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Assistant: Title: burn to ash
        Author: bethaboo bethaboo 
        Chapter: 8/20 
        Summary: Harry is sitting there, so f@ck@ng casual, and Louis realizes in a split second he was not ready. When Harry walked out in Detroit and never looked back, he was a boy verging on a man, still only twenty years old, but there's a man in his place now. Hard and resolute, yes, but still, for the first time in a long time, Louis can kind of see the old Harry in him. The soft, directness of his gaze, the hesitant smile he gives to Lou, the way he wrings his ridiculously large hands in his lap.He's a little bit the eager sixteen year old puppy dog again, his innocence and sweetness resurrected miraculously, and Louis freezes in place. He was prepared to face the @ssh@l@ Harry. He was prepared to meet a whole new Harry. Louis is not prepared to meet one of the old incarnations of Harry, and it absolutely tears him up.Or the fic where Harry spirals out of control, the band breaks up, and then he shows back up, five years later.
        Contents: Chapter 8
    

    


      
        
          So sorry this is a bit late. I'm on crazy deadline with my next book and well, the boys are in America, in case you might have missed that.Two things:1. This chapter may feel a bit lighter than some of the others. I felt like we could really use a bit of levity. If this chapter still makes you cry, I apologize in advance :)2. In honor of their opening song in my reunion tour: Stand Up - 1D
      
  

  
  
    
    Harry is right.    Their    first rehearsal is a complete disaster and Louis isn't   even    surprised. One Direction hasn’t performed together in five years,    longer even than they were ever together, and even though they were never exactly the most in sync of boy bands, they’ve all grown apart so much that being even remotely on the same page is    a pipe dream.   
  
     
  
  It doesn’t help that in the interim years since their last (disastrous) tour, all their support staff have    gone their separate ways, and nobody is interested in resuming their former positions. They’ve moved on with their lives and Louis is caught between wondering if he should be moving on with his or    if this reunion tour is actually one of the better ideas that Harry has ever had.   

  
     
  

   The worst loss is Paul. Louis can’t explain how he just assumed the tour manager would be Paul, but he did. Their tour manager has always been Paul. But of course, it makes sense because Paul’s name wasn’t mentioned in any meetings    that he paid attention in, and he hasn’t seen him since the last tour broke up prematurely.   

  
     
  

   The new manager is named Bernard, and they’ve been introduced for about five minutes and already Louis doesn’t like the man. First off, his name is Bernard, so that’s a strike against him already.   

  
     
  

   When he introduced himself, Louis found himself glancing over at Harry to see if he was thinking the same thing he was—and of course, he was. “Bernard,” Harry pipes up, a wide smile on his face, “like Emma Thompson’s horrid son from    Love Actually.”   

  
     
  

   Zayn    chuckles, and Louis valiantly tries to keep his own smile under wraps. He’s supposed to be keeping his distance from Harry.    Giggling over Harry’s comment    like a fond boyfriend is not going to help the situation.   

  
     
  

   As it turns out, the sole individual who doesn’t at least crack a smile at Harry is Bernard himself. Louis frowns, because he can tell right away that giving them a tour manager who lacks a sense of humor is   a really, really bad plan.    Second strike.   

  
     
  

   They might be grownups now, but    deep down,    they’re still    those pain in the ass teenagers. Going on tour is going to bring out all those tendencies all over again. Hell, just being together    in the same room again    will probably bring them out.   

  
     
  

   The third strike is that he's a middle aged square, with a good paunch in the tummy and a sneer that won't quit. Louis thinks he's only maybe a handful years older than he is, but Bernard acts like he's a million times better and wiser than they are, and that just rubs Louis the wrong way.   

  
     
  

   Bernard pulls out a tablet and opens a document, frowning at it, as the five of them stand in front of him. They’re in a warehouse, the stage marked out on the floor in tape, and    Louis is already annoyed about Bernard instead of Paul, and then he asks where the band is and he’s told they aren’t rehearsing with the live band until the last few days of rehearsals.    Until then, they’re going to be using a backing track.    They all frown at this, but Niall is the one who actually speaks up.   

