sit on the floor by her boy’s feet.
“Lou,” Harry drawls, “he goes to Julliard. Anyone who’s god awful didn’t get accepted. I’m sure he’s just a good of a partner as anyone else, including Ashley.”
“He’s just bitchy because he’s gonna have to be the girl. Niall’s proper bigger than him,” Ashley comments. She’s on the love seat, snuggled under a blanket with Leigh Anne and a bowl of popcorn. Louis thinks they look adorable, but he won’t say it because everyone’s supposed to be focused on his tragedy.
“And our dance is probably gonna be a love story, and I just can’t deal with that!” Louis exclaims dramatically. The rest of the room’s occupants simultaneously rolls their eyes.
“What song did you even get assigned, Lou?” Jade asks, taking a sip of soda.
“’Say Something,’” Ashley pipes up. “They’re going to be positively adorable together. Real emotional, too. It’ll be legendary.”
“As if,” Louis scoffs. “My GPA is going to drop a whole point after this! And they required a lift?! It’s not happening, I can’t deal with this.”
“Lou,” Ashley says softly, as if approaching an injured animal, “he’s going to be lifting you, not the other way around. It’ll be fine.”
“Besides,” Harry says, “he’s good mates with Zayn. You know Zayn right? Art major, half-Pakistani, looks like a god? Yeah, him. Zayn says Niall’s just as put-off by having to work with you.”
“Harry, I doubt that’s going to make the man feel better,” Leigh Anne chastises, throwing a piece of popcorn at him.
“Well it’s the truth!” Harry defends himself.
“How can I possibly work with him? I can’t, I can’t do it. And we’re meeting up tomorrow to discuss the cut, and maybe start choreographing.” Louis complains, curling himself into a ball. Niall’s a twat, he decides.
“Hey, didn’t you book studio 4A for tomorrow, Lou?” Ashley asks. When he nods, she continues. “Well, me and Ben have it scheduled for the time slot before you, but we already decided on our cut, and he can’t make it tomorrow. So if you want, go in early, dance out your feelings, and you can be relaxed by the time Niall shows up.”
“Okay,” Louis agrees. Maybe this way it’ll turn out okay.
…
“Skinny Love,” the cover of it by Birdy, is playing through the speakers. Louis remembers the first time he danced to it, back when he was fifteen. He learned it for a competition, his first time competing as a soloist, and he will never forget the way it felt to win. He swore to himself then that he would never forget the routine, and although it’s gotten a little rusty over the years, his promise holds true.
The music is so loud, and he’s so wrapped up in the emotions of his dance, that he doesn’t notice the door opening halfway through.
“Sullen load is full, so slow on the split.”
Louis lowers himself into a split, then leans forward over his right leg.
Bring the left leg around, roll backwards, land on the stomach, slink back onto the knees.
Looking back at it, it’s truly amazing he didn’t notice Niall staring from the doorway. Finally, his little excerpt of the song is finished, and he’s lying on his stomach. Louis pauses for a moment, before he gets up and heads to turn off the stereo. That’s when he sees Niall.
“Jesus Christ!” Louis shouts, jumping back so fast that he, very gracelessly, falls on his ass. Niall lets out a laugh, and Louis’ half-sure that the whole world just stopped to listen. But that’s beside the point.
He ignores the hand Niall offers to help him up, and turns off the stereo as some pop song starts playing. “How long have you been standing there?!” Louis demands, his arms crossed and his hip jutting out.
Niall thinks he looks adorable, but instead he says, “I dunno, ‘bout halfway through? When you did the split into the back roll, very nice by the way.” He grins, and Louis feels like Niall’s stalking him like prey. He doesn’t like it.
“Well, Mr. Slenderman, now that you’re done staring, we need to get to work.”
“’Mr. Slenderman?’ Good thing you’re better at dancing than you are at insults,” Niall teases.
Louis narrow his eyes. “You listen here, you little shit.”
