Hold Me Closer

Act I

l.

On the morning of what may prove to be the biggest day of his professional career, Louis wakes up, pulse racing, before his alarm can even go off. He's not totally sure that he's actually slept at all--it's felt much more like he's just been vaguely drifting in and out of a doze.

It's understandable. Today is Contract Day at the English National Ballet, and by the end of the day, Louis might be the youngest Principal Dancer in the company's history.

Or Simon might screw him over completely and he might be kept as a first fucking soloist for another year. Louis has learned that trying to predict the whims of his artistic director is an exercise in futility, but it hasn't yet stopped him from trying.

Simon has probably already made his decision on whether or not to promote Louis, but that doesn't mean that looking great is going to hurt. Louis made sure to save his favourite gray tights and his lucky dance belt for today. He adds a tight blue henley that he has been told sets off his eyes nicely (fine, he said it himself, sue him) and tugs on trackies for the tube ride. Louis learned his lesson at a young age about the dangers of riding the tube in just tights. Not at all worth it.

He's buzzing with energy by the time that he makes it to South Kensington and walks into the studio doors. Just like every time he walks in, Louis can't quite believe his luck. Not only does he get to dance for one of the premiere ballet companies in the UK, but it's the one that truly changed his life when he saw their production of Coppélia on tour when he was just eight. Somehow, in just less than twenty years, Louis has gone from being in the audience to being up for leading roles in the company.

Insane.

Louis stops off in the smallest, least used loo in the studios before morning class begins to get himself together a bit. There's obviously a locker room that most of the dancers use, but Louis has developed his routines over the years, and one of the most necessary is not spending too much time interacting with the company before class begins. Like, Louis enjoys the gossip and incestuous nature of a ballet company, but if he hears everything before class then he tends to struggle to focus a bit. So spending time elsewhere is self-preservation, really.

After a quick piss, Louis stands in front of the mirror, adjusting his hair and adding a touch more product. Image is everything in ballet, and Louis is not too proud to admit that he cares about looking his best. He sheds the trackies from the tube and turns, craning his neck to make sure that his arse looks as delectable as he knows it ought to. Just as he gets to the right angle, the door bursts open and Louis finds himself suddenly knocked backwards into the sink.

"Oops, I'm so sorry, oh my god--are you okay?" Louis's attacker blurts out in an attractively deep voice. Once Louis has peeled himself off the sink a bit, he gets a better look at the bloke who apparently can't open a bathroom door safely. A bit taller than Louis, nice curly hair (even if weirdly styled, with a scarf or something in it), lovely green eyes, great forearms. Wearing trackies and a tight tshirt, so probably here to audition for the corps--although he looks a bit old for that. Regardless, this lad is definitely worth Louis's forgiveness.

"Hi," Louis says, smiling brightly up at him with a grin designed specifically to disarm people. "No harm done. You all right there?" He gives a bit of a pointed look to the guy, who remains very much in Louis's personal space.

The man startles and takes a step back. "Er, yeah. Sorry. Uh. I, um, didn't realize that this toilet was so... small."

"I've been knocked into in here before," Louis admits, still smiling. "Here for an audition, then?"

"Um... something like that," the bloke mutters, running a hand through his hair. He doesn't seem inclined to expand on that, and Louis really does have to go.