Balance

Chapter 9

"Impossible," Louis groaned into the phone.  "He's just a bratty kid and a nuisance at best."  He rolled his eyes, knowing it was lost on Zayn given that he couldn't see it.

"Sure, sure," Zayn drawled and Louis could swear he could hear the smirk in the boy's tone.  "And the massage you took almost ten minutes to describe to me in detail meant absolutely nothing."  Louis sunk down into the chair in the dressing room with a loud huff.  Zayn could be so frustrating.

"No, it didn't mean anything, thank you very much," Louis corrected with an offended sniff.  A wry smirk bloomed on his face and his voice became coy.  "And I only told you so maybe you'd take the hint and offer to massage me every time I come home.  Or even every once in a while—special occasions.  You know my muscles could really use it, and I'd be ever so grateful, Zaynie."  He drew the ridiculous nickname he knew Zayn hated out several syllables into the phone to the point where Zayn had to be blushing.

"You're an idiot," responded Zayn with, sure enough, an embarrassed edge to his words.  Louis smiled and shifted the phone into his other hand, reaching down to slip off his ballet shoes with his freed hand.  "Still think you fancy the Styles kid," Zayn added.

Louis didn't deem that worth answering right away and settled for a sigh.  He sat and pointed and flexed his toes, only wincing a tiny bit when his ankle protested after the fifth stretch.  

The dancer had taken Marius' advice and not pushed himself as much as he would normally in his daily exercises.  Given that Marius was occupied with auditions beginning immediately after morning warm-ups, Louis decided to continue practice on his own.  He still had his room and enjoyed uninterrupted rehearsal time in absolute silence.  It was cleansing, really.

Now, he was inquiring as to when Zayn would be around to pick him up—his flatmate had seemed keen on the idea when they parted ways in the morning, plus Louis couldn't wait to gush about the show and its apparent implications (at least according to Harry and Charlie).  However, Zayn, unsurprisingly, was running late.

"I can walk home without you, you know," Louis offered half to be accommodating and half to reprimand Zayn for his annoying comments.

"No, no.  I want to hear about your show and I have class later tonight," insisted Zayn.  Louis could perfectly picture Zayn's hands running through his quiff in an attempt to work things out.  "I know!  Go out for a bite somewhere nearby and I'll meet you back at the theater; I should be done by then."

"Yeah?" Louis glanced over at the clock hanging crookedly on the dressing room wall.  "Sure.  I guess that works."

"Great.  See ya soon, Lou," Zayn replied and, with an exaggerated kissing noise into the speaker of his phone to return the favour of being embarrassing, he hung up.  Louis smiled to himself before slipping his phone into the appropriate compartment on his dance bag.  He sat for a moment, reveling in the relaxation.

Of course, the moment would be interrupted by a curly head peeking in the doorway donning a Cheshire cat's grin.  "Thought you were going home," Harry commented, taking a few hesitant steps into the room as if afraid he was going to encounter a half naked dancer hidden in the shadows of the dressing room.

Louis took a steadying breath, not sure he was ready to deal with Harry after the slightly infuriating conversation with his friend.  "Nah, Zayn's late," he answered matter-of-factly.  Harry's smile dimmed in sympathy; the look was almost endearing on the boy.  

"I'm heading out to lunch—seems Marcus trusts me on my own—you want to come?"  Harry was close enough for Louis to see the inexplicable twinkle in those wide green eyes.  The skater had tipped his head casually in question, trying to convey that he really didn't care how Louis answered.