“Ooo, am I about to get lectured? Jeez, try to compliment a guy and this is what happens.” Louis storms up to Niall, looking him in the eyes. (He simultaneously hates and loves the fact that Niall has to look down in order to accomplish this, and it’s all very confusing.)
“You should know that I don’t want to do a lift-“
“Well that sucks, kinda have to, sweet cheeks.”
“-I don’t want to listen to fucking ‘Say Something’ for the next three weeks-“
“Nothing I can do about that.”
“-And I sure as hell do not want to dance with you!”
The room is silent except for their heavy breathing, and it feels like they’ve just finished a long and tedious argument despite the fact that they’re just starting one.
Niall’s eyes narrow, and Louis never truly knew how cold blue could be until now. “You think I want to dance with you?” Niall hisses. He’s angry, extremely so, and it’s making his accent (Irish, or maybe Scottish, Louis doesn’t know) stand out to the point that it’s really fucking hot. But that’s beside the point.
“You’re so self-entitled, and you play it safe then act like you’ve accomplished some impossible task.”
Louis is shell shocked, and he really didn’t think today would go like this. But if Niall wants to play dirty, Louis’ going all in. “You think I play it safe?! Yet here you are, how the hell did you even get into this school?! You can’t dance for shit!”
Niall shoves him away, not hard enough to make him fall, but it surprises Louis all the same. “I know for a fact that you play it safe Louis Tomlinson. It’s been a year and half, when was the last time you did a lift?!”
To Niall’s utter surprise, Louis doesn’t respond. He turns around, looking hunched over on himself. Niall doesn’t know what’s going on, but for once he wishes he kept his mouth shut.
“I’ll make a cut of the song,” Louis swallows, trying not to let his voice crack or wobble. “And I’ll send it to you. If you like it, then that’s what we’ll submit on Thursday. I have to go.”
Louis’ still in his leggings and baggy t-shirt, but he doesn’t care as he practically throws his ratty Vans onto his feet. He gathers up the rest of his stuff and practically runs out of the room, into the freezing cold without his coat or scarf on.
Niall’s left behind, watching him go, sort of hurt but mostly confused.
…
“I hate him!” Louis cries, “I hate him, and I never want to see him again!” Ashley and Harry exchange worried looks over Louis’ head. The trio has managed to squeeze onto Louis’ bed together, and Louis’ content to cry between his two best friends.
“Lou,” Ashley says softly, stroking his feathery hair. “You still haven’t told us what happened. We can’t help you until then.”
“He, he called me self-entitled and he said my dances are safe and he keeps demanding to know why I don’t like lifts.” Louis sniffles. “So I told him that he can’t dance.”
“Oh Lou,” Harry whispers. “Maybe you should tell him-“
“No,” Louis objects. “I don’t want to see him again.”
“Louis, you have to. He’s your partner, and you can’t choreograph a dance together if you don’t see him,” Ashley points out.
“And your professors have required a lift in the dance Lou,” Harry adds. “I know it’s hard to forget what happened, but you need to get over it for this.” Louis shudders and shakes his head.
“I don’t wanna talk about it anymore,” he whimpers.
So they don’t.
…
The next time they see each other, it’s one o’clock the next Tuesday at the off-campus Starbucks. Louis’ waiting for his chai tea when the familiar accent (fuck, he’s still not sure if it’s Irish or Scottish) says, “Tall skinny mocha, please.”
Louis tries not to make eye contact, but apparently Niall is having none of that.
“Louis,” he says.
“Niall,” he responds, his voice shaking. He meant it when he said he didn’t want to see Niall again, yet here he is.
“We need to start choreographing the dance.”
“I know.”
“Mrs. Dunlap is expecting everyone to perform the first thirty seconds.”
“I know.”
“God damn it Louis, would it kill you to look me in the eyes and actually converse?!” Niall hisses, trying to keep it low. They’re surrounded by their peers, and to get into a serious argument would probably end in both of them being humiliated.
