Turquoise (L.S)

XXII

Hi guys! Before we get started, I would firstly like to say a massive thank you to everyone who has left positive comments on my story. I am a full time uni student and I end up giving up a lot of my free time to put my energy into this fic. I am extremely grateful for the 36k (!!!) reads!!

I would also like to express huge gratitude to those of you who sent me messages, wishing for my recovery. For those of you who don't know, I have been in hospital for a couple days but I'm out now and I'm ok!

The song that Louis sings is called Lost by Dermot Kennedy btw.

Hope you enjoy!

"I wanna change my song,"

Louis Tomlinson was resting on a piece of scaffolding, backstage, tattoos mirrored in the metal. There was a bored expression on his face, and his demeanour was calm and collected.

"Excuse me?" The producer's face shot up and she looked at the contestant, shocked by his words. Louis shifted and swallowed.

"I wanna change my-"

"-No I heard you the first time," She interrupted before he could repeat himself.

"But Louis? The show is in three hours. I'm not sure that's wise and Harry-" Louis froze at that name. His heartbeat sped up and he felt sweat begin to form at his fingertips. A sense of uneasiness washed through him. He blinked hard, and tried to shake the feeling.

"I don't really care about what Harry says," He lied through gritted teeth, wiping his clammy hands on his black, skinny jeans. The woman narrowed her eyes at the statement but allowed him to continue.

"Let's be honest. We both know that he has done nothing for me in this competition," The production assistant's mouth dropped open at how blasé his words were. If only she knew half of the story.

"Louis-"

"Please," He asked, his voice a little softer now. He hoped that she could not sense his desperation in changing the song from the loved up melody of 'Hey There Delilah'. Even the idea of singing that in front of the man he loved but could not have, was gut wrenching.

"I have all the music arranged and I don't want fancy dancers or anything. Just me and a piano, and the orchestra. Those guys are incredible. They'll pick it up straight away,"

The producer tapped her foot for several minutes and groaned as Louis's eyes pleaded with her.

"Fine. On your head be it,"

===

Breathe.

That was the only word going through Louis's mind as the assistant tapped him on the shoulder and gave him his cue to enter the stage. The lights were dim and he was unable to see the audience or the judges. The only thing that faced him was a beautiful white grand piano lit up in a soft, pale glow. His light blue t-shirt looked almost transparent under those hot spotlights and created a beautiful silhouette around his fragile figure.

Louis Tomlinson was exposed and vulnerable.

Around him, the crowd cheered but he could not hear anything: only the ringing in his ears and a sense of mourning and loss. Mourning for his lost relationship with a man he loved and mourning for the lost soul who sat facing him in the judges' chair.

As he took a seat at the stool, his soft hands carefully pressed the keys and all of a sudden, the crowd evaporated.

It was him, Harry and a pure piano in a dark room, full of unspoken, sinful secrets.