Louis, to his horror, attends an elitist university in which the name Zayn Malik means something, Niall Horan doesn't stop talking, there are pianos everywhere, and Harry Styles, only son of a drug-addled, clinically insane ex-rocker, has a perfect smile and empty eyes. WARNING: all rights go to velvetoscar on ao3 Cov...
Louis is a principal dancer with The Royal Ballet. When his rival, moody dance prodigy, Harry, joins the company, old wounds are reopened and old passions reignited. During the company's production of Swan Lake the secret that doomed their love is finally revealed, but will it be too late? [COMPLETED]
"Maybe I should just leave the band, eh?" "That's what I've been telling you all along you dickhead. What's keeping you here?" "A fucking contract." "Well, so once the contract ends you're gone?" Louis inquired. "Yes. I'm not saying goodbye, and I'm never looking back." **** Larry Stylinson as a romance? Ha ha. Sorr...
It all started with the headaches. Harry's fine, he thought just so so tired. My own rendition of the iconic Cold Blue Water fic.
"you're so small." as if to prove his point, louis squeezed harry tightly in his arms, and harry just scrunched up a little bit, snuggling his head impossibly farther into louis' chest. "my pretty paper doll." and when louis squeezed him again, placing a shaky, yet warm kiss on harry's cold forehead, harry felt his he...