The One Safe Thing You've Got (1D, AU)

[saralisse]

The One Safe Thing You've Got
theatre/uni AU where they're all dramatic
for me
because sometimes that's necessary
3 December - 4707 words.

Warnings: Eleanor's the main character, late introduction of some of the boys, EDs, SI, body image issues, (TBA).

Coming Soon: a playlist for the fic, because Claire made me think.

They met in the half-dark of an about-to-start rehearsal, rushed words from the props mistress to the stage manager before this pixie of a boy was being all but pushed on Eleanor.

“Show him the ropes, please, I’m late for class!” The props mistress whisper-shouted across the seats as she bounded off down the aisle, booking it for a class she hadn’t cared about last week. The boy blinked at Eleanor slowly, eyes still adjusting to the not-quite blackness of this row. Eleanor sighed in exasperation - she had her own duties to attend to as assistant stage manager, especially since the other assistant was too busy flirting with the chorus girls - or the props mistress, when she showed - to ever offer her help.

“I’m Eleanor, assistant stage manager for the production. I assume you’re the new props assistant?” She waited for the boy to nod in affirmation, but zoomed right on when he went to open his mouth. “We’ve already set rehearsal props for the top of the show, so I’ll just give you a quick tour while the girls finished their second last-minute fitting for the leotards.” She jumped up, flitting through the mass of half-dressed chorus girls after winking at the stage manager. She didn’t check to see if the boy was following her until she got to the backstage doors. She turned and waited at the foot of the stairs that led to the wings, hopping from foot to foot with a nervous energy that only showed when her mind was not fully occupied on fixing this damn show without anyone realizing what she was up to.

The boy stumbled through the crowd ineptly, momentarily lost in a haze of blonde waves and neon spandex. Eleanor was pleasantly surprised that he still looked mostly alive and completely thrilled to be there. She smiled pleasantly before turning to take the stairs two at a time. He groaned despite the fact that there were only four steps to the staircase, only to be rewarded with what he thought was a laugh. It sounded a bit like a dolphin wheezing, but when he reached the dark wings, Eleanor was clearly laughing at him, so that was that.

“I’m Louis?” He offered, before she’d regained her composure and flitted off somewhere else. Her smile was bright and too big on her face, but she was radiating friendliness. She glared at him, her eyes bright in the darkness, before continuing to the props table.

That’s how they began, laughter in the darkness and bright eyes sharing secrets. He was a freshman, new and excited about everything except his past. She was a junior, shrouded in intelligence and sorrow. He had style and confidence and this insatiable charm that brought him more friends than he knew what to do with. She had mystery and strength and this need to take care of people that brought her more broken people than she knew what to do with. They made a very good team.

*****

Somewhere between stolen scarves and happy-drunk pranks and a near-obscene amount of quoting at each other, Eleanor discovers she’s fallen in like. It’s not love, she thinks, not strong enough yet. She’s simply aware that she might very well fall in love with Louis one day, if she’s not careful. They spend the majority of their time together, curled up on opposite ends of his bed doing homework or speaking in half-sentences at dinner while their friends shake their heads. He’s taken her life by force, and it’s kind of funny because she can remember before they met and it doesn’t seem all that different, but she wouldn’t trade it for the sun and the moon and the stars wrapped together.

She’s long since discovered that he was the cute new freshman in her dorm, with the hair that she had simultaneously scoffed at and want to run her fingers through. Her roommate attempts to adopt him into her circle of friends, only to discover that the circle of friends becomes centered around Louis. Everyone is a little bit in love with Louis, and it hurts Eleanor a little to watch how easily he uses that to his advantage. She can’t help but wonder if he’s just using her too.

There are moments when he tells her about his past, opens up about things that aren’t secrets but aren’t always up for discussion either. Moments when he looks at her like she is something from another world, and that he wants nothing more than to always have her in his life. She’s naive, she knows that, too new to the world of love and romance and sex to be anything but.

It’s not that she thinks he likes her. She hasn’t the foggiest why anyone would like her. She’s awkward and shy and too precise and slightly neurotic about being on time and she cares more about the way she words her paper for Shakespeare than she does about keeping all of her friends. She knows they’ll be back when there’s another show, or a big paper due, because that’s why most of them are her friends. She’s not special the way Louis is - people just don’t feel the need to hang out with her. She’s perfectly happy curled up at the foot of his bed observing social interaction anyway.