  
     
  

   “That’s not going to work    for us   ,” Niall says,    and Louis thinks he’s actually being    reasonably nice about it. He could have said it was total b@llsh@t because it is. They make real, actual music. They aren’t Britney f@ck@ng Spears in Las Vegas. They’ve never relied on a backing track, and they are definitely not about to start now.   

  
     
  

   “It’ll be fine,” Bernard says distractedly, not even bothering to glance up at Niall as he just casually shoots him down.   

  
     
  

   Louis glances over at Liam, whose frown is deepening. “I don’t think it will be, no,” Liam interjects. And again, Louis thinks he’s being even a hair too nice, even though he can hear that Li’s trotted out his “in charge” voice.   

  
     
  

   Bernard finally looks up from his tablet and Louis doesn’t think he imagines the roll of his eyes. Yeah, he thinks, this is definitely not going to work. Paul, even when they were young and so ridiculously stupid, never, ever patronized them.    He controlled them, yes, because he had to and that was his job. But he never forgot that essentially, he worked for them.   

  
     
  

   Bernard acts like they’re about a week past their expiration date and beginning to smell. Louis    is already    fantasizing    about punching him in the face. And it’s only been about five minutes.   

  
     
  

   Not a great beginning, altogether.   

  
     
  

   “Listen,” Bernard finally huffs out, “I know you think you’re still big shots. But that day is long gone. If you’re lucky, you’ll sell out these dates, you’ll go and sing and nobody will give a sh@t what you actually sound like because this is all just nostalgia for them. You’re a memory from their past that makes them    feel    all warm and fuzzy    inside.”   

  
     
  

   Louis is seriously considering transitioning    from fantasies to reality when Harry speaks up.   

  
     
  

   “You listen,    Bernard,” Harry snaps, “it’s none of your d@mn business why our fans come to our shows. It is however, your business to make sure we can put on the best possible show for those fans.” He pauses. “We’ll tolerate the backing track, today only, because we sure as hell need the practice, but tomorrow, you will have the band here, and they will be playing for us for every rehearsal from here on out.”   

  
     
  

   It’s a pretty decent speech, as Harry’s speeches go, which means that it didn’t take him ten years to spit out all those words. But    Bernard narrows his eyes and    Louis thinks for a    heart wrenching    moment that he’s about to gobble up Harry whole and spit him out, all chewed up, but then    Harry,    dear sweet Harry, who was the nicest, most    accommodating    soul in the universe five years ago, gives him a    pointed    look that Louis actually recognizes.   

  
     
  

   It’s    pure,    vintage Tomlinson    sass, and    Louis actually has to bite his lip so his face doesn’t split in two from the grin he can’t    help.   

  
     
  

   Even better, it seems to shut up Bernard, at least temporarily. He changes the subject then, which is awesome, as far as Louis is concerned.   

  
     
  

   “Liam forwarded me your set list,” Bernard says, and Louis braces for the inevitable argument that’s to    come. No doubt management hates their choices    and Bernard, with    undisguised    glee in his tone, will    tell    them so. “We’ll start at the top.”   

  
     
  

   Bernard is apparently also their choreographer. Or he attempts to be their choreographer. Frankly the effort is just f@ck@ng awful, and as they’re walking through the first song, Louis stops the rehearsal.   

  
     
  

   “This isn’t going to work,” he announces. “No offense, Bernard, but you’re a sh@t    choreographer.”   

  
     
  

   “I thought you didn’t do choreography,” Bernard practically sneers, and Louis is back to fantasizing about bloodying his noise.   

  
     
  

   “We don’t,”    Zayn    inserts in clipped, annoyed tones. “But we can’t just go wherever on the stage.    We used to have a plan. A loose plan, yeah, but a plan.”   

  
     
  

   “I’ll just do it,” Louis says, because he knows    Zayn    was about to volunteer him anyway.   

  
     
  

   They begin to work through the song again, and Louis thinks    again that ‘Stand Up’ was a really strong choice for the opener. It’s not one of their more popular songs, but it’s fun and he thinks that’s kind of what they’re going for here.   

