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he lay all of his scripts out on the kitchen table and started

systematically going through them, highlighting passages and picking

out pages to make copies of for the kids he‟s working with now. That

felt good too, but the work went quickly, and once he used up all his

sticky tabs he didn‟t know what to do with his hands.

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He needed something else, afraid if he didn‟t keep moving he‟d

backslide and wind up right back where he started. He ended up

digging out his trainers and deciding to start going for morning runs,

just from his flat to the little park nearby and back again. If he‟s being

completely honest, he ends up walking more often than he actually

runs, but it‟s still nice. He likes strapping his iPod to his arm and

wearing the running shorts he bought special as if he were a real

runner—makes him feel like he‟s in an advert for sports drinks or

something. And besides, it gets him out in the fresh air, which helps

more than he ever expected it to.

He was heading home from one of his walks one morning when he

passed a sign stuck up on a post advertising auditions for some

community theater production, little rip-off tabs with the address and

date of the tryouts at the bottom. Louis stared at it for a long minute

before taking one, then he immediately reconsidered and ripped the

whole poster down instead, shoving it in his pocket and jogging off.

He spent a week in his flat rehearsing, and when he finally went in for

auditions he was so nervous he thought he might be sick all over the

judges, but in the end he actually landed a decent role. It‟s the first time

in forever he‟s actually gotten something he tried out for, and that feels

incredible, having someone objective tell him that yes, he is actually

good at the thing he loves to do.

His acting workshops started up around the same time as rehearsals for

his play, so now his time is split between working with the kids during

the day and going to rehearsal at night. He loves being in a cast again,

loves singing and learning the choreography and practicing his lines,

loves getting feedback from his director and watching the whole thing

come together from the inside. Sure, the dressing rooms smell

distressingly of fish, and the male lead has a truly impressive ability to

miss his cues, but still. It‟s fun, every bit as fun as he remembered. He

missed this so much.

His castmates have little get togethers sometimes down at the pub, but

he always begs off, no matter how much they try to talk him into it.

That‟s another thing, the whole being around people thing. He‟s trying

to ease back into it, but being around Liam and Zayn still hurts a lot so

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he can‟t handle them for long. He feels like a dick for avoiding them,

especially when Liam is making so much of an effort to get to know

Louis better. He even offers to go running with Louis when he hears

about his new pastime, but Louis keeps putting him off. He needs that

time to just be his for now. Also, Liam makes the mistake of revealing

that he was once on the Olympic reserve team for the 1000 metre—of

course he was—and if Louis had been considering accepting his

company he definitely wouldn‟t after that. Nothing like an Olympic

runner to make you feel inadequate when you‟re jogging along to Girls

Aloud.

So maybe it‟s taking him longer to get back into being social, but he‟s

taking baby steps. He starts calling Stan every afternoon to tell him

about his day or sometimes just to talk. Stan is more than willing to put

up with it, and those conversations become sort of an anchor, enough to

keep him from totally isolating himself. He structures his days this

way—wake up, tea, brush his teeth, run, do things, call Stan, do more

things, sleep, repeat. It‟s a little ridiculous, and sometimes it‟s a chore

to make himself stick to it, but it keeps him from sinking back into his

depression or getting lost in his own head. It‟s good for him.

Of course, there‟s still Harry, but when you miss someone every second

of the day, when it comes as steady as breathing, you learn to live with

it. And Louis does. It‟s not something that keeps him from his life.

Instead it follows him everywhere, every stage he walks across, every

hallway of the school, every inch of his flat, every night in the pub and

run to Tesco's. It rides along in the passenger seat of his car and waits

for him in the bath. It‟s an ache and a shadow and it‟s his, and he lives

with it now. Sometimes it‟s almost enough to make him feel like he‟s

not alone in his bed.

Sometimes there are moments that hurt more. There are always little

sharp edges for Louis to catch himself on, little pins to prick him.

Sometimes it‟s just a song on the radio that he knows Harry always

liked, or an advert for a sappy romantic comedy he‟s sure Harry would

be dying to see. Sometimes it‟s the weather when he wakes up in the

morning, or a boy with curly hair in line in front of him at the coffee

shop. One night the middle of tidying up his flat, it‟s the hoodie he

finds shoved under his bed that still smells faintly of Harry, and he puts

it on and sleeps in it that night.

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It‟s times like those that Louis is so, so thankful for his job. The whole

summer acting workshop idea must have been some kind of stroke of

feverish genius from July-Louis‟ mess of a brain, because it‟s been the

thing keeping him going. The community theater stuff is really, really

great, and it feels so good to perform again, but the kids. There‟s no

element of competition or insecurity with the kids, no worrying if he‟s

keeping up with anybody else. He thinks it‟s good for him to be

challenged by something right now, but it‟s also so good to just have

the kids. It‟s good to feel like he‟s still doing something for somebody.

There are about a dozen kids signed up for the program, which isn‟t a

terribly huge turnout but far more than he expected. He takes them in

shifts, a couple of hours of one-on-one time twice a week for each of

them, and he‟s thankful for something that keeps him in his classroom

and out of his lonely flat for most of the day.

Stuart Standhill was one of the first kids to sign up when Louis put up

the posters, and if he‟s being honest, he‟s one of Louis‟ favorite

students to work with. The kid has got talent, and it‟s a thrill to feel like

he‟s contributing to something that‟s going to be great someday. He

makes Stuart memorize monologues from movies, scenes from

television shows, dozens of foreign accents, anything he can think to

throw at him, and Stuart takes to it all like a fish to water. Louis knows

he‟s going to be a star.

