Chapter Text
If you haven't seen the ballet video, watch it here
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*****
"The problem, Zayn, is that they won't fucking cooperate," Louis ranted. "It doesn't matter how many times I tell them, they just don't bloody listen!"
"Hm" Zayn replied non-commitally, holding a door open so Louis could pass through first, still gesticulating wildly. Whether or not it was intended to be, Louis took his noise as agreement.
"I mean, it's like the fact that I've been teaching for years means nothing to them! Respect, Zayn, is what's missing here. I'm right aren't I?"
"No," Zayn said with a sigh. He raised his voice to talk over Louis' indignant spluttering, “You can't demand respect from them, Lou. You try and do that and they'll hate you more."
Louis stopped dead in his tracks, mouth hanging open. Students hurrying between one class and the next dodged round them, tutting at the two of them blocking the hallway. "They hate me?"
"No! No, look, ‘hate' was too strong, sorry." Zayn looped an arm around Louis shoulders, urging them forwards again. "Look, you've only been here a week, give it time! The kids just need to get used to you, that's all. Treat them like friends, almost. Like they’re on your level. Works for me.
"Your kids are so good to you," Louis muttered.
"It’s a mutual respect thing. Be firm, but fair," Zayn squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "The tough guy act won’t work here. Try and get to know them as people, not just students."
Louis huffed, but he knew Zayn was right. His old school had been tough, a place where you earned your place as a teacher and had to do everything you could to stay on top of the kids or else they walked all over you. Most of the kids he'd worked with before had troubled home lives, most were loners without anybody to really connect with. Louis had worked hard to gain their respect, to strike the right balance between professionalism and care.
That's why he loved teaching drama so much. Expression in any form was good for his kids, gave them time to let off steam in a safe, controlled environment. Given the right setting, some of them had blossomed, unrestricted by stuffy classrooms and work where there was one answer and if they didn't get it they were wrong. Drama was freeing; if Louis had been able to persuade the headmaster, sometimes he'd been allowed to conduct his classes outside on the grass. Seeing his students pack up for the day with relaxed shoulders and smiling faces had always made all the tough times seem worth it.
So coming to a new school where all the students had nice cars and where a bad report card was unheard of came as a bit of a culture shock to Louis. After his last class had graduated he'd decided a change was in order, something that would really push him and his abilities. A performing arts college where his best friend taught modern music had an opening for a drama teacher. Two interviews and a glowing recommendation from Zayn later, Louis had the job.
His first day had been surreal. In the morning he'd seen no less than five Range Rovers pull into the student car park, kids piling into the building with school bags that were worth more than Louis' own little car. It was a private college, so the age ranges were different to the groups Louis was used to dealing with. Instead of teaching students from eleven to sixteen as in any other secondary school, the college started earlier, taking pupils from nine all the way up to eighteen. It was unnerving, walking the corridors with people he taught that were only five years younger than him. Louis was out of his comfort zone, and it was becoming clear that he needed to try and connect with these kids in a different way because so far, they didn’t seem like him all that much.
Zayn and Louis took out their ID cards, swiping them across the panel beside the door of the staff room to be allowed entrance. They took a free table at the back of the room, spreading themselves out across the chairs so they could have the space to themselves.
"What have you got next?" Zayn asked, taking out a mini sushi kit and arranging everything in front of himself.
Louis set out his own sandwich and flipped open the front of his folder, checking. "I'm in the Olivier building...Twelfth year Shakespeare," he said.
His stomach twisted with nerves. These students were the oldest year group in the college, all highly talented at multiple art forms that they’d been perfecting for most of their lives. Louis couldn't help but feel a little intimidated by them and the way they carried themselves; they knew they'd end up on the stage, performing to thousands and earning countless awards. Some of them probably even outshone Louis' own talent, even though they were half a decade younger. His crisis of confidence had him questioning if he had the right qualifications and skill level to be able to teach them...well...anything.
"They can smell your fear, you know,"' Zayn said bluntly, one eyebrow raised. "You can do this, you're an amazing teacher."
"Thanks, mate." Louis wrapped up his half eaten sandwich, not hungry anymore. "Who have you got?"
