*

He was not anything special-in my eyes at least-perhaps a little self-obsessed, a little bit temperamental at times, but he was nothing to make you stop and stare.

But the spotlight hit him in that dark arena, blinding, captivating, and I saw in that moment why everyone called him the "King of Ballet".

It was not a gift that he had, but if, for argument's sake, we were all moths, he'd be a butterfly. When he danced on that stage, the world couldn't help but stop and watch every movement of his body with their mouths open in amazement. He was tall, and beneath his clothes, his muscles showed. He had deep brown curls that tumbled down his back and a vicious stare in those green eyes. He knew his moves as if they came as easily as breathing. He knew his body like he knew his own name. He let the music become a part of him, a part of his heart. There was no doubt about it, that he was the most beautiful thing in the room.

And he was to be my dance partner.

You see, dear Diary, it all started like this, in a situation where I was late. I am always terribly, terribly late.

*

Louis grabbed his bag from the backseat of the car, turning around so fast that the cup of hot chocolate which had been resting on the dashboard spilt and drizzled onto his jeans. He shouted, perhaps a little too loudly as a few students turned their heads to him from the courtyard.

"See, this is why you need to wake up earlier." Zayn said, picking up the empty cup and sighing when he saw the state of his car. Zayn was Louis' driver, or more accurately, the rich husband of Louis' primary school teacher, but he also acted as a personal chauffeur. He was the sort to make mothers with children back away. One of those people with tattoos over every inch of their body but their face, and he was one of those who did not look as if he'd be associated with an excitable schoolboy called Louis.

And yet, here he was, watching Louis scramble out of the car and drop all of his books into the only puddle in sight. "See you later, Louis." He said, shaking his head and laughing to himself. Louis looked up from his books as if to say, 'why does this only happen to me'. Zayn smiled, rolled the window up, and drove away.

He watched Louis out of the rearview mirror. The boy hadn't brushed his hair, and those chestnut strands were a complete mess today. His shirt was buttoned wrong, his tie was lopsided, and it did not come as a surprise to Zayn when he watched another car roll through the puddle and splash Louis with mud. Zayn could perhaps feel empathy for him, for the fact that he was a walking disaster, but he knew that Louis-if given the chance-wouldn't change for the world. He was happy, he'd always been happy, and he always would be happy.

At least, that was how it was supposed to be. But life isn't quite fair.

*

"Let go of me!" Louis shouted as he was shoved onto a row of yellow lockers that all clanged when his back hit them. He yelped as a padlock was smashed into his spine, but he quickly forgot the pain when a thick arm pinned him down by the chest. He opened his blue eyes and a very ugly bulldog grimaced back at him. Ah, not a bulldog, but a human thing that went by the name of Shawn. In any case, he had a face like a bulldog, and his breath smelt as bad.

"Let me go, it hurts!" Louis said again, struggling against a grasp that he knew would win him over. He could feel people staring, but he could feel the slight pain in his heart more when he realised that not one of those people was willing to help a brat like him.

"What's this?" Shawn said, spitting on Louis' face as his teeth were bucked. He had a lisp and crossed eyes, and if he were in Harry Potter, he'd probably be the ugly cousin of the Weasely's. "Is this you?" He asked, loosening his grip of Louis' chest to show him a sheet of paper with the words "Ballet Applicant" at the top of it in pink letters.

"No, Shawn." Louis said, finally able to push Shawn's hairy arm away from his chest. "That is a piece of paper. I am not a piece of paper. I am a Louis." He spoke slowly, as he felt as if Shawn didn't understand much.

As if proof to his theory, Shawn blinked at him for a few moments until he finally had the brains to get angry again and shove Louis back against the locker. "Listen, dipshit, this is you on here." He said, flailing the sheet around, "Why did you sign up for the ballet? As if you could ever dance. You can't even stand on your own two feet without tripping up."

Louis opened his mouth, his eyes watering from the tight grip on his chest, "I can try.." He said, coughing, "What's it got to do with you, anyway?"

Shawn grabbed him by the shirt and slammed him twice against the locker. This time, Louis felt those tears escape and run down his face. He looked down. "Leave me alone." He said, "I may be clumsy, but I can try."

He looked up and pushed Shawn so hard that he even surprised himself when the boy stumbled back. He began to walk off, trailing his bag behind him, but Shawn called his name, "Oi, dipshit." He said. Louis stopped. "Let's make a deal. At the ballet show, dance without falling once, and I won't come near you for a whole two months." and under his breath, he added, "That'll get rid of those bruises of yours.. I didn't realise that I'd made so many.."

Louis didn't turn around, but he stood there for a few moments, and finally, he said, "Two whole months? You promise?"

Shawn smiled, "Promise."

It may have seemed foolhardy to accept such a deal, but Louis nodded without hesitation. He did not have any faith in himself; he knew that even a lifetime of dancing wouldn't save him from his clumsiness, but the thought of not being pushed into a locker, or humiliated in front of his friends, or having his head shoved into a toilet was all rather nice to think about. Even if the bruises on his body wouldn't leave and they'd continue to return over and over again, at least he could have a place of comfort, and he needed a place like that, because he was sure that he'd lose his mind soon.

*

I hope you have your dancing shoes on, because the curtain will rise.

Swan Lake is also available on AO3 with the same title. "Swan Lake - Larry Stylinson" by LHNameless (the link is in my bio.)

Written with my love, Lucy