It’s really just that she wants him to find her important to him. She wants to be necessary to his life. That’s not that much to ask, is it? She knows, logically, that she’s his closest friend at school. It’s only been a few months and she knows his past like it is her own, can recite answers to questions before he remembers them sometimes. It scares her a lot, how quickly she’s acclimated to having him always there - never quite touching, but in a tight orbit.

He comes back from Thanksgiving break with reddish-brown hair, a stark contrast the jet black he’d been sporting previously. She giggles and runs her fingers through it, marveling at how soft it is now that he’s wearing it down, fringe flopping over the edges of his eyes. He smiles and settles into her side, allowing them to be close for a few moments, and she catches a shade of emotion that might be guilt and might be pain, but is more than likely both. She ignores it, and plays with his hair until he sighs and flees to the bathroom to save his image.

The look settles in the back of her mind, though, and it is the first thing that crosses her mind when the other assistant stage manager (ASM) comes up to her backstage during their first tech rehearsal to ask a question.

“What d’you think Louis would say if I asked him out on a date? I mean, he’s single, right?” Eleanor stares at Niall for a second, mind completely devoid of an appropriate response. He just grins at her, completely unaware of the tension clouding Eleanor’s entire body.

“I... he’s not, er, gay, I mean what?” She splutters, her brain finally springing to life halfway through her mouth moving. “He’s single, yeah, but I think he’s sort of focusing on schoolwork, and as far as I know he likes girls? I don’t think he’d be offended but I’d wait until after the show at least. You know how stressful the first mainstage show is.” She half-smiles at Niall, waiting for the squawking sound in her headset to tell her that it’s time to start. She really doesn’t want to think about this right now.

Niall flashes her that shit-eating grin of his, mumbles a “thanks, babe - no hard feelings, right?”, and scampers off to the other wing because that’s what he does  - and oh, thanks! thinks Eleanor.

Niall was her oldest friend at school. They lived on top of each other freshman year - quite literally, her room was directly above his - and that had translated into walking each other home after late rehearsals. There’d been an almost-thing between them once, but Eleanor liked to undermine any potential for future happiness and had instead gotten in a huge fight with him while they were studying abroad last winter. They were still friends, still close - she’d been one of the first to learn that he considered himself bisexual, almost as soon as he’d admitted it to himself. She did that a lot, she thought, but before she could get to analyzing the no hard feelings question, Niall was back.

“Oh, and by the way, I talked to Brooke about the spring show since there’s not an SM for it yet. I’m pretty sure they’re going to choose me!” He scampered off again, genuinely happy and blissfully unaware of the tears welling up in Eleanor’s eyes. She bit her lip, trying desperately to hold it together because the show had to go on, and tears were not going to help her keep the actors from tripping on a lighting instrument.

That role had been hers, though - she’d been working to stage manage a mainstage her entire time here, devoting hours of extra time to finishing the sets or anything else the professors needed. She’d done everything by the book, putting in her time, working her way up the ladder, and Niall had just gone to the professor directing the show and whined a little bit. It just wasn't fair. She'd literally sacrificed her entire life to helping this department, and she'd been snubbed for the position this time around already. She'd actually given up an editorial position on the student creative works magazine last year - an unheard of honor for a sophomore - because she'd been asked to stage manage a small show. And yes, she loved Niall - but god, everything was so easy for him! He'd had the easiest coming out of anyone in the history of ever because Eleanor had coached him through everything. He'd gotten into this school on damn luck, and sometimes Eleanor honestly considered ripping her hair out because she worked so hard for this.

She was so angry, and so frustrated with this damn department, that she didn’t hear the slow footsteps of someone else in the wing.

Arms wrapped themselves around her tightly, and despite her natural reaction to go stiff and then kick whoever it was in the nuts - it was guy, she was certain of it by the biceps alone - she simply took a deep breath. A cloud of cologne entered her lungs instead of air, and she started coughing.

“Louis! You, “ cough cough hack hack, “scared the shit out of me!” Eleanor tried to smile through the coughing and the tears.

“I’m sorry - you were crying! - I was trying to be nice?” He said, flustered by the thought of almost killing his best friend simply by accidentally wearing too much cologne. She laughed tiredly, coughing fit done, and collapsed against his chest, mumbling about warning a girl first as he pulled her into a proper embrace.

