Louis stared at the amount of money that he was supposed to pay. Surely, this man-this stranger-wouldn't pay for him? It was far too much to ask. But then again, when there was certainty in that sharp face of his. He was not joking in the slightest.

"Harry.." Maria said, as surprised as Louis was but not for the same reason. She couldn't believe that Harry of all people would do something like this for a beginner. He'd always looked down on them. "Are you sure?"

The ballet dancer walked up to Louis, and Louis wondered if he was going to get punched. Yet, as surprising as things were, the man bent down to align their faces, slid a finger beneath Louis' chin and lifted the boy's head up. He stared at Louis for an uncomfortably long while, many thoughts passing through his brain but he didn't let Louis read them. Finally, he stood back up, picked up a towel that awaited on the bench, and began to walk to the changing rooms. "As I said-I will pay for everything." and before he could leave, he turned back and bowed his head, "Your name is Louis, isn't it? Welcome.", and he was gone.

A long silence was cast over the three remaining people in the room. Everyone stared to the doorway where they'd seen the man last, and finally, Louis' mind found itself again and he reacted. He squealed, balling his hands into fists, and jumped up and down in his brand new ballet slippers. He turned to Maria, and there was the biggest smile on his face. It was one of those rare smiles that made his white teeth shine and his eyes crinkle up and his cheeks and nose turn pink. But then, he was laughing, and if you were to think of the happiest thing in the world, it wouldn't even compare to the joy that Louis felt then.

"I have to-I have to thank Mr Harry." He said, jumping from one foot to the other. He ran with difficulty to the changing rooms, and didn't hear both Maria and Lilly-Ann shout urgently for him to stop.

He pushed the door open and it slammed against the wall. Behind it, sat on a bench beneath a row of lockers, was Harry. He jumped in surprise, his head snapping up, and when the shock had passed over his face, he scowled. Louis looked at him, his eyes riding down his body, down the dressing gown that he'd pulled over himself, to his legs. He was strapping a prosthetic to a leg that had been cut off below the knee.

"Oh. I'm.." Louis started, backing away, and then he spun around, out of the room, and slammed the door closed. His heart was thumping, he felt so embarrassed and yet he wasn't sure why. He stayed there for a few more seconds, leaning against the door and leaving his heart to race as it was doing, and then Lilly-Ann was standing in front of him, guiding him away to the ballroom.

"I suppose that you saw, then." she said, sitting Louis down on the end of the long bench by the mirrors. Louis nodded, his cheeks flushed. "You shouldn't have gone in there. He won't be happy."

Louis looked up at her, "What happened to him?"

She got down on her knees and began to tie the ribbons of Louis' shoes correctly. "Harry has always loved ballet. His parents were ballet dancers, and so were their parents. He's come down a long line of the most famous Ballerinas of all time, and surely that is why he's so good. But he was diagnosed with bone cancer not long ago and it caused his leg to get bad, and, well you saw what happened."

"But how can he dance?" Louis asked, "Why does he dance?"

Lilly-Ann looked up at him and there was sadness in those cold eyes, "You're right in thinking that he'd stop dancing, and he did for a long while. He began to believe that he was not made for ballet, that he wasn't worth it. But shortly after he had found the heart to start dancing again, his Ballet partner got into a car accident. It killed her. Her name was Rosaline, his lover. She was to play the part of Odette in the upcoming show, Swan Lake, this winter, but of course, that isn't going to happen. Harry was to be Prince Siegfried. They'd had an argument before she died, and he never got the chance to apologise. He now dances for her. He dances for her love."

Louis remembered the poster on his wall, the one above his bed, and there was no doubt about it that Harry was the King of Ballet. Yet that King was living a life without his Queen.

Lilly-Ann tucked in the ribbons of Louis' shoes and then paused for a moment. "He has never done this before-pay any attention to a newbie, I mean. There must be something about you, Louis." She smiled then and stood up, trying to brush the sadness away when she added, "It must be all of those colourful plasters. Why do you have them anyway?"

Louis smiled stiffly, "I'm clumsy."

*

Dear diary,

I did not speak to Mr Harry again, that day, but he did look at me out of the corner of his eye when he came into the room as if to say, 'I hate you'. I don't think that he likes me at all.. At least, if I were him then I wouldn't like me. He must see me as a clumsy brat who spends his money and scuffs up his dance floor. In any case, he came back from the changing rooms wearing black tights beneath his jogging trousers and ballet slippers. He went to warm up alone, occasionally stopping to flick a finger at Maria so that she'd change the music to fit his needs. He was very flexible, as I remember, and he is one of those people who can put their leg next to their ear and do the upright splits. In a field of moths, he is a butterfly. That is the only way that I could describe someone like that.

Yours sincerely, Louis.

*

Louis shoved the diary under the bed and hugged his pillow for a while. The breeze from the crack in the window blew over him, but thankfully, it was warm. He rolled over to gaze at the poster above his bed. The prosthetic leg seemed to have a new meaning, now that he Louis was aware of the story behind it. The show was cancelled, the curtain would never rise, but more certainly, if Prince Siegfried were to dance over Odette's death, then it would not be just an act any longer. Then again, in the end of the story, the Prince died with his lover, and Louis knew that for Harry, a life without dancing was death.

