chapter two

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            They get their first assignment on a Wednesday.

Professor Miller had begun with an introduction to the basic components of an acting performance, which, Louis thinks, almost put the class to sleep (perhaps almost is a bit of an understatement when the boy two tables down from Louis had definitely been snoring).

To be fair, Professor Miller didn't seem all that excited either, but her voice remained bright and airy throughout the entirety of her preaching—no matter how many times she emphasized the positive effects of being positive, or the importance of having only the realest of realistic expectations.

Around an hour into the lecture, Professor Miller had really pulled out the big guns. The session had shifted from the basics and centered on the technique of adopting a character's emotional capacity and physical experiences as your own, which.

Louis had immediately sat up in his chair. A few students actually woke up. That was more like it.

Nearly an hour later, Louis' eyes flick to the clock above the door. He stretches out his back, covering his mouth as he yawns, and then returns his gaze to Professor Miller. It reads five more minutes of class.

"Now it's your turn," She almost yells, excitedly extending her arms out for emphasis, "You've all chosen the performing arts programme for a reason, now's the time to show me what you've got."

Louis quirks an eyebrow inquiringly.

"I want you to choose any memorable scene and recreate it here on our stage. Just a little performance—something with intriguing characters, some dynamic, a good bit of dialogue," She muses, shaking her head casually with a hand on her hip, "I'm thinking, three to four minutes a piece?"

Almost immediately, Louis' taken back through every memorable moment in film he'd seen in his vast eighteen years of life. He remembers Zayn shrieking in terror when Jack died, Zayn laughing hysterically when Lebowski bathed with a ferret, Zayn bawling for hours after the Marley fiasco of '09, and—all right, maybe it was Zayn who made the films especially memorable in the first place.

Somehow, Louis' tangent lands him back in graduating year, when he was confused and awkward yet still at the pinnacle of the education ladder—that until university, which is basically going back to the bottom rung. He was just finding himself in the world of performing arts, decided to mention his interest to Zayn, and had the boy practically force him to audition for the school's musical the very next day.

To be fair, Louis wouldn't have done it if the musical hadn't held one of his most favourite moments in film. He had been just shy of three lines into his audition when the two drama teachers had burst out in hysterics.

Apparently, making a one-sided advance on (a nonexistent) Sandy while in a (even more nonexistent) convertible had been it. So, he had played Danny in his school's surprisingly decent production of Grease, and—

A hand flies up in Louis' peripheral.

It's one of the blokes that were asleep, Louis supposes, judging by the way the bloke's mates snicker and the elbow to the gut that follows, "A scene from any medium? Like, not just films? Literature too? And plays?" he asks, his voice like tinsel. It's the kind of voice that belongs on the radio.

Louis' eyes flick back to his professor when she grins. Running a hand through her light brown hair, she nods far too enthusiastically, "Great point, Nick. Any scene you'd like, from anywhere you'd like."

Nick turns back to his mates muttering something defensive about his great point, and Professor Miller adds, "Have your small groups chosen before next class. Three, four—partners, even."

A Piece of His Heart / larry uni AUWhere stories live. Discover now