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My love, Lucy.

**

"If your mum finds out that you're skipping a whole day of class for ballet, she'll never forgive you." Zayn said, glancing in the rear-view mirror.

"You won't tell her, will you?" Louis asked. "Please don't say anything to her. Please." There was a horrible fear behind his words, pain and panic, a whole story that he'd shared too many times in hope that someone would help him-it was a terrible thing to hear from a child so young.

Zayn looked over at Louis. He was dressed in old rags again, clutching his ballet slippers to his chest as if letting them go would be losing a part of himself. "Of course I won't tell her. Your secret is safe with me." He put a hand out and squeezed Louis' shoulder. Louis winced back, and when Zayn turned back to him, he was looking at acrylic nail marks that had been bored into his skin.

"You know.." Zayn started, unwilling to go over the topic of conversation again. He'd tried many times before, but Louis wouldn't listen. "Your mother.. We should report her to the police. I can get you out of th-"

"NO!" Louis shouted, turning to Zayn with the expression of a deer under headlights. "No, don't! Don't make her sad! She'll panic and she'll cry! Don't let the madhouse take her! She's not mad!"

"Louis, she hurts you. She's not fit to be a mother."

Louis' bottom lip was quivering, and he clutched his ballet slippers so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "No, I won't let you take Mother away! She'll be sad and lonely without me! Don't let anyone take her away! Please!"

His pleas were so desperate that they sent knives to skewer through Zayn's heart. The young child was punched, kicked, stepped on, hugged, kissed, shoved, beaten, and every other thing that you could imagine.. but despite it all, he would not let anyone take his Mother away from him.

"She's not crazy! She can't go to the madhouse, she'll be so sad." Louis was crying. He was crying the tears that he didn't want to see fall down his mother's face should she be taken away. He cried for her. He panicked and trembled.. for her.

Zayn saw all of that in his eyes then, every part of his panic, his sorrow, his strange and terrible love. All of it was there-the things that had shaped him-and those were the things that he'd not give up for the world.

"Fine." Zayn sighed, but it was not fine. None of this was fine, but there was nothing he could do. He could call the cops over without warning, but Louis wouldn't be able to handle a shock so sudden. After all, he was just a boy.

Zayn tipped his sunglasses down to the tip of his nose when he pulled into the lane where this so-called Mr Harry Styles lived. Last time, Zayn hadn't payed much attention to it, but now that he had a little more time, he drove slower, and admired the place where the rich-folk lived. The road was wide-four lanes divided down the centre by an assortment of pink flowers. Every inch of the pavements was clean, and not a wilted flower or leafless tree was in sight. The buildings were tall, wide, and terraces with swimming pools or deck chairs. Zayn would have loved to live here-anyone would-but his wife refused to let him 'run wild with his money', and so he would just have to remain content with their cosy cottage.

He pulled up to a house on the left, one tucked in the corner of a lane, by a large public garden with pine trees and roses that had crawled over the fence and now invaded a large part of the penthouse wall. "Don't forget to put on sunscreen." Zayn said to Louis as he scrambled out of the car. The boy tripped on the seat belt, did what looked like a pirouette, and managed to land on his feet. Zayn laughed and shook his head. "Here." He said, handing a sun hat to Louis. It was a light blue with Mickey Mouse's face on the side. Louis took it from him. "So you don't get heat stroke."

Louis grinned and put it on. "Thank you." He said, gratefully. "So much."

Zayn nodded at him, "I'll be back at half six. Have a nice time. Work hard."

Louis squealed and hopped from one foot to another. "Have a nice day at work!" he said, and Zayn rolled his eyes, "As if." he said, and then he drove away.

Louis walked up to the house, and realised that he couldn't see a front door. The lower floor consisted of a driveway that dipped below ground, with a white garage doorway, but there was no front door. Louis walked up to where the driveway slopped down, and he sat down there. He didn't know where to knock, and it wasn't as if he could knock on the wall. After a few moments, the garage door played a tune and then it rose. Louis walked the ferrari appear from behind it, then the chandelier, and then Harry who stood at the top of the steps, pressing down a button. Louis stood up and trotted down the driveway, up to Harry who closed the garage door again.

Louis looked at him, and his expression changed. The remainders of the smile that he'd had now ghosted on his face when he looked at Harry, and the excitement of seeing him was fading rapidly. "What's the matter?" he asked, "Have you been crying?"

Harry turned his face away, put a hand on his arm, and wavered there uncomfortably. Louis reached out to him but pulled back. But then, the little boy in plasters did something astonishing. He grabbed Harry and hugged him around the waist. He buried his face into Harry's side, balancing on the staircase while Harry almost fell over, and then Harry's hand was on Louis' arm, another covered his own face, and Louis wouldn't let him go until he'd feel just a little bit better.

"Why are you sad?" He asked, looking up at Harry but his face was turned away. Louis squeezed him tighter.

"Come on." Harry said, "Let's go inside."

Louis did as he was told and followed Harry into the penthouse. He kicked off his shoes and followed Harry into the large room where they sat on the sofa together. Louis waited for Harry to speak up, and looked around the room. His eyes caught sight of something by the telephone. A mug had smashed on the floor, and kitchen towel was soaking up the coffee that had spilt.

Louis looked to Harry and he was crying again. He couldn't see Harry's eyes, but the man was biting his bottom lip and tears slipped down his cheeks. Louis shuffled next to him, and put his head on Harry's shoulder. They remained like that for a while until Louis peered down at Harry's bowed head to see if he'd stopped being sad.

"It's okay to cry, you know." He said, "It's okay to be a little bit broken. Being sad doesn't make you weak."

Harry's tears ran faster, ones that he'd been trying to hold back, Louis saw them and took Harry's hand. His fingers touched something in Harry's palm that made him pull back for a second. A plaster was there-the biggest from the box.

"You kept it?" He asked, when Harry closed his hand around it. "After all of this time?"

Harry squeezed the plaster and brought it to his mouth. He kissed it and said, "I'd not let it go for the world."

Louis looked at his knees, at his hands placed over them, and Harry's hand came out to hold one of them. That simplest thing made the world crack open.

"We must dance." Harry said. He sounded strange when he'd said that, almost as if he were ordering himself, like his life were on the line.

He stood up, holding Louis' hand, and Louis let himself be lead up the stairs to the middle floor where he spotted corridors and rooms with closed doors, and then he was guided up another floor, to a ballet studio. The room was like the studio where he'd go every Monday, but this one was much bigger with mirrors on two sides, huge windows on the other, and the wall where the staircase was enclosed by glass panels was white.

"Wow," Louis gasped. "You really are amazing."

He meant to say, 'you really have an amazing house', but he got his words jumbled up. He was alright with that.

Louis sat on the floor and put on his ballet slippers. He could tie the ribbons perfectly, and he could even stand on the tip of his toes for a few seconds. Harry put on his own ballet slippers, the black ones, and then he tutted at Louis. "Cross the ribbons here, not here." He said, bending down and tying Louis' shoe more securely. He looked at the other one, and Louis tied it himself. "Good. Make sure that it's tight or you'll hurt your ankles."

Harry walked over to the middle of the room, Louis followed, and once that they'd stretched every muscle of their bodies, Harry said, "Do you know the story of Swan Lake? In Ballet?"

Louis nodded, but it was clear that he was unsure. "It's a tragic love story." he said.

Harry agreed, "In act one, a Prince is being congratulated for his coming of age. There is an announcement that he is to wed one of the women that are to be presented to him at the ball the following evening. The Prince gets the idea to shoot one of the swans, and he sets off with his friends to where the swans are, by the lake." Harry stretched his arm, a frown of pain on his face, "In act two, the Prince tells his friends to leave. He is alone with the swans, and Odette-the Swan Princess-appears in human form to tell her story. She is under a spell of a magician. By day, she and her friends are swans. The spell will end when she marries, but until then, only a crown protects her. She end up dancing with the Prince, declaring their love, and then the entire flock joins in."

Harry, while he spoke, kept fidgetting, stretching his leg and arms, while an expression of discomfort passed over his face. "Act three is where you'll play both the part of Odette and Odile. Odile is the magician's daughter who resembles Odette, and at the ball, she catches the Prince's eye. They are declared to be married, but then a swan arrives at the window, and the Prince pushes Odile away and rushes after the swan instead. In the final act, Odette is heartbroken and the Prince is found comforting her by the lake. She forgives him when he explains that he was tricked into thinking that Odile was her. Finally, the Magician appears and demands that the Prince should marry his daughter, or both he and Odette will die. The Prince refuses. The Magician's spell is broken by Odette and the Prince's love for each other, and the other swans become human again."

"Do Odette and the Prince remain dead?" Louis asked, balancing on his tiptoes.

"In this version, yes. In this version, the curtain closes on the dead couple." Louis looked a little sad by this, and Harry smiled sympathetically. "Not all love stories have happy endings. At least they died together. Imagine how sad it would be, should one of them live without.. without the other.."

Louis looked at Harry, and Harry coughed and turned away to the speaker by the wall. "Stand over there." He said, "I will show you the dance."

He pressed the 'play' button, and the song that Louis had listened to so many times before began to play. It was the classic 'Swan Lake' song, from the second act, the scene by the lake.

Harry stood in the middle of the room, his head bowed, fingers pointed, muscles tight, and then he was dancing. And Louis understood why everyone referred to him as the 'King of Ballet'.

Wildflowers grew in the places he tread, stars followed the movements of his arms, and gold dripped from his fingertips. Of all the pretty things, all of the astonishing things, the way that this man danced was by far the most incredible thing that Louis had ever seen. There was no denying it, that he'd earned his name, that he'd earned the crown that was placed on his head, and even if none of those things existed, Louis saw them all. Harry was a true prodigy, he found life when there was none, and he found love in a heart that had been broken too soon.

Yes, that must have been the reason behind his rare talent. He listened to his heart, he trusted his body, and most of all, he danced for a love that fate stripped away.

Harry did a pirouette, or something of the sorts, landed, jumped into the splits, then twirled again until he landed almost silently in front of Louis. He breathed heavily, beads of sweat dripping from his body, and a wide smile of satisfaction was over his face. Louis-who hadn't closed his mouth in the whole time that Harry had danced-finally had enough awareness to clap.

Harry picked up a towel and dropped it over his hair. After drinking from a water bottle that Louis offered him, he said, "That choreography felt... nostalgic."

"You were beautiful." Louis said, frustrated that he couldn't find words deep enough to express how he felt about Harry's performance, "That dancing.. like a butterfly.. You are beautiful, Harry. I want to be beautiful like you."

Harry smiled at him, but it turned sad. "I'm beautiful for all of the wrong reasons. You don't want to be beautiful like me-it's a painful way to live."

*

Louis spun around on a bar stool, holding a Jäger Bomb in his hand, while Harry washed the dishes. It was just after lunch, and even though Louis had discovered that Harry was quite possibly the worst cook in the world, his perception of him didn't change. In Louis' eyes, Harry was an incredible and rare beauty, and he didn't think that anything would ever make him change his mind.

"You're going to fall off." Harry said, and Louis missed the ledge of the table and crashed to the ground with a loud "OW-" Harry laughed and walked around the bar table, looking down at Louis who appeared more confused than hurt, covered in alcohol. "Are you alright?" He asked putting a hand out for Louis.

Louis took it and stood up, rubbing his hip and glaring at the stool. He yelped. Harry, suddenly, had picked him up by the waist and was now sitting him down on the bar table. Louis looked at him in surprise, and Harry smiled, "Do you like marshmallows?" he asked.

"I've never had a marshmallow before." Louis said.

"Really? Are you sure?" Harry said, and upon remembering that there was a possibility that Louis' mother abused and neglected him, he said, "I have a bag of them. Here."

He pulled out a large bag from beneath the bar table and tore it open. Louis swayed his feet, and watched Harry pick out a pink marshmallow. "Marshmallows are a ballet dancer's secret ingredient. This is what makes them dance like the sugar plum fairy."

He held the marshmallow up, Louis opened his mouth, and Harry pushed it in there. He watched his ring fingers slip in and out of Louis' mouth, and then he watched the boy eat the marshmallow. "It tastes like a cloud." Louis said, mouth full.

Harry watched him, distracted by the marshmallow that made Louis' right cheek puff out, and he poked it. He poked Louis' cheek. He quickly realised what he was doing and pulled his hand back. "Ah-uh.." he said, trying to find a credible explanation for what he'd just done. He didn't find anything to say, but Louis poked his cheek back.

"What did you do that for?" Harry asked, touching his face where he could still feel Louis' finger ghost on his skin.

Louis shuffled forward on the table, then locked his legs around Harry's waist. He pulled Harry towards him, turned him around, and then climbed onto his back. "I like you. Do you like me?"

"Like you?" Harry asked, smiling, "I love you."

**

I hope that you enjoyed it and that you're enjoying the story as a whole! If you have any , drop them here and I'll get back to you. Xx

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Written with my love, Lucy.