Louis and Harry met when they were both dancers attending the Royal Ballet School in London. Louis had been there since he was just eleven years of age, nearly 6 years now, but Harry was a transfer. A boy just gracing the cusp of fifteen. Louis, albeit a bit smug and cocky, took Harry immediately under his wing. The two were instant friends, but quickly became much, much more. But something got in the way. Louis is one jealous bastard, and he knows his worth. He knows how good of a dancer he is. So when auditions came around for A Midsommar Night’s Dream? He and Harry were both first in line for sign ups. I mean, how could Louis not be? His favorite dancer ever, the magical, perfect Alex Beauchamp, was directing the show. He couldn’t miss that for the world. Neither boy landed a leading role, but they do land supporting roles, which is better than nothing. Louis wasn’t ever really in it for the show. He was in it for the infamous Paris trip. The trip that every single RBS student dreamed of, something that was whispered about in the hallways for generation after generation of candidates. Beauchamp picks one student, the student whom he deems the one with the most prowess and work ethic, to go with him to Paris to sightsee and watch Swan Lake. Louis has hoped since he was a measly first year that Beauchamp would pick him. So, God forbid if he was a little fucking jealous when Beauchamp picked Harry of all people. Not that he’s a bad dancer. He’s pretty damn good, no matter how bad their instructor berates him for his technique, but seriously. Louis put his all into getting picked for this trip, and Harry just kinda— showed up and fumbled his way into it. When Harry left for his trip, he was all giddy smiles and excited questions. He’d never been to Paris before, let alone for something so serene. Louis was happy for him, truly, he just had to bite back the nausea that rose in his throat when he thought too hard about it. When Harry returned from his three day escapade, he was different. Not I’m too good for everybody now kind of different. Not the way Hans Faust was after he ended up in the society pages. Just— different. There was a less lively atmosphere about him. He started skipping class. Spending every waking moment in the studio, even sleeping in the studio. He starts to ignore Louis, despite countless efforts. Then, Louis’ dream comes true. Alex Beauchamp invites him to go with him to Kiev as an assistant choreographer for two weeks. The first thing Louis does is tell Harry, and then he starts packing. The kicker? Harry ruins it. Harry convinces Beauchamp to take him to Kiev instead of Louis. Louis sobs and sobs, hurls some very mean insults at Harry, but it changes nothing. After the Kiev trip, Louis’ Kiev trip that Harry ripped right out from under him, things change. Louis and Harry don’t talk anymore. Matter of fact, Harry doesn’t talk to anyone anymore. Any friends he had sided with Louis, leaving Harry to fend for himself. Louis is bitter, and he absolutely holds grudges. When graduation rolls around, Louis and all his friends get signed to The Royal Ballet Company, right there in London. But not Harry. Harry gets signed to the Bolshoi. The best goddamn dance company in the world. All the way in Moscow. And just like that, he’s never to be seen again. Well, actually, he’s plastered on the cover of every magazine, and he’s in every dance catalog, and he’s starring front and center in every production the Bolshoi puts on. It’s like he’s haunting Louis. Him and that stupid trip to Kiev. But, really? It was never about the trip.