  
     
  

   Bernard mostly stands to the side and sneers and makes notes on his d@mned tablet, but he seems to be okay letting them work things out for themselves. Louis hates having to actually talk to the man, but he can’t avoid consulting him a handful of times. The first time Lou has to    ask a question about the specific layout of the stage and    some of the effects, Bernard is hands down a real @ssh@l@.   

  
     
  

   “Didn’t you get a copy of    the layout?”    Bernard asks, all creamy innocence and Louis is beginning to realize that    punching Bernard is probably not a matter of if, but when.   

  
     
  

   “I did, yes,” Louis grinds out, “but I only glanced at it. I didn’t exactly memorize the damn thing.”   

  
     
  

   Suddenly Harry is right there, at Louis’ elbow, and Lou is not stupid enough to not know the reason why. Harry    knows what this    expression of Louis’    means and no doubt is here to intercede if things get ugly.   

  
     
  

   “You’ll learn that Lou    tunes out most instructions and emails and schedules,” Harry explains, smiling beatifically at Louis, as if this is the greatest trait in the entire universe.    Louis nudges Harry’s foot with his before he even realizes what he’s doing. Harry needs to f@ck@ng turn down the fond. He’s  fonding  all over the place, all over his ex-boyfriend and unfortunately Louis loves it    more than he hates it, though he knows it should definitely be the other way around.   

  
     
  

   “Thanks Harry,” Louis says sarcastically. “So kind of you to point that out to Bernard here.” Louis has already come up with his own way of saying Bernard’s name, grinding it out and elongating the syllables that he can just tell drives the man up the wall. Louis    wonders if he can actually make him quit before the tour even gets started. He’s just getting going, really, but he does like a good challenge. And he can    already    tell the other lads will be fully on board this particular    plan.   

  
     
  

   “Nothing I didn’t already know. Management had quite a lot to say on the subject of Mr. Tomlinson here,” Bernard says, way too satisfied at being able to admit this, but what he doesn’t know is that Lou actually takes quite a bit of pride in his horrible reputation with Modest. He made their lives a living hell, but as far as he’s concerned,    he only doled out what he was already taking.    It was a matter of personal pride that if they were going to try to make him feel shame for who he was, and for who he loved, then he was going to    do his level best to humiliate them as much as he could.   

  
     
  

   “Louis.” Louis just grins. “After all, I’m hardly a big shot anymore.”   

  
     
  

   The    smug expression on Bernard’s face just falls right off and Louis can’t help but give him his sassiest smile in return. “Now,” he continues, pointing to two sections of the stage marked out on the floor, “tell me again about these ramps here.”   

  
     
  

   After they work out the logistics of the opening number, they decide to take a break. Louis props himself up against a wall and pulls his phone out of his    trackies, quickly scrolling through email and messages. There’s nothing pressing and he hesitates with a finger over his twitter icon.    He hasn’t been on twitter since he came out. Maybe today is a good day to finally tackle that particular mountain. Or maybe he should start slow. Maybe he should actually tweet something first. During the last five years, he’s been an increasingly infrequent twitter correspondent, mainly using it for publicity for the Rovers. But now that the tour is starting up again,    maybe it’s time to change that.   

  
     
  

   He snaps a quick pic, making sure to pick up the rest of the lads in the background, and posts it with a simple caption of “first day of rehearsals.”   

  
     
  

   Niall wanders over drops down to the floor beside him, handing him a bottle of water. “Harry just told me he talked to you last night. That you actually called him.”   

  
     
  

   Louis shrugs. He’s not sure how he feels about Harry confiding in the other guys about the sh@t they’re wading through, about the    broken relationship they don’t know how to deal with. But then, their    personal    business has always extended to the others anyway. When you’re in    such close quarters that your relationship affects everyone else, it makes sense to give a heads up    about what's going down.   

  
     
  

   And really, it’s stupid, but Louis is kind of glad that Harry has someone to talk to, even if it’s Niall. Especially if it’s Niall, actually.   

  
     
  

   “   Not going to tell me,    Tommo?” Niall gives him a quick grin.   

  
     
  

   “There’s not much to tell, actually,” Louis admits slowly. “I still don’t know how to deal with him. We start circling closer, then suddenly it feels too close, too fast. And I freak out because I’m still such a f@ck@ng wreck about him leaving me.”   