This afternoon is no exception. It‟s their final session since the first

term is only a week away, and Stuart decided to turn it into a one-man

review of everything they‟ve worked on, ranging from an impassioned

recitation from Braveheart to an entire Monty Python sketch. Louis

gives him a standing ovation at the end and Stuart takes an elaborate

bow. He tells Stuart how great he‟s done, how he thinks he‟s destined

for big things, and Stuart beams and blushes and thanks him again and

again.

Louis has just started gathering up the scripts he brought along and

packing them back into his bag when he notices Stuart still hovering in

front of him.

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“Anything else I can do for you?” Louis says.

“Um, yeah, actually,” Stuart says. “Can I. Um. Can I talk to you about

something?”

Louis freezes, hunched over his bag. Stuart is looking back at him,

aiming for casual, but the hands clenched into fists in his pockets give

him away. This, Louis thinks, is it. This is finally it.

“Anything,” Louis says, setting his bag aside. He comes back around

the desk cautiously like Stuart might get spooked and run at any

moment. “You can close the door, if you‟d like.”

“Okay,” Stuart says, sounding relieved. He backtracks to the door of

Louis‟ room and pulls it shut before taking a seat in a desk in the front

row. He looks incredibly small. Louis leans back against his own desk,

trying to look as relaxed as possible. He can feel them both holding

their breath.

“So,” Stuart begins. “Um. I‟ve been thinking a lot lately, and it‟s like, I

don‟t really know who to talk to about this stuff, but it‟s. You know.

It‟s something I need to talk to somebody about, and I kind of feel like

I can talk to you?” Brave words, but he doesn‟t seem to be quite able to

look at anything but his cuticles.

“Of course,” Louis says, smiling gently. “And nothing has to leave this

room, all right?”

Stuart bites his lip and steels his shoulders. “Okay. Um. Well.” He

laughs a little, nervously, before finally looking up at Louis. “I‟m gay.”

Louis keeps his face as neutral as possible, setting aside all his thoughts

of yes dear I know and you and me both and oh I‟m so proud of you.

Instead, he just says, “Okay.”

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Stuart nods, as if Louis has said something of value. “Okay.” He

swallows hard, drumming his fingernails on the desk. “Wow.”

“Wow what?” Louis asks. Has he managed to screw this up already.

Stuart scuffs his feet lightly against the linoleum. “It‟s just that, well, I

guess I'm still not used to saying that out loud.” Even now, he can‟t

stop moving, fiddling with the zipper of his hoodie, and Louis is filled

with such blind affection he can‟t quite stand it.

“How does it feel?” Louis thinks of his mother crying on the couch

eight years or so back, but also of his first days of uni and a girl with a

rainbow pin who shook his hand at orientation and the rush of power

that came with a simple “me too.”

“Fucking terrifying,” Stuart laughs. “And good. Really, really good.”

Louis believes it, sees it in the way he‟s relaxed back into his seat.

“Sounds about right,” Louis says with a smile, hoping that it‟s enough

to confirm what he knows Stuart must suspect. “So how long ago did

you, ah, come to this conclusion?”

Stuart runs both his hands through his hair and lets out a breath. “I

don‟t know. It‟s difficult to say, because like, I think I always knew?”

Louis nods. “But I guess, I don‟t know, I never wanted to admit it to

myself? It‟s scary. Like, proper fucking—sorry, sir—proper terrifying.”

He grins when he sees that Louis isn‟t going to chastise him for the

slip. “And, I don‟t know, I never wanted to be different, you know?

And I didn‟t want to deal with everything that came with it, and I didn‟t

want to let anybody down, because I guess I thought that‟s what it

would be. Letting people down. Somehow. So I just boxed it away, I

suppose. But I think it‟s always been there.”

“That makes sense,” Louis nods. “Though I hope you don‟t still feel

that being gay makes you any sort of letdown, Stuart.” He‟s pleased to

see him shake his head, though he doubts it‟s as easy as the boy is

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making it out to be. “What made you change your mind? About telling

people. If you don‟t mind my asking.”

Stuart, who Louis has seen do an interpretation of the mating dance of

the male honeybee without hesitation, actually blushes at that, and oh,

isn‟t this getting interesting. “Um. Do you know Mike Kendall? Red

hair, on the footy team? He was one of the T-Birds in Grease?”

Well, well, well. “Yeah, of course I know him.”

“He‟s kind of, um, my boyfriend.” And if Louis thought Stuart was

squirmy before, it‟s nothing to how he is now, tapping his feet and

tugging on his sweatshirt cuffs and utterly failing to fight a smile.

Oh, Louis wants to hold a parade for this kid. “Is that so.”

“Yeah. It was like, I don‟t know. We‟d gone to school together forever

but we never really knew each other? Like, obviously I knew who he

was, but I never really thought about him. But then he was in the play

with me and I helped him with the choreography and stuff and we

started getting to know each other.” Louis thinks of the two of them

dancing in their leather jackets and wishes he‟d managed to catch it on

film. “And, I don‟t know, I was kind of in awe of him. Because my

absolute worst fear, like, the thing that kept me up at night, right? It had

actually happened to him, as bad as it could get, and he seemed like he

was okay. Like, everybody found out he was gay, and he just kept

doing what he always did.” Stuart‟s full-on beaming now, looking at

Louis like he‟s just so happy to be able to brag about how wonderful