Louis looks him straight in the eye. “Yes,” he says, before collecting his tea and turning on his heel.
“If you’re not in the studio tomorrow Louis, we’re going to have a real problem!” Niall shouts after him.
“You say that as if we already don’t,” Louis replies, walking out of the building without another glance.
…
“You asshole!” Louis screeches. Niall half-glares at him from where he’s standing above. “You dropped me on purpose!”
“No I didn’t!” Niall defends himself. “But it sure as hell works better than dragging you across the stage!”
“We agreed that that’s what it was going to be!”
“Sometimes things change, you know it would be better this way!”
“I’m sorry I don’t really enjoy being dropped!”
“Will you two shut up?!” Both boys look up from their quarrel to see a livid Perrie Edwards standing in the doorway.
“What the fuck?!” Louis demands.
“Oh, I’m sorry, but it’s a little difficult to dance with you two literally screaming over the soundtrack.” Perrie marches up to Niall, standing a full head below him, yet she looks so intimidating that Niall practically has a tail between his legs. “You better have a good fucking excuse for this bull shit, Horan!”
Louis watches both annoyed and amused, as his dance partner gets dragged out of the studio by his ear.
Hylla Greene, a girl he’s never really given much thought before, offers a hand to help him up. “Thanks,” he mutters, brushing dirt off of his leggings.
“Do you feel like explaining what just happened?” She has an English accent, and since when has she been English? Probably her whole life, you nitwit, he thinks. “Because that was more than just a simple fight.”
“He dropped me,” Louis states simply. Hylla cocks her head to the side, raising an eyebrow, and he sighs before continuing. “How am I supposed to trust him enough to seriously lift me when he dropped me while just dragging me? And now he wants to keep it that way?! Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t like being slammed to the floor.”
“You two need to work together. Right now you’re like a cat and a dog, and it’s clearly not working,” Hylla comments. “Like, how much of the dance do you have done? As in, how much do you agree on?”
“We have enough for the deadline tomorrow, and we were trying to go further when he dropped me.”
“Louis, if you don’t mind me asking, why are you so scared of lifts?”
Louis shakes his head. “I can’t, I can’t tell anyone.”
“That’s okay right now, but you’re going to have to tell Niall eventually.”
Perrie and Niall walk back into the studio, and Louis goes to collect his things.
“We practiced enough for the thirty seconds we need by tomorrow. I’ll see you then.” Louis rushes out without another word. He does that a lot around Niall.
Hylla shakes her head and whispers, “That boy is so scarred.”
…
“Anywhere I would have followed you.”
Arms out, drop down into a split, let Niall pick you up so you’re standing, and done.
Polite applause came from the rest of their classmates, who were sat in chairs at the back of the studio. Louis sighed; he knew this wasn’t his best, and so did everyone else, apparently.
“Very good boys,” Ms. P says. “Would you mind staying after? We’d like to discuss something very important with you both.”
They murmur out their compliance as Mrs. Dunlap dismisses the rest of the class. Louis’ collecting his things, ready to bolt the moment he’s allowed, when their professors call them over to the little makeshift desk.
“Don’t get us wrong boys, your dance is excellent so far, and we’re very pleased with what you’ve presented to us today,” Mrs. Dunlap starts.
“But?” Niall asks.
Ms. P sighs. “But, your choreography is so void of real emotion that it’s explicitly, well, fake.”
“Do you boys like each other?” Mrs. Dunlap asks suddenly. They’re both taken aback by the question that they don’t answer, so she continues. “As in, do you enjoy each other’s company? For right now, it’s okay if you don’t. But that has to change by the time you present in two weeks.”
“Whether you like it or not,” Ms. P picks up, “you have to be on good terms with any dance partner you ever have. It’s part of the industry. If you don’t, your choreography is affected, and it just overall isn’t a pleasant experience.”
