Balance

Chapter 12

Louis took a deep breath, willing his legs to stop their unhelpful trembling as he slowly processed to the center of the room.  His eyes made a quick sweep of the panel of adults leaning casually against the mirrored wall and his heart leapt to his throat.  This was really happening; Louis' first official production audition.

This particular room had been dealt a hit by vandalism but obvious attempts (probably by Harry) had been made in patching it up.  Shattered mirrors were taped at the edges to prevent accidental injury; paint that had splattered the polished floor was now only a coloured smudge on the shiny wood; the piano had fresh keys, likely having been ripped from its other set, and looked as good as new.  

Each cured mark left by the skater boy, however, only conjured images of Harry to Louis' mind. He oscillated between being angry at the reticent, standoffish Harry of the present who was currently scrubbing at the floor out in the hallway, and being entirely sympathetic towards an innocent Harry taking the blame for wrongs done by others on account of his good heart.

Neither mental picture did much to aid Louis' quaking limbs as he reached the center of the room and gazed at the suddenly imposing figures standing opposite him.  In true ballet dancer fashion, Louis sunk into a deep bow of reverence accompanied by a respectful hand gesture and inclination of his head.

"Louis Tomlinson," Marius announced grandly.  Though his tone sounded warm and almost inviting, it was still nothing like the casual man the dancer had grown to be impossibly fond of.  In this setting, Marius had an extraordinary amount of authority.  He wasn't going to hold Louis as he cried.

"Master Stanimir," acknowledged Louis with a slight nod.  "Madame Dominka, Madame LeMaire, Master Tolkophsy."  Louis turned towards each figure as he addressed them.  Some of the lesser known instructors—ones with whom Louis would not have had much contact—seemed impressed by his hesitation-free knowledge of their names and titles.  If anything, he had earned their sympathies if this ended poorly.

After one final polite look in the direction of his accompanist, Louis was shifting his focus back onto Marius.  His favourite instructor was giving him a tight lipped smile, as though he wasn't sure he was supposed to be reassuring to the boy.  No matter, Louis returned it with a nervous little grin and a half shrug.

"If you wouldn't mind performing your audition for us; at your leisure, Louis," Marius allowed with a sweep of his hand.  Louis nodded.  Taking a few deep breaths that had his cheeks puffing out and swinging his arms several times to loosen the limbs, Louis moved into position.  He struck his opening pose, muscles held in perfect balance so that he didn't waver once.

Inside, Louis was positively trembling with nerves.  His mouth had gone dry and his hands felt clammy and hot.  His mind went immediately to his ankle and he sent a mental prayer of sorts that it would hold out for his three and a half minute routine.

"5...6...7...8," the young man at the piano counted off before the opening chords of L'Absente was filtering through the acoustically enhanced room.  For the first two bars, Louis' feet remained locked in place, leg muscles tense in preparation.  Louis unfolded his arms from his pose slowly, in time with the punctuated chords, moving with every intent of being fluid, graceful.

At the start of the third bar, Louis' body shifted forward until all his weight was balanced on the ball of one foot the other lifting slightly from the floor.  He set it back down directly next to his supporting foot with the next note, knowing that he had to keep in time with the music.  Zayn's counting was playing in his head though he knew that it would all really depend on how into the piece his accompanist became.  

As the intro ended to make way for the almost painstakingly slow melody, Louis began his leisurely travel across the floor.  Each step was made with pointed toes and proper turn out, shifting from one pose to another seamlessly as the chords plodded out of the piano.