"Tenth years. We're doing contemporary and I’ve chosen Nicki Minaj. I had Niall do me a copy of Super Bass and I learned all the words, they're gonna fucking love it."
*****
"I am a good teacher," Louis said under his breath.
He knew he must look a little strange, standing in front of the closed door his twelfth years were behind, but it was what he needed to do if he was going to get through this class. He could hear them chatting, the sound punctuated by a few barks of laughter, each one making the butterflies in Louis' stomach beat their wings harder at his insides. "I know Shakespeare better than they do. I am here to teach them. Like Zayn said, don't demand their respect, earn it."
He pulled his shoulders up, took a breath, fixed a beaming smile on his face and threw open the door. The loud chattering died away as he crossed the room to his desk, setting down his files and pulling out a board marker from his pocket. He scrawled 'Louis Tomlinson' across the top of the board and then dropped the marker onto the desk, walking round and hopping up so he was sat facing his class, legs dangling in front of him.
"Afternoon ladies and gents, I'm Louis. I'm replacing Ms Lowry as your drama teacher.’
He looked around at the faces staring back at him. Someone coughed.
"So! Let's get started, shall we? Who’s studied Shakespeare before?" Thankfully, they responded willingly to him, and every single hand rose. "Uh huh," Louis nodded, unsurprised. "Good. Keep your hands up if you've studied Romeo and Juliet." Every hand stayed in the air. "The Tempest?" No one moved. "Twelfth Night?" At that a few hands did go down. "The Scottish play?" A few hands rose again. "The Taming Of The Shrew?" Most of the hands went down. "I see, so we all watched 10 Things I Hate About You instead of reading the play, did we? I don't blame you, I did the same...mostly to ogle Heath Ledger."
A smattering of laughter broke the tense silence. There were the sounds of rustling as one of two students sat up straighter in their seats to pay attention, smiles pulling at their mouths. Louis grinned.
"Well you're in luck, because The Taming Of The Shrew is the first play on the syllabus. By next week I'd like you all to have bought copies and read the first act, please." Copies weren't expensive, he reasoned. If the parents of these kids could afford the thousand of pounds of tuition fees to keep them here each year and buy them all matching Range Rovers and Mulberry handbags, he was sure buying a few books wasn't going to be too difficult. The scratching of pens met his ears as he turned to flick through his papers until he found the list of his students names. "Now! Ritual Humiliation time!"
Twenty pairs of apprehensive eyes met his.
"Don't worry, it's not too hard, it's just something I do to try and get to know you all. When I call your name just jump up, introduce yourself and tell me something interesting about yourself."
He ignored the couple of eye-rolls that were thrown his way and pressed on, calling the first name.
Through the list he went, listening to what his students had to tell him. Most were the usual, mundane things, just what they were studying at the college, if they had a pet, how many siblings they had, but Louis didn't mind, he'd let them off easy seeing as it was their first class with him. He tried to remember the names of most of them; Amy with her swishy blonde hair, Oliver with the freckles, Tia with a soft Irish accent, Adam...Aaron?...with the scruffy beard, but after a while he gave up, just smiling and nodding and resolving to pick their names up along the way.
They were getting fidgety, and Louis knew it was time to move on.
"Just the last few, guys, then we'll relax for ten minutes," Louis told them, and got a few grateful smiles in return. He glanced down at his list. "Harry Styles?"
A couple of the girls at the front snickered, swivelling in their seats towards the back of the classroom. Louis frowned at them, following their gaze to watch a tall, thin boy unfurl himself from his seat and clamber to his feet. He was all angles and sharp jawline, dark brown hair reaching his shoulders, curling around his neck. He fidgeted, pulling the sleeves of his white uniform shirt down over his hands and nibbling at the inside of his lip.
Louis jumped in. "Hey! Nice to meet you."
"Hi," Harry replied, offering Louis a small smile. "I'm Harry, I'm eighteen, and I...erm, I..."
The girls at the front were full on giggling now, fingers clamped over their lips.
"Is something funny, girls?' Louis asked stonily, fixing them with a glare. "Fancy sharing it with the rest of us?"
They just shook their heads, lowering them meekly, though Louis could still see smiles pulling at their mouths. He narrowed his eyes at them, making a mental note to split them up next class...once he'd remembered their names.