*****

After that, Eleanor grew used to Louis’ fascination with overpowering cologne. It’s always the same scent - Fierce from Abercrombie & Fitch - and he wore so much that Eleanor could tell if he’d been in a room for at least half an hour later. The first time that had happened, she’d been walking to grab some lunch with Niall and Liam after a long day in the shop - her only class was Tech Theatre, so it’s not like she’d skipped anything to fix that damn set - and she stopped dead halfway through the student union building.

“Louis ‘s been here. I can smell him.” Her face lit up in a lazy smile, glancing about to see if he was nearby. She misses the eye-rolling of her companions completely, but Liam snickers a little. She turns to glare at him. “What’s so funny, Liam?”

“It’s just... you can smell Louis?” He smirks filthily, and Eleanor is so taken aback by Liam’s suggestion that she forgets to answer for a second.

Liam is a junior, like Eleanor, but he’s been the golden child of the tech department since he arrived at their school. He’s done every single show. Eleanor isn’t far behind, but the professors don’t love her as much as they love Liam. He’s deceptively innocent and put-together, and he loves building sets and designing light plots. Eleanor would kill for his skill at drafting groundplans. She’s settled for friendship, though.

Niall starts laughing this time, and Eleanor remembers she has to respond. Shit.

“He wears his cologne really strong, y’know? It tends to linger if he stays in one spot for a while, and no one else on campus wears it - so it’s just the cologne, really.” If Eleanor is good at anything, it’s lying about how strongly she feels. While what she just said was true, it was not the whole truth - she’d left out the bit about how that scent calmed her down now, helped ground her when she was growing paranoid about all the things that could possibly go wrong at any given moment. She’d also left out the bit where she prefers how he smells after he goes out for a smoke and forgets to respray his cologne.

Eleanor’s got this thing where she can’t smell cigarette smoke. She can’t smell weed, either, which lessens the fun of college parties quite a bit. She’s barely 21 at this point, so she’s always ended up the designated walker - driving is pointless when it takes ten minutes to cross all of campus. Parties have never really been her scene., but Louis has been dragging her to them lately because she’s chill about him smoking in front of her. The fact that he’s got Niall and Zayn to smoke with seems to be a moot point - oh. The boys had apparently accepted her answer and continued on to the cafeteria while she’d been thinking.

They wandered into the cafeteria, Eleanor trailing a little behind. She's never realized how odd it must be for her brain to be so focused on Louis. She'd never meant to become obsessed or anything like that - they were best friends. She just knew things about him. Liam and Niall seemed to think that was a bad thing. And while she could chalk up Niall's disapproval to jealousy, Liam was not that kind of guy. Liam and Eleanor had never had anything more than just friendship between them. She was glad for that - it was nice to have someone who was honest with her all the time, because Liam never had to worry about accidentally breaking a fragile bond. They were just pals - hell, she was basically his bro. She stifled a giggle as the mental image of her crashing a bro night appeared.

There's never anything good to eat in the cafeteria, and today is no exception. She rolls her eyes at the pasta creation filled with mushrooms and onions - a kitchen classic here - and continued to the sandwich line. Sandwiches were the only place you were assured a vaguely healthy meal that also tasted good. The salads weren't really an option, seeing as the lettuce was usually a pale shade of brown. She'd maybe get some garbanzo beans, though - those looked mostly edible today, and would make her feel better about the bread.

Eleanor did not have an eating disorder. Yes, she was uncomfortable in her own skin. Yes, she was a little overweight. Yes, she wanted to change that. Yes, she often forgot to eat - but that was mostly because she was always running to the next thing she had to get done. It wasn't a problem.

Her friends were never quite sure if they should believe that, though. Eleanor could feel Liam's eyes watching her, making sure she grabbed enough food to keep her on her feet for the rest of the day. It made her uncomfortable, the way she knew they watched her like she was going to snap. She wasn't stressed, she wasn't neglecting herself, she was fine.

When she got to the table, she found that her group had grown to include Zayn, Andy, and - of course- Louis. She stiffened a little, not wanting to deal with the tension between Niall and Zayn while Louis flirted his way through the meal. There was nothing she could do, though. Liam would know something was wrong and make her talk about it if she disappeared now. Taking a deep breath, she sat down between Liam and Zayn, greeting the table in the process.

"Hey guys."

"Hi, love - how was that test?" Louis smiled, the wattage still so bright the sun should be jealous.