A knock on the front door made Louis sit up, and he scrambled off of the bed to see who it was. He leant of the old barrier at the top of the stairs and peered down it to the front door. Through the frosted glass, he saw a pink blob with bright blond hair. There was no doubt that only one person was foolish enough to knock on the Tomlinson's door, and that person was Louis' best friend, Niall. There was slight panic, then, when he realised that Mother was asleep on the sofa downstairs, and he hoped that Niall wouldn't ring the doorbell and wake her. He tiptoed down the stairs, they creaked beneath him, and he glanced around the living-room doorway to see his sleeping Mother before putting a hand on the front door and opening it. It creaked and clanged a little too loudly when the chain lock got stuck, and Louis had to close the door, wait for Mother to finish stirring, before even saying 'hello' to his friend.

He finally shut the door behind himself once that he'd stepped outside, and he smiled at Niall. He had only met Niall two years back, but he was his first and his only friend, and Niall had promised that he'd stay that forever. He was the sort to not let you down, the sort of angel that you'd not expect to find but one that-once it was there-would stay until the end. Louis trusted Niall, and he was right in doing so.

"Is she asleep?" Niall asked in that Irish accent of his. Louis nodded. "Did she hurt you?" Niall said. Louis nodded.

Niall looked Louis up and down. He wore his shirt that was too big again, his mismatched socks, and his shorts, and the only bright colours were all of those Mickey Mouse plasters. "I like this one." Niall said, pointing to Louis' elbow. He smiled, as if to reassure Louis, and Louis wavered for a moment, but his hands came out and he clung onto Niall as if he were the world. He began to cry, and Niall put a hand on the back of his head. Louis didn't cry often-hardly ever-out of sadness, but now he couldn't help it. He was too hurt; his knees, his hands, his pride, his heart.. There was a lot of pain in that little body of his, and the only wish that had was to dance it away.

"I can't stay for long, but Granny told me to bring you some cookies." Niall said when Louis finally pulled away. "She needs me to give her a bath. I would love to stay, but I really can't." He felt terrible for leaving Louis, but at least the small smile on Louis' face reassured him when the boy took the basket of cookies from him. "We made them especially for you; They're in the shapes of animals. Granny put in ten pounds, as well. Don't let your mother see it."

Louis nodded, touching the red spotty tea-towel that covered the cookies. "Thank you." He said, "For everything."

Niall lingered on the porch for a few moments, "You deserve better, you know. She doesn't mark your worth. I wish that you could live with me and Granny, but her health.. and she doesn't have the room.. but she's always telling me that if her legs were better then the first thing she'd do would be to take custody of you.", and then he turned away and began to walk down the path. At the gate, he turned back to say, "You can keep the basket. Put your pebble collection in it." He waved, picked up his bike, and rode away to leave Louis wondering how his life would be if he were to live with Niall.

*

He was about to go back inside when someone called out, 'wait!'. He heard a car stop, and he turned to it. His eyes widened when he saw a black Ferrari. It stood out in his little village, looking far too expensive and far too clean for a place like this. It was parked directly outside Louis' gate, and then the door opened, and Harry stepped out.

He looked quite different than before. His hair was loose and tumbled over his shoulders, he wore black sunglasses, a white shirt, and despite the blazing heat, he wore jeans and converse shoes. Around his fingers were rings, around his neck was a locket with a pendant of a ballet slipper. He walked up to Louis' gate and raised his sunglasses to balance them on the top of his head. "Are you free?"

Louis glanced to the living room window. The curtains behind them were shut. They were always shut. "Mother won't let me leave the house." He said, "I shouldn't be here."

Harry did not open the gate, but he looked around the small front garden. It was surrounded by a badly trimmed hedge, and the grass in the garden had clearly been mowed by someone who did not know how to use a lawnmower. "Is it only you and your mother living here?" He asked. Louis nodded, clutching the basket in his hands. Harry also nodded, but it seemed disapproving. "Is she out? All of the curtains are closed."

Louis looked up at the face of his house and laughed uncomfortably, "Mother doesn't really.. like them open. She doesn't get along with people very well.." He heard a crack from inside the house, then a thud, and then silence. "I need to go." He said, turning around. "I'm sorry."

"Louis, wait-" Harry said, his usual monotone voice changing to urgency so fast that Louis couldn't help but turn to him in surprise. Harry's hand was reaching out, but upon realising that it was, he pulled it back. "After the Ballet class tomorrow, please come to my flat. There's something that I'd like to see from you."

Louis thought for a moment. Tomorrow was Monday, and he'd always finish at lunch time but had never told Mother. Usually, he'd be with Niall and Granny, but now he had ballet lessons. He had to be home by seven, and anything he'd do before that would be unknown by Mother. "Alright." He said, and then he pushed the door to his house and left. He waited on the other side of it, his heart thumping heavily, and he heard the car drive away.

*

I hope that you're enjoying it. Sorry that it keeps deleting itself, wattpad is going wrong lately, but the book is up on ao3 as well.

Please share on social media if you enjoy it, thank you so much!

Written with my love, Lucy.