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sunsetinmyvein · 4 years

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I Know That I’ll Lose - Chapter One - This is How it Starts

A terribly stubborn, mildly (at best) egotistical man happens to meet a girl just as hard headed as he is, who can't help but bite every time he fishes for attention. "Don't set me a challenge if you aren't prepared to have it beaten."

A/N - Hey, guess what? I still write! I know, crazy, huh? This thing has been in the works for about eight months now and is finally ready. I wanted to make sure that it was completed so that I didn't leave anyone hangin' and that I was 100% happy with it before I started posting it. This thing has been read and re-read numerous times - a lot of care and effort went into preeeetty much all of it. There are hyperlinks scattered throughout the story. They don't add anything to the actual content, they kind of just provide context on certain moments, or reference where I pulled something from, or sometimes they're just a gif that makes me laugh. Click 'em if you want, don't if you don't want. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Anyway! Hopefully you guys might get some enjoyment out of it. As always, any thoughts and comments are always thoroughly appreciated. :D

Selling merchandise for a band was always seen by those who didn’t do it as this glorious job. Everyone always seemed to think that you must know the band, that you get all the free shit you want, you can give the discounts you want, that you control what the band sells, that you get to watch the show and then go home. But that’s not what it was at all. Merch was a lot of waking up early, receiving boxes, unpacking boxes, counting shirts, folding shirts, selling shirts, unfolding shirts, re-counting shirts, packing up shirts into boxes, then shipping boxes away and ending your day long after the last guest had left the venue. Rarely did you get to watch the show, sometimes you couldn’t even hear it depending on where the merch stand was located. You definitely didn’t know the band, typically their manager reaches out to the brand label who will make or receive their merch and then they reach out to you. You receive what you’re given, sell it, send back what you don’t sell. Move on. The most you ever see of the band is what you can see from the back of the crowd over everyone else’s heads. And most certainly you don’t get free stuff. Everything is accounted for against the money taken in for the night, and losses are recorded. All of these things came to the forefront whenever a fan gave you a tough time for not stocking hoodies, or for not having some obscure item they wanted, or for complaining that the prices were too high and asking you to lower them, not understanding that you weren’t in control of any of that. Or better yet, asking you to ask the band something – because that was definitely feasible when they had no idea who you were.

But, despite all this; it was a fun job. It meant chatting to people all night who were like minded and enjoyed music, especially if you were lucky and swung it so you could work merch for a band you actually enjoyed listening to and got to talk to other fans. The counting was, at the very least, simple and sometimes therapeutic. The long hours typically meant you always had time to get everything done, and they usually paid well - cash in hand at the end of a shift wasn’t something you got in many industries. Sometimes you could see the show from merch and enjoy it a bit while the crowd was occupied. Sometimes you were allowed to take a tour shirt home, if you were lucky. Sometimes, if you were really lucky, the band came to the merch van to see how things were selling, or to make sure you got everything. It was always pretty cool whenever that happened. But it was exceedingly rare.

At the end of the day though, a job was a job and money was money. And money was exactly why Y/N had accepted the job selling merch with her brother for The 1975. But by the time the gig had rolled around, two months after his initial job offer to her, pleasure was the reason she was going. She had spent the last couple of months listening to them and learning a bit about the band. They were definitely worth listening to despite her original thoughts on their music, and all of a sudden she found that she regretted working the concert as she would’ve preferred to have been going to the concert. But the cash was needed. So, she would have to settle for this and maybe being able to hear a bit of the show from merch. Maybe she could sneak away during her break to catch a few songs. If she could get away from the merch van close to the end of their set, then she could catch The Sound and she’d be happy enough with that. As she counted the shirts, she put on some music in the background to get truly into the zone and tried to formulate a plan about how she could catch a few of her favourite songs. Maybe it could work… Her thoughts were eventually interrupted by her brother asking her if she’d seen the yellow ink.

“The what?”

“The yellow ink for the shirt pressing thing?” They had been given a strange contraption when they had come into the venue: A massive machine that they were told would be used to print new designs over old 1975 t-shirts for free if any fans brought them up. They were fairly sure they had worked out how to use it, but now they couldn’t find any ink to test it with. “I’ll go look for some. Maybe they have it boxed with the other stuff out the back. Be back soon!” He called as he walked out of the door, pulling it shut behind him.

She went back to counting and formulating plans. Fifteen minutes had passed with her being in the counting zone before she heard the door open again. “Hey, did you find the-” She spun around, only to come face to face with someone who wasn’t her brother as she had been expecting. He stood taller than her brother and had a messy mop of dark curls sitting on top of his head. He took off the sunglasses he was wearing and cleared his throat before speaking.

“Hi, erm, sorry for the intrusion.” He started as he smiled sheepishly. The British accent was thick in his tone, and she was already fairly certain she knew who this man was without an introduction. But it was probably better for her own nerves if she didn’t confirm or deny that.

“No, no, it’s cool. How can I help?” She stopped counting the pile that she was in the middle of and set it aside, turning to face him properly now.

“I just wanted to come by and make sure that you knew what to do with the reprinted merch.” He continued as he gestured to the strange machine that they had been given. He felt awkward standing in here, like he shouldn’t touch anything. As much as this was his show, his band, his merch, he felt like he was intruding in a space that wasn’t his, and he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with himself. It had been a long time since he’d sold any merch.

“Oh! Well, kind of.” She made her way over to the machine. “We were just looking for the ink for it, but I think we’ve worked out how to use it.” She demonstrated how they had been trialling the machine and he nodded in response. It felt good to know that they weren’t total idiots and had managed to work it out.

“It’s not too hard, you just have to make sure the shirt in it is really pulled tight so the pattern is right.” He grabbed a shirt from her pile that she had been in the middle of counting to demonstrate. She winced slightly as he ruined what would’ve been a perfect pile of ten, but let him take it. He loaded it into the machine and showed her how to get it to sit properly. “And did all of the boxes arrive? I tried to keep my eye on them when they came over with me on the plane but I lost track a few times because I didn’t have to grab them myself. We lost one at the last stop.” He ran a hand through his messy curls, trying to judge what was in the room and see if it looked correct.

“I think everything is here. It was 26 in total I believe that should’ve come with you and 21 already here.” He nodded. That sounded roughly right.

As he took in his surroundings, he noticed that she was also wearing one of their shirts. That was all the invitation he needed to snap out of the awkward feeling that had been looming over him and jump into his usual personality. “And I see you’re already modelling some for us.” He grinned with an eyebrow raised.

She glanced down at the tour shirt she was wearing. “Ah, standard policy to wear the shirt that there’s the most stock of to show it off.” She replied. “But I’m hoping I can start modelling the hoodie as soon as the sun sets.” She laughed. “I might even grab one. They look very comfy.”

“You should get the shirt you’ve got on.” He replied instantly. She looked at him with a slight hint of curiosity in her eyes. He paused for a beat, contemplating if he should continue his thought out loud. But he was never a man to censor his words. “It looks good on you.” His dark brown eyes held a certain sparkle in them when he said it, like he was waiting to see how she responded. She opened her mouth to reply, but her brain was taking a good moment to catch up to his words. Was that flirting? Or an offhand compliment? A mumbled ‘thanks’ was all that ended up coming out of her mouth before turning back to her counting to hide the red that was dusting her cheeks.

The conversation stilled between them, with the background noise of her phone quietly playing on the far side of the van being the only thing to fill the room. She had assumed that he had gotten all the info he needed and was on his way out. Should she ask for an autograph or something before he leaves? That might be weird. She doesn’t even know for sure that it’s him. He probably had more important stuff to attend to, anyway. And it looked like he might have been about to turn and leave, until a familiar song started playing on her phone. The introduction to Tootime floated through the air as she stared down at her pile of shirts and mentally cursed herself for putting a playlist on shuffle that had 1975 songs in it. There were so many other songs in this playlist. Why did her phone have to betray her like this? “Nice music choice, by the way.” He smirked. “That band is pretty overrated, though. I hear the singer is a bit of a twat.” He chuckled at his own joke, but she was still so caught off guard that she was unsure whether to laugh, or if that would be rude. However, it definitely confirmed that he was who she suspected. Matthew Healy was currently giving her shit for listening to his music at his show. God fucking dammit.

“Oh, I, uh…” She blushed furiously as she stared down at her phone. It would be too awkward to change the song now, the damage was already done. He laughed lightly.

“It’s fine. It’s nice to see people behind the scenes enjoying the music. Meet the fans and all that jazz.” He looked entirely too amused by her embarrassment, rocking onto the balls of his feet as he gauged her reaction.

“Well… I wasn’t a fan until I got the job if I’m honest. Only started listening to you guys about two months ago. I was a bit late to the boat on that one.” She shrugged, finally turning away from the offending device to look at him.

He let out a fake gasp and clutched at his heart. “I am deeply hurt by this information.” That managed to get a chuckle out of her.

“Truthfully, I had it on because I wasn’t sure if I’d actually be able to get away to see any of the show. We’re so far away from the stage here. I was hoping to sneak away to catch The Sound but I’d have to sprint back to merch as soon as it ends if you play it last.” She explained.

“Well…” He scratched at the back of his neck, mulling over the idea in his head briefly before voicing it. “Would you want to come and listen to it now?”

“What? Like on my phone?” She frowned in confusion.

“No, we can play it for you live. Now.” He elaborated.

“How?”

“We’re about to start soundchecking in a few minutes, I’ll just get the guys to play that instead of something else.” He had already dragged his friends into this mess of trying to impress a girl. It took him all of five minutes. He was certain they wouldn’t be pleased but they could suck it up.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t bother you like that. You need to actually test shit and make sure it’s all working.” She said as she shook her head.

“We can do all that playing any song. It doesn’t matter what ones we play.” He shrugged. “Assuming you’re allowed to leave here of course?” He asked, raising an eyebrow in question.

“I, um…” What on earth was happening? This was not an offer to turn down, but it felt strange to accept it all the same. “Yeah, I can, I guess. I just need to lock the door so that nobody bursts in and steals armfuls of your shirts.” He flashed a triumphant grin.

“Let’s get going, then. I’d better not keep my boys waiting for too long or they’ll think I’ve abandoned them for some cute girl or something.” He watched her carefully out of the corner of his eye as he made the comment, seeing the blush return to her cheeks. He hadn’t planned to have a fun time messing with anyone today, but he certainly wasn’t complaining that the opportunity landed itself right in his lap.

She locked the merch door before they started walking down the corridors towards the stage. A pit of nerves had started to form in her stomach, but before she could start to internally freak out too much his voice snapped her out of it. “Oh! I have totally forgotten to introduce myself. Matty.” He said, holding his hand out for her to shake. As she took it, he pulled her slightly closer towards him. “But I feel like you might’ve already known that.” He added with a wink.

“I had a feeling.” She nodded, trying her best to hold his gaze and not chicken out as he continued to hold onto her hand. Was he just a forward sorta guy or was he actively flirting? Because it was pretty unmistakable at this point.

“And your name, love?” He raised his eyebrows, urging her to continue.

“Y/N/N.” She answered as he finally let go of her hand. She hated that it had an odd tingling feeling in it. She definitely didn’t need to fangirl over an attractive guy who was being incredibly nice right now. That would certainly not help anyone. So, she pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind. He nodded thoughtfully to himself at her answer, considering what that would be short for.

“Not Y/N?” He questioned.

“Not Matthew?” She countered, giving him a pointed look. He grimaced at the use of his full name. It reminded him too much of getting told off by his parents, teachers, George.

“Point taken.” He laughed.

They rounded the corner to the arena floor and began walking across the expansive space. It seemed a lot smaller when thousands of people were crammed into it. He hopped over the barrier when they reached it, taking his place up on stage with his friends. They didn’t seem to bat an eyelid at the fact that he had some random girl in tow with him as he approached them. He came across very differently on stage as he gathered his equipment than what he had in the merch van. An entirely different aura about him. Less awkwardness, a lot more confident of himself and his movements. He was handing out directions instead of being afraid to move for fear of messing something up. He wore the demeanour well. He made sure his mic stand was at the correct height before tapping it a couple of times.

“All right boys, we’re gonna play The Sound for my lovely friend down there.” He said, waving his hand in her general direction as he shot a grin her way. She smiled up at him, trying to stifle a laugh. This entire situation seemed surreal, she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or freak out or just, y’know, die on the spot. Certainly a heart attack felt imminent. But currently, her mentality was to just roll with it and internalise any and all feelings. They could be dealt with at a later date when he wasn’t around to cloud her judgement. His bandmates nodded as they started tuning instruments accordingly. They seemed unphased by his antics, it was obvious that they dealt with him like this on a regular basis.

After a few brief minutes, they had all confirmed that they were ready to go. Matty gestured for her to hop over the barrier. She looked back at him in confusion. “C’mere.” He said as he knelt down on the edge of the stage, holding his hand out to her. His long curls started to fall into his eyes a bit as he leant forward.

“Why?” She frowned up at him from the floor.

“You like this song, right?” He questioned.

“Well, yeah, obviously.” She scoffed. “I wouldn’t have followed some strange dude through dodgy hallways if I didn’t.”

He chuckled at that. “Then come up on stage and dance with me.”

“What? Why?”

“Because it’s fun! Fuck me, it’s not that complicated.” He laughed loudly. She took his hand with a roll of her eyes and a few grumbled curses as he helped pull her up onto the stage, positioning her next to his spot at the centre. After a shared nod amongst the band, the familiar introduction started pouring through the speakers around them.

Matty stood there eagerly at his microphone, his eyes shut and his foot tapping to the soft beat to count himself in. He cleared his throat as his first line came in, wrapping his hands tightly around the mic before starting to sing. His voice sounded far better in person than she would’ve expected, especially at such a close distance to not even need the speakers to hear it properly. The drums, the instrumentals, everything reverberated through her. She took in the scene around her, glancing around at the other band members, to the empty venue, to Matty in front of her. To say it was an amazing experience was an understatement. Surreal probably would’ve been a better adjective. As he broke into the second line he cracked one eye open, catching her staring at him in awe. There was absolutely no point in trying to hide it, she enjoyed a concert at the best of times let alone when one was being held just for her. A shit eating grin split across his face. As he tore into the first verse he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side, forcing her to bop along with him as he sang.

“She said I’ve got a problem with your shoes,” He sung, glancing pointedly down at her shoes, forcing her to look down as well, “And your tunes,” at that he shoved his finger in her ear closest to his head. “But I might move in,” She quickly slapped his hand away, making him laugh his way through his next few lines. “You’re so conceited I, said I love you, what does it matter if I lie to you?” He used his arm around her shoulder to spin her out away from him, forcing her to enjoy the energy he was radiating. He caught her hand quickly and pulled her back to him. Her head was spinning enough from the situation as whole, let alone when he did things like that.

“You’ve done this before.” She shouted at him over the music.

“Well I know when you’re around ‘cause I know the sound, I know the sound of your heart.” He sung with a wink, poking her quickly in the chest at the word ‘heart’ from emphasis. “Don’t overthink it, just enjoy it.” He said into her ear quickly before the second verse started.

Normally, she was fairly reserved, and certainly unlikely to let loose in front of a group of strangers. But the song, the smile, that look, they were all pretty damn hard to resist. So, she caved and just started properly bopping along with him while he sung through the second verse. When she caught sight of the genuine smile on his face at her having a good time, it quickly became contagious.

“Oh and you say, I’m such a cliché,” He held his hand to his chest dramatically as he sung into his microphone. “I can’t see the difference in it either way.” As he pulled his hand away from his chest, he reached out and grabbed a hold of her hand closest to him, pulling her back over into his personal space to be facing him. “And we, left things to protect my mental health.” Why was he staring at her like that? Oh, no. Suddenly she remembered the line coming next and became acutely aware as to why he had pulled her close again. Fuck. “But you call me when you’re bored and you’re playing with yourself.” He dragged his hand down his chest to his crotch with a devious smirk on his lips, making sure that she was close enough that the back of his hand made contact with her as well. As he headed into the pre-chorus he turned back to the microphone, letting her sort her head out for a moment. She tried her best to recover from how ridiculously forward that was. Was it a good thing or a bad thing that he’d just done that? Her thoughts reeled. She figured it would be best to just pretend that he hadn’t done that. That was a thought to shove to the back of her mind until much later. As the music died down leading into the bridge, he quickly pulled her away from the mic into the centre of the stage. He held onto both of her hands tightly as the music swelled back up, eventually jumping around and trying to convince her to properly dance with him as soon as the guitar solo started.

“Dance with me!” He shouted, dancing hard enough that his audio receiver had fallen out of his ear. “Don’t make me look like a dickhead by myself.” He added with a laugh. She had to laugh back at that and started jumping along with him. He seemed to be an infectious good time in and of himself. Either that or he was just good at getting people to give him his way. Probably a bit of both. Eventually she realised that the backing vocals had started again, but he was still over here, nowhere near his mic.

“Aren’t you meant to be singing?” She asked loudly, gesturing to the empty mic. “Or, you know, checking the levels of audio stuff?”

“I can do that on the next song.” He answered, still singing along to the song out of habit anyway. She shook her head in disbelief. He must be impossible to work with. He let out a few huffs of breath as the song ended before grinning at her. “That was fun. What other songs do you like?”

