After Louis finally comes out of the closet, his parents don't take it so lightly and end up kicking the blue eyed boy out of their so called "loving home". Tired and alone, Louis starts to lose all hope whatsoever, all until he spots an ad for a wanted personal assistant that changes his life in ways he could never of imagined.

Don't you call her baby. We're not talking lately. Don't you call her what you used to call me... A story in which a girl who writes songs falls in love with the boy who sings them. "Color...What a deep and mysterious language, the language of dreams." - Paul Gauguin. DO NOT PRINT MY BOOKS! *TW: story contains mature topics such as mental abuse, PTSD, minor drug usage, and minor sexual content.*

"Who's that over there?" The man looked at me like I was from outer space, or perhaps like I lived under a rock, maybe a mixture of both. "Him? They call him Full Throttle," he chuckled with a hint of nervousness in his voice. I scrunched my nose up in confusion. "Why?" The man threw his head back and laughed before answering me. "Because he doesn't hold back. He does everything at full speed... racing, girls, and-" the man cut himself off, seeking as though he was catching himself spilling a secret. "And what?" "Don't worry about it." THIS BOOK IS PURELY A WORK OF FICTION! The characters in it are in NO way a representation of the people chosen to play them. It is merely a story, and they fit the physical description best for their characters. The characters I have created are completely fictional, and in no way relate to my thoughts and or feelings about the people I have chosen to play said characters! || THIS BOOK CONTAINS MATURE AND EXPLICIT CONTENT, PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK || HIGHEST RANKINGS: -#1 in hs -#1 in fiction -#1 in racing -#1in dragracing -#2 in harrystyles -#4 in youngadult -#5 in onedirection -#19 in cars -#31 in gangs -#57 in fighting -#64 in harry -#111 in drama -#461 in love

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 Cover made by: whatkooloser