"Hm - Oh, it was fine. I don't think I failed, at least." Eleanor'd sat a unit exam  in her Postcolonial Literature class this morning. She really looked up to the professor, and had been excessively nervous as a result. They'd just finished the India unit, and she'd loved every second of the in-class analysis. Her exam paper had focused on Midnight's Children by Salman Rushdie, but was mostly a piece on the cultural significance placed on events, and how that was significant in the creation of national identity, but also how it encouraged ethnocentric difficulties. She'd gotten to talk about Hitler and magical realism, so it was at least an interesting paper.

"I'm glad. Now you can relax, right?" Eleanor caught a hint of worry in Lou's eyes when he asked.

"I wish! I've got the 17th Century British Poetry and Milton paper to start, and the One-Act Festival to manage, and Caleb needs help in house management, and..." Eleanor stopped talking as she felt the collective sigh at the table.

"You really should take a break, love."

"I know, Louis - someday, alright?"

He nodded, but she could tell he'd be having a talk her her later. She returned to picking at her sandwich, watching as her friends grew loud and boisterous together.

Louis was tossing crunchy fries down Zayn's shirt, trying to score a perfect game of breasketball. Niall was staring jealously from across the table, and Eleanor wasn't sure if he was more jealous of the props mistress or her bright assistant. Liam and Andy were deep in discussion about their newest strategy for League of Legends, and how they were totally going to be unstoppable.

Eleanor smiled. This was an alright life, she supposed.

*****
“You’re not sleeping again.”

They were in Louis' room, quiet except for the rustle of pages and chittering keyboard. Eleanor was curled into the corner of Lou's bed that was overhung by his roommate's, stuffed into the corner with pillows everywhere. She was decidedly not under his comforter despite the cold - he had a thing about people being actually in his bed, although it had happened once. Louis was sprawled at his desk, one foot resting on the bed and one hooked over his printer, typing out some paper for his Psych class.

"I know you heard me, Eleanor. You aren't sleeping, are you?"

Eleanor blinked up at Louis - were they really doing this now? She had to be at a production meeting for a senior project she’d been asked to work on in half an hour, and she really wanted to finish at least half of her reading before that. She made an incoherent noise that could have been ‘yes’ and could have been ‘no’ but was mostly ‘shut up I’m reading’.

Louis sighed and disentangled himself from the desk, gently taking the book from her hands. He marked the page she was on and put the book on the other side of his desk, out of her reach. Eleanor curled in on herself a little, not wanting to listen to this again, but Louis put a hand on her cheek, softly encouraging her to look at him.

“El, love - you can’t do this to yourself. You need to sleep. I know you feel like the theatre’d burn down without you pulling it all together, but you’ve got to trust Liam and the others to hold it together sometimes too. Stop killing yourself over homework - you’ve told me yourself that reading for that class is pointless. I need you to promise me that you’ll sleep tonight - at least six hours - because you can’t keep going like this. You’re going to collapse in the cafeteria one of these days, and I couldn’t handle watching you be taken away on a stretcher, love. I can’t lose you right now, so please don’t make me try. The world will not fall apart while you sleep, and your strength won’t hold up forever. You’re not Samson....” Louis trailed off, apparently a little lost at how to conclude his speech. Eleanor, however, was trying to hold back giggles.

“I’m not Samson? Did you honestly just make a Biblical reference to encourage me to sleep?" Eleanor's tone was scathing but her smile bright.

“Yes, I made a Biblical reference. You should be proud - that’s all your influence!”

“I can still laugh at you, darling.” She rolled her eyes at him, moving out of his grasp and to the other end of his bed. He flopped his hand dramatically on the bed after her, missing her leg by a few feet. They both giggled, and his body tenses like he might pounce on her for a tickle fight, when the door swung open and Louis’ roommate, Reinhard - exchange student from Germany - swept in, throwing a glare at Louis and Eleanor.

“Louis, we’re going to play rugby in five. Paddy’s threatened your life if you don’t join us this time.”

Louis groaned. Paddy was the British exchange student living two doors down from Reinhard and Louis. The first time Lou had refused to play rugby with the boys, they’d called him a pansy and  worse.

Eleanor had found him curled up under his blankets, pillows tossed to the floor except the ratty one that had been his grandmother’s before him. She’d gone searching for him when he hadn’t shown up for dinner. It was the night they’d planned to eat together, just the two of them, in the cafeteria and catch up now that the mainstage was finished and he was back from his trip home over fall break. When he hadn’t showed, Eleanor had been worried. Just one sight of the boy in front of her was enough to tell her that she had every right to be worried.