"Carry on, Harry," he said gently, looking back to the boy. Harry's eyes were darting between him and the girls, and Louis saw him swallow thickly. The strangest urge to go to him, to sling his arm around his shoulders and tell him everything was okay, pulled at Louis' chest. He swallowed, digging his fingernails into his thigh to remind himself where they were.
"I...really like dancing?" Harry finished, embarrassment rolling off him in waves.
"Great!" Louis said enthusiastically, skimming over the awkwardness and gesturing for Harry to sit down. Harry did, almost collapsing into his chair again, tucking his legs up and making himself as small as possible, cheeks bright pink. "It's a good thing you're in this college, then!"
Louis sped up, getting through the last few names in double time and then kicking them out for a ten minute break. He sat behind his desk and watched them file out, subtly tracking Harry's movements as he picked himself up, trailing after his classmates alone.
*****
By the end of the week, Louis was exhausted. His classes weren't spread out evenly like they were in his last school; here they were staggered, all starting at different times and Louis just knew his sleeping schedule was fucked already. He'd just come from a three hour session on Equus with his ninth years, and if he had to listen to fourteen and fifteen year old boys neighing again he was going to stab their eyes out to see how they liked it.
He had plans to meet Zayn outside the staff room so they could go for a drink at the pub down the road when their Friday classes had finished. Louis had planned to do absolutely nothing this weekend, and he was longing to get home, order in pizza with Liam, and spend his weekend trying to recover from the stress of the week. A few students passed him, some nodding in greeting, some going as far to say goodbye and wish him a nice weekend. That was progress, at least. He turned down the corridor towards the dance studios, knowing, thanks to Zayn, that it was a quicker route to the staff room.
There were six studios down the corridor, all huge rooms with a piano, stereo system and an entire wall of mirrors. Today only one was occupied, an after school ballet class, with fifteen or so students all lined up at the barre by the mirror, all doing plies at the same time. Louis slowed his pace to walk past the door, mildly curious, and then continued on his way.
He'd thought only one studio was being used, but he was wrong. The studio at the end of the corridor had its lights on, though at a first glance through the glass door there was no one in there. Louis put his hand on the door handle, ready to open the door a crack and flip off the lights for whoever had forgotten to do it, when someone moved into view.
Louis shrank back, out of sight of the dancer but still able to get a good view of them. They had their back to Louis, but by the broad shoulders and narrow hips, Louis guessed it was a man. He was dressed in a loose grey top and tight fitting leggings, feet well strapped into ballet shoes. When he finally finished stretching and turned so Louis could get a good look at his profile, his eyes widened.
It was Harry. Shy, nervous Harry from his twelfth year Shakespeare class. Louis hadn't recognised him because his hair was pulled back from his face and tied into a bun. Harry adjusted said bun then, arms lifting and pulling up his t-shirt, and Louis swallowed at the sight of Harry's pale skin. Louis looked over him, toned calves and muscular thighs, his black leggings so tight they left little to the imagination. The grey t-shirt was loose, but it hung down Harry's chest, revealing a pair of tattoos inked just below pronounced collarbones-
Louis stepped back sharply. What the fuck was he thinking? Harry was a student, under Louis' protection. And here Louis was, ogling him like he was some seedy old bloke in a bar and Harry was fresh meat.
He felt hot all over, and he yanked himself away, taking a few strides down the corridor as he tried to slow his heart rate. Before he could get himself a good distance away, music started, the opening sounds of a piano and an accompanying male voice. Louis knew the song; he'd heard Liam playing it through the walls of their flat a couple of times before.
Seemingly of their own accord his feet moved, taking him back to hide in the shadows of the corridor and watch Harry. He was kneeling on the floor, slowly gliding to lie on his back, toes perfectly pointed. The music kicked in, and Harry lifted his hips, arching his back up high and oh- that really wasn't helping Louis get a grip on himself.
He suddenly flipped himself onto his front, lifting himself on his arms to a standing position, and holding himself in a pose that looked similar to the lunges Liam did when he worked out. He was all strong lines and confident movements; Louis would have sworn it wasn't Harry if he couldn't see his face so clearly. He was strength, and elegance, looking like he belonged right where he was. Watching Harry take a step with each chord of the piano had Louis captivated, eyes glued completely to Harry's body.
The chorus started and Harry suddenly launched himself into a jump, spinning midair and landing perfectly, starting a sequence of steps that Louis could barely keep up with, covering every inch of the studio floor. And he didn't stop, he kept in time and followed the song until the very end, ending lying flat on his back in the middle of the floor. Louis could see his chest heaving, sweat soaking into his shirt and staining it dark. He had his eyes shut, lips parted as he breathed steadily.
Louis felt like he needed to do the same, do something to calm himself. How could he look at this lovely, shy boy now without knowing what he could do? How fucking talented he was? He wasn't going to be able to look him in the eye again without picturing him sweating in tight leggings, either.
He heard footsteps approaching and jumped back from the door, standing there uselessly. His mind raced for an excuse, but when Zayn appeared from the shadows Louis relaxed a little, hoping Zayn couldn't see how flustered he looked in the dim lighting.
"Hey, what're you hanging around here for?" Zayn asked, peering past Louis into the studio.
"I wasn't, I mean, I was just-"
"Ah," Zayn said, nodding his head in understanding. "You watching him? Brilliant isn't he?"
"He's incredible." Louis let out a breath, looking back to Harry to find him stretching again, oblivious to the two of them outside the door.
"That's Harry Styles," Zayn said. "He's been at the school since he was eleven. Hands down the best male ballet dancer here, I swear."
Louis nodded, "I know him, he's in my Shakespeare class. He’s so shy though, I don't understand. I did Ritual Humiliation with them and he almost fainted when he had to stand up and introduce himself."
"Yeah," Zayn looked pained. They took one last look at Harry, who was digging through his bag and pulling out his phone and a bottle of water, and began walking away by wordless agreement, moving quietly until they were in the brighter, wider hallway that lead to the staffroom. "He's a bit of a loner, always been like that. He doesn't come from the same background as the other kids, and they know it."
"What do you mean?"
"Harry's parents work really hard to keep him here each term,' Zayn explained as they gathered their belongings from their lockers. "For the other kids, their tuition fees are pocket change to their parents, but Harry's family aren't from that sort of background. The other kids know it, and he's been teased because of it."
"That's fucking horrible," Louis shook his head, following Zayn back out and towards the entrance of the school. "How could they? He seems lovely."
"He is. So are his parents. I've met them a couple of times, Parents' Evening, that sort of stuff...they're so proud of him. I nearly cried when I told them how well he's doing. They know they can't let that sort of talent go to waste, and their work is worth it when they see him perform."
"I bet," Louis replied, throwing himself into Zayn's car and reaching for his seatbelt. His mind was already turning back to the college where Harry still was. Louis wondered whether he was doing another routine, or the same one again if he wasn’t entirely happy with it the first time round. Louis pictured him warming down, packing up his stuff and heading home. He hoped he didn't live too far away, hoped he didn't have to walk too far on his own...and then balked when he recognised that the protectiveness in him that he was feeling towards Harry should not be there. Not only because he was Louis' eighteen year old student, but also because he'd only actually met him for the first time that morning.
"Actually, mate, I'm not feeling the pub right now. Is it okay if you just drop me home?"
"Course, you feeling okay?"
"Yeah...just a headache is all. Think I've a got a migraine coming."
Liam wasn't in when Louis got home, which Louis was guiltily thankful for. It meant he could shower and curl up on the sofa with a takeaway menu and try and sort his head out. For the life of him, he couldn't get Harry and his dancing out of his mind. The song he'd heard was stuck in his head, playing on a loop and matching with the figure of Harry moving seamlessly in time. Even when he turned the tv on Take Me To Church was blaring out of the music channel, and that didn’t help either.
He had to stop it. It was so inappropriate. Every instinct Louis had as a teacher knew it was so wrong to be thinking of a student in such a way...but it was as if those instincts had been shut up by something bigger, something Louis couldn't control, growing in the back of his head and reminding him of what he'd seen, making him feel stupid shit like empathy and compassion towards a boy that he'd said ten words to and ogled in the dark.
It was wrong, and it was stupid, and Louis needed to get rid of it. He ordered too much pizza, texted Liam telling him there would be some left over for whenever he got back, and opened the fridge door to discover a new six pack in there.