“What I’d suggest, and I’m sure Ms. P agrees with me, is that next time you get together, you talk everything out. It sounds cliché, I know, but until you can at least peacefully co-exist, your dance is going to be, well, mediocre.”
“You already have the moves, it’s just how genuine they are. You’re both excellent dancers, and we thought pairing you together would produce something marvelous. So please, for all of our sakes, prove me and Mrs. Dunlap right. Do we make ourselves clear?”
“Yes, miss,” Louis and Niall mumble together.
“Right,” Mrs. Dunlap claps her hands together. “Now, move along. This matter has taken enough of our time.”
They exit the studio together, and Louis tries to not-so-subtly run away from Niall. Their professors are right, they do need to get along in order for any of this to work, but he’s going to avoid it for as long as possible.
“We have studio three tomorrow, Louis!” Niall shouts after him. “You better be there!”
Oh, I’ll be there, he thinks, I just won’t be happy about it.
…
“So I’m not moving, I’m not moving.”
Louis’ only a little shocked, honestly, when he hears music from inside the studio. He admits it, he purposely showed up late just to emphasize his reluctance to show up at all.
He’s significantly more surprised when he sees Niall dancing though. Louis’ never seen Niall as much of a dancer, never mind a soloist. He recognizes the song by The Script, and he opens the door enough to spectate.
The dance is complex, and while Louis couldn’t name half of what Niall’s doing, it’s oddly appealing to watch. A minute later, Niall’s just about finished, and he ends lying on his back, one knee up with the other leg stretched out. Louis decides it’s then he should make his presence known.
Louis claps, stepping into the room, making Niall jump back. “Jeez!” he shouts, right before his head connects with the wall behind him. Louis giggles, but makes his way over nonetheless to see if he’s alright.
“God,” Niall groans, “you’re right, that’s not funny. Remind me to never sneak up on you again.”
“Karma’s a bitch, Horan,” Louis snickers.
“Yeah, well,” he grumbles.
“So…” Louis sits down cross-legged, and Niall is vaguely reminded of fairies. “We’re supposed to ‘get to know each other’ in order to improve our dance.”
“Something like that,” Niall agrees.
“You know, I shouldn’t have said that you can’t dance last week,” Louis admits quietly. “It was rude, and wrong, and I knew I was doing it with the intention of hurting you, which is ridiculous because I barely know you and I still barely know you. It’s just, I’ve never seen you dance before.
“Meanwhile, I’ve been dancing since I was five. And when I was ten, my dance studio threw me and Ashley together to do competitions, and it’s been that way ever since. So I guess I don’t like change? Because I’ve always lead, but you’re leading for this dance, and I actually don’t know which way I like more.”
Niall blinks, then blinks again and shakes his head. “That’s… Wow. Just, wow.” He takes a deep breath. “I guess that means it’s my turn? Well, me mum’s always been supportive, especially when she found out I like contemporary more than something ‘manlier’ like hip hop. And it’s not that my dad, like, commented on it, but he and my brother, Greg, they’ve always been weird about it.
“Kids at school didn’t really help either, they were always making fun of it. Guess that’s why I wanted to go to uni away away from home, instead of that performing arts school in Cambridge or something. I think that’s why I kinda hit you where I’d thought it’d hurt, because you got a sore spot on me.”
“Guess we both fucked up, then,” Louis says, a little breathless.
Niall chuckle, “Yeah, guess so.”
They sit in a mutual silence, until Louis finally blurts, “Are you Irish or Scottish?” He reels back, covering his mouth with his hands, as if he can’t believe what he’s just said.
Niall lets out a laugh, “Irish, born and raised in a wee town called Mullingar. What about you, then? Don’t really sound like a native New Yorker.”
“Nah, I wish,” Louis snorts. “This town in Vermont, called Shelburne. My family squeezed into a tiny two story house, and the only way I got my own room was to practically move into a closet.”