“Louis? Are you alright?”

A muffled sigh revealed that he was not fully awake, and Eleanor shuffled closer to the bed, reaching out to touch his arm and anchor him to the waking world.

“Louis?”

“Eleanor - what....”

“We were meeting for dinner? Liam said you missed your mentor/coffee appointment with him as well.”

“Shit - I’m so sorry.”

“Love, it’s fine. I brought you a Magic Bagel and a pear in case you’re hungry.” Magic Bagels were just normal bagels with peanut butter and cinnamon sugar on top.

Louis’ head finally emerged from the comforter a little, and Eleanor could see the red around his eyes and the tear-streaks on his cheeks. He smiled a little, and rubbed at his eyes as he sat up.

“Is everything okay?”

“You know me - always peachy!”

She’d stared at him with sad eyes until he said, haltingly, “Paddy and Reinhard said some stuff, just stupid things. I guess it kind of got to me.” His face twisted into the puffy-cheeked pout that meant he was trying not to cry, and she gently sat down on the bed next to him so she could curl into his side and hug him properly. He had squirmed a little in her arms, and she’d just squeezed tighter, until he was giggling and she was smiling, so full of love and pride (It was more dangerous to be this close to him than she thought).

Sometime later, she’d learned that they’d mixed words together, words like “fairy” and “faggot” and “fuck”, to spin insults that would make even the most homophobic students cringe a little. Eleanor marveled at their alliterative powers, but her heart ached for Louis. Poor, darling Louis, who already had to deal with the whole department just deciding he was gay and treating him according to those stereotypes, who was so much stronger than the world seemed to give him credit for, and who was consistently by her side when he needed her. He seemed to be holding it together without her, though, so she let it go - except in her head, where she stored it neatly away in her “Things To Worry About” box, in the “Louis” folder. It was getting a little full.

So when Reinhard storms into the room, Eleanor is prepared.

Louis looks at El, face full of apology and the hint of fear.

“Go, have fun with Paddy and Reinhard. I steal you away all the time!”

“Are you sure, El? I mean, we were - I already skipped out on you once.”

“I have a meeting in like, ten minutes, anyway. Ohmygod, I have a meeting in ten minutes - I have to leave!” She smiles encouragingly at Louis, packing her bag up frantically.

“Alright, Reinhard, tell Paddy I’ll be out as soon as I change.”

Eleanor has gathered her stuff and is halfway out the door before she realizes she hasn’t hugged Louis yet. She turns to put her bag down and hug him tightly, only to catch him shucking his shirt off.

This. This is - new.

Louis has never changed his clothes in front of Eleanor. It’s actually a little weird, as he’s probably the only boy in the theatre department that she hasn’t seen almost naked. She can list the boys of the department in order of penis size, for heaven’s sake, but she’s never even seen Louis’ belly button.

Eleanor’s sure that he doesn’t know she’s still there, that he thinks she just rushed off to her meeting - God knows, most of her wants to because what if she’s late? - but she can’t bring herself to actually leave now. She feels a little like she’s approaching a unicorn - or maybe a rabbit - in the wild, as she slowly inches towards him.

He turns just a little, to grab at a different shirt in his closet, and that’s all it takes. He sees her - but she sees them.

His skin is laced in scars. Most of them are pale and straight and a little silvery, shallow and as safe as they can be. Some of them are deeper, darker, shades of a trapped feeling and messy life. On his shoulders, there are the dark pink, wriggly kind - the ones the most people don’t understand, don’t recognize.

Eleanor knows them because she has them too. Her straight ones are so pale that no one would notice unless they were to feel them on her skin, but the wriggly ones - the stretch marks, she forces herself to think - those are painfully obvious. They’re why she still buys a one piece swimsuit, and never volunteers for the body studies in ballet. They’re also clearly why she’s never seen Louis without a shirt on.

Before either of them really register what’s going on, she’s tracing one of the longer stretch marks on his shoulders. He’s tense and rigid, but his eyes are wide with something else, something Eleanor doesn’t recognize. Her fingers are just sort of grazing his skin lazily, and they share a look that means i understand now and i’m sorry but maybe something more than that, too.

And then her phone is ringing and it’s Liam because she’s late, and there are rushed apologies and a flying hug and one loud yell - “You owe me stories!” - before she’s off to stop the theatre from burning down (or at least, save a senior project from collapsing).

Louis just sits there for a bit, shaken, because, well. Fuck.