Shake Me Down L.S

Chapter 27

Harry's hands freeze over the piano keys when he hears the click of someone opening the door to his practice room. He pivots to see Louis pushing open the door with his elbow, hands preoccupied with holding cups of tea. "Hey," Harry says, scooting over on the piano bench to make room for Louis, who gives him a peck on the lips and one of the teas. Definitely Harry's new favorite form of greeting.

Louis nods at the two empty cups of tea perched atop the piano. "Didn't know I was enabling something of a minor addiction, here," he teases.

"Oh, yeah." Harry stacks the empty cups and tosses them in the trash bin. "One was supposed to be for Zayn, but he's not in the studio tonight."

"I think he and Liam are chilling at home," Louis says. "They were in our room when I left. 'Working' is the official word, but..." Louis shakes his head dubiously.

"I'm starting to see a pattern, where your visits to my practice room are concerned," Harry says, stroking an imaginary beard. "Is that the only reason you're here? To distract yourself from the knowledge that Liam and Zayn are getting it on in your room?"

"And to spend time with my lovely boyfriend," Louis says sweetly, planting an emphatic kiss on Harry's lips (he tastes like tea). Then Louis turns to inspect the sheet music that Harry has been working on. "'Summer Nights'!" he says, nothing short of thrilled. Directing his attention back to Harry, "Can I hear?"

Harry rubs the back of his neck. "I'm not very good yet," he admits. "Been busy with school and stuff." Harry was actually planning to wait until he had the whole thing down pat before he performed it for Louis. As a surprise, or something. But he doesn't want to make Louis feel bad by telling him that now.

"Just the bit you've practiced?" Louis wheedles, batting his eyelashes. "For me? I've never even heard you play."

Harry chews the inside of his cheek. It's not like he's never played in front of anyone. Harry used to play in front of whole congregations. On a weekly basis. That's just it, though—when Harry played at Mass, he was executing a detached performance for strangers (with a choir that could largely cover up his mistake, if Harry ever really screwed up a chord). To play a song that Harry knows Louis loves, just for Louis, when Harry hasn't even practiced it enough to feel comfortable playing it by himself yet...that seems so much more intimate. And therefore intimidating.

"You don't have to, if you don't want," Louis says, picking up on Harry's hesitation. He sounds regretful. "Seriously, no pressure."

Harry can feel Louis' bouncy happiness from a few moments ago slipping away like an ebbing tide, and he would do anything to get it back. "No, no, I can play it for you," he finds himself saying. Harry arranges his hands on the keys, and the damp tips of his fingers slip on the plastic. He rubs his hands over the thighs of his jeans and repositions himself to start. "It's not going to be very good," he warns Louis, who winds his arm around Harry's waist.

"No pressure," Louis repeats, softer now.

Trying to believe that is like trying to swallow a pill dry, but Harry nods anyway and forces himself to start playing. The song is choppy in some places and limps unevenly in others, but all in all, it's not as horrible as Harry thought it would be.