“Jeez, how many siblings do you have?”
“Five younger sisters, one little brother. Two sets of twins add up quickly. See, my mom’s on her third marriage. To be honest, I can only afford tuition because Julliard pays for half, and my birth dad’s mom pays the other half since she’s rich and I’m her only grandkid.”
“Isn’t that even a little awkward?”
Louis half-smiles and shrugs. “Nah, not really. What about you? You have, what, a brother? Greg or something?”
Niall’s whole face lights up, despite the negative comment he made about his sibling earlier. “Yeah, he’s just gotten married and had a kid, a little boy named Theo.”
Louis lets out a sort of embarrassing squeal. “I love kids! Do you have a picture?”
And yeah, maybe they should be practicing and choreographing for a project that’s due in less than two weeks, but the two boys spend their two hour slot talking to each other. By the time Louis leaves, he’s got a smile on his face and someone to call his new friend.
…
“So, let me get this straight,” Ashley says, waving her hands around. They’re curled up together under Harry’s comforter, but the trio is sat in his small living room with a bowl of potato chips and the first season of F.R.I.E.N.D.S playing on the television. “Niall Horan, the same Niall Horan you hated and never wanted to see again last week, is now a ‘decent person?’”
“Yeah,” Louis sighs, and it’s only a little dreamy, “our professors kinda forced us to. Well, they basically told us that if we weren’t friends, our dance would suck. And today I snuck into the studio while Niall was dancing, and he’s so good. So then we apologized over the fight and just talked for two hours straight. And it was so nice.”
“Lou, do you have a crush on him?” Harry asks.
“What? No!” Louis doesn’t look revolted, just taken aback. “I just enjoyed talking to the guy, I don’t wanna suck his dick.”
Harry lets out a laugh, “Well, I was just asking. Cause you’re talking about him like he hung the moon or sommat.”
“I am not!” Louis pouts, and Ashley bops him on the nose, receiving a glare in return. “Jesus, last week you were telling me how he’s a decent guy, and now that I agree, suddenly I want to marry him.”
“Your words, not his,” Ashley points out.
“Ugh.” Louis buries his face into Ashley’s neck, huffing. “Can we just drop this?”
“Alright,” Harry says, “but if you get married, I call best man.”
The scream he lets out is totally manly when both Ashley and Louis smack him.
…
Meet me at starbucks in ten?
It’s too early for this, Louis decides. His alarm clock read 9:01, and they have one of the studios from 10:30 to 12. He’s a little nervous honestly; ever since everything with Niall had been smoothed out, Louis’ been feeling pleasantly weird around him. In an act of pure self-denial, he refuses to acknowledge the fact that he’s probably developing feelings for him.
But the nerves also come from the fact that they’d finished their dance. Not physically, but both boys know all the choreography. That includes the required lift, and it’s giving Louis a small case of anxiety. Sure, Niall agreed that it’d be best for Louis to be the one lifted, but that doesn’t change what happened last time…
To top that piece of shit cake is the fact that they’re going to be practicing the lift today. Louis might just throw up any and all warm drinks he consumes today right onto Niall’s head. Which, hello? Is a major turn off.
Not that Louis cares about that, but the point still stands.
Still, he throws on an old hoody and some leggings and heads out, despite the sprinkle of snow falling at the moment.
By the time he actually gets to the Starbucks, it’s a little later than ten minutes, so Niall is waiting for him with two drinks at a table towards the back.
“Sorry,” he says, eagerly going for the tea. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he wonders how Niall remembered his typical order. The rest of his brain appreciates how rosy-cheeked the cold has made the other lad. Louis has to conscientiously snap himself out of it.
“It’s fine,” Niall grins, “it is snowing after all. It’s slippery outside, and neither of us can risk an injury, so.”
Louis shrugs, “Yeah, I guess so.”
