17BLACK // Larry Stylinson

"Get lost, pig. I have you know, I'm an aspiring model and I have no time for frat boys like you."

"I-I'm not a frat. I'm H-Harry by t-the way." Louis only looked at him with an unamused face, raising his hand to his lips, taking a drag from his cigar. Harry was silent for a while before an idea popped in his head. "My- my band." The curly haired boy said. "My band is looking for a model."

"Oh yeah? You can sing?" Louis said, blowing out the smoke from his cigar.

"Y-Yeah."

"Sing me a song then." Harry's eyes widened.

"U-uhm, I dont have-"

"C'mon. Sing." Louis pushed on.

Harry gulped, nodding. "Funny how it seems like yesterday. As I recall you were looking out of place. Gathered up your things and slipped away. No time at all I followed you into the hall. Cigarette daydreams. You were only seventeen. Soft speak with a mean streak. Nearly brought me to my knees." Harry sang, trying to hit the right notes in the right places. He thought he did alright.

Louis smirked, biting the end of his cigar to hold it between his teeth as he neared to a nervous Harry. "Who's your manager?"

"The b-blonde boy with t-the bike." Harry pointed behind him. Harry lied but he hoped Louis didn't notice that. Louis turned his attention to the boy waving at him from across the street.

He nodded, looking back to Harry. "Here's my number." Louis picked out a pen from the pocket of his jean jacket and grabbed Harry's hand, starting to write his digits on Harry's palm. "Call me." He walked back to his house, winking at Harry.

Harry grinned at him, blushing and turned around to his blonde, irish friend, running to him saying, "We need to make a band."

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Inspired by the movie, Sing Street.