Chapter 1
"Mom, I don't want to do this." I mumbled, covering my face. "You said you want to be a singer. Besides, it's only twice a week. Maybe you'll make some new friends!" I looked out the window for a second before sighing. She was right. Maybe I did need to make more friends. I threw my backpack over my shoulder, adjusting the headband and kissing her cheek. "Bye mum."
She was dropping me off at a vocal class. It was for kids my age, and it was free. It was more of a club than a class, but I really didn't want to go. I wasn't confident enough in my voice yet to sing in front of others. Sighing, I stared up at the building.
It was like a clubhouse at a golfing place, except the outside was painted a light blue instead of white. I headed towards it, ignoring some of the looks from the other people. There were only 3 people outside, all girls. They weren't girls in my year, and I don't think they went to my school either. They likely go to the public school, while I go to the private school.
I walked in, sitting in the back. The seats were like one long bench rather than individual seats, so I set my backpack down beside me and grabbed my homework. I hadn't had time to finish it before I had come here, so my mom made me promise to finish it before class started. It was math, something that was easy enough but I still dreaded doing it.
I loved school, and I didn't mind homework, but when the homework was something I already understood and could do easily it seemed pointless. I tapped my pencil, trying to stall but I knew I had to do it. I started writing, until I heard a familiar voice. "Seriously?"
I looked up, my eyes instantly meeting the familiar blue. "Oh....You're that guy from the band." I said, and he rolled his eyes. "Real descriptive, curly. What are you doing here?" I set my notebook down on my lap, my turn to be cheeky. "Oh, thought I'd just come by and paint something. What do you think I'm doing here?" We had a stare off before he chuckled, sitting beside me.
"Cheeky, I like it. So, whats your name kid?" His voice was so beautiful, I could listen to it all day. "Harry. And you?" The boy looked at me, as if debating if he would give it to me. Just when I was about to groan in frustration, he spoke up. "I'm Lewis." I looked at him. "Louis?" He shook his head. "Lew-is." I smirked, before saying "Nice to meet you, Louis."
He laughed, before standing up. "I don't know why you're here, though. If you aren't serious about music, why waste the time?" I was about to respond, until the man who I recognized from the club website came in. He was the teacher, Mr.Tomlinson. I sat up in my seat, turning to Louis. "Behave, I don't want to get in trouble."
He chuckled, just waving his hand before walkign right up to the teacher. My eyes bulged out, before the teahcer wrapped his arms around his shoulders and Louis started speaking. "Today, we're going to be practicing lyric-writing." I groaned, not only embarassed that Louis seemed to be a teaching assistant, but over the fact that I wasn't any good at writing lyrics.
I pulled out my notebook, looking around at all the students who walked in. Most were girls, and the only other boy who was in here looked like he was 12. I seemed to stick out easily with my curls and neon red headband. I sunk into my seat, listening to the instructions on what to do.
"You'll write a song, then on the Thursday meeting you'll read it to the class." Everyone groaned, a few people raising their hands to ask why they aren't singing it. "Lyrics are important. If you have a talented voice, why waste it on pointless songs? Let's put it this way. Would you rather since a song with lyrics like Bruno Mars or like Rack City?" We all chuckled, and I smiled. Mr.Tomlinson seemed very cool and down to earth.
I leaned over, hunching over, my paper. I had no clue what to write a song about. I could write about my mum, but I knew the other kids would just laugh. I didn't really have anything to write a song about. I didn't have a girlfriend or boyfriend, and I didn't ever go through heartbreak. I can't sing about money or fame, so that really leaves out all the major topics.
"Whatcha gunna write?" I jumped, but calmed when it was just Louis. "I don't know...I don't want to write anything." He frowned. "This isn't school, you don't HAVE to do anything. But it will make you a better singer. I always write my own songs." I looked up at him, adoration pooling in my eyes.
He can sing. He can write songs. He has a dress ass. He's got a good fashion sense. He has the voice of an angel. He could probably date any girl he ever wanted. He has a job as a teaching assistant and he is in an amazing band. He was so perfect.
"Curly? Stop staring, and don't drool." I blushed, rubbing my eyes a bit. "Sorry. I just...don't know what to write about. " I shrugged, a bit saddened. I would love to be able to write amazing songs, but I just couldn't. He sat beside me. He started singing out a line. "That's what makes you beautiful" I smiled, and an idea hit me instantly.
"Writing about my beauty, Haz? I could sue you for copyright." I groaned, blushing. "Shut up. What makes you beautiful?" I asked, more like just thinking out loud. He shrugged. "I don't know what makes anyone beautiful. Some people just...are". I sighed, thinking about all the things that made someone pretty to me.
"I like a good smile and a cute personality." I said, and he rolled his eyes. "That's as lame as if some idiot said 'I like girls who eat carrots'. " I chuckled, not realizing how lame I had sounded until he pointed it out. I looked around, and everyone seemed as if they were writing at the speed of light. I seemed to be the only one who was clueless.
"How about this? I can walk you home and help you a bit. Not like you have any chance of beating me in the competition anyways, but maybe you'll be able to write a decent song by then."
I wish I had said no when he offered.
Hello my curlies!
What's going to happen? Dun, dun, dun. Comment and read my other Larry stories!
XX
YOU ARE READING
According To You (Larry Stylinson AU)
Fanfiction"According to you....I'm stupid. I'm useless. I can't do anything right. But according to him! I'm funny, I'm perfect, he can't get me out of his head." Harry Styles, 15 year old boy from Holmes Chapel has always dreamed of being a rockstar. Him and...