They make small talk until it’s finally time to head to the studio. It’s February 12, meaning that their project is due in exactly a week. They have a lot of work to do if they’re going to impress their professors.
Niall sense Louis’ anxiety, but neither of them bring it up while they stretch. Which, probably isn’t the smartest thing in the world but. It is what it is.
“You’re sure you’re ok, Lou?” Niall asks. They’d gone through the whole dance up until the lift.
“Yeah,” Louis answers, breathless. He’s trying not to think about it, about what happened last time. He’s trying not to think back to a couple of weeks ago, when Niall and he were screaming at each other after Niall dropped Louis.
It’ll be okay, he keeps telling himself. It’ll be okay, it’ll be okay.
Then the music is playing in the background.
It’ll be okay.
He and Niall are running toward each.
It’ll be okay.
Louis’s gripping Niall’s shoulders, ready for it.
It’ll be okay.
No, no it won’t be.
Later, Louis will feel really ashamed of his actions. But when his feet start to leave the ground, everything sort of goes in slow motion. Suddenly, he can’t breathe and he’s retching himself out of Niall’s grip. Louis hits the floor, hard, but he can’t breathe.
Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he recognizes what’s going on for what it is. He hasn’t had a panic attack since his senior year in high school, a few weeks after the accident.
But the bigger part of his mind, the part demanding all of his attention, is screaming about his lack of oxygen. At this rate he’s going to pass out, Louis doesn’t know what to do, what does he do?
Niall, at first, freaks the fuck out. He sees Louis going through a panic attack, of course he does, but his mind is frozen. Niall would have never taken Louis as the kind of person susceptible to these kinds of things.
Once the initial shock, however, wears off, Niall throws himself into gear. His old neighbor, also his best friend, used to have panic attacks all the time, so Niall’s a veteran when it comes to helping.
Instantly, he turns the stereo off and dims the harsh lights of the studio. Niall slowly makes his way over to Louis’ hunched form. He lies down next to him, looking straight at Louis, whose eyes are frantically moving all over the place.
“Louis, I need you to listen to me,” Niall says gently, but firm. He makes sure to keep his sentences short. “Can you do that? Listen to me.”
Louis nods, his eyes landing on Niall for the first time. He focuses on the other boy like crazy, but his breaths are still too short, too fast.
“I’m going to hug you,” Niall says. It’s a weird statement, but he knows he needs to be as predictable as possible in order to help calm Louis down. “Is that ok, Lou? You can tell me if it’s not.”
Louis nods again, he still can’t talk. I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe.
Niall slowly wraps his arm around Louis’s waist, but he keeps their faces the same distance apart. Moving any closer in that aspect would not help his breathing.
“Remember when we sat in here. For two hours straight,” Niall slowly reminds him. “We talked the whole time. It was so nice.”
Niall feels Louis slowly start to grip his t-shirt, and his breathing slows just a bit. It’s enough to know that Louis’ peaked, and is slowly starting his decline.
“You’re so good, Lou. At everything you do. You’re so nice to people. Your dancing is great.” Niall isn’t exactly sure what’s the best way to help with Louis’ decline, so he figures praise might help. “You’re so so good. And all of your friends love you. Everyone loves you. It’s hard not to.”
Louis starts crying then. He’s embarrassed, and his head hurts, and he’s so disorientated. Niall is so patient with him, for no reason at all. He hasn’t even sort of explained anything to Niall, and here the boy is, helping him through his first panic attack in two years.
Louis burrows into Niall’s shirt, blushing and sobbing like crazy.
“Shhh,” Niall whispers, rubbing his back. “It’s okay, Lou. Everything is okay. We’ll get you through it. We will.”
“I w-want,” Louis hiccups, “I wanna g-go back to my d-dorm.”
“That’s okay,” Niall assures him. “We’ll go right now. I need you to stand up. Can you do that for me?”
Louis nods, and slowly but surely, they both get up onto their feet.