  
     
  

   “You know, he’s kind of a wreck about leaving you, too. He    really    hates himself for it.”   

  
     
  

   “Well he should,” Louis retorts.   

  
     
  

   They’re both silent for a minute, Louis mindlessly scanning his phone, Niall taking a drink of water from his own bottle. “You know,”    Niall finally says, “it doesn’t seem fair that the people really to blame for your relationship falling apart aren’t the ones here suffering. Instead, it’s you and    Haz. The only thing you did was    fall in love.”   

  
     
  

   Louis sets his phone down, and looks out over the warehouse. Liam is on    the phone, in the corner, and from the tense expression on his face, he supposes it’s either Sophia or about Sophia.    Zayn    is on his phone too, in the opposite corner, but his face is    relaxed, and Louis    guesses    he must be talking to    Perrie.    Harry is lying on his back in the center of the room, right on the center of where the stage would be, hands crossed over his stomach and his eyes are closed. Louis wonders if he’s sleeping or maybe he’s visualizing what it’ll be like, to climb back on the stage and perform for thousands of people again.   

  
     
  

   “We all suffered, Niall,” Louis says softly. “None of us had it easy.”   

  
     
  

   “But none of us had it as hard as you and Harry,” Niall insists.    “It’s just not fair.”   

  
     
  

   It isn’t fair; it never was. But Louis has seemingly made his peace with that particular fact. “Life isn’t fair,” he just says in response. There’s no way to truly punish Modest for what they did. He can’t take away their lives    or   ruin their relationships. He’s done everything he can—which is expose their lies as publicly as possible. After that, it’s unfortunately out of his hands.   

  
     
  

   “   You know,” Niall says speculatively, “they would really, really hate it if you and Harry ever got back together.”   

  
     
  

   “Niall,” Louis says in warning. “Don’t.”   

  
     
  

   “Seriously. That would make them    absolutely    batsh@t    crazy. If you two were able to finally love all over each other the way you always wanted to. They would    just about die.”   

  
     
  

   “Niall,” Louis bites out. “It’s over. It’s    one    hundred percent over.”   

  
     
  

   Niall throws up his arms in mock protest. “Okay, fine, fine. I was just saying, that’s all.”   

  
     
  

   “Well stop saying,” Louis insists. And stop f@ck@ng tempting me, he thinks.   

  
     
  

   -------   

  
     
  

   They sing after the break.    They    re-divide up the    lyrics    of the first song, working with the new blocking that Louis arranged, and the first time Louis hears them singing together again,    it sounds pretty  godawful, but it chokes him up anyway.    

  
     
  

   “That sounded like utter sh@t,” Liam says before Bernard can even open his mouth. “Jesus, we have a lot of work to do.”   

  
     
  

   “I thought it was nice,” Harry    argues, a beatific expression on his face, and Louis has to forcibly turn his head away. He is so beautiful sometimes it’s nearly painful to look at him. Or maybe just to Louis. Harry doesn’t seem to blind anyone else but Louis.   

  
     
  

   “Zayn    came in wrong again,” Louis points out because if Harry vocalizes the happiness he feels about singing together again, he will probably cry and that way lies disaster.   

  
     
  

   “Well, it’s not like you remembered the words,”    Zayn    retorts.   

  
     
  

   “Five years,” Louis reminds him.    "   But at least I kept the tune."   

  
     
  

   It takes them five exhausting hours to get the opening song    up to some kind of par.   

  
     
  

   "I don't remember this being so f@ck@ng hard," Niall says, from his position on the floor. He doesn't even open his eyes to glance over at Louis, whose legs are splayed out, nearly touching his.   

  
     
  

   "It wasn't," Liam sighs. "We're. . .well, we're a wreck."   

  
     
  

   " Heeeeey," Harry says, dragging out the syllables and to Louis, it feels like he's been hearing Harry say it like that for his entire life, even though it was only four years. Only four years. That's a pretty small drop in the bucket compared to the rest of his life, but somehow, those four years loom larger than all the rest. Louis is way too tired to try to examine what any of this    means.   