“No, I can’t- I really should…” She quickly looked around the stage looking for anyone who seemed annoyed by her still being here. Nobody seemed phased by it. The interaction that they had in the merch van sprung back into Matty’s mind.

“Tootime?” He suggested with an eyebrow raised.

She let out a reluctant groan. “I probably should be getting back…”

“Tootime.” His suggestion was less of a question now.

“You have things to do… I have things to do…” Her argument was pretty weak and he knew it. And the smile she was trying to hide was a dead giveaway that she wanted to hear it.

“TOOTIME!” He shouted at the band behind him, they gave small nods of acknowledgement in response that they’d heard him. He ran back over to his mic, pulling it out of the stand and joining her back in the centre of the stage. “You have to do the hand motions with me.” He said as he started bopping around and doing the ‘rewind’ signal. “And dance.” He added with a pointed look.

“Sure. At this point, why not? I feel like you wouldn’t let me get away with anything less.” She sighed in feigned annoyance.

“Too right I wouldn’t. You know me so well already.” He said with a grin so broad it made the side of his eyes crinkle.

Just like when The Sound had started, he shut his eyes and calmed down his breathing as the intro began, both hands wrapped tightly around the mic. She could see his head bopping along to the beat to keep his timing right. This song was no less impressive than the previous one. A couple of the effects and lights had started to be turned on for this one, clearly a few of the crew taking their opportunity to test everything. It truly was a spectacle to behold that she normally didn’t see from this angle. She danced along a bit with the lyrics, more so watching around the stage than watching Matty. But she did happen to catch it as his eyes lit up as soon as he sung: “I only called her one time.” in the first round of the chorus, suddenly starting to fish through his pocket for something as he continued singing.

“Do I really have to do the numbers if you’re not even looking?” She asked, her question falling on deaf ears.

“You-” He jabbed her arm, holding his phone out to her. “text that boy-” he jabbed at his chest with a smile. “sometimes.” She stared down at his phone blankly before seeing it was on a new contact screen.

“Are you asking for my number?” She shouted at him above the music. He nodded with a grin as he continued to sing. “With song lyrics?? Who the hell are you..?” She asked in disbelief as she took the phone out of his hand. He pulled the mic away from his mouth so that he could speak.

“Sorry, I thought I had already done that bit. Matty.” He answered with that stupid grin still plastered on his face as he held his hand out for a handshake. She pushed it away with a laugh.

He finished the song without a hitch, dancing like an idiot and forcing her to do the same throughout the rest of it. As much as she would’ve hated to admit it, she couldn’t deny that it was fun. The instant the song ended, Matty had launched into some animated story from when they had been touring in the UK. They had been on a wild night at a pub somewhere when they heard Tootime while they were out. Halfway through said story, she heard the drummer at the back of the stage trying and failing to get his attention. She wasn’t sure if Matty wasn’t hearing him or if he was just straight up ignoring him.

“Matty.” The drummer called, trying again to get his friend’s attention.

Matty however was still completely unphased and continued along with his story. “and anyway that’s when-”

“I think-” She started, gesturing to the back of the stage. But he kept on going.

“we got back to the bar and found out that-”

“MATTHEW.” He shouted eventually from behind his kit, loud enough that he finally interrupted him.

“WHAT, GEORGE?” Matty shouted back angrily as he spun on his heel to look at his friend.

“STOP FLIRTING FOR FIVE FUCKING SECONDS AND PLUG YOUR DAMN EARPIECE BACK IN. THE SOUND GUYS ARE TRYING TO REACH YOU.” The lead singer reluctantly did as he was told and slipped the device back into his ear with a roll of his eyes.

“That’s probably my cue.” She mumbled with a laugh in an attempt to break the sudden awkward feeling she had, moving towards the edge of the stage. Before she could jump down, Matty grabbed her arm.

“Wait, wait, wait.” He was clearly listening to what was being said in his ear, eyes focused on the ground as he nodded slightly. She waited a moment for him to tune back into the rest of the world before speaking.

“I should be getting back to mer-” He held up his finger to silence her as he was listening.

“Okay, got it.” He finally confirmed, before looking back at her. “You cannot leave without this.” He raced off to the side of the stage and came back a moment later with a lanyard. He handed it to her, and she took a moment to examine it.

“An all access pass? I really can’t take this.” She said, trying to hand it back to him. He just pushed it back into her grip.

“Only temporarily, I’ll need it back later. But you’ll need it for a good view during the show.” He said, nodding towards the side of the stage.

She felt her jaw drop slightly as she stared at him wide-eyed. “I really can’t do that. People need to have access to the side of the stage for… crew… things. I can’t just rock up unannounced.”

“Why not? You have a triple A pass.” He shrugged.

“I-”

“Just take it. Use it or don’t, I’ll grab it later.” He was clearly done arguing about it, she could see that much, and he had already raced to the back of the stage to say something to George. So, she just nodded and slipped it into her pocket as she finally started heading back to the merch van. Halfway across the arena floor, she realised that she actually had no idea where she was going. Her brain had been too distracted about the company she was with to focus on the turns they were taking. She paused for a moment, trying to remember what way they had come from. “Left.” She heard Matty call through the mic. She flashed a thumbs up over her shoulder, hearing him laugh as she left the arena floor.

Thankfully once she had a general idea of her direction, the merch van wasn’t hard to find. She came back to find the door open a crack and was worried for a brief moment before she saw her brother inside. “Hey, you’re alive! Where have you been? You weren’t answering my texts.” He asked, flashing her a worried look. She stepped into the van, shutting the door behind her and pausing for a moment to try and find a way to best explain what the last half an hour had consisted of.

“I… Uh… actually?” She rubbed at the back of her neck anxiously, “On the stage.”

He frowned in confusion, “What?”

“I think I befriended the lead singer of the headliner?” She wished she was able to sound surer of herself about that, but honestly nothing that had just happened made any sense yet.

“How?” He asked back with a loud laugh.

“I… have no idea.”

The rest of the setup for merch was simple. The stock was counted in, the displays set up, sizes were laid out, and the ink for the reprinting machine had finally been found and tested. She decided to forget for the moment that anything had happened with Matty, as it was far easier than having to deal with it while needing to work at the same time. It worried her that if she tried to process it now, her brain may very well implode. Doors opened and fans rushed in like it was a life or death matter to purchase a t-shirt. Once she had the steady stream of customers to deal with it was much easier to get back in the groove. It wasn’t until the line of people finally started dying down that she actually checked the time and saw that The 1975 had started playing over half an hour ago. She also had numerous texts from an unknown number that she assumed to be Matty.

“Oh, shit.” She muttered under her breath, scrolling quickly through the messages.

6:05pm How’s our stuff selling?

7:37pm Have you reprinted many shirts?

8:50pm We go on in 10.

9:13pm You’ve already missed tootime

9:29pm Are you gonna use that pass or what?

“What?” Her brother asked casually from across the van.

“Can I take my break now?” She asked quickly. He nodded in response. “I might be a little bit.”

He shrugged, “Go for your life, just be back at the end of the show to deal with the final rush.”

“Thanks!” She shouted, already halfway out the door.

* * *

It was getting late into the show and Matty was starting to get worried that she wasn’t going to turn up. He had hoped that she would be there before he went on stage. Was it cocky of him to have expected that? Probably. But Tootime was pretty early on in their set and he figured she would’ve at least showed for that. But she hadn’t. And she hadn’t for any of the other songs either. They didn’t have that long now until the band had to break for the encore, and then the encore itself was only four songs. He wasn’t overly sure why he was so torn up about it. He knew that she had a job to do, and that merch was still pretty busy right until they went on stage, but that was over an hour ago now. He found himself standing in front of the drumkit during a short interlude between songs, staring at the bass drum with a blank expression.

“Matty.” George called out to him.

“Mm?” He glanced up at his friend.

“Stop freaking out.” He said as he pointed one of his drumsticks in his direction.

“I’m not.” He shrugged.

“You are. Whatever you’re thinking about, stop it.” He said as the ambience started changing to the introduction of their next song.

“Sure thing, mum.” He said with a roll of his eyes, taking a swig of his glass of wine and heading back towards his mic.

As they were about halfway through their final song before the encore, he was beginning to accept that maybe she just wasn’t going to use the pass. Maybe she had gotten caught up working, or got stuck in the line waiting for food, or maybe she just didn’t want to. He hoped it wasn’t the latter. As he was busy wallowing in self-pity, he had to do a double take when he saw her standing side stage, leaning against one of the support beams with an amused expression. He flashed her a quick corny look, and she waved back at him. Normally he stayed on stage during their fourth rendition of The 1975 to lead by example that everyone else should listen to it as well, but when the song finally finished he practically ran off stage in excitement.

“Fuckin’ hell, I was starting to think you wouldn’t come!” He shouted over the crowd as he grabbed her arm, pulling her further into the backstage area.

“I was busy. Tell your fans to make up their minds on what size they want quicker and I would’ve been here sooner.” She explained as the rest of the band soon filled in the space around them.

He started rifling around in his pockets, eventually pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. He took a deep drag of it before pointing it at her. “I was worried that I’d given you that pass for nothing. You’ve already missed most of the show, y’know.” He was trying his best to sound serious but found it hard to keep the smile out of his voice. Performing and being on stage already gave him enough adrenaline to have to deal with.

“Aw, you were worried?” She quipped back with an eyebrow raised.

“Only on your behalf that you would’ve missed out on this.” He said with a suggestive look as he gestured towards himself in his stage clothes. She had to admit, he looked pretty damn good in the suit that he was wearing. But she’d sooner die than give him the satisfaction of hearing her say that.

“I’m only staying for one song.” She said, deciding to skip over what he had said.

“Whatever you say, love.” He said with a wink.

“One song.” She repeated, giving him a stern look.

“Sure.” He nodded.

Of course, she stayed for four. Or three and a half technically as she wanted to be back at the merch van before all of the concert goers started to try and leave at once. The energy and enthusiasm Matty had held during soundcheck was nothing compared to what he had while performing. He clearly enjoyed being up on stage, and he seemed to get as much energy from his fans as what they got from him. She was beginning to think that the awkward guy who stepped into the merch van earlier that day was, in fact, a different person than the one she was watching now. The sheer level of confidence that he maintained on stage was astounding, he was hard not to watch. And certainly he made sure to make her aware that he knew all eyes were on him. The amount of looks he flashed her way whenever he caught her staring was teetering on ridiculous. Eventually, she knew the show was coming to a close, and that meant that she had to get back to what she was meant to be here to do. She found it hard to leave during her favourite song, especially when she caught sight of the puppy dog eyes Matty was giving her as he saw her leaving, but if she had to fight the crowds on her way back she wouldn’t make it in time for the last rush.

Said rush passed by quite quickly, which was good for them as they had sold out of a lot of items and wanted to start packing everything away sooner rather than later. Her brother had offered for her to go home once the van had shut, but she figured she would stay back and help pack up. Also, she still had to return the lanyard. Which meant that she’d have to see Matty again at some point. Not that seeing him was her entire reason for staying back. That would’ve been absurd. About halfway through boxing up the remaining merch, her brother had started taking the boxes outside to load into the truck and take back tomorrow. She was halfway through loading the last shirts into a box when she suddenly felt a pair of arms wrap around her. If she hadn’t vaguely recognised the suit, she certainly recognised the laugh as Matty picked her up in a tight hug. The longer he held her, the more damp her clothes were starting to feel and the more she could smell the salty tang of stage sweat radiating from him. “Ugh… How can you possibly be so sweaty?” She asked, struggling to try and get out of his grip.

“I can get sweatier.” He leaned in close to her ear, adding the second part under his breath, “Wanna find out how?”

“Oh my god, let me go.”

He did as requested with a loud laugh and set her back down on the ground. She turned to face him, seeing that his hair was practically dripping from the amount of sweat in it, and his shirt under his jacket was soaked. But he definitely had some sort of post-concert-glow about him, it very much suited him. A cheesy grin was stuck on his face as he spoke, “You enjoyed the show?” He asked.

“Yeah, it was really good. The effects were quite impressive, and the band is really good live.” She nodded as she finished putting the shirts in the box and moved across the van to where their gear was stashed.

“And?” He prompted.

“And what?” She asked, searching for something in her backpack.

“And what about that fit as hell frontman?” He asked casually.

She let out a deep sigh as she walked back over to him. “I didn’t realise how right you were when you told me earlier that the lead singer of that band was a twat.” She chuckled. Before he had a chance to say something witty back, and before she forgot and got too caught up in the hurricane that was Matty Healy, she handed him back the all access pass.

“Ah, thank you. I need that.” He said as he slipped it into his pocket. “You’ve still got the shirt.” He said with a triumphant smile as he gestured at the tour shirt she was still wearing.

“Don’t get too excited, it’s only because we sold out of hoodies.” She replied.

They were suddenly interrupted by her brother shouting her name down the corridor. “If you’re finally ready to go just put those last few bits on the trolley and meet me at the truck.”

“Can do!” She called back, starting to get everything organised.

“Finally ready to go?” Matty asked as he watched her moving around the van.

“Yeah, we can only start packing up once all the guests leave so it takes a while.” She said with a shrug.

“Finally?” He asked again with as much emphasis on the word as he could muster, the curiosity practically dripping in his tone.

“Oh.” She understood what he was getting at now. “I was actually allowed to leave a while ago.”

“And you didn’t?” He questioned.

“No, we um…” She cleared her throat before continuing. “I said I’d stay back and help pack up.” She answered quietly, expecting him to instantly turn the comment against her.

“That’s very noble of you.” He nodded, looking over the few boxes that were yet to be taken out to the truck. Not the reaction she was expecting.

She continued taping boxes shut and loading things onto the trolley. It was a few minutes before Matty finally spoke again. “Soooo, I’ll be seeing you tomorrow?” He asked nonchalantly as he rifled through a box that she had just packed and was waiting to tape shut.

“Will you just?” She questioned as she pulled the box away from him, shutting it properly before he could do any more damage. “What makes you think that I’m free?”

“Are you saying that you’re not?” He challenged with a smirk.

She paused for a long moment, opting to skip the question. “Aren’t you a busy man with things to do and places to be?”

“Not really.” He shrugged, looking around the nearly empty van for something to fiddle with. “I’ve got some press shit to do tomorrow but need to find something to kill time in between. Figured you could come keep me company.” He offered.

“Why?” She asked with a sceptical frown.

“Because you seem to enjoy my presence.” He gravitated towards the box of pins used for hanging the shirts, but she grabbed it before he could.

“Stop fiddling with my merch shit.” She scolded as she slipped the box into their bag of gear and put the last item on the trolley. “And what gave you that impression?”

He leaned back against the counter, waiting for her to face him before he answered. “You could’ve gone home ages ago and you didn’t. You hung around the venue.” He answered with an eyebrow raised. He didn’t need to spell it out for her to get what he was implying. She stayed silent for a long minute, trying to think of an argument against that but coming up empty. But the blush on her cheeks was enough to give her away. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?” He repeated.

“Yes, fine, I guess.” She huffed.

“Good.” He grinned. “I’ll text you where to meet me.”

Next Chapter

#Matty Healy #Matty Healy x Reader #Matthew Healy #Matthew Healy x Reader #Sunsetinmyvein

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brianharoldmayjune · 5 years

Text

class mates | brian may

CHAPTER ONE

Brian May x Reader College AU

Summary: First time for anything is usually hard, so when you start your first year of undergrad, you begin to second guess your decisions. What may seem to be a tiny nerdy club to get your mind off of the stresses brough to you by your major, might soon transform into something more meaningful in the long run.

Warnings: Nothing bad in this chapter, cheek blushing, akwardsness, that it! No smut or angst... yet!

Word Count: 2.1k

Author’s Note: I am terribly sorry if this seems like a boring, textual chapter. I felt the need to explain everything as thoroughly as possible in order to understand the context of everything. Future chapters won’t have lengthy, boring starts like this one! But, nervertheless, I still hope you enjoy this first chapter!

Trying to mind your own business while walking down the sidewalk, multiple shoulders continued to brush your own as you made your way down the busy London street. You had recently moved to the lively area of Kensington to pursue the next step in your life- completing your undergraduate degree.

Renting a small loft located on the outskirts of the heart of London city, you decided it would be best to live closer to the place you would be spending majority of your time throughout the months to come. Being your first year starting university, a unviersity filled with people you had never met, located in an area you hadn’t grown up in, you knew living in the area would save you the additional first year stress of commuting.

With a sticky note in hand, you had written down your destination prior to leaving your apartment knowing you would most likely get lost without it; and of course, you were right. Your vision was exchanging between your note and the street signs attempting to find the location of the university itself.

Bringing a hand up to readjust the sunglasses perched on your nose, you continued on your journey down the sidewalk until letters spelling out Imperial College London filled your peripherals assuring you that you were so far walking in the correct direction. Breathing out a dramatic sigh of relief, you mentally prepared yourself for finding the next location, the location that happened to be the destination of your first lecture.

With what took only a few left and rights, you arrived at the front doors of the building where your Intro to Biology lecture would be held. Yes, you were evidently about to major in Biological Sciences. Taking one last glance at your note to memorize the number of the lecture hall, you shoved the piece of paper into your pocket upon embarking into the large brick building.