“Can you,” Louis looks away, already embarrassed despite not asking the question yet, “can you help me?” Niall furrows his brow, confused at first, but a look of understanding slowly washed over his face.
“Of course, Lou.”
Niall grabs both his jacket and Louis’s hoodie, assisting him in putting both articles of clothing on. Louis looks like he’s going to protest, but Niall says, “It’s really cold out, and you need the warmth more than I do.” He helps him tie his sneakers, which especially embarrasses Louis, but Niall just hugs him rather than commenting on it.
Eventually, they make it back to Louis’ dorm. Niall takes his student ID and his room key to get them in. Once they’re in, his roommate thankfully out somewhere, Niall helps Louis out of his heavy winter coat, shivering the whole time.
“You should have worn your coat,” Louis comments softly as he takes off his Vans.
“No, it’s fine, really,” Niall insists. Louis shakes his head, a pout forming on his face. The walk back had also helped calm him a bit, but he knows he’s in no shape to dance, or attend classes, for the rest of the day.
“Will you cuddle with me?” Louis asks, but quickly finds himself backtracking. “I mean, if you don’t have class. And if it’s not a bother. Really, I’d understand if you wanted to go-“
Niall cuts his ramblings off, “Lou, no offense, but I don’t think you’re in any shape to be alone. Of course I don’t mind cuddling.”
And so they both clamber into Louis’ twin bed, which really isn’t meant for two people. But, even so, they manage.
They lay there for an hour, sometimes talking, sometimes not, before Niall decides they really, really need to talk about what happened. Niall hates to think it, but they could get serious points deducted if they don’t include a lift. Which, Niall feels awful for thinking it, because of course Louis’s mental health is more important than a project grade. But. The point still stands.
“Lou,” Niall whispers. Both boys had been on the brink of sleep for the past fifteen minutes. “We really need to talk about what happened.
Louis tenses, but a moment later he’s releasing all of the tension with a sigh. Finally, he whispers, “I know.”
“We only have a week left, but I really want to help you get through this. I want to help you get over this fear, but I can’t until I understand the situation fully,” Niall presses, though he keeps his voice soft. Being aggressive to Louis is the last thing Louis needs. At least, I think so, Niall thinks.
“In my senior year of high school,” Louis starts, his voice shaking. “Ashley and I, our dance instructors were really pushing for us to do a lift. I don’t know why, I figure it’s because other pairs were beating us with extra points from lifts.
So, we all decided that I needed to do some weight training, just enough to be able to safely lift her. Ashley went too, she was trying to drop a few pounds just to try to help me with it. We weren’t being very healthy at the time, strict diet, a little too much exercise from both the gym and dance.”
Louis stops for moment, just to breathe. Niall rubs his back, being encouraging, but also a little urging.
He continues, “We started with basic lifts, nothing really serious or too complex. But finally, our instructors started pushing us a little too far. They kept insisting on us doing an over the head lift, saying it’d be super impressive, trying to sell us on it.
Finally, we decided to try it, just once. It wasn’t very smart though. It’d been at the end of a long, difficult rehearsal. Neither of us had eaten in several hours, we were exhausted, but we were going to try it.
So she came running at me, but neither of us really knew how to safely execute it. She was running too fast, didn’t slow herself down, but instead of stopping her, I lifted her anyway. But there was too much momentum, and we were so so tired.”
Louis lets out a dry sob. He didn’t like explaining it, he abhorred the situation altogether, but he knew Niall needed to know. If he was going to dance with Niall, they had to be completely honest.
“My legs gave out, and we hit the floor really really hard. Neither of us had time to even try to protect ourselves. A girl who had been there said the sound our heads made against the floor was horrifying. We came out of the experience with two grade-two concussions, I broke my wrist, and she tore a muscle in her leg.
I nearly ended our dancing careers before they even really began. Both of us had wanted to do the early application at Julliard, but because of it we had to wait. It was a miracle that we could dance just as well after three months of resting and healing.”