  
     
  

   But if he did, he'd probably think it was because those were the four happiest years of his life. Even when things were sh@t and falling apart, he was still fundamentally    happy.    Louis shifts and reminds himself    that    he's too tired to be thinking of this right now.   

  
     
  

   "We're going to need to add more rehearsals," Bernard says.   

  
     
  

   "F@ck you, Bernard," Louis says from his prone position on the floor.   

  
     
  

   It's a testament to the last five hours that Bernard doesn't even blink at this.   

  
     
  

   If Louis had the energy to open his eyes and look over at their new tour manager, he's certain Bernard would look like he'd just been through a war.   

  
     
  

   World War One Direction.   

  
     
  

   "I'll send out a revised schedule," Bernard adds. "If it takes us a whole day to get through    one    song . . ."   

  
     
  

   Louis thinks maybe that Bernard is actually depressed enough that he can't even add the insulting end of that sentence; they are    never    going to be ready for this tour.   

  
     
  

   -----   

  
     
  

   The second day is even worse than the first. Everyone is tired and silently freaking out, and Louis can see how tense it makes the guys. Bernard, who'd let them mostly muck about on their own the first day, has apparently had some sort of Come to Jesus moment, and is now riding them harder than Louis used to ride Harry.   

  
     
  

   Sh@t, Louis thinks, as he automatically glances over at Harry    and has to cycle through his standard b@n@r-reducing images when he sees Harry's t-shirt riding up, exposing just a sliver of pale skin above the waistband of his jeans.   

  
     
  

   It's like a f@ck@ng centimeter of skin, which is ridiculous because he spent four years getting a panoramic view of naked Harry, but it affects him so strongly, he stumbles over his own feet, and then his words as he tries to sing the chorus of 'Tell Me a Lie.'   

  
     
  

   Liam glances over, clearly concerned because Louis is not the one who typically trips over his own two feet. "You okay?" he mouths. He's the only one really    who's    even attempting to   follow    Bernard's "no talking during rehearsal" edict.   

  
     
  

   "Fine," Louis grinds out, glaring over at Harry's back. It's all his fault, really. Couldn't all the booze have made him fat and ugly? Did he have to come back so f@ck@ng fit and toned? Not that Louis has been looking necessarily, but well, it's hard    not    to see the shape of his legs and the way the sleeves of his t-shirts cling to his biceps. It's f@ck@ng distracting.   

  
     
  

   "Need a minute, Tommo?" Niall chimes in, and from the way he grins, ear-to-ear, Louis knows he not only    saw him trip but where Lou was looking right before it happened.   

  
     
  

   He flushes, embarrassed that he's so f@ck@ng obvious.   

  
     
  

   And then it gets even worse. "You need some    alone time with your boyfriend?" Bernard sidles over, sneering the whole way, and Louis clenches his fists together because he has never wanted to punch anyone as much as he does Bernard right now.   

  
     
  

   "Lou?" Harry is there now, curls tied back in a red head scarf, looking innocently    angelic and insanely, dirty    hot all at the same time, and Louis squeezes his eyes shut, rapidly losing the grip on his temper and on his d@ck.   

  
     
  

   "Bernie," Niall hisses into the silence, "they    broke up. Like five years ago. Get with the f@ck@ng program."   

  
     
  

   "Actually," Harry inserts hesitantly, "that's not exactly true."   

  
     
  

   Louis' eyes open almost of their own accord, he's so surprised. He's just gaping at Harry as he continues, a fairly lovely flush on his cheeks. "We never actually    broke    up," Harry says.   

  
     
  

   Lou doesn't even know what to say. He's literally speechless.   

  
     
  

   "You don't. . .you don't. . ." Liam struggles with the right words. "You don't actually think you're still    together?"   

  
     
  

   Harry's gaze is way too frank for Louis' comfort. Really this whole conversation is way too frank, and definitely it should not be happening with the other guys present--and definitely    never    with Bernard standing right there.   

  
     
  

   "No," Harry says    sadly    and Louis feels himself let out the breath he was holding. Harry has always been a right sap, but that would be    pretty crazy, even for him.    