That would definitely help.
*****
On Monday morning it was pissing it down, immediately putting Louis in a bad mood. He finished his tea, kissed a still-sleeping Liam goodbye on the only bit of him that was visible from beneath the duvet (his forehead) and ran to his car, swearing profusely in the downpour.
Traffic was slow, infuriatingly so. Louis crawled towards the school, windscreen wipers going, feeling like giving up already and going home to curl back up in bed. The sheets were probably still warm, he thought sadly. Maybe he could fake something. He'd told Zayn he had a migraine on Friday...he could still have one, couldn't he? He might need a doctors note to prove it, though, and that seemed like too much of a hassle.
He watched a stream of pedestrians on the pavement beside him, sloshing through the puddles, walking as quickly as they could to get out of the rain. A frown creased his forehead though as he saw one person moving slower, hair matted to his head, hems of his school trousers soaked through.
The traffic crept forward, and Louis drew closer until he was certain it was who he suspected it to be. Then he rolled down his window and yelled at him.
"Harry!"
Harry jumped, spinning around. Louis beckoned him over and Harry obliged, dodging a particularly large puddle by Louis' car.
"Morning, Louis. Did you have a good weekend?" he asked politely, as if he wasn't aware he was soaking wet.
Louis ignored his question. “Harry, don't you have a coat?"
Harry's cheeks turned pink. "Left it at home," he shrugged. "I'm okay- it looks worse than it is."
Louis scoffed. "Sure. Get in the car."
Harry only stared, wide eyed. "Erm, I'm not sure...that's not...uh."
"Harry, I'm your teacher, and as your teacher, I can tell you what to do." Louis smiled in what he hoped was a friendly way. "Also, what kind of responsible adult would I be if I let one of my students catch hypothermia?"
Harry smiled a little, looking at the car like he was tempted.
"Get in," Louis said again, more gently this time. "Please."
Harry needed no further encouragement, walking around the front of the car and sliding in next to Louis. His hair was sodden, plastered to his head and dripping water down his neck in rivulets. He was shivering too, fingers trembling and lips quivering. Louis thought they looked a little blue around the edges.
"Christ. How long have you been out in that?" Louis said, reaching into his back seat to fumble for the towel he had in his gym bag (Liam made Louis keep a gym bag in his car in the hope that he might start going, discover a love for working out, and become Liam's gym buddy. Ha. Right.) and handed it to Harry. "Here, love," the endearment slipped passed his lips before he could stop it, and Louis cringed, drawing his hand back and gripping the steering wheel.
"Thanks," Harry said quietly, towelling his hair and shrugging off his school blazer to dab at it uselessly. It needed a dryer, not a towel. "I, er, it's about a forty five minute walk from my house to the college."
"You walk that everyday?"
"Yeah. I like it, though. I like walking. Just not in the pouring rain." He chuckled, and Louis' knuckles turned white on the wheel at the sound.
Up close, Louis was so aware of Harry's body, of his broad shoulders and big hands, the column of his neck and his sharp jawline. For someone so quiet he invaded Louis' car with his deep voice and lovely, clean smell, though it was partially smothered by the damp smell of the rain. Mercifully, the traffic moved again, and Louis focused hard on the road, getting them both safely to the college and into the car park.
"Thanks, Louis," Harry said, making to gather up his bags and open the car door.
"No problem," Louis found the words leaving his mouth like it was disconnected from his brain. "If it's still like this later I'll give you a lift home again."
Harry's eyes went wide again. "Oh no, no there's no need. It'll look weird to other people, won't it? And you've been too nice already, I'll walk, I like walking."
"No arguments," Louis said firmly. "If it's still raining, I'm driving."
Harry's 'thank you' was quiet, and then he was unfolding those long legs from the car and hurrying into the building.
Louis had never prayed so hard for rain in his entire life.
*****
By the end of the day, it was still hammering with rain, and Louis was ecstatic about it.
He let his last class out fifteen minutes early, and all but skipped through the puddles to his car. He started the engine, cranking the heat up and pulling the visor down to look in the mirror attached to the back of it, making sure his hair was sitting right and hadn't gone fluffy from the humidity.