You found yourself mesmerized at the many posters plastered across the walls, advertising for the various clubs and events located on the campus. To be quite frank, your nerves were bubbling inside of you as you started to question whether going to post-secondary was the right step for you. I mean, what student doesn’t second guess their educational choices?

With your nerves subsiding within, you found yourself walking into your first lecture hall lined, or should I say crammed, with over a hundred seats and tiny desks. It was pretty intimidating. With desks already occupied with students, you decided to pick a seat near the back corner of the room in hopes of avoiding interaction with the others who were enrolled in the class. It was only your first day, and although making friends seemed to be a go-to idea, it wasn’t exactly your main priority.

Getting out a few pens and a notepad with a few minutes to spare, you tapped your foot anxiously against the floor as you watched the class fill up. With nearly every seat occupied, class soon began right on time.

Even though the professor was only going over the syllabus and not the hard-core material, you found yourself zoning in and out of attention, something surely other kids were doing. After what felt like an eternity but more realistically around an hour, the professor bid the class farewell till the following week and let you free.

Packing your stuff while making slight glances to the people situated around you, you mentally cursed at yourself for being too socially awkward and too shy, which ultimately hindered the starting of conversations. Walking out of the hall, intro to biologywas your only class that day meaning you would most likely be on your way back to your loft.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, you stopped yourself as a particular poster taped to the hallway wall grabbed your attention. Referring to a club dealing with astronomy, inviting those majoring and not majoring in physics. You were quick to pull out a pen from your material carrier bag alongside your crumpled sticky note that you had previously shoved into your pocket to drought down the place and time of meeting.

The topic of astronomy had always seemed to fascinate you, and not having room in your course schedule for electives dealing with astronomical related matter meant joining a club would be in your best interest.

With the first club meeting taking place that night, you continued on your walk back to your flat where you proceeded to take a power nap and cook yourself a quick dinner. Sorting through your clothes, an audible string of shit’sand hurry upcame out of your mouth repeatedly as your frantically rushed around your room looking for something to wear. You could not, I stress could not, be late to the first meeting.

Yeah, you could've just worn what you were wearing earlier that day, but, you wanted to look a touch more presentable knowing that you would be having no choice but to interact with the other goers of the club. Slipping on a pair of jeans paired with a collared shirt that popped out from under a knit shirt, you once again were back to walking down the London sidewalks with the same note in hand. Only this time, the streets weren’t as crowded with pedestrians compared to the morning due to it being a later time in the evening.

Finding the building at a quicker pace then your first lecture, most likely a factor of not many students creating a hassle around the campus, you braced yourself as you stood in front of the door to the club meeting destination. Once again, you found yourself second-guessing your decisions. Was it really a smart idea to join a club dealing with a subject you weren’t solely studying?

As your mind juggled between the opportunities of making friends with the juxtaposing idea of possible humiliation, you were taken out of your thoughts when a soft tap was felt on your shoulder.

“Will you be going in?”

The question was soft yet mixed with slight confusion.

Noticing you were standing in front of the door and blocking the entrance for others, you quickly reached out your hand to grab the door knob, turning your head to get a brief view of the person.

“Sorry.”

That was all you managed to get out, opening the door before walking away quickly to avoid any response from the person. With this being a smaller room compared to your lecture hall, a few desks and chairs were scattered around, facing a black board that was mounted at the front of the room.

Taking a seat at the back of the less intimidating room, you placed your bag on the floor beside you as you rested your elbows on the desk, scoping out the room. There were around fifteen students, including yourself, looking eager as ever to participate in whatever this club had to offer.

The walls, similar to the ones in the hallways, were filled with posters strictly relating to astronomy, picturing different diagrams and layouts of the solar system, milky way, you name it.

“Alright,” a familiar soft voice filled the room at a volume raised just enough for everyone to distinctly hear.

Drawing your attention towards the front of the class, you found yourself eyeing the person that you had minutes before made conversation with, if that could even be classified as a conversation. Giving a slight clear of his throat, he continued.

“Welcome, and I guess thank you for dropping in to today’s first club meeting,” the man spoke with a small smile spread across his face while his hands were held in front of him, fiddling with his fingers.

Taking in the boy’s presence, you couldn't help yourself but aimlessly graze your eyes over his lanky figure. Maybe this club wasn’t going to be as bad as you thought.

“If you were unaware, which I’m sure you guys aren’t,” he said with brief chuckle, earning small giggles from the few students scattered around the room, “we are going to be discussing things in relation to astronomy.” With that, he gestured to the posters covering the walls of the room. The posters that gave the room much more life.

As he continued to talk, the boy would switch between slight swaying of his body, to quiet finger tapping on the desk closest to him, as he explained the various activities and mini field trips the club would engage in. Taking only twenty minutes to do so, you were more intrigued with what the club had to offer than your mandatory biology course that morning.

“Being a student like you guys, only in my second year of majoring in physics, I am going to make this as fun and interesting as possible,” the boys said with a nod at the end of his sentence, almost as if he were reassuring himself.

“Any questions?”

With a few students asking questions pertaining to missing club meetings and confirming the date of certain events the boy had already planned, you decided it would be better to just listen in and save questions, if any were to arise, for later on during the term.

“Before you guys leave,” the boy spoke after answering the student questions, “if you wouldn’t mind writing a tiny paragraph about what you hope to learn from this club, that would be great.”

He gave a few lose leaf pages of lined paper and a tiny box of pencils to a student sitting at the front of the class, telling them to take one of each and pass them around in case anyone forgot their writing materials.

“Be sure to write your name at the top of the paper along with your major and year just so I get to know you all better.”

With the hint of nervousness lacing his tone, you were getting the feeling this may have been his first time instructing a club as such.

“If you’ve decided, after my short spiel, that this club isn’t for you, no hard feelings but do feel free to leave without writing a reflection,” he spoke, smile failing to fall from his face. The boy did seem passionate about the this branch of physics.

Turning around to grab his own notepad and pencil from his bag, he started to write down his own notes.

“Oh, and not to forget,” he spoke, looking up from his piece of paper, “my name is Brian.”

After his final remarks, he left the students to work on a small reflection as he continued to stand at the front of the class, writing notes of the front pedestal. A few students trickled out without writing anything, most likely indicating that this wasn’t the club for them, though, that wasn’t the case for you.

Taking out your own notepad and a pen, you wrote your name at the top of the paper followed by a few lines of what you were excited to learn about during your time in the club. After a couple of minutes, you tore out the sheet from your notebook, putting your stuff in your bag, slinging it over your shoulder. Walking to the front of the class, you approached the so-called Brian, holding out your paper for him to take.

Looking up from his writing, he held his hand out to take the page from you, the smile that had been presented all class, now being presented to you personally “thank you… y/n,” said with a brief pause as he located your name on the sheet.

Giving him a smile and a small bob of the head as a substitute for ‘you’re welcome,’ you were about to turn away when his words stopped you.

“First year in biological sciences?” Brian questions, clearly already reading through your written response. He too was eager like the remained of the club.

“It is,” you nod, looking up to examine his face as his eyes scanned over your paper. He was sudden to look up from your writing to you.

“I’m taking a few entry level biology courses as my electives,” he acknowledges, placing your sheet down on the pile that was already accumulated from the other student responses, “maybe I’ll see you around!”

He was so soft-spoken that it made you gush inside, a burning heat rushing to your cheeks. Yes, this was only a simple gesture, a simple statement, but it gave you some hope that your first year could turn out to be enjoyable.

“For sure,” you try to contain yourself, refraining from tugging your lips into a smile wider than the one you were already showing, “have a good one, Brian.”

“You as well, y/n!”

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST

@brianmayswifey @caborhapch @mishago @obsessedwithrogertaylor @doyourememberthelaughter @readinghorn @leah-halliwell92 @cheepygirl @shishterfackisback @fatheadtheroger

If you would like to be added to the tag list, feel free to let me know!

- Yours truly, R.

#Brian May #brian may x reader #brian may imagine #brian may fanfiction #queen fanfiction #Bohemian rhapsody fan fiction #brian may smut #roger Taylor smut #john deacon smut #Roger Taylor x reader #John deacon x reader #ben hardy smut #Joe mazzello smut #ben hardy x reader #Joe mazzello x reader #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee smut

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wordsandshawn · 6 years

Text

Come Over

Requested: Can I request an imagine where the reader has finals and she’s stressing but Shawn comforts her and does cute shit?:))

~~~

“I can’t come over this weekend.” You tell your boyfriend over the phone. You feel a little guilty for not being able to go back to Toronto because it is one of the few weekends Shawn is home, but its also the last weekend before finals week. You’re too stressed to even think of making the two hour drive to Shawn’s for the weekend because its a four hour round trip. On top of that, you know that if you go to Shawn’s house in Toronto, there will probably be a steady stream of his friends in and out of the apartment throughout the weekend just like there is anytime he’s home. There will be hours of movies, video games, beers, music, and overall just a lot of people hanging out and distracting you from getting any work done because you’ll just want to hang out with them.

Most of the time, you’re willing to take the hit to your academics in order to spend time with Shawn, somehow finding a way to make up for it later when he’s out of the country for work. However, this time, you just don’t think it’ll be possible because you have so many papers to finish on top of studying for final exams and there will be no later time to make up for the lost hours.

“Why not?” Shawn questions, sounding defeated and sad. He’s still in LA at the moment, but he’s flying back later on today, which means he’ll be home by the evening, and originally you were planning to drive over tonight to meet him at his place. Its Friday, and Shawn had expected that you’d be over, just like you are almost every single weekend he’s home. “I miss you,” He adds, making your heart sink even more. You’re stressed, so stressed. You can’t deal with the thought of disappointing your boyfriend on top of all of that.

“I miss you too,” Your heart feels like its breaking in a million pieces. You haven’t seen Shawn in over two weeks, all you want to do is spend time with him, but you know that there just isn’t time right now. “I have too much work to do, baby, with finals coming up next week. I just don’t think I can make the drive out.” You explain. There’s silence for a while, like he’s thinking, and you’re afraid that he’ll think you’re saying he’s not important, but that’s not the case at all. “I really want to. I really wish I could, but I have two thirty page papers to write and I have finals next week, and I just have so much to do,” You start rambling, but he interrupts you.

“Babe, baby, it’s okay.” He reassures you, sensing your on the verge of a break down because of this. “I know you have a lot to do. Can I come out to visit at least. I just wanna see you, even if you have to study.”

“Yeah, please,” You say exhaling loudly, you realize how much you really just need to see your boyfriend right now, even though you don’t have the time to drive out to him. It’s sweet of him to offer to drive to you.

“Alright, love. I’ll come out tomorrow, does that sound good?”

“Yeah, have a safe flight home.”

“I will. Try to relax a bit. I know you’re going to get everything done and its going to be great. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll text you when I’m driving over.”

“Okay, text me when you land tonight, too.”

The next morning, there’s a knock on your door at around 11. You hop up from your spot on the couch, placing your laptop down before rushing over to open the door. Standing there on the other side is Shawn with a smile and two venti cups of coffee from Starbucks. You wrap your arms around him. He holds you while still holding a cup in each hand. When you back up, letting him into your apartment, he tells you, “I brought your favorite, with an extra shot of espresso.”

“I love you.” You tell him, taking your coffee from him and tippy toeing to kiss him on the lips.

“I love you too, always.” He responds, “How has your morning been? Have you gotten a lot done?”

“Yeah, I’ve been trying to, but I’m already over it, and just stressed, I guess,” You say with a shrug, leaning back into Shawn, just wanting to be near him, just needing him to hold you.

He wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly and kissing the top of your head. “I have a suggestion. And you can say no if you want to, but if you’re not doing anything except studying and writing papers this weekend, I thought maybe you could come back to Toronto with me today. I’ll drive, and I'll bring you back here tomorrow night. You can do your work in the car, and at my apartment. I know you love the view at night, and you can work at the condo. I can cook us breakfast and we can sit outside tomorrow morning and you can get everything done there.”

He’s really thought about this. You considering his offer. It’s a hard one to turn down, and he knows it. But you know that he likes to have his friends over, and that they practically just show up whenever he’s home. You wouldn’t want to be distracted by all of that because you love hanging out with them too, and you know you’ll be dragged into some sort of rap battle or video game competition or just getting drunk and doing stupid things around the condo.

“I don’t want to make you hang around with me all weekend when I'm just going to be boring.” You reply, even though the truth is you do want that. But that’s too selfish of you.

“It won’t be boring. I just want to be with you. I have some work I need to get done too, so its probably for the best that I already told the guys not to come over this weekend because we both were just going to do work.”

“You told them that?” You question, surprised. He’s never told his friends not to come over for an entire weekend. Sure he’s told them that he was spending time with you and that he’d be busy, whether that was for an afternoon or evening or a day, but he’s never told them not to come over for a whole weekend that he’s home.

He shrugs, “Okay, so I might have been banking on you coming home with me if I showed up here. I’m also prepared to beg.” He says with the most adorable look on his face.

You’ve been dating him long enough that this isn’t weird. And you don’t even see it as him being needy or clingy. With the amount of time the two of you spend apart, its only understandable that he’d want to spend his weekend home with you. The only reason why you weren’t planning to spend it with him was because you didn’t want to ruin his weekend by being boring, but he’s made it clear he doesn’t mind as long as you’re with him.

“How can I say no now?” You question, even though you know that you’re not going to say no.

“Don’t,” He says, smiling because he knows he won. But the truth is, you both won. “Just go get your stuff, do you need help packing?”

“Yeah, I'm going to grab a change of clothes because I don’t remember what I left at your place. But all my notes are on the dining room table, can you just put them all together in my backpack.”

“Sure baby,” He replies.

It only takes you a few minutes to grab your clothes and the rest of your notes and books you’ll need to study. You grab your coffee and a few snacks for the drive. Before you know it, you’re sitting comfortably in the passenger seat of Shawn’s jeep. He reaches into the backseat, pulling out a baby blue plush blanket, one that normally sits folded on his couch. “I brought this for you because I know you always get cold, and its a long drive.” He tells you, dropping it in your lap. You thank him and wonder how you got so lucky.

When you finally arrive at his place two hours later, you’re so glad that you decided to come home with him. You had a few really good conversations, and were able to really just catch up and be together since it has felt like so long. He also managed to stay very quiet and listen softly to his music for most of the ride because he knew that you were focused on working on your paper, and you actually managed to get a lot done during the drive.

When you arrive at his house, you see a few things scattered on his dining table that catch your eye. “What’s all this?” You question, walking over to the things you know Shawn doesn’t normally keep in his house. You pick up a purple candle and sniff it. It smells amazing. Theres also a few of your favorite candy bars and granola bars, a box of ice cream cones, and his pink sweatshirt, your favorite of his to steal.

“Oh yeah, I ran out to get some stuff for you last night because you sounded so stressed on the phone. I was pretty set on getting you to come over today.”

“That’s so sweet, but why?” You question, still confused a little because you know that Shawn normally likes to spend time with his friends and he also really respects when you’re busy and doesn’t get in the way of your school stuff just like you respect his job and the time he spends working.

“You just seemed so stressed. I wanted to be with you this weekend because I needed to make sure you were okay before finals.” He says it so genuinely, you can tell he truly was worried. And he’s right, you have been really stressed every time you’ve been on the phone with him lately, which is understandable, with finals coming up and everything.

You turn around, “I freaking love you, Shawn Mendes. Did you know that?”

He smiles, “You’ve told me once or twice.” He leans down kissing you lightly, then deepening the kiss for a few seconds before pulling away. “I love you too, y/n.” He smiles down at you, biting his lip for a moment. But only a second later he's out of his trance, “What do you want for lunch? I’m going to postmate something.”

#Shawn Mendes #Requested #imagine #Shawn mendes imaginne #Shawn mendes blurb #Shawn Peter Raul Mendes #Shawn Peter Raul Mendes blurb #Shawn Peter Raul Mendes imagine #sm imagine #Shawn mendes x reader #Shawn mendes fanfic #Shawn mendes blurbs #blurb #boyfriend!shawn

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squishy-wizards · 7 years

Text

Electric Love [Louis Tomlinson/Harry Styles]

Author: @galacticstylinson

Word Count: 11.4k

Ratings/Triggers: homophobia, dysfunctional families

Summary: Louis is the most talented scholarship student Liberum Saltare School of Dance has ever seen. With flawless technique and a determination that is unparalleled by any other, he is definitely going places. Harry is a natural dancer moved up two years based on sheer raw talent. When they end up as room mates, Louis at first is less than impressed, but with time, they may grow to understand each other - and maybe on the way, fall in love.

Based on the song 'All About Us' by He Is We ft. Owl City

Also read here on AO3.

***

Soft light dances on the patio tiles, the warmth from the room leaking out of the brightly lit windows. Through the slightly foggy glass panes of the conservatory, a vast number of round tables could be seen, flickering under the soft candle light from the garland of flowers at the centre of each table. Wax drips slowly down onto the delicate baby blue carnations, surrounded in greenery - this blue and green theme continuing throughout the room, from the pearlescent balloons hovering above on the ceiling, to the soft chiffon ties on the back of every gold gilt seat. The soft hum of chatter fills the room with a more comforting feel, eyes glistening with joy and excitement under the vintage glass bulbs hanging down from the ceiling.

It was the definition of a Pinterest wedding – and sat at the heart of it all, still giddy with happiness, were the two newlyweds. Long brown curls tumbled down onto one’s shoulders, masking part of his face as he leant down to whisper in the shorter of the twos ear, drawing out the crinkles around the sterling blue eyes and a smile that warmed the room. The same blue eyes followed his now husband as he retreated back, eyebrows raised as he replied, the jest in their conversation clear in their body language. Their hands, laying on the crisp white table cloth, were interlocked, silver wedding bands glinting in the light. Simple, plain with only a hint of detail – blue and green stones that scattered patterns across the soft, tanned skin of their hands as the light hit them. Stones that perfectly matched one another’s eye colour. It was a simple, personal detail, but it made them so much more effective.

A voice over the microphone boomed around the room, breaking up the loved-up nature of the couple, and triggering a hush to the gentle buzz across the room. Only a few moments passed before the taller man rose, extending a hand to his respective partner before leading him away from the table. Before the caramel haired lad had taken two paces, he felt himself being scooped up, bridal style in his partners’ arms, much to the delight of the guests who emitted cheers, drowning out his protests. It wasn’t until they reached the centre of the dance floor he felt himself set to rights. After a half-hearted punch, they began to dance – their first dance as a married couple.

Soft, gentle melodies mingled with the hushed voices in the air, as lean, muscular bodies stepped closer to each other, slotting together perfectly like two pieces of a puzzle. Lacing his arms around the taller lad’s neck, blue eyed boy rested his head on his chest, hearing the steady heartbeat and feeling comfort wash over him when he felt the other lad rest his chin on top of his hair. Swaying softly in the pale light, the couple allowed the music to engulf them, bringing back the memories that started it all…

Three years ago…

The golf ball plummeted back down into the grip of tanned fingers. Louis studied it carefully, eyes darting over the surface, before tossing it back into the air, exhaling softly. The Script blaring from his speakers, he rolled over, eyes gliding past the poster of a shirtless Brendon Urie to land on the certificate proclaiming him the third year scholarship student of the Liberum Saltare School of Dance.

The most renowned dance school in the country.

A painful reminder of how hard he should be working right now, instead of resting.

But with his new roommate due to arrive at any time minute, he figured he had an excuse for now. The room had remained a perfect freeze frame of how it had been the day George, Louis previous roommate, had left six weeks ago. One side remained un-lived in, desk bare, wardrobe empty, bed turned down, cold and un-slept in. As if in direct contrast, Louis side – textbooks stacked high on the desk, which had become a dumping ground for any and every piece of miscellaneous paper found in the room, wardrobe overflowing with t-shirts, shorts, dance tights that spilled onto the floor. Posters camouflaged the peeling, off white paint that smothered the walls, and empty protein bar wrappers overflowed from the trash can under the desk.

Louis heaved himself off the bed, kicking the clothes slightly further back into his closet and attempting to compact the wrappers down, a very half-hearted attempt at cleaning the room before Harry arrived. Catching his reflection in the mirror, he sighed, reaching out to grab a comb, but before he had a chance to fix his rats nest of hair, the knock Louis had been anticipating arrived.

Harry. That was all Louis had to play with, a name that had been rattling round his head for the entire summer. No age, no personality, no face. All boiling down to today, September forth.

Harry had always been one to appreciate beauty. He saw it all around him, no matter where it may be – from the typical, plain delicacy of a flower petal, gently dancing in a warm, summer breeze, to something less typical – the glint of sunlight as it filtered through dirty paint water, illuminating the various colourful pigments. It was one thing he had always had an eye for – which is perhaps why he was short on breath when the peeling, grubby door of room thirteen was opened to reveal, what had to be, in his top ten list of the most stunning things of all time.

Harsh, jagged, muscular lines – sharp jaw, high cheek bones, piercing blue eyes that held a multitude of emotions in each sharp shade of colour – contrasted so deeply with the soft, gentle curves – wide hips that lead in to muscular thighs, fringe flopping lazily over his forehead, the caramel complimenting his skin tone impeccably. His short stature was easily overlooked in face of biceps that peaked out from underneath the white sleeves of his t-shirt, and calves that were taught and lean in a way that could only have been formed from years and years of dancing. It shouldn’t work – this sharp, soft being was a walking juxtaposition, an oxymoron on legs – but it did, it worked so, so well. Harry was already so absorbed, he almost missed it when those pretty pink lips begun to speak.

“Ah, first years are on the second floor, just go back down the stairs and through the door on your left.”

Harry glanced down at the crumpled sheet in his hands, confirming that he had indeed got the right room number.

“No, no I’m Harry? You must be Louis right, it’s lovely to meet you…” Harry stepped past the shorter boy, taking in the clutter of the left side of the room before planting his case on the bed, dumping a box of miscellaneous goods on the desk. Louis turned back towards him shutting the door with a soft click, confusion written in the slope of his eyebrows and slight narrowing of his eyes.

“Right…How old did you say you were?”

“I didn’t, but I’m eighteen. I got moved up two years – they said it was due to raw talent, but honestly, I think it’s just my old teacher, she was pretty amazing. I progressed fast.”

He watched as the smaller boy nodded, confusion still written on his face. Danny O’Donoghue’s voice broke the silence that had fallen between the pair, Louis eyes fixated on the floor and lip trapped between his teeth, as Harry made a move to start unpacking. As the song progressed to the chorus, Louis seemingly snapped back to reality, reaching out to the speakers to hit the off button.

“Oh, you don’t have to, I actually really like The Script so.”

Louis looked in surprise at Harry, smiling slightly.

“You have good taste.” Harry smirked, shrugging before gesturing to the posters on the wall.

“I also approve of the wall art. Brendon Urie’s pretty fit to be honest.” The surprises kept coming, Louis thought to himself. Not many straight guys describe other guys as pretty fit. So did that mean….

“You, uh, into dudes like that?”

The bluntness of the question evidently surprised Harry. He turned slowly, still holding a folded t-shirt in his hands, to face Louis, one eyebrow quirked.

“Is that a problem for you?”

Louis practically tripped over his own tongue in the haste in which he tried to speak.

“No! No, of course it’s not a problem, it’s fine, completely fine.”

He watched as Harry’s face dissolved into a wide grin.

“It’s not contagious, I swear. You aren’t going to “catch the gay” from me.”

“I know. I said its fine, it’s not a problem.”

Harry grinned, turning back to his pile of stuff.

“Class starts tomorrow right?”

Louis only hummed in response, Harry turning back to see the lads eyebrows drawn together in thought.

“Something wrong?”

Swallowing deeply, Louis grabbed his dance bag, slinging it over his shoulder as he reached for the door knob. He glanced up to meet the concern brewing in Harry’s green eyes, face framed by soft, gentle curls. There was no denying it - the lad was cute, even Louis could see that, and whilst he emitted some kind of warm, trusting aura, Louis was not ready to open up to a near enough stranger, not yet. Not now.

“I need to go practice - you probably need to get on with un-packing anyway.”

Harry’s farewell was muffled by the already closing door, Louis half way to the stair well before he glanced back.

Over the passing days, only a few nods and friendly small talk was exchanged between the pair. They lived around each other - Louis was always gone when Harry awoke in the mornings, and rarely was there in the evenings. He seemed to use the room as more of a pitstop than an actual living space. Harry tried not to take it personally - assuming the scholarship certificate hung on the cream walls was to blame for the boy’s crazy work ethic.

It was the subtle things that allowed each to build up impressions of the other - the photos that were littered through Harry’s belongings of him smiling with two women - whom Louis could only assume to be the mother and sister he’d heard Harry talk on the phone to. He couldn’t lie, it triggered a poisonous stab of jealousy over how cheerful they looked in the photos - how perfect Harry’s life seemed. As hard as he tried to push these feelings away, they, annoyingly, remained.

But as normally happens when living in such close proximity to a potential love interest who happens to be unfairly attractive, feelings began to form.

Harry was in ballet class when he first developed what he would call a serious, unquestionable crush. Sure – Louis deep blue eyes and rugged caramel hair had been enough to trigger something – but seeing him dance, properly, for the first time, was when Harry knew he was done for. The soft, unbroken lines of Louis body masked the strong muscles that powered him across the floor, his face that so often seemed troubled, tired and weary from overwork, instead at ease, the storm in his eyes calmed to a peaceful blue ocean. Every movement, each step executed just so, a sense of ease to the motion, fluidity that was un-replicated even by water. It was impossible to drag your eyes away from him, and as Harry’s followed Louis movements up to the mirrored wall at the front of the studio, he noticed Liam’s smug smile plastered on his face. He turned to his best friend, who was slouched lazily against the barre, warming up.

“What?”

Liam nodded pointedly towards Louis, who was now moving round to the back of the studio, water bottle poised at his lips whilst listening intently to the corrections he was given.

“That’s what. How long have you had your eye on him?”

Harry huffed, crossing his arms defensively on his chest.

“I am not that obvious.”

“How else do you think I found out? I’m sorry, mate, but if subtle was what you’re going for, it is not working.”

Harry turned his gaze back to where Louis stood, engaged in deep conversation with another third year.

“You know how I feel about beautiful things Liam. It’s undeniable he’s pretty fricken’ attractive.”

“I’m not disputing that. He’s the most talented third year in the school, and happens to be your room mate. Which makes him-“

“Totally out of reach for the likes of me?”

Liam shot his friend a withering look, before snapping to attention as their instructor called their names, signalling their turn to go across the floor.

“I was going to say perfect.”

Louis was completely absorbed in his textbook when he heard the soft click of the door. He turned his head, greeting on the tip of his tongue before being snatched away by the sight in front of him. Harry stood, long hair damp from the shower, in the doorway of their room, the white towel wrapped round his hips falling to just above the knee. But it revealed enough. Toned muscles chiselled in the pale skin of his stomach were bedazzled by a few droplets of water that remained, Louis’ eyes following the prominent v-lines down to the hem of the fluffy towel. Smooth calf muscles were taught as Harry moved into the room; damp skin glistening, illuminated by the warm light coming from the desk lamp Harry flicked into life. Louis eyes raked back up Harry’s bodies to his eyes, which stared prettily out from under his long, dark eyelashes, bold eyebrows raised in greeting.

“Hey.”

Louis attempted desperately to pick his jaw up of the floor, swallowing deeply as his brain scrambled for a reply.

“S’up.”

Mental face palm. You idiot, Louis.

Harry chuckled, Louis mentally cursing as those bloody eyebrows quirked into their usual, cheeky formation.

“Didn’t figure you’d be in, you’re normally out.”

“Yeah, y’know.” Louis patted his textbooks “Studying.”

“Aha. Well, I won’t bother you, I was heading to bed anyways.”

“Need me to shut the light off?”

“Nope you're good. Night Louis.”

“Night.”

Louis tried desperately to regain focus on his Physics textbook, ignoring the rustling of Harry settling into bed behind him. But to no avail - before, he’d regarded Harry as a sort of cute, young, excitable puppy, whom happened to share a room with him. He needed to reassess his evaluation. Cause now, Harry was far more than just a slightly adorable eighteen year old with a pretty amazing smile and a glowing personality to match. He was a crush.

Louis did not have time for crushes. It was not part of his schedule, and drifting from his schedule was the perfect way to loose his scholarship and end up homeless. Something he did not intend to happen.

But as he lay in bed, the sound of Harry’s soft breathing playing his heartstrings like a harp, he had to admit he was beginning to fall. And fall pretty hard, at that.

“Hey, I just needed to grab - Lou, you alright?”

Harry nearly missed the hunched figure that was Louis in his haste to get his maths textbook, but slowed to stop when he caught sight of the boy’s head held in his hands, tufts of caramel sticking up through the gabs in his fingers which where fisted in his hair. He watched as Louis raised his head, slightly puffy eyes turning to meet Harry’s.

“Oh, yeah. I’m great. Y’know, its only, what, a month or so until the opening competition of the season, and not only do I have absolutely nothing in the way of choreography, but my duet partner just broke his arm. So I’m fucking fantastic.”

Harry hesitated, replacing his textbook on the desk, figuring maths could wait. He moved closer to the older lad, cautiously placing a hand on his shoulder. Louis sighed, allowing his forehead to rest on one of his hands, eyes closing with his exhale.

“I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. None of this is your fault.”

Harry shrugged, collapsing onto Louis bed.

“It’s okay, I understand. You wouldn’t have said it if you weren’t so stressed.”

“I guess.”

Harry took in the sadness in Louis voice, heart lurching at how small and lost he sounded.

“Right. What can we do to this fix this then.”

Louis glanced to Harry, smiling weakly.

“It’s fine, I’ll come up with something, I hope-“

“I said we, not you. I am more than willing to help.”

Louis chuckled, smiling at Harry.

“Unless you know an entire routine of choreography, and someone willing to learn it in a month, then-“

“I’ll do it.”

“You’ll do what?”

“The duet. I’ll do it. And I can attempt to help with the routine, although I can’t promise I’ll be much good at it.”

“Have you ever competed before?”

Harry smiled, mocking reproachfulness.

“No. But everyone’s got to start somewhere.”

Louis looked uneasy, at which Harry tried not to take offence.

“Look. At this point, what other choice do you have. You said yourself - trying to find another replacement at this stage would be next to impossible. Here you have a blank canvas, an eager volunteer who is more than willing to be tutored by the best dancer in the school-“

“I wouldn’t go that far-“

“You wouldn’t have got the scholarship if you weren’t. Look - we can do this. You can do this.”

Registering the lingering doubt in Louis eyes, Harry grabbed his hand, locking their pinky fingers.

“What are you doing?”

“Do you trust me?”

“What?”

“I said do you trust me?”

Breathing deeply, Louis looked into Harry’s eyes, eyes that danced with hope and optimism, eyes that were glued to his own, pulling him in like windows to his soul. Louis could feel his heart wrestling with his mind on this one, conscience desperately searching for an answer.

“Yes.”

Maybe, just maybe, it was worth the risk for the smile that spread wide across Harry’s face.

“I promise to spend every hour of free time I have working with you until the routine is as perfect as you want it to be, if you promise to give me a chance. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Harry rose from the bed, once again scooping the discarded textbook into his arms, reaching for the doorknob, before glancing back at Louis, whose once sullen face was now replaced with a small, soft smile, a smile that Harry automatically filed into his memories favourite things about Louis folder.

“Have a little faith Lou. It’ll be okay.”

Louis watched Harry’s tall, lanky form leave the room, staring at the crumbling white paint of the door long after it had closed behind him. He’d just let his heart rule his head. This was either going to be the best decision he ever made, or the downfall of everything.

Great.

The music drifting out of studio three gave away Louis’ location to Harry, who upon reading the hastily scribbled post it note stuck to their door had followed his instruction to meet him that night to practice. Gently pushing open the door, he watched Louis, eyes completely shut as he blocked certain movements to the phrases of the music. Even these rough movements seemed so controlled, Louis black long sleeved top and shorts adding to his perfect silhouette that moved with such precision, a puppet to the music.

“Doesn’t look like you’ve got nothing.”

The sound of Harrys voice halted Louis movements.

“Well, y’know. It’s just ideas.”

The smile rang in Louis voice as he turned to face Harry, taking in the biceps that were made seemingly more prominent in his grey tank top. But as attractive as Harry was, it was his eyes, always his eyes, that stole the show. Cheerful, innocent, just stunning, a green that remained unparalleled by any other colour. A green that was fast becoming Louis favourite colour.

Harry chuckled, dropping his bag at the side of the studio.

“Looks pretty good for just ideas.”

“Thanks.” Harry watched the pretty pink flush appear on Louis cheeks, along with a smile that was sweet with just the right touch of shyness to make an unexpected warmth rush through Harry’s body. He forced himself to look away, focusing on his shoes.

“So, what’s the deal then. Basic idea?”

Louis cleared his throat, turning the music down slightly.

“The song’s called ‘All About Us’. It’s by an artist called He Is We, and feature’s Owl City, one of my favourite singers. It’s quite gentle, but does have a good beat, so I was thinking contemporary, maybe?”

Harry hummed in approval, listening to the lyrics as Louis continued.

“As for the topic - the criteria was to choreograph a piece related to something important to you, to which I chose the recent legalisation of gay marriage. To me, the song fits perfectly - it seems to be about a couple’s first dance as a couple, and also is mostly, if not all, in a major key; it’s happy, optimistic, celebratory.”

Louis searched for a reaction in Harry’s irritatingly neutral face.

“What do you think?”

Those piercing eyes were back on Louis’ again; he felt them reading through his thoughts, trying to make sense of something.

“Why is the legalisation of gay marriage important to you?”

“Cause I’m - gay?”

The quizzical look that filled Harry’s eyes did not match Louis’ expectations.

“You seriously did not know?”

“You’re reaction when I came out to you…”

Louis sighed, moving to pat Harrys shoulder.

“If you thought I was homophobic, you are about as far from the truth as you can get, evidently. I’m sorry if that’s what I gave off - let’s just say it hasn’t always been something I’ve been made to feel proud of. Leave it at that, yeah?”

The grin was back on Harry’s face - a grin that made Louis feel exactly as Harry did towards himself, although unbeknownst to him. The way his lips lifted upward. The way his dimples crinkled. The way his teeth were perfectly aligned. The warm glow his happiness gives. His smile is a ray of sunshine, a ray of sunshine that filtered inside Louis and practically melted his insides.

“Let’s get going then - or we will be here all night,”

At twenty-one, Louis was not inexperienced with relationships. There'd been a few - from questioning crushes at fourteen to more recent, more ‘adult’ experiences that whilst confirmed Louis homosexuality, had not lasted long. Perhaps it was due to the unbreakable barricades Louis imprisoned himself behind - or perhaps because he had never met the right person. He’d spent years yearning for the storybook, hollywood portrayal of love, only to be left with a bigger void in his chest when every relationship failed to meet his expectations.

But there, in that studio that night, as he danced with Harry, he began to catch glimpses of that love. It was as if two souls were joining to form one, connected through the shared medium of music. He’d performed with many people, but never had it been like this - never had the movements been so instinctual, so synchronised even in the early stages. Every pulsation of music that rippled through his soul seemingly had the same effect on Harry, as they moved as one body. It may have been sloppy, it certainly wasn’t perfect - but it was the most alive Louis had ever felt when dancing, had felt ever in fact.

Harry was in awe himself. Dancing was something he’d always loved, enjoyed - but he had never seen anyone as creatively gifted as Louis. Each step he came up with fitted with the music so beautifully, as if he were knitting the two together in such away that they became one, fluid piece of what could only be described as magic. And Louis was magic - the way he made Harry feel as if even his most feeble of contributions were valuable; he made everything feel so special, so right. He was unbelievable. He was so desperately out of reach.

They worked for hours, until finally, they were interrupted by the cleaners, insistent on them leaving so they could do their ‘ruddy job’ as they’d so eloquently put it.

“That was brilliant.” Louis said as he placed the water bottle to his lips, chest heaving and fringe sticking to his sweaty forehead. Harry scoffed.

“I think you mean you were brilliant. Me, not so much.”

“Oh shut up,” Louis spoke, nudging Harry in the ribs as they made their way up the stairs to where the rooms were situated, “You’re technique could use a little work, but you have really good musicality - your performance aspect hides any minor errors.”

“I guess - technique has always been my weak point though.”

An idea dawned on Louis.

“I could help. I can tutor you.”

Harry glanced at him, shaking his head.

“You’re gonna be busy enough with this on top of everything else. You don’t need to-“

“I know I don’t need to, but I want to. You’re spending your time on me, at least allow me to give you something back.”

“We already made a deal - I’m more than happy to do this.”

“Consider it payment, then, if it makes you feel better!”

“I don’t want-“

“Do you trust me?”

Louis chuckled at the withering look Harry gave him.

“You did not just use my words against me…”

“Oh, but you know that I did.”

Some may say they sounded like an old married couple already. And as would be expected, after a little bit of nagging, Louis got his way.

(A/N: Okay so I am aware that Gay Marriage was officially legalised in the UK in July of 2013, but did not in fact come into effect until March of 2014, with the first same sex marriage happening in the same month, but for the sake of plot, the first marriage happened in September 2013, deal? We’re rewriting history for the sake of fanfiction.)

Harry’s mind was in a different place than his grungy English classroom the next morning - a place that may or may not have included him, Louis, and an unspecified amount of alone time. Unfortunately, as all good daydreams are, his vision was burst by the sharp sting of reality.

“Disgusting fags. Makes me sick, it does.”

Desperately hoping they weren’t talking about what Harry thought, he turned, looking round for the source. It didn’t take him long to locate the group of boys crowded around a newspaper article proclaiming the first same sex marriage had occurred the previous day. Instead of the swell of pride he should have felt about equality finally being achieved, he felt anger begin to surge through his body, bubbling in his stomach like an angry volcano.

“Don’t say that.”

He rose from his chair, reaching over to snatch the paper away, but a hand slammed down on top of it to prevent his attempts.

“Why not? It is disgusting - two men getting married is just not natural.”

“To some people it’s the most natural thing in the world!”

The boy stood, stepping closer to Harry until he could feel his hot breath on his face.

“What, like you? Are you a little faggot, Styles?”

Harry bit his lip, looking down at his scruffy converse. It was this action that caused him to miss the hit as it was swung - the sharp tap to the side of his head that jerked his neck sideways.

“You’re sickening, y’know that, fag? Everything about you is-“

“What did you just say?”

Liam's voice cut clear across the room, but by this point the damage had been done. Pushing past the bystanders, Harry rushed from the room, the sting of tears pricking at the back of his eyes. Gaze fixed firmly to the floor, avoiding the watchful stares from the current of students flowing through the corridors. It was his determination to focus on the ground that lead to his collision with the last person he wanted to see right now. Louis.

“Harry?”

Louis grabbed him by his shoulders, tilting his chin up and noticing the sheen across Harry’s eyes. Harry stumbled for words, desperate to remain composed, but already he could feel the hot, angry tears dripping down his cheeks. Feeling his heart jolt, Louis looked around, before guiding Harry away from the crowded corridor, opening the door of a nearby store cupboard. Pulling the younger boy into a hug, he felt Harry break down in his arms, shoulders shaking with each heavy sob. They stayed, frozen like that, for minutes, until Harry’s sniffling slowed to a soft snuffle. Assuming his composure had been regained, Louis began to probe the issue.

“What happened?”

“This guy - he was saying all this homophobic shit, calling me a fag and-“

Louis sighed, seemingly in relief, before pushing Harry at arms length.

“Thank god that’s it.”

It was predominantly confusion, and part anger that flashed in Harry’s eyes now.

“What do you mean? How are you relieved about that?”

“You have to ignore them, Harry. The world is full of bigoted, ignorant people, crappy people who are going to say bullshit. But that’s exactly what it is - bullshit. You can’t let it get to you like this. You can’t let them win.”

“I’m not! But it’s hard y’know…”

Louis snorted slightly.

“You mean you’ve never faced bullying for being gay, AND a dancer before?”

“No.”

It was Louis turn to be confused by normalcy in Harry’s voice. Looking into Harry’s eyes now, he saw a naivety - a naivety he had perhaps labelled too quickly as innocence. A naivety he could see now to be a lack of knowledge rather than a lack of experience.

“Where I come from, that doesn't exist. You’re encouraged to be who you are - if a boy wanted to dance, who cared? So what if he was gay? It’s his life. It is what it is.”

Harry’s voice was soft, as his eyes stared right back into Louis’, reading desperately, trying to decipher the layers of heavily encrypted code that was Louis mind. Terrified, petrified the walls were crumbling, Louis shook himself, eyes turning hard again.

“Not everyone had that.”

“I guess not.”

Louis broke the connection at last, glancing down at his watch.

“You need to get back to class - as do I for that matter. If it really matters to you, I can report the douchebag-“

“No, it’s okay, I’ll do it.”

For the first time in knowing each other, there was a tension, something that was being left unsaid. Both were seeing something they had never seen in the other before - whereas for Louis, it was over-sensitivity, for Harry, it was cowardice on Louis’ part. Louis was afraid. Of what, who knew. But it was written all over him.

“Right. Well, I’ll see you later, Harry.”

He only hummed in response, watching Louis leave, head bowed and shoulders sagged. He watched, really watched, the way Louis moved. Slow, tenuous movements, as if the weight of the world fell only on his shoulders. So far removed from what he’d seen before - when Louis danced, he looked lost in his own world. No, lost wasn’t the right word - he was in his own world, and he belonged there. But here, in the real world, was not the same person - and Harry loathed himself for not noticing it before.

The tension remained when Louis entered the room that evening. Harry sat at his desk, where he’d been for hours, rolling a pencil over and over, up and down the scarred wood table top. For the first time, no greeting was exchanged - just a stiff silence as Louis hurried to change into his workout gear, heading off to the gym as he always did at this time. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry observed him. The sandy fringe couldn’t hide the dark rings that plagued Louis eyes, and the sharpness of his cheekbones that whilst were stunningly gorgeous, contributed to the overall run down, weary look of his face. Louis looked tired, over-worked.

“Why don’t you just stay here tonight? You don’t need to work out everyday…”

Louis tied his laces more aggressively, focusing hard on his nimble fingers, refusing to make eye contact.

“I have to work out. If you don’t, you get weak.”

“Yes, but not everyday. Please Lou, you look so tired.”

“I need to stay strong to keep dancing well.”

"You need to rest-"

"You just don't get it, do you?!"

He was looking at Harry now, and any compassion in his eyes was long gone. Instead, anger burned in its place, spitting and sparking and hissing, and ready to erupt.

"Not everyone got lucky, okay? Not everyone got things handed to them. I had to work, for years, for the chance of coming here. I still have to work hard to stay. If I don't, I lose everything. You don't understand that kind of pressure. You’re too naive."

His words stung more than Harry could have imagined, the venom in them branded onto his mind with a red hot poker. He watched as Louis rose, the resentment radiating of him in hot waves.

"Lou-"

"Not everyone had a storybook childhood, where they were able, allowed, to be themselves without fear.You are so privileged you don’t even know it. Things may have been all sunshine and rainbows for you-"

"That's not true."

"Oh sure. Like it was anything but."

"You know nothing about-"

"You? Too right I don't. Y'know, I genuinely liked you. I thought you were so sweet, and kind, and amazing. But you’re just as ignorant as the rest of them. You know nothing about how the real world works."

Breathless. As though the oxygen had been knocked out of him. Harry could feel his insides quivering, trembling, ready to disintegrate from the unfairness of it all. His stomach clenching, his eyes pricking, he tried, desperately to remain calm. Blocking Louis path to the door, Harry stood before him, desperately clinging to the hope that maybe, maybe, he could turn this around.

"You don't mean any of this."

"Oh don't I?" Louis spat back.

"No. You’re just being defensive cause you're scared. And you don't have to be."

Harry reached out to touch Louis shoulder, but the older boy recoiled.

"Do not touch me."

Pushing past Harry, Louis grabbed the door handle, slamming it behind him, pausing only long enough the hear Harry emit a chocked, oxygen starved sob. He was only five paces down the corridor before he punched the wall beside him. It was mere seconds later he was cursing under his breath, cradling his hand and feeling the dangerous itch at the back of his eyes, the lump that rose in his throat suffocating, starving his body of air. He broke into a jog, running, until he reached the isolated stairwell. Only then did he allow himself to break down.

Harry didn't deserve even half of what he had said. Louis knew that, and he felt like crap for it. All he'd done was have a decent life. What kind of heartless creature could blame him for that?

Moonlight streamed through the semicircle window, casting delicate patterns over the smooth wood floor. The studio was silent bar the snuffles of the lone boy who sat in solitude, squarely in the centre of the room, legs drawn to his chest and mop of curls buried in his knees.

Harry had never learned to cry with style, silently, the pearl-shaped tears rolling down his cheeks from wide luminous eyes, as seen in all the classic rom-com films, leaving no smears or streaks. He wished he had; but instead, he was left with puffy, red eyes, a blotchy nose, and tear tracks that gave away everything to even the most oblivious of people.

“My parents were Evangelical Christians. Even if they had approved of the dancing, which they didn’t, it was drilled into me from a young age how vile, disgusting and downright wrong it was to be gay.”

Harry lifted his head, turning it to the direction of the croaky voice. Hovering in the studio door, Louis stood half in shadow. The contrast of light and dark only made his face seem more beautiful, which was completely unfair given the circumstances. Stepping towards Harry, he continued.

“I was fourteen when I realised that not only was dancing all I wanted to do with my life, but also that I was one of the homosexuals my family spoke so poorly of. I stuck it out for three years, but I was going bat-shit crazy being cooped up with people who shove their bullcrap down your throat every second of every day. I started spending more time at my dance studio; which led to me getting better, much better, until my teacher wanted me to audition for a place here. She knew as well as I did that my parents wouldn’t want to let me go, let alone pay the fees - so she set me up for a scholarship audition.”

The floorboards creaked as Louis sank down next to Harry, who was now listening intently.

“I got the place. The same day I was due to leave, I decided to come out to my parents. My stuff would be all packed, I’d be about to jump on a train from Doncaster to London - even if they disowned me, it wouldn’t matter cause I was eighteen, they couldn’t touch me.”

Louis paused, drawing breath and trying desperately to keep the unwanted tears at bay.

“They took it about as well as you’d expect. Step-dad took a swing at me - that’s how I got this.”

In the moonlight, the faint, pale line was stark on Louis cheek, marring his otherwise perfectly smooth skin. Harry reached out, touching it gently. He felt sick.

“It wasn’t him I cared about. But my mum - she didn’t even try to stop him. Just hurried my sisters upstairs. She just stood there, watching me as I left. I haven’t heard anything for three years. I didn’t even get to say goodbye to my sisters.

I am cynical about the world, about the people who populate it. I’ve experienced first hand the kind of poisonous ignorance that rips families apart - but it’s also shown me that you can’t argue with these people. People who are that close-minded, that deep-rooted in their own beliefs - they won’t change. They can’t change. It hurts, but they can’t.

I shouldn’t have said the things I did to you. It was beyond shitty of me, and you were completely undeserving of it. It’s not your fault you had a normal, happy childhood. And it’s certainly not your fault for being right about me - I am scared. I’m terrified of losing this, of losing my dream - cause it is all I have left. I sacrificed so much for it - it has to work out. But you figured that out - and it threw me, cause people don’t usually question it. So I am sorry, Harry.”

Louis gaze was fixed firmly on his hands, which lay in his lap. He didn’t notice Harry begin to speak.

“My dad left before I was born.”

As Louis processed the words, his head snapped up immediately, to meet Harry’s dull, sad eyes. Guilt began to crawl up from the pit of his stomach, clawing its way into his chest.

“It was just me, my mum, and Gemma, my sister. The three musketeers, sticking by each others side. It was fine, I wasn’t deprived - but we were always struggling to make ends meet somehow. I can afford to come here because of the inheritance we got when my grandma passed away - she always wanted me to follow my dreams. But y’know, there was always this nagging at the back of my head - why would you leave a child you didn’t even get to know. How could you hate something so much, without even meeting them. That’s why mum and Gem made sure to always be so, supportive of whatever it was I wanted to do - they knew I always had this awful niggle of the simple fact that my dad didn't want me.”

Harry’s voice was choked up now, the tears beginning to chase down his face again. The sight caused Louis’ own eyes to mist over, reaching out to brush away the droplets as the rolled down Harry’s flushed cheeks.

“Not quite the perfect childhood you thought.”

That was the end of the remaining composure Louis had retained. Pulling the younger boy into a crushing hug, he rested his head on his shoulder, feeling Harry’s curls brushing against his ear.

“I am so, so unbelievably sorry.”

Any lingering resentment vanished in that hug. The connection was back, stronger than ever, and Louis could feel it, pulsing between them. They had bared their souls completely for the other to see, put themselves at the others mercy - they had shared things that mere weeks ago, they never dreamed they would be telling. And Louis felt free - the spine crushing weight he had carried around with him for all these years drifting away like a balloon in the wind. In that moment - he began to feel the shrapnel in his heart dislodge.

From that night, the dynamic between the two began to change. Not the dry, curt tension that they had felt before - not even tension at all, more of a static, magnetic force that pulled them together, like electricity. Powerful, irresistible, unstoppable force. From darting glances shot across the studio to subtle brushes of the hand in the corridors - their attempts to grow closer, to be near one another, where obvious.

The night of Harry’s first ballet lesson with Louis arrived. Harry was more anxious than he should have been - whilst there was nothing more he wanted than to spend two hours alone with Louis - there was also nothing he dreaded more than spending two hours alone with Louis. His feelings had never faded, only intensified with time, and whilst he desperately, stupidly hoped they weren’t one sided, he couldn’t be sure. In his school-girl like crush, all the signs he’d been interpreting as mirrored affection on Louis part could fine well be innocent actions that were purely platonic. It was like walking a tightrope, or the narrow edge of a blade, and all the while, Harry was trembling, scared to ruin their bond of carefully constructed trust.

Louis was already in the studio when he arrived - the studio that had become their studio, the place which had seen them at their best, and at their worst. Soft, calm melodies floated round the room as they warmed up. As hard as he tried, Harry could not shake the tension he felt, the tension that held an iron grip on every muscle in his body. He could feel his feelings getting wound up tighter and tighter, like a coil, or a spring. It was getting harder and harder to resist every time he looked at Louis - the pale, delicate pink that dusted his cheek bones, subtle lips that looked so full and soft and downright kissable.

It wasn’t hard to notice Harry was distracted. The stiffness in his body was evident from his dancing, which whilst normally was all beautiful, soft rounded edges, was now unsure at best.

“Relax, Harry.” Louis said softly, moving behind the younger boy to massage his shoulders slightly, opening them up more, “Your lines are broken, they aren’t smooth.” 

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled, pausing to shake out his long limbs before returning to his arabesque position. He tried so hard not to focus on Louis fingertips ghosting over his hips, rolling them back into a more open position, the gentle touch that conjured goosebumps across the surface of his skin as it skimmed over his leg, turning it out more. He really did try. But he could feel the spring winding tighter, and tighter, the clench in his chest becoming nearly unbearable. For the second time that evening, he faltered, coming out of the arabesque and turning to face Louis.

Confusion was painted in the blue of Louis eyes, Harry’s lust blown pupils drinking from them as though they were water from a mountain spring. He bit his lip, gaze flitting from those eyes down to those pretty pink lips, and back up again. The spring snapped.

“Stop me if this is not what you want.” Harry breathed before crashing his lips onto Louis, eyes flickering shut. Louis felt his breath snatched from his lungs, surprise winding him before his brain caught up to what was happening. His eyelashes fluttered down across his cheeks as he felt Harry’s warmth begin to leak into him. The kiss was hungry, urgent, volatile - as if sparks of electricity were flowing round a finally complete circuit. Louis could feel the current passing through every nerve ending in his body, the solid, cold wood barre that was pressing into his back the only thing keeping his mind grounded. Harry’s hands were cradling his cheeks, thumbs rubbing the underside of his jawline in attempt the deepen the kiss - and Louis was putty under those fingertips, fully complying to Harry’s wishes, allowing him to take complete control. He felt his own hand reaching up to tangle in Harry’s curls, pulling his body impossibly closer.

It was a perfect moment, one that was totally unique, for them, and them only. But as with all good things, they must come to an end, and the sudden jolt of their noses nudging provided this opportunity. Still, they remained close, foreheads pressed together and breathing heavily into each other. Harry moved his hands from Louis face, one coming to rest splayed on his chest, feeling the racing heartbeat pulse through his fingertips, before looking up through hooded eyelids to meet Louis stare.

“You didn’t stop me.”

“I didn’t want to.”

The statement was so assured, so blunt, that even Harry couldn't question is validity. Instead, exhaling a sigh of relief, he allowed his head to drop forward to rest in the crook of Louis neck, arms lacing around the older boys middle.

“I’m meant to be teaching you ballet.”

“Screw the ballet” Harry chuckled, breath tickling the sensitive skin of Louis neck. His breath hitched in his throat as he muttered softly,

“I’d much rather screw you, to be honest.”

Harry froze, smirk creeping across his face.

“Is that a suggestion or a promise?”

Louis moved away from the younger lad, lifting Harry’s chin until those twinkling eyes met his own.

“Why don’t you try it and see?”

The next few weeks were tainted with a feeling of falling - falling deeper into the whirlpool that was their feelings for the other. With every gentle caress, every chaste kiss, Louis could feel his heart being slowly patched back together, stitches so fine it was almost impossible to tell they were there. The magnitude of his feelings were almost scary - the velocity at which the changes to his life were occurring overwhelming. But somehow, with Harry by his side, it wasn’t as daunting as it could have been. He wasn’t scared of the changes - he embraced them wholeheartedly. After much persuasion, he toned down his rigorous work schedule to spend more time with Harry, whom had already created plans for their new room with a double bed after suffering through a morning of dance class with cramp from sharing one single.

Things were moving fast in their relationship, along with their lives. The competition mere days away, they were spending increasing amounts of time in the studio - however, how much work was actually achieved between the frequent make out sessions and stolen kisses was debatable. In spite of this, even Louis couldn't deny the duet was shaping up to be pretty spectacular, if he did say so himself - although he tried to argue that it was Harry’s touch that made it so. Elegant, flowing movements used the music as a springboard as they combined to form one beautiful piece of art, with such meaning, such life attached to it.

But it was Louis and Harry dancing it that really created an atmosphere that was untouchable. Their dependance on the other was crystal clear, each gesture complementing the other in a way that just worked. It was this chemistry, this electric bond between them, that made the choreography alive.

“So, um, Mum and Gemma are coming up tomorrow.”

Louis looked up at Harry from where he was sorting through the box of CD’s, trying to find a blank one to rip the song onto. They were sat on their dorm room, only the desk lamp on, washing a subtle, warm glow over the room. Harry was nibbling at the skin around his finger, something he only did when he was nervous.

“Really? The competition isn’t til’ Friday though.”

“Yeah, they wanted to come up and stay in London for a couple of days, before we go back to Cheshire.”

The stab Louis felt in his gut was a painful reminder of the fact that they only had three days before Harry departed for home, and Louis was left to the solitary confines of the school once again. If it had been lonely before, God alone knew what it was going to be like now he actually had something to miss.

Louis hummed, turning back to the seemingly endless pile of CD’s he was listlessly flicking through. He tried, albeit failed, to keep the jealousy at bay, focusing on maintaining small talk.

“I think they wanted to take me out to dinner.”

“Ah, cool, going somewhere fancy?”

“I’m not actually sure, actually, I was going to ask-“

“Yeah, you should ask them, you need to make reservations, and some of the restaurants are actually kind of dodgy - you don’t want to know how I know that, just-“

“Can you be quiet for five seconds?”

Louis looked up, retort ready, before noticing the smile in Harry’s eyes.

“I am trying, Chatterbox, to ask you if you would like to join us?”

The stunned reaction on Louis face made Harry chuckle as he watched millions of thoughts darting across the surface of Louis’ eyes.

“Before you even attempt to protest - I already asked mum, who said it was more than okay, and she and Gem have made reservations for the four of us somewhere - I don't know where - so yeah. You’re coming, basically.”

During Harry’s speech, the stunned silence had turned to a very anxious look on Louis face.

“What’s wrong?”

“They aren’t going to like me.”

“What are you talking about?! Of course they are going to like you, how couldn’t they, you’re -“

“But what if they don’t?”

Taking Louis by the shoulders, Harry guided the boy up into a hug, before releasing him, holding him at arms length.

“Louis William Tomlinson - you are by far, the most talented, kind, strong, amazing and beautiful person I have ever had the privilege of knowing. You have managed to convince me of the fact that relationships can in fact be happy and content. And I have never met someone as passionate and dedicated to their dreams as you. You are a remarkable human being, which is the reason you are my wonderful boyfriend - and it will, trust me, be next to impossible for my family not to see that.”

Seeing hints lingering uncertainty in Louis expression, Harry pulled him closer, angling his chin up before softly pressing his lips to Louis, instantly feeling the boy respond to his touch. The kiss was short and sweet, but reassuring - everything Louis needed it to be. When Harry pulled away, pressing one final kiss to Louis cheek, he looked to the older lad hopefully. Sigh.

“Okay.”

It was near impossible for Louis to sleep that night - not only was the competition playing on his mind, first introductions to the family of the boy he might well lov- like - were only fuelling the pressure he felt. But with each trace of Harry’s thumb over his hip, he felt his eyes drifting closed, his mind unwinding and slowing down, until all he could focus on was the steady heartbeat he felt from where Harry was pressed close to his back.

“Would you like to stop fiddling with your tie - I already told you it’s straight, and besides that, they are going to think you’re more weird than you actually are if you keep acting all jittery.”

“Hey!” Louis dragged his attention away from the skinny, deep red tie that ran directly down the centre of his torso to punch Harry’s arm. It wasn't fair - he felt so plain next to the younger boy who’s blazer hung effortlessly well off his lanky frame, tailoring to his body in such an enticing manner Louis would have been struggling to restrain himself had nerves not been wracking his body. Harry merely chuckled, resting a grounding arm around Louis waist, pulling him closer until his breath tickled Louis neck.

“I think you look-“

“Harry!”

They broke apart, barely having the chance to turn before Harry was tackled into a vigorous hug in a blur of dark brown-y-blonde hair. Glancing past the embrace of mumbled greetings, Louis caught sight of another women, glinting eyes and a smile fixed on her face so similar to Harry’s it left no question that this must be Anne. She drew to a stop, glancing at her children before turning to Louis.

“You must be Louis.”

Attempting to wipe the sweat from his palms and swallowing heavily, Louis began to instigate a handshake, but instead found himself being pulled into a bone-crushingly tight hug.

“We’ve heard so much about you - so much talent! I can’t wait to see the performance on Friday - it’s all Harry talks about, he just can’t shut up about you, and - “

“Mum?” Harry interjected, smiling at the nerves that were visibly draining from Louis face. “Breathe. And also let Louis breathe - he’s going purple.”

In actual fact, it was a rose pink that littered Louis cheeks, but nonetheless, a genuine, heartfelt smile was present as he thanked Anne, before turning to the tall girl, who bared an almost scary resemblance to Harry.

“Harry, when did you get good taste?” Gemma said, eyes scanning over Louis, triggering a laugh from everyone and deepening the colour of his already flushed cheeks.

“Hands off Gem - he’s mine.” Harry said, tone light as he weaved an arm round Louis shoulders, staking his claim.

“Shall we head in then?”

Following Gemma and Anne through the restaurant door, Harry pulled Louis closer into his side, squeezing his arm reassuringly.

“Told you they’d love you.”

The zestful tone littered the conversation throughout the evening - with Gemma and Louis bonding exceptionally quickly due to their shared love of teasing Harry. When the laughter from one particular childhood incident including Harry, a bucket, and an angry mother goose near a pond died down, the conversation turned.

“So Louis, do you have anything nice planned for the half term.”

A slightly awkward silence fell between Louis and Harry, who only seconds ago had been giggling. Louis cleared his throat.

“Well, I’ll probably just spend sometime in the studio - and studying, of course, it’s never too early to start revising so.”

Gemma sneered her nose up, reaching for her wine glass.

“You’re going to work during the break? Really?”

“Considering I’m at school, there isn't much else to do…”

Gemma looked at him, stunned, over the rim of her glass.

“You aren’t going home?”

“Got no home to go to.”

Louis was so focused on the napkin he was plucking at anxiously in his lap he missed the looks being bounced across the table between the family.

“Yes you have.”

The sound of Anne’s warm voice drew Louis sad eyes back up to hers, seeing the warm glow present in them.

“You would be more than welcome to stay with us should you want to.”

Louis gaze travelled round the table, resting on each face in turn before landing on Harry - Harry, whose warmth and acceptance was now multiplied trifold. He turned back to Anne, feeling the familiar knot of tears forming at the back of his throat

“Thank you. Thank you so, so much.”

“You might as well have been her second son, thats how much she loved you.”

Lounging on the bed later that night, moonlight casting shadows over the crisp white sheets and illuminating the pale skin of bodies intertwined, Louis shifted slightly, turning so he could see Harry, face even more stunning in the pearlescent glow.

“Well that would suck - cause then I couldn't do this.” Harry felt Louis lips graze the stubble on the underside of his jawline, before planting a kiss on the rather sensitive patch of skin right below his ear. Eyes fluttering shut, Harry hummed in agreement.

“That’s true, I guess.”

They lay in silence for a few seconds more, only the soft buzz of traffic and the gentle sigh of their exhales cutting through the still air.

“You were about to say something before you were interrupted by Gemma.”

Harry smirked, opening his eyes just enough to see Louis quizzical stare.

“Fuckable.”

‘Excuse me?!”

“You looked fuckable, to answer your question.”

Perhaps it was the genuine happiness that Louis felt for the first time in forever at the prospect of having a home to go to, and getting to spend all his time with Harry, that kept him remarkably chilled out over the next twenty four hours. The same, however, could not be said of Harry.

The dress rehearsal was, to put it bluntly, a shambles. Movements that had once been fluid were now clunky and heavy - gaps were appearing in Harry’s memory where the choreography once was, and he was falling apart more and more with each mistake. After their fifth restart, Louis pulled him to one side.

“What’s wrong?” he asked gently, concerned by the panic he could see brewing in the forest green on Harry’s eyes, which were now misting over with tears.

“I don’t know - I just want it to be perfect for you cause you’ve worked so hard and you deserve it, and I've never done this before and there’s going to be so many people watching me fail -“

“And pause for breath,” Louis pressed a finger to Harrys trembling lips, indicating for him to stay quiet.

“You are going to be brilliant - I would not have chosen you and kept working with you if I didn’t honestly, in my heart of hearts believe that. And even if you do screw up - this is your first competition. No one expects perfection. To be honest, whether we come first, or last - I don’t care. Cause this dance is, has become, about so much more than just a stupid little competition number. It is all about us - this song has literally been there, from the beginning, all the way through to now. It is the soundtrack of us - and that means more to me than any first place will, cause I love you, Harry., and - shit.”

Harry noticed the panic that had fled from his eyes now enter Louis at the realisation of his slip, but before the apology could even leave his lips, his mouth was captured in a kiss- a kiss laden with emotion, attempting to convey the mutual status of Louis words. Suddenly growing aware of the fact they were not alone, the sound technician coughing subtly, they broke apart, Harry’s response hanging on his slightly bruised, just kissed lips.

“I love you too.”

Harry was still, unfortunately, a mess the next morning, watching Louis as he wordlessly packed their costumes of deep blue t-shirts and black leggings into a garment bag. The taxi ride there was almost eerily silent, filled with unspoken wishes of good luck as Harry stared apprehensively out of the window, watching the raindrops roll down the icy glass pane. He tried desperately to focus on the light weight of Louis hand resting on his knee, seeking comfort from even this small gesture.

The backstage of a competition is also not the most ideal place to calm nerves. Crying children, sweaty dancers, stressed stage directors - finding a moment of peace is impossible. It wasn’t until Harry and Louis reached side stage, hand linked together, that they properly stopped and looked at each other. Louis placed one last kiss on Harry’s lips, their foreheads remaining together for a brief moment.

“You’re going to be fine.”

And then, act number thirteen was being called, and they were walking out onto stage, pitch black engulfing them, taking their beginning places.

When you first perform on stage, nothing can prepare you for the rush of adrenaline that surges through your veins, taking control over every limb in your body and pushing you to limits you thought were far beyond your capabilities. Everything comes down to the few moments of silence you have to yourself while the lights are still down, and the audience anticipate the first hum of the music - the seconds of complete stillness in which your mind empties and muscle memory takes over.

And, in this case, the bond that can only be formed between two of a kind - two souls that are so perfectly matched that they can instinctually help and support the other without having to even communicate.

Wordlessly, Harry and Louis danced, reading the dialect of the others body as though it was their native language. The room could have been burning around them, and still they would only have had eyes for the other, melodies tying them together in an unbreakable bond. Harry’s nerves were barely detectable - only once did he let the facade fall, as he stumbled out of a double turn halfway through the second chorus. After a brief heart-stopping moment, he began to dance again, more determination and power in his movements than before - Louis feeling a smile tug on his lips at how amazingly wonderful his boyfriend was.

Three minutes and twenty six seconds where over all to quickly. Harry and Louis exited the stage, pausing only for mere seconds before crushing each other in a hug, chests moving heavily together and the eruption of cheers from the crowd still ringing in their ears.

“Third place goes to……act fifteen, Chandelier!”

They applauded as a couple rose from their place, accepting their trophy. Louis looked across at Harry to find his eyes already on his face, the same hopefulness Louis could feel rising in his chest radiated back to him through the glimmer in Harry’s eyes.

“And in second place, with only one mark off drawing with first…”

Harry closed his eyes, praying, hoping…

“Act thirteen, All About Us!”

Second. Expecting to see bitterness, regret, disappointment, Harry looked to Louis, features already morphing into an expression of apology - but he was surprised to see real, genuine joy in Louis smile. He allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, feeling a sharp nudge to his back. Louis nodded toward the trophy in the announcers hands.

“You get it - you more than deserve it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Pft - of course!”

The trophy was cold and smooth against Harry’s hands as he turned back to see Louis hand extended towards him, eyebrows asking the unspoken question. Grinning, Harry laced his fingers into Louis, heart swelling at how perfectly they fitted together, before feeling them be raised high above his head, the audience whopping before him.

Louis had never felt so complete in his life. So - his parents didn’t accept him. But here he was, doing what he loved, with the most perfect human being to have ever existed, in front of people who didn’t care whether he was gay, straight - whatever. He was gay. And that was more than okay.

As they were leaving via stage door, arms cradling each other loosely, Louis felt a sharp grasp clench on his arm. Turning, confused, it took him a few seconds to place the face of the supposed stranger who had grabbed him, before he tore away his arm, any joy draining from his calm eyes that were fast becoming stormy, ice cold and piercing. Feeling the sudden jerk, Harry turned too, catching sight of the dark haired, desperate looking women whom Louis was regarding with an expression that could only be described as disgust.

“Louis…Please, just hear me out, before you say anything…”

“You think you deserve any of my time?”

None of this was aiding the confusion Harry felt, as he went to interrupt.

“Sorry, who-“

“Three years, mum. Three years, and you haven't called, texted, even written, to your supposed son!”

Jigsaw pieces finally falling into place, Harry recognised Louis features at last in the women standing before him - the crinkles around the eyes, the tanned complexion. A cold, hard hatred tensed his entire body, but he moved to protect Louis, placing his hands on the older boys shoulders. The anger was practically radiating off Louis; Harry could feel him trembling beneath his finger tips as he squeezed slightly, making the boy aware of his presence. Jay looked down at her shoes, desperation clear in her pleading eyes.

“I know - it was awful of me, and I cannot even begin to apologise for what I did. I wouldn't blame you if you never forgave me -“

“Good, because at this rate, that is the outcome-“

“But I never wanted you to leave. I didn’t want to let him do what he did to you - but the girls were so young, and I was worried that he would become volatile enough to turn on them to.”

Louis looked into the eyes of his mother - the women he had seen hurry his sisters upstairs all those years ago, one last fleeting glance serving as a goodbye. He understood her point. But, as much as he hated it, he still felt the pain, fresh and raw as a salty wound, whenever he played that moment over again in his head.

“Nothing excuses what you did.”

“I know Louis - I am going to punish myself eternally for my actions the day. but please, just - I have changed. I am not with him anymore - i accept your way of life, if that’s who you are-“

“It is.”

“Then that’s okay. Just please - can’t you even give me a chance?”

Louis bit his lip, studying his mum intently before turning to Harry. He had finally found someone who could fill the void ripped from his chest three years prior. He was happy, content, peaceful - but surely that was all the more reason to forgive her?

He turned back to his mum, picking up on something in her eyes he had missed for a very, very long time. Love.

He slipped his arm back round Harry’s waist, turning to make a move away.

‘It’s going to take me some time. But I’m going to give you a chance. Call me, okay?”

Three years later, and Louis could now see that same glowing look of love in his mothers shining eyes from the dance floor, his chin resting on Harry’s shoulder. His sisters, their bridesmaids, were also seated at the side of the dance floor, and has they moved to the music, Louis caught a glimpse of Anne and Gemma, each with equally proud and happy looks on their faces.

They’d come so far in such a short space of time - not only had familial bonds been remade, but Louis was finally following his dreams, pursuing a rather successful career in the Royal Ballet, as their lead male dancer. Harry was still at Liberum Saltare School of Dance - but as a teacher now, not a student, after deciding he really didn't want to leave. Both had achieved almost everything they’d ever dreamed of, with another moment being ticked off today in the form of their marriage - the kind of marriage that they knew would not fade over time, for it was clear for all to see, that they were the living proof of soul mates.

Louis felt himself being spun around, laughing at his husband, before finding himself falling backwards, supported by Harrys strong arms as he french dipped him, whoops echoing from their wedding guests. Laughing blue clashed with sparkling green. And as Louis felt Harry’s velvety smooth lips on his own, he finally felt whole again.

#larry #louis #harry #louis tomlinson #harry styles #one direction #larry stylinson #larry is real #larry is life #larry fanfic #larry fic #fic #fanfic #dancer au #au #larry au #fluff #writing

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brainwad · 7 years

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Cosplacon 2017 Con Report

Okay, so, I’ve just spent the last few days at Cosplacon. It’s a fairly small event (compared to the likes of Dragoncon, etc), but it is so much fun. Maybe because it’s so small, it has a really great atmosphere. It’s also pretty much the only con in town, as it were, unless you want to make the trip out to either Saint Louis or Kansas City. (Mind you, there were attendees who came from Topeka, which is realy impressive.) This is my third year attending this con (any con, in fact), and the first time I’d stayed for the whole thing.

DAY ONE

Thursday was interesting, because (as some may know) I have been gearing up for a move, and that move took place on Thursday morning. So, I’d spent the first half of the week frantically packing and boxing and getting things ready, and Thursday morning was spent trying to get stuff loaded into the new place so my parents would have less to do when the time came to unpack. (Yes, i live with and help take care of my parents, who are both disabled to one degree or another. They encouraged me to attend the con, because I pretty much spend all my time working either at my job or at home, and need a break to do something for myself.) So, when the time came to leave, I was sweaty and dirty and desperate for a cold shower. (June in Missouri is no fun.) Once I was feeling relatively human again (though still kinda tired) I donned my Rocket grunt costume from last year and joined the festivities.

The con has a Pokemon League (strictly for fun, not an official Pokemon Company thing), and I registered my team for that. It’s pretty cool. The folks running it do it as a labor of love, and it really shows. Not only do they spend their own money printing trainer cards and making gym badges, they created a region with lore and even a *soundtrack*. I tried to do the “story mode” challenge, but got flattened by the Flying-Type leader in my second match, so then it just became trying to get as many badges as possible. I’m not super knowledgable when it comes to competitive play, because I don’t really do much of that sort of thing, but I did put together a pretty solid team. I might do a separate post about that later. Maybe. Meh.

Every year, the con also does a sort of scavenger hunt, with little stuff scattered throughout the hotel. Collect all these “achievements” and you win...something. I think it’s a pass for next year. I probably could have done it this year, but I chose to spend most of my time between specific events hanging out with the Pokemon League crew. Some of the achievements included finding the key to the TARDIS, Facehugger eggs, and the stones from the Fifth Element. (This being the fifth year of the con, there was a Fifth Element theme.)

There weren’t a ton of events that first night, but I did catch the Iron Cosplay competition (teams are given a collection of random pieces out of which to create a costume and character backstory), which was a lot of fun. I kind of wished I could have attended some of the panels hosted by the Egg Sisters on Prosthetics and Make-up, because I think that kind of thing is really fascinating, and they are amazing at it. I didn’t rally go much into the game room, where there were Smash Bros tournaments and things like that. Most of the gaming stuff I did was just playing Pokemon. After Iron Cosplay was the Welcome Party, which was also a lot of fun. After that, I hit the sack. There’s usually some kind of dance party or other kind of late night hootenanny, but I’d been up since 5 am and was exhausted.

Turns out that would be a running theme. Not only were the people in the next room pretty rowdy (I think they were teenagers out on their own for the first time), but my room was directly adjacent to one of the maintenance/cleaning closets, so I got to hear all the banging and thumping of the door and housekeeping carts.

As a sidenote: If a hotel room door is locked, STOP TRYING TO GET IN. Also? Instructions for the damn shower would be nice.

DAY TWO

After waking up WAY too early, I finish up my Janky McCree cosplay (which I should have gotten a picture of before it all fell apart) I headed down to the League and did a bit of battling before leaving for the Q&A with Eric Stuart--the voice actor for James and Brock of Pokemon, among others. It was enjoyable and informational, but I think a lot of us kinda blanked when the opportunity arose to ask questions, and the majority of questions came from the same handful of people. He struck me as a really cool guy, though.

I would have liked to go to the Marvel vs DC Round Table or the panel on samurai swords by Samurai Dan, , but I opted to go to the Q&A instead., That happened a lot. Like, a lot of the events that I wanted to attend were scheduled at the same time, while other times, there were stretches where nothing really jumped out and said COME TO ME. I kinda wanted to go to the Cosplay Runway, which was a non-competitive costume parade of sorts, but I wasn’t too happy with my McCree cosplay and also wanted to keep challenging gym leaders. I definitely wanted to go to the Harry Potter round table, but things with the Pokemon League took longer than expected, and I missed half of it. That was okay, though, because I still had fun. And if you’re enjoying what you’re doing, that’s what’s important, right? Also, it’s important to schedule time for things like food. So you don’t, like, die.

That even was the cosplay skits. They’re usually good, but this year, they were AWESOME. I tried recording everything, but I did end up missing a couple because I had to run up to my room and grab my phone charger. I did miss a dance number I hope someone recorded and will post to youtube or something, but the other skit, I wasn’t too upset about missing, mostly because the guy doing it was a creep who’d caused problems with the League crew, and wouldn’t have been very entertaining anyway. There were dance numbers, musical performances, short dramatic skits, a HILARIOUS Gothic Lolita presentation (”SQUAT!!! Wigglewigglewigglewiggle! CRRRRRROOOOUUUCH!!!”) and a couple of girls tossing inventive shade at each other, which I kept expecting to turn into a number from Wicked. Normally, the winner of the skit competition wins a pass for next year, but there were so many awesome skits, the judges decided to award one to everybody (including that creepy guy, but they couldn’t very well say “Everyone but you).

Following that was a really fun Avatar: The Last Airbender discussion. I kiiiinda wanted to go to the Fifth Element Ball afterwards, but I was feeling pretty shy about jumping into a dance party, seeing as I dance like a parody of a white guy, so I hung out with the League and got some food.

Then, so friends of mine from work showed up and we wondered about a bit, taking in the sights before deciding to go to the drag show, which was a lot of fun. I did have to explain to my friends what a drag king was. They had an intermission, and I kinda wanted to stay for the rest, and I kinda wanted to go do karaoke, but it was near midnight already and I was bushed. So, I said goodnight and tied again to get some sleep, getting only nominal success.

DAY THREE

I finished up my Guzma costume after getting Not Enough Sleep. By the way, I nearly blinded myself twice putting on eyeliner. There wasn’t a whole lot grabbing my attention as far as morning events, but I did have fun battling with other Pokemon trainers and just walking about taking pictures and even getting my picture taken. I was really bummed, though, that a lot of the attendees who did Team Skull grunt cosplays weren’t doing them that day, because I would have LOVED to get a picture with as many Team Skull peeps as possible. I did attend a need panel on digital art, hosted by the head of the con, Rodney.

After that was a Pokemon Speed Training tournament. basically, each person was traded three random level one pokemon and we were given an hour to train them up as much as possible, before facing each other in 3v3 battles. I ended up with a Klefki, a Corsola and a standard Grimer. i wasn’t too terribly happy, but I figured I would give it a shot. (Again, I’m not a super competitive player, but even I knew Corsola wasn’t super viable for competition.) And I actually managed to get to the final two! Unfortunately, my opponent had a well trained Golem and one-shotted everyone on my team with Earthquake. But I had fun!

Again, not a whole lot scheduled after that which grabbed my attention, so, more hanging out before heading in to the Cosplay Royale. The Cosplay Royal is the big cosplay competition, with professional judges and everything. There were some AWESOME cosplays in this one, though not as many entrants as there were last year, if i’m remembering things correctly. But the quality of the costumes were so good, they added a couple categories.

After that, Eric Stuart gave an acoustic concert, and I got a signed CD. I’m always a little leery when someone says they’re Also A Musician, because a LOT of people are Also A Musician, but he was actually really good. There was one slightly obnoxious guy who tended to talk through the performance, and not super quietly, either. After that, I wanted to go to the Dance Party or even the Cosplay Burlesque, but I reeeally needed food and sleep. Which Brings us to...

DAY FOUR.

Today! I got a little more sleep this morning, despite there being a HUGE thunderstorm crashing around outside. No cosplay today, just dressing comfortably. Everyone was pretty low-energy today compared to the previous few days. I think there were a lot of hangovers, and the accumulative effects of Not Enough Sleep. Even Rodney, the head of the con, aka “The Green Flash”, was subdued. There was the Father’s Day brunch and the Pokemon Carnival, where everyone got the chance to battle the League again, but not a lot else. Most people were gearing up to leave before checkout at 11. I did actually get all eight badges, but didn’t succeed in challenging the elite four. Then came the closing ceremony, after which people basically headed out. The hotel is pretty empty right now, and I enjoyed a nice long nap. I will probably sleep better tonight and be in a pretty good state when I leave tomorrow, which is good, because I still have basically unpack all my crap at the new house.

#cosplacon #cosplacon2017 #cosplacon 2017 #con report #con recap

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atypical60 · 7 years

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This is a difficult post to write because I’m covering two subjects at once and I honestly don’t know where to begin.

A couple of days ago I received a request on Instagram to list favorite items that I buy in France—I’m pretty sure it was meant to mean beauty products. And I was all set to start writing about those products last night when I realized something.

I realized that when this blog post would be published, it would be on the 17th. Two years after Bonaparte’s aunt, Danièle Delorme passed away. Today marks the second anniversary of her passing. And she’s been on my mind since I woke up this morning.

From Gigi to Femme Fatale to a best-seller about her life and career. She was one of a kind and I am missing her badly.

If you are familiar with this blog, then you are very familiar with Bonaparte’s and my stays with Danièle’s apartment in Paris. When she was alive, her apartment was our second home. She was my French mama. And we had a blast together.

And so, on this day, I would like to link a few posts so that you can either familiarize yourself with her or have another look at some of my memories of her:

Here’s the First of Three Parts about our stay during Daniele’s Funeral. The second and third installments are immediately following Part Un.

One of my favorite photos of Daniele. I forget what movie this was from.

Paris Without Daniele–Part Un

Those blue doors. I could cry just looking at this photo.

The shocking news that hit me when I found out the apartment was being sold:

Au Revoir to Our Little Paris Apartment

Place Dauphine. Lively in the summer and at rest during the late fall through the early spring.

Our trip to Paris last November. It was bittersweet. Read the entire four posts about it!

Three Days In Paris. Leave the Chic at Home and Enjoy Being a Flaneuse

Now that you have a bit of a background on my many stays in Paris over the years, I’ll touch on a few more things.

First of all, Paris is a very special place for me. I’m a city girl. I miss living in Manhattan. My two favorite cities are NY and Paris—but that’s another story. I love Paris because of her imperfections.

Just one of the many reasons I love Paris. The morning views always make me feel very comforted.

And within an hour of Paris you get to see cool places like this…

And come back to this at dusk!

Paris is an incredibly romantic city. And not just romantic in the way it brings lovers together. It is romantic in other ways as well–buildings are ancient. Stairways are worn. Floors are uneven. Walls have peeling plaster. The streets are too narrow. I could go on and on and on—but with these imperfections, she is a city of beauty, history, culture, and splendor. And that’s what makes Paris romantic.

My version of Paris is not the one most bloggers write about. I’m not that blogger running down a side street in a pair of six-inch stilettos, wearing a midi-length fluffy tutu skirt with a tight-fitting Breton shirt, hair extensions blowing in the wind, carrying a Chanel bag in one hand and a box of Ladurée macarons in the other.

That’s because I’m the blogger who makes my own macarons. Here is mine with chocolate cream filling, pistachio filling, and almond cream filling. I think it’s time to make more.

Nor am I going to write about the starred Michelin restaurants that are spread throughout the arrondissements. Most of my meals over the years have been cooked by Danièle ’s various housekeepers. And might I add, she hired some mighty fine cooks!

Casual, informal table for three. Fathia was by far the best cook–she made couscous by hand!!!! Her tagines were the greatest!

Instead, I want to focus on one thing.

Shopping. As in normalized shopping. That’s right. You can go shopping in Paris and get really nice things without breaking the bank. The average French woman does not walk along Boulevard du Montparnasse carrying a Chanel bag. You will most likely see a Longchamp Le Pliage or a La Bagagerie shopping tote hanging off the shoulders of local femmes.

This La Bagagerie Shopping Tote is the bag you will see more women in Paris carrying than Chanel. I promise you.

Whether you will be traveling to Paris for the first time soon or in the future, please remember that Paris offers affordable shopping—and not just during the winter and summer soldes.

Let’s shop!

City Pharma: (Click the Bold Name to link to the website–I don’t know why it isn’t turning purple–WordPress!) How much do I love this treasure trove of all things beauty? Enough that I make it a point to shop there every time I go to Paris. This might be inappropriate, but during the three days that we stayed for Danièle ’s funeral, I made time in between family visits to get there. The discounts on brands such as Caudalie, Nuxe, Roche, Bioderma and all other French brand names is ridiculous! Even brands that aren’t well-known to those outside France are worth trying. I found one of my favorite toners here—a simple orange blossom water for less than 5 €. In fact, I hoarded and am now down to my last bottle. Time to get back.

THIS is the store that rocks my bateau! Bonaparte can wait outside and people watch while I go candy-pickin’!

Part of my haul from last year…most of this stuff is gone….

I think I may have paid tops 20 euros for this. It retails for $79. here in the States!

Mama is runnin’ low. I need to get back to CityPharma!

Freaking Bioderma’s small micellar water was a whopping €2.49. Here in the States, the same small bottle sells for about seven bucks.

That tiny bottle of micellar water by Bioderma cost me two euros and change. Here it cost almost seven bucks. The middle Fragonard lotion was purchased at the Fragonard Boutique. The Orange Blossom water is another CityPharma steal. I picked up three or four bottles. I’m dowm to my last one!

One euro and the best lip balm I’ve ever purchased! I also purchased this at Geant Hypermarche in Mandelieu-la-Napoule.

Located on the corner of Rue du Four and Rue Bonaparte, the place gets crowded as the day goes by. Get there early. Wear flat shoes. Be ready to shove your way through the narrow aisles. Grab a basket as you go in because I can guarantee that a lot of stuff will be leaving the store with you.

You’ll know that you’ve reached City Pharma when you see a ton of French men smoking cigarettes outside. They are waiting for their significant others.

Fragonard: This boutique at 196 bd. St. Germain is one of the most charming shops I’ve ever been in. It’s so adorable. During the summer, we always make a stop at the Fragonard in Grasse. But there are quite a few locations scattered around Paris. The scents here are very affordable and the selection is good. The perfumed body lotion is a steal at around €10 or 12. Soap sets make great gifts and my favorite, Fleur d’Oranger is always in stock. Don’t forget to have a look around at the cute fabric bags that Fragonard sells for various uses such as laundry and shoes.

Yes. The Fragonard shop in St. Germain is as cute as this illustration!

And even though I purchased the Fleur d’Oranger Intense (pictured on the right), These scents are always in stock at the boutiques in Paris.

This adorable fabric sac was purchased way back when–at the Fragonard St. Germain. I’ve had years of use from it. I pack my ballet flats in it when we travel! All for about ten or twelve euros.

Sophie Sacs: I found out about Sophie Sacs from a friend of mine. She also introduced me to Nat et Nin bags. Sophie Sacs is a discounted bag shop at 149 Rue de Rennes—a great shopping street, and affordable shops to boot! Sophie Sacs also sells a varied selection of Nat et Nin bags. The bags are like buttah and at the discounted rate come in at less than €200 for a decent bag.

Monsieur Sophie Sacs will take care of all your Sac needs!!!

It’s a small shop, but packs a whallop of bags!

Some of the Nat & Nin bags I’ve purchased at Sophie Sacs. Yes. There’s more.

La Bagagerie: 64 b. Haussmann. Another affordable brand. The shopping totes are a cross between a nylon Longchamp bag and a Birkin bag. You’ll see them all over the City. Beware though. If you purchase the shopping tote, make sure you buy a dark color. I had the cream color and it got so filthy that I had to trash it. Thankfully, it was very affordable.

Another brand of affordable bags with locations throughout Paris. If your luggage gets messed up you can buy new here!

Jeanne Danjou: 15 Place du Pont-Neuf. Hold on! I need a moment here. ……….. OK. In writing this post, I just found out that this jeweler is selling on Etsy. This. This is the smallest little bijou boutique on the corner at Pont-Neuf. I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve passed this shop because I can’t count that high. But I’ve gotten gifts here and treated myself to a few things. The prices are crazy inexpensive proving that you can bring home a piece of French jewelry without going all Cartier!

Thankfully, Daniele’s apartment was up the street because this shop has unusual hours!

Aren’t these red earrings the cutest?

A coupla more pieces. Now that I know these goods are on Etsy……..

Monoprix: Various locations throughout Paris and all through France. Everyone raves about ‘Monop. It’s like the Target of France but a few years back, the prices were really cheap. Over the years, the chain has raised prices. I think you can get better prices on toiletries at Carrefour, Casino, and Geant. Just my opinion. But the great thing about Monoprix is the little nylon tote bags that you can get for one euro.

Load up on these. I’m not kidding. These also make great stocking stuffers!

Nicolas: Also, locations throughout Paris and France. The best place to buy wine but Nicolas also sells these one-euro totes as well. I’m demanding that you buy at least five of these bags. When you get home put one in each of the purses you use the most. These come in handy when you need to make a stop at the grocery store. But—if you aren’t aware, grocery stores in France do not offer free bags for your groceries. These little totes are essential. Better yet, buy twenty of them and hand them out to your friends.

All folded up…

This thing is in constant use–who knew that a little, nylon, one-euro wine store sac would be used over and over and over and over again!

If you get the chance, drop into the Guerlain Boutique at 68 Champs-Elysées. When Snow White bit into that poisoned apple and fell into that deep slumber, I’ll bet she was dreaming of this place because it is a girly dream! As a lover of Guerlain scents, I had yet to shop in this magnificent shop until Danièle decided to take me on a spending spree! I have never had an experience to rival this one and my damned phone broke so I wasn’t able to take photos!

This was where the magic happened. And from the ceiling, flowers were floating down. My damned luck the phone broke!

Well, I’ll always have Pushy Pink as a memory…

And my perfume!!

When we arrived at the shop, the sales staff greeted Danièle as though she was royalty. And when she introduced me as her niece from America, I was treated like the princess I was meant to be! The red velvet rope at the end of the stairs leading to the second floor was opened for us and I walked into a room with a larger-than-life lazy Susan filled with every Guerlain scent imaginable. I was ordered to pick whatever I wanted—and the large bottle of La Petite Robe Noire was put aside for me. Then it was off to buy some makeup! To this day, Guerlain’s Pushy Pink remains one of my most revered lipsticks and I use it sparingly. I cannot even describe the feeling of shopping in that store. But—I can tell you that if you do want a lovely, girly, fairy-tale shopping experience. Visit this flagship boutique. And buy am eyeliner pencil. It’s affordable!

Galeries Lafayette: Oddly enough, this isn’t my favorite place to go shopping. I prefer the smaller shops. But, during Christmas, the décor alone will put even the biggest Scrooge in the spirit! It’s beautifully decorated! Lots of little “galleries” in this huge department store—and at times can be downright overwhelming.

The ceiling last year at Galeries Lafayette. I was so happy that we were there for the Christmas decorations!

It was gaw-jus!!!!

Randomness: I hoard sugar substitute and those little candies in the tin. I don’t know why but I just do. Back in the summer of 2016, I discovered Adopt’ scents at Geant and now I’m hooked. I have various little spray bottles in different purses. My favorite is Oud Ambre. It’s one of those masculine scents but feminine at the same time. The little spray bottles run for about €6 and are a stellar buy!

If you are in Paris or any other area in France and you see adopt’ perfumes, buy a couple! This scent is the perfect autumn scent–it’s like tweed and leather and wool wrapped into one!

I must have 25 of those sugar substitute thingies. I buy them every year then forget about them–and those candies!

Think outside the box for gifts. I received this scarf from Daniele after she went on a shopping trip. It wasn’t something that I would have selected but I’ve worn this year after year after year since I received it. It is a lightweight wool and the threading is silver. But somehow it works. And notice in the small photo with the Antik Batik tag. The plastic is still there. You would think I would have cut it out? Non. I’m that lazy!

Don’t forget about airport shopping! I picked this solid scented perfume by Diptyque at CDG last year. I could not resist the packaging but this is some strong stuff! I must use very carefully!

Etam: Various locations. Great for underwear and pj’s.

And there’s always window shopping! But seriously folks. You don’t have to be the one percent to enjoy Paris or the shopping that it has to offer. There is something for everyone here.

I took this photo of a window display somewhere in the 6th. The dress is made of scarves and you can take photos have them printed and frame them–for a great memory!

I could go on and on and on, but right now, I’m going to leave you and re-read a letter I found that Danièle wrote to me ten years ago. And I’ll place it with her other letters!

Listen to this song by Henri Salvador “A Saint-Germain des Pres. It’ll put visions of sitting in a cafe in Paris on a lazy afternoon into early dusk, perhaps you will start off with a cup of coffee and end with an aperitif. This song is beautiful. Bonne Nuit!

My Saddest Bye from Paris and My Best Buys Too This is a difficult post to write because I’m covering two subjects at once and I honestly don’t know where to begin.

#France #Paris #Shopping #Travel

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crystalnet · 7 years

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Top 5 Zelda Games

Well fuck here we go. This is going to be extra hard as far as my Top 5 lists this month go because of the sheer consistency across this franchise. Outside of a few titles that leave some fans less than totally thrilled like Link's Adventure, Phantom Hourglass and Spirit Tracks, most titles in this series could conceivably recieve a perfect score depending on what kind of fan you are. And then even those 3 games could probably be argued somewhat convincingly for as well. And yet, we all have our preferences deep down, and in my heart of hearts I know my favorites. As a disclaimer, I'll just admit upfront I'm committing a cardinal sin by not including Ocarina, Majora's Mask OR a Link to the Past in my top 5. For many fans, that is heresy, but I quite simply didn't grow up with those titles and despite playing them later have never done the formal revisiting that I still owe them. So while things could change, this is how it stands now. So alas, let's get it started off right..

1. Breath of the Wild

I'm going to be unoriginal in a way many fans will probably be going forward and some already are in that I'll just go ahead and throw all my support/fandom at this most recent title. Yet even for as hyped this thing is among fans, it's still a somewhat bold choice. How could the latest entry in a three-decade old series be the best? But it's pretty easy for me to pin-point why. It shakes up a lot of things in the series, especially the console ones while also adding in a lot of new mechanics inspired from recent triple-A mainstream games, all while basing the structure and openness around the very first tile of the game, and still retaining almost all of the tropes that make a Zelda game a Zelda game, while even re-energizing them as well. Instead of 4-8 big isolated dungeons, we essentially have 120 mini-dungeons scattered across the world. And the proper dungeons are excellent in that they are puzzle-box style, in the way some of the best Water Temples have been in the past, and that's the best kind of dungeon as far as I'm concerned. Then there are additional mini-gauntlets and trials scattered throughout the world like the special shrines such as Eventide Island, mazes or the deceptively deep Hyrule Castle. Also at play are the deep physics of a game like Portal with the emergent game-play and stealth of MGSV, the tower-system of Far Cry, the intensity and combat and a similar weapon system of/to Dark Souls and the openness of any number of AAA open-worlds. And yet it's largely more open than any of those due to the non-linear structure of the game, which is a call back to the OG. All of these elements are curated and designed cohesively and coupled with new mechanics like the engaging weapon-breaking and collecting system, a deep survival-horror/farming inspired cooking and crafting system, and a completely new sense of challenge compared to the other console games.

Things just really came together on this one. I could wax poetic about it until the cows come home, but it's quite simply a game that contains a multitude of ideas and systems that are the best I've seen in my 20+ years as a gamer. On top of everything is an excellent visual-style that helps make a rather complex game and world endlessly accessible and playable, and a lovely soundtrack to boot. It's quite simply a game-changer in every sense of the word and make me very happy to be a Zelda fan. There’s something really special about how weak and relatively unprepared you feel when you start off compared to the end when your rocking multiple Guardian spells, dope weapons, wands and bows and killing Lynels left and right. Plus it's not even over yet-- DLC for the win.

2. Skyward Sword-

So my second one is a less unanimously hype entry, but for me it's one of the most playable Zelda games, and that's largely because I enjoy the motion-control so much, though I could see why some might consider it a bit gimmick-y though. For me it largely works and helps make this game the most kinetic-feeling Zelda game, along with the added stamina gauge and the Loft-wing flying (yep, I even like that). Combat in Windwaker and Twilight, while still being decently fun, can feel very cut-and-dry not to mention easy (though TP does end up getting deeper by way of sword techniques), but the fact that they were able to innovate the combat in this way so that the player themselves are truly holding the Master Sword in a way that Twilight only hinted at is a true success.The deeper item-collecting and bug-hunting along with the weapon upgrading make this one feel a lot deeper in terms of customization compared to the console games prior to this. And I also love the side-questing in this one which makes nice usage of the day/night-cycle. Even though the world-map could have been a bit more expansive, there ends up being quite a bit to to in and around Skyloft so that there's always stuff to entice you off the beaten and admittedly linear path.

The level and dungeon design is also ace, and even though it lacks a proper Hyrule Field area or expansive open-world- feeling between the actual terrestrial locales, for my money, the environments are infinitely more fun to explore and well-designed than much of the somewhat barren-feeling Hyrule of Twilight. All of this combined with fantastic music and my favorite visual style of any of the Zelda's and we have a winner. There’s just something about the gestalt of it all, the over-all package, that really come together for me. Lot’s of personality, beautiful locales and designs, fun questing and NPCs, great dungeons and unique new elements like the Loftwing-riding, motion-control and level-design make it an easy win. Also: Groose and Fletch ftw!

3. Link's Awakening-

My first Zelda, and so one for which I have a lot of nostalgia. While other kids were having their mind blown by OoT, I was getting deep into this one, and that's just fine with me. This entry is like what Majora's Mask was for Ocarina except for Lttp in the way it tweaks a classic entry, presenting a weirder more fantastical take on a perfected formula. I also like this tropical island-y feeling for Zelda as opposed to the more strait-forward medieval-feeling world of LttP and it hints at the take on Zelda found in Windwaker. It is also rather light-hearted and from what I gather is the first time a Zelda game featured its now standard sense of humour. On top of all the solid dungeons and exploring to do (and a bonus dungeon included in the deluxe GBC version where you could attain a red or blue tunic), you have a cameo by Yoshi and Bow-Wow, a photo-shack, magic powder that helps transform a man trapped as a raccoon back to normal, 8 magical instruments, mermaids, a big trading sequence and a Wind Fish, all culminating in the revelation that Koholint itself is an island dreamt up by the Wind Fish himself (or is it..?). Yeah this game is bad ass. It also feels like the most Nintendo-y Zelda game in a way that Windwaker and now BotW also do in a way I can’t quite explain but has to do with the bright cartoonishing fantastic setting and aesthetic. And I'd catch a lot of flack for this, but for my money, this one's even better than LttP, but you didn't hear that from me.

4. Windwaker-

LA isn't the last time Link would be so naval. Besides just sailing to Koholint, the hero takes to the seas once again in this title, and this time its actually a central part of the game. The big innovation that this one adds to the mix-- the sailing, charting and island-based exploration-- is the thing that makes this game so special. This is a huge departure from the strait-forward maps of older games, making the world that much more open and mysterious while also calling back to the grid-based exploration of the 2D titles in the way that each sector of yr map contains at least one island, so that it effectively combines the sense of openness and perspective you feel exploring a 3D Zelda Maps with a grid-based map like the old games. And while there could honestly be a bit more going on in this world, there's still a wealth of side-content, and while exploration isn't as seamless or incentived as it would be in BotW, there's still something really great about setting off to wander around the big blue.

Beyond the fun of slowly filling up your map and controlling the wind to reach yr destinations, or just wander, the game is an aesthetic delight, sporting the vibrant cell-shaded graphics that ignited fan-boy wars the world over, while also making tons of die-hard fans of the style at the same time. It's presentation is quite simply gorgeous and would be an inspiration for BotW's look later. Beyond the unique and bold style, it's a joy to play, with some really solid dungeons and some of my favorite side-characters in a Zelda title (Medli and the bard guy). The last 2 dungeons are especially stellar, and the Celtic/Irish inspired music are as delightful as the visuals. While I rank this game pretty damn close to Twilight, it ultimately comes out on top because I like the over-all gestalt of it more. It has great flow and feels less linear, and the world is decidedly more engaging and packed with personality. Plus this is the only Zelda game that feels like its a blast of Vitamin-C in video game form. It's an all-around win.

5. Twilight Princess-

A few years ago I might have told you this one was my favorite, but that was before BotW kind of changed what we can come to expect from a console title. I now value innovation in this series more to than I used to, and since innovation might be this game's weak-point, it has suffered in rank slightly, but I'd be damned if I didn't still love it. While the only thing that is truly "new" to the series in this one is a wolf form (and Majora already had transformation mechanics in spades), it is otherwise an excellent take on the mythology of Zelda. In some ways, it is the most strait-forward high-fantasy take on the series, in many ways repeating a lot of the aesthetics found in LttP and OoT while playing up the "western high fantasy" aspect of them even more. In this way, this game has begun to ring just a bit hollow. It's just a bit too bland to be a top 3 Zelda. For all the nice touches like Midna's charisma, the nicely dark atmosphere and story and the expansive map, there is also something slightly under-whelming about it and that's why even though it's still one of my faves, its the last one here. The main reason it still makes it though is that it is still simply one of the most solid and consistent Zeldas. The visual style, though a bit tame, is excellently realized in many ways, especially in the remaster, with brilliant lighting and unique realism that we haven't gotten again in a title before or since, and which seems to aim at being the Ocarina of our minds, instead of the polygonal one we actually played in the way it presents a kind of deeper, more up-to-date take on that world, while being a bit less unique.

The true x-factor though are the dungeons. I think this may be the most dungeon-y console Zelda of all time in the way that there are 8 of them, tying only with Ocarina for amount-- and they are largely very excellent. Some of my favorite dungeons like the Ice Mansion, the Sky Temple, the Lakebed Temple and the Temple of Time are sprinkled throughout this epic adventure, and these dungeons don't mess around. Again, they don't especially add much to the mix, but instead present an undeniable take on the infectious Zelda dungeons we have come to know and love (Though the mansion is a very unique environment). And that's why I think it feels like this game isn't messing around. Sure there's no game-changer like a sailing or bird-flying mechanic, and truly controlling your sword wouldn’t actually come until Skyward, nor does it boast being a full overhaul like BotW, but what is there is some classy-as-hell, tasteful Zelda-style gaming, not to mention it’s Dungeon-crawler’s heaven. The side-quests in later console games would be much improved and more fleshed out, and that's another weak-point when compared to Majora/WW especially, but the main game ends up being so substantial and rewarding that it doesn't matter. Truly a Zelda for all my dungeon fetishists out there. And, yeah, Midna rocks. 'Nuff said.

runner-ups:

6. Oracle of Seasons- Still need to play Time but this was an excellent follow up to LA put out with the help of Capcom. An imaginative world that is a departure from Hyrule just like Link’s Awakening/Majora’s mask. Fun season-changing mechanic, the magical ring-mechanic and cool characters like the flying bear Moosh and the wizard Ralph make for a great Zelda outing (damn that disruptive Witch thief).

7. Zelda 1- it’s dope. maybe over-hard by today’s standards but this thing is sick so what it is and how it plays as an early example of a non-linearly structured open and immersive fantasy world. Back in ‘87 you had to crack out the manual to find the 1-800 number Nintendo provided to people looking for hints because of the difficulty of finding your way to and into all the dungeons, but for those who followed the included map, this thing proved to reveal itself to one in time. Super fun, and the classic Zelda dungeon blue-print arrives fully and brilliantly formed. And this thing still holds up because of these dungeons, along with the freedom and engaging non-linearity.

Ones I need to get around to playing ASAP: The Ocarina and Majora remasters on 3DS as well as Link Between Worlds apparently. Need a 3DS. Zelda II-- should give it a crack. Should re-play LttP also...~

#zelda #top 5 #legend of zelda #gaming #nintendo

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