  
     
  

   "Now that we've settled    that," Bernard interrupts, "can we get on with the rehearsal please?"       

   "I need a break," Louis announces, mostly because he's still half-hard in his gym shorts and partially because he can tell that Harry needs comfort of some kind. Actually admitting they're not together out loud was probably hard for him--even a few nights ago, he struggled to do it. And now he's just had to do it publicly, and in front of Bernard, officially everyone's least favorite person.   

  
     
  

   Louis won't be the one personally doing the comforting, but there's three other lads that will do the job nicely, so he merely sits down on the floor and refuses to continue until he has at least a ten minute break.   

  
     
  

   Bernard is grumbling and glaring, but Louis just holds his ground. "I'm not moving," he says, shooting Niall a quick glance that hopefully communicates what needs done. Niall's one of the best friends anyone could have, sometimes even annoyingly aware of every emotional undercurrent in a conversation, and he's already picked up what Louis hasn't said out loud.   

  
     
  

   Harry has ended up on far side of the warehouse, and Louis smiles a little as Niall wanders over behind him, as if he just    accidentally headed that direction.   

  
     
  

   "You're a menace," Liam mutters, and Louis just smirks.   

  
     
  

   "Don't think I didn't notice that situation you had going on either," Liam continues. "You're not as smooth as you think you are, Tommo."   

  
     
  

   Louis just shrugs. He's never pretended to be anything other than the enormous idiot he's always been. "That's not going to be a . . .an issue?" Liam presses on, and Louis has to give him a bit of credit for keeping this going. But only a little because he's also using terms like "situation" and "issue."   

  
     
  

   "You mean my hard d@ck?" Louis just says it, all nonchalantly, and kind of loudly too, and he's not far enough away that he could possibly miss Harry's head whip around their direction, even though he's currently in what appears to be a fairly earnest conversation with Niall.   

  
     
  

   That's definitely the Harry that Louis knows--and loves. A d@ck could always get his undivided attention.   

  
     
  

   "God, Lou," Liam groans.   

  
     
  

   "You're literally still sixteen sometimes," Louis says with a snort. "I mean, you    look    normal, then there's all this b@llsh@t about situations and issues."   

  
     
  

   "You're hardly one to talk," Liam retorts, rolling his eyes.   

  
     
  

   "That's ten," Bernard announces, and Louis groans loudly. And okay, maybe that's a little sexual too, mostly because he's practically around Harry 24/7 now, and he'd be lying if there's not a fair amount of sexual tension in the air and it's beginning to get to him.   

  
     
  

   The dreams are grinding him to an edge, and what they don't accomplish, the rehearsals are doing beautifully. If Louis has to watch Harry shake that skinny ass for another minute he is literally going to have to go to the loo and have a nice, solitary  w@nk.   

  
     
  

   "There is no way that was ten minutes," Niall scoffs.   

  
     
  

   But Bernard is annoyingly inflexible, which Louis resents because    he's    supposed to be the stubborn one. It's practically engraved on his b@m. Bernard claps twice, sharply, and Louis vaguely considers barking like a dog in response.   

  
     
  

   "From the top again," Bernard says, and from his position on the floor, Louis can hear the band take up their instruments. At least Bernard was good for his word on that--it's not the same guys as before, and that sucks almost as much as not having  Pauly  back, but they seem competent enough, if not dazzlingly familiar with their back catalog, which is really to be expected.   

  
     
  

   It's not like many musicians who can play their instruments worth a shit are going to be spending their free time learning One Direction songs.   

  
     
  

   Still, if they play a few discordant notes, it's still much less discordant than the boys'    singing has become over the years. They sound fine individually, but together, they're no longer in each other's pockets, familiar with even the way the others breathe. It's a struggle to remember how to co-exist like this again, and Louis doesn't like it. He just wants to wake up one day and be part of One Direction and not just Louis Tomlinson, that sad sack of a football club owner who's best years are behind him.   

  
     
  

   "Louis," Bernard barks.   

  
     
  

   Louis hears footsteps and finally    opens his eyes, expecting to see Bernard's ugly ass face leaning too close to his. But it's not Bernard's narrow, beady eyes or his fat chipmunