Falling Stars Don't Crash Through Your Window - Larry Stylinson AU

Chapter One <3

I just rewrote it guys, I read it a couple of times and it was like the shittiest thing I've ever written, so yeah. Here we go. :D

Louis tiptoed through the frosty, dew-tipped park in a graceful kind of way, humming a symphony that echoed through the early morning. He didn't have long - he would have to run to the dance studio soon - but he really loved this park, and the chilly air of dawn tended to wake him up.

Barely anyone was here due to the fact that it was 6:00AM, which was just how Louis liked it. He loosened his scarf a little bit, and padded to the twin trees he always sat inbetween. He lowered himself gently to the ground and brought out his iPod, but before he could insert the earphones into it and put the buds in his ears, something white and crumpled brought his eye.

Louis looked up and saw a lined piece of paper taped to the trunk of the opposite tree. Trying to ignore the creepy similarity to Slenderman, he reached up and carefully ripped it off. It was a note, etched in a neat, quick scrawl.

Hello,

I'm Harry. I do not want to be doing this. It is all my mum's idea. Um. She wants me to meet people, but to be honest I don't think that the safest way would be taping a note to a tree in a park. Well um, anyway.

I'm nineteen, I've got obsessive compulsive disorder and I'm a bit of an introvert. It's easier to write to people than talk, but I still turn out sounding awkward and uncomfortable, because I guess that's just me.

I love music, but lots of people do - everyone sane, probably. Anyway, listening to music kind of blocks out everything and I don't feel like I live in this world anymore. I do not know why I am telling a stranger this. But. Well, yes. I am.

Singing is my passion and I also play guitar and piano.

So like, write back, yeah? Unless you're creepy. Well, basically, I'd prefer if you were my age. Like, not fourty-something. Um so, yes. Bye,

From, Harry. xx

Louis had scanned the letter quickly, chewing hard on his lip. He wanted to write back, he pretty much had to write back. Not because Harry asked him to, but because he was desperate to reply to this strange boy, find out more about him. But as he checked the time, he saw that it was most definitely time for him to go to the studio. So he carefully folded the paper up six times, and slipped it in his wallet in his bag, because he would soon be changing out of his skinny jeans and into a leotard and tights.

Then he picked up his iPod, which he hadn't actually had time to listen to, and continued on his way to Judith Fuge's dance studio.

+

When Louis reached the building, that he spent nearly every hour of his day in, he sighed with happiness and pushed open the swinging french doors. The smell was familiar and nice, polished wood and rosin and such. He stretched his arms and started walk down the smooth corridor, adjusting the strap of his messenger bag. Most people knew Louis; they nodded or smiled or waved at him, and he replied with all three. He was cheery and bright and an excelling student, everyone knew and loved him.

Sweet music echoed through the doors, whether they were open or closed shut or just slightly ajar, and Louis smiled. Dancing was what he did, it was his and no matter how he was feeling, he just... dancing, you know?

Louis turned off into the changing room, going into a stall and dropping his messenger bag onto the bench. He stripped down and grabbed his dancing clothes from in the bed, changing into them. When he was finished, he left the stall, and then the changing rooms, and then walked into one of the practice rooms. The floor has recently been dusted with rosin, he could see, and no one else had used it yet. He stretched his back again, and it gave a few satisfactory clicks. He walked past the shiny black grand piano, pressing a few keys down in a simple melody as he passed. Louis could play the piano rather beautifully (and he'd been very interested when Harry had mentioned that he could, though Louis had told himself not to think about the mystery boy for a while now), but right now he was here for dancing.