chapter four

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               Louis would like to think that projecting his voice is one of his talents.

"Harry Styles!"

And thankfully so, as the curly brunet ascending the theatre's steps stops dead in his tracks—long enough for Louis to close the gap between them.

Harry's just wielding his head around when Louis meets his gaze. "Good afternoon," Louis announces, dragging in quick breaths of cold air, "How are you?"

"You know my—" Harry stops himself, his green eyes bounce back and forth between Louis' face and passing students, "Uh, I," he looks elated, as if he's genuinely thrilled to have his full name be common knowledge, "I'm well, how are you?"

Louis actually laughs. "I'm doing all right, thank you." He watches as the boy laughs too, readjusting his knit scarf. The next gust of wind blows both of their coats open, and it is sign enough to have them jogging up the rest of the steps.

When they reach the theatre's front doors, Harry grabs hold of the door handle and yanks it open. "After you."

Louis sidesteps in front of him, adding as he goes, "I read your article, by the way. Very inspirational."

The boy's hand drops from the door. Louis shoves his knee out to stop it from shutting between them. Harry looks pale. "That was sarcasm, wasn't it?" He says matter-of-factly, running his hand over his eyes, "You hated it. Oh my god."

Louis slowly replaces his knee with a flattened palm as the boy continues to scold himself, and for a moment, Louis wonders if he'd accidentally lost his mind and said something awful. But no—he'd definitely said inspirational, and for some reason, the boy sounds like he's about to quit UToday entirely.

"Hey, no," Louis urges, gripping the boy's bicep with his free hand, "I was serious. It was inspirational—made me feel like I was doing something right."

Harry stops his rambling in an instant, his eyes falling to where Louis' fingers are wrapped around the fabric of his coat. The door wavers back and forth in the October air.

"You liked it?" He asks, finally looking up.

"Yes," Louis enunciates, a smile tugging at his lips, before he's tugging the boy clear through the doorway. The door slams shut behind them, the noise ricocheting through the high-ceilinged hall. "Didn't even ask me for a quote, though. I hear other student journalists have been asking for quotes." Louis complains, adjusting his bag on his shoulder, and miraculously, Harry actually seems to play along.

His turns toward Louis, his voice wavering a little, "I can only add so much inspiration into three-hundred words." his eyes land on Louis once more, his teeth stark white behind his ruby coloured lips.

"Oh, is that it?" Louis gawks, his eyebrows rising in fabricated shock, and yes—this is banter he wanted. Harry is forcing away a smile when Louis adds, "Well, just let me know when the next—"

A voice cuts him off.

"Louis, thank god you're here." It's Emilie, her voice short and frantic, causing both boys' heads to dart over to the stage. Walking briskly, she breaks from a group of stagehands and makes their way over to where he and Harry are standing.

The panic is clear on her features when she steps up to them.

"Aiden dropped out. We're out of a lead."



The Importance of Understudies, a biographical haiku by Louis William Tomlinson:

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