Cheeky ➻ Louis Partridge

28 | Save The Last Dance

If you live in london, i'm so sorry it doesn't fit this chapter all to well, but just imagine you live somewhere else for the sake of this story sfjsfijsnia, sorry! 

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Y/N

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･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* One Month Later *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

"IT'S OVER," I mumbled softly, "all done."

I felt like the summer had flown by faster than I could count on my fingers, because I was about to leave the next morning. Leave to go back home. Leave the theater. Leave London.

Leave Louis.

I brought it up once or twice after opening night, just to remind the boy that I was only staying in London for a summer, but it still felt like we were both unprepared for it. I just wanted to stay a while longer, even if it was just one day.

"Hey," Louis said, plopping down beside me, "whatcha' thinking about?"

I was sitting on the empty stage, staring out into the dark abyss of the theater. We stayed after the last show to clean things up, but I mostly only wanted to spend a few moments with the place. I loved it here. It was like my second home.

Exhaling, I turned to look at my boyfriend, who was giving me a sympathetic smile.

"Tomorrow," I sighed, "and leaving."

We discussed it a few times, but we never had a serious discussion. Maybe this was the time to do so. There really wasn't any other time left.

"Then stay," he said, wrapping his arm around me, "move here for school, and then we can graduate together."

I sighed, "you know I can't do that..."

I had a family that was waiting for my return, a school that had yet to start, and a house that was just waiting for me to walk back into. I hated that I had to walk out of Louis' life just to walk back into my old one.

Which is what worried me.

"Please stop worrying," Louis said softly, his eyelids drooping slightly, "I don't like it when you worry."

"I can't help it," I admitted, biting my lip, "you'll be so...far away."

"Long distance is only hard if all you do is think about the space between us," he said, "just remember that I'm still on the other side of the call, wishing I was right next to you."

"I'll be wishing back."

There was another moment of silence, before Louis decided to switch the subject. It was too much disappointment for one sitting.

"I can make you some tea," he suggested, nudging me softly, "what will it be? Blackfriars? Jester?"

"I don't want any tea, at the moment," I laughed gently, "but thank you."

I turned my head back to the empty seats, remembering what it felt like to bow on stage. It was like I was champion of the world that night.

I usually hated standing in front of a crowd (stage fright, and such), but when Louis was holding my hand, I felt so much better. Almost like I belonged up there with him.

"A few miles isn't too bad," he said, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly, "it's only like...a couple thousand."

I cocked a brow, "a couple thousand?"

"At least it isn't a million."

"I suppose you're right," I nodded, "we'll have to make do."

Louis bit his lip in thought, as if he had a million thoughts running through his head. Thinking about it, now I realized how lucky I was to be one of them.

"I'll visit you for the holidays," he said, leaning his head on my shoulder, "and you can visit me for the summer."

"Sounds good."

"Every summer."

"Every?"

"Yes," he stated, clapping his hands together, "no exceptions, I won't allow it."

"Louis—"

"Promise me," He smiled.

"Promise."

I laughed, resting my head on top of his. I would miss moments like these. All these beautiful moments that I was so lucky to have. I expected us to sit and stare out into the abyss before us, but Louis apparently had other plans.

Snatching up my hand, he grinned, "want to dance?"

I blinked in surprise, "what?"

"Would you like to dance with me?" He repeated, "on the stage?"

"I don't see why not."

Stumbling onto my feet, Louis held out his hand and waited for me to take it. There wasn't any music, or noise in the theater, but we didn't mind. We just danced to the music in our heads.

To the sounds of our feet tapping against the ground, to the sounds of the breathy laughs we'd exhale, and the sounds of the muffled traffic outsides.

That was music enough for us.

I think it was such a small, but important memory we shared, because it made one thing clear to the both of us. Dancing with each other was the best way to dance. We didn't care how silly we looked, or how many times we stepped on each other's feet, we just wanted to spend as much time as possible together.

But that meant another thing to me.

I never wanted to dance with anyone else again. 

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ONE AND 1/2 CHAPTERS LEFT!