He looked at himself in the mirror, looked at the brightness in his eyes, wondering why the fuck he was acting like a sixteen year old about to go on a date when he was just driving a student home. He knew nothing about Harry; they were still virtual strangers.
That could change, though, he reasoned.
The car door opening made him jump, his heart rabbiting in his chest at Harry's smile when he was settled in the seat next to him.
"Thanks for doing this, Louis. You're right, I don't really fancy walking home in this if I'm honest," Harry said, leaning forwards to peer through the window at the sky. "I think it's going to get worse."
"Ah well, at least you've got me to drive you now," Louis replied, looking out of the back window and inching out of the space, joining the queue of traffic leaving the college gates.
He saw Harry look at him from the corner of his eye. "Oh no, no I didn't mean it like that, you don't have to feel like you have to-"
"Harry, I want to. Honestly." Louis cut him off with a smile. "I have a responsibility to look after my students. What's twenty minutes more after school, ey? I really don't mind."
He caught Harry’s blush, saw him drop his gaze to his lap. Louis was pleased at that, liked the fact that he had that much influence over Harry to elicit that sort of reaction from him.
"You can put the radio on if you want...just don't forget to direct me to your place." Harry did so, fingers twisting the dial on the dash until he found a station he liked, settling back in his seat and looking out of the window, fingers tapping on his knee in time with the music. Louis recognised the artist, the same deep voice that Harry had danced to.
"Is this Hozier?" he asked, and Harry nodded, brightening.
"Do you like him? I have his album. Some of the pieces I'm working on for my end of year exam are set to a couple of his songs."
Louis wanted to say I know, say I saw you and you're incredible, but he held his tongue, making an interested noise and promising to listen to the rest of the album.
"You can borrow my copy?" Harry offered, "Just in case you don't like it...there's no point downloading the whole thing if you might hate it is there?"
"I probably won't hate it, but you're right, thanks," Louis said, though Harry could have said 'buy a hundred copies' and Louis probably would have done whether he liked the album or not. Christ.
They sat in a comfortable quietness, the peace only broken by the radio and Harry's directions to his house. Louis was dying to ask questions about Harry, find out as much as he could about the intriguing person sat opposite him. The last thing he wanted to do, though, was scare Harry off. He was loving how Harry seemed a different person the further away from the college they drove, becoming more animated, chatty, even making attempts at joking with Louis, though they were both still silently aware of the professional barrier between them. Louis cursed that invisible wall between them, wanting nothing more than to be able to talk to Harry as if he was a friend. Everything else he was beginning to feel for him could be pushed away if only he was allowed to get to know him more, without the constraints of the college hanging over them.
When Zayn had said that he should treat the kids like they were friends, Louis wasn't sure if this was exactly what he meant.
Eventually they pulled up to Harry's house, Louis parking as close as he could to prevent Harry from getting too drenched on his way in.
"Oh! Stay here, I'll get you the album!" Harry said, opening the door and jumping out before Louis could stop him.
Louis wound down the window and called after him, even though he was already halfway to the door, "Harry, no! It can wait! Go inside and stay inside!"
"I'll be two seconds!" Harry called back, fumbling in his pocket for his keys. Louis sighed.
The house Harry lived in was nice; a perfectly normal semi detached house in a neighbourhood that looked a pretty pleasant place to live. The house had a small front garden and a driveway with a car that looked, admittedly, like it had seen better days, but the garden was well kept, the fences neatly painted. Louis felt a surge or irritation for the kids that had teased Harry for this. Just because they were born into money and Harry wasn't gave them no right to think any less of him. If only they could look past that, they might see the funny, sweet boy that Louis was beginning to see.
Harry ran back out of his house, face turned down against the rain. He reached Louis' car and thrust his arm into the open window, handing Louis the album.
"Listen tonight?" he asked, a little breathless from running.
"Promise." Louis said, "...Pick you up tomorrow?"
"What if it's stopped raining?"
Louis' heart thundered in his chest, a red flag waved frantically in his head. He spoke past the lump in his throat. "Probably shouldn't take that risk."
Harry grinned disarmingly. "Okay, see you tomorrow, then."
And if all Louis did that night was listen to the album on repeat, then nobody but him needed to know.