Niall’s silent for a few minutes after Louis finishes. A nearly career-ending injury? And the fact that Louis blames himself, Niall completely understands why such a simple dance move gives him anxiety.
But finally, he says, “Louis, from what I understand, the whole ordeal wasn’t your fault.”
Naturally, Louis starts to protest, but Niall stops him. “No, listen. It was a combination of things: your instructors being too demanding, you both agreeing to it despite how you were feeling. There were so many factors, that you can’t blame just you.
“I understand now that it’s going to be a while for you to be comfortable with a lift, so what if we finish the choreography around the lift first? And we can work our way up to it? But you’d need to tell me whenever you are uncomfortable. Your health, both mental and physical, comes before this routine, okay?”
“Okay,” Louis agrees quietly, “okay.”
…
It’s February 19, and also the day their project is due. Louis is full of nervousness; he trusts Niall, just as much as Ashley. Maybe even a little more. And he knows Niall won’t drop him. But the fact that Niall is lifting him, in front of people, for a grade. Well. It’s a little bit terrifying.
It had taken three days to lift Louis without him freaking out, and another one to make it look good, professional.
He plays with a stray thread on the flannel he’s wearing. Niall said he got it from his friend Liam, they incorporate it into the end of the dance after Louis takes it off. Their dance has a sort of homeless theme to it, so along with the flannel, which is unbuttoned, Louis only has on a sock for when they spin, and spandex shorts. He’s never felt so exposed, but he oddly likes it.
On the other hand, Niall was wearing a white tank top, sweatpants, and the one sock. Louis wasn’t really sure how they’d reached that wardrobe decision, but he thinks it involved a lot of tickling and Louis begging for mercy.
Since Louis starts onstage alone, Niall wishes him good luck from backstage.
“We’ll do great,” he whispers into Louis’s hair as they hug. “You’ll do great. Now, get on out there.” Niall playfully smacks Louis’s arse as he turns, earning himself a playful glare. He chuckles and winks, but Louis’s already onstage.
Here goes nothing.
…
They say when you meet the person you’re supposed to be with, it’ll be obvious. Your heart will start beating faster the first time you lay eyes on them. Your hands start to shake with the need to touch them. They make you want to fly, but they ground you at the same time.
Louis agrees, but he doesn’t think it’s initially obvious. He thinks it takes time to peel back layers, to discover the little quirks that makes a person smile.
After all, he really only truly feels it when Niall lifts him in front of everyone. He thinks he hears a gasp from Ashley in the audience, or maybe it was one of the professors. But he knows the moment is magical. He also knows he would really quite enjoy kissing Niall.
Finally, when the dance ends, they’re both on the floor. Louis’s laying with his head covered by his arms. Niall is half on top of him, using Louis’s previously discarded shirt to cover Louis. As the applause erupts, they smile at each other, still lying down. Finally, though, when they do stand, Louis attacks Niall with a hug.
“I’m so proud of you,” he whispers in Niall’s ear.
“I’m so proud of you,” Niall grins back.
“Absolutely phenomenal, boys!” Mrs. Dunlap exclaims.
“One of the best performances we’ve seen from your class, all these years, hands down!” Ms. P dotes.
And yeah, they did a pretty killer ass job.
…
Later, when they’re getting changed into street attire, Niall finishes first. And instead of waiting, like a normal person, he pins Louis to the wall. Because, well, sexual tension that’s been building for weeks has finally demanded release. Louis is shirtless, and he feel particularly tiny like this, but he can’t find it in him to care.
“You were so, so good,” Niall tells him.
Louis raises an eyebrow, and replies, “I know.”
“I’m going to kiss you now.”
“Fucking finally.”
And no, there’s no fireworks erupting. That’d be too cliché for them. And when Niall finally pulls away, Louis finds himself creeping up on his tippy toes for more. And it’s kinda sorta perfect.