Act V - Pirouette

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Louis stepped onto the balcony, closely followed by Harry who'd put a hand on his shoulder to guide the way. Summer heat engulfed them as soon as they stepped out in the sun, and while Harry said, "Ugh," Louis smiled and put his arms out for the breeze to catch him. The air up here was muskier than the air back in Louis' village, smelling like petrol and the flowers in the round-about in front of Harry's penthouse. Louis looked over the glass fence. There were hills ahead, surrounding them as if they were in a green and grassy bowl. Louis had almost expected to see the Hollywood sign, but then he remembered where he was. Below was a road and the round-about. A few cars drove past, some people walked by with their dogs, and then Harry called Louis over to the shade of the parasol so that he'd not get sunstroke.

As Louis walked up, Harry put out a hand invitingly for him to take, and when he places his own bandaged and plastered fingers there, Harry guided him around to a chair for him to sit on.

"Your house is really nice." Louis said for the endless time, looking at a huge swan rubber-ring that glided over the water in the pool. He then turned back to Harry who was looking at his phone that sat on the table-expecting. "Are you waiting for a call?" Louis asked, "Why don't you call them?"

Harry looked away from the phone to the ground, and then his eyes followed Louis' body to rest on his face. There was sadness there, heartbreak, and he said, "No one would answer."

Louis may have not been the best person in the world at guessing things, but Harry was waiting for Rosaline. And Rosaline awaited in her grave for him.

"She would forgive you." Louis said, without thinking about it until he realised he'd said his thought aloud.

Harry's face read, 'how do you know about that?', but he just turned back to his hands, twisting a ring around his finger. "You're right, she probably would have forgiven me. After all, it was not a big problem that we'd had. But she can't accept an apology if she isn't here to listen. She died, and the last thing that I said was to 'get out of my sight'." and then he looked up, tears standing in his eyes, pain leaking from his heart and it poured from his mouth when he spoke, "Don't ever say things that you don't mean. Things like that, if you don't take them back, they'll haunt you. Regrettable words circle back again and again, they become a part of you, and they destroy you. So don't say things that you don't mean."

Louis looked at him, blue eyes wide, heart too heavy, horror and fear written all over his face. Somewhere in that cold facade of Harry's, there was something waiting, something broken and lost perhaps, but he was not the heartless dancer that he'd been showing himself as. He was just a boy, in the end, just a boy that spoke every thought on his mind, and just a boy who'd fallen in love once, and he was waiting for his love to call him in return.

Louis turned to the waistline of his shorts and pulled out a little box. From inside of it, he pulled out a Mickey Mouse plaster-the biggest and best one that he could find. He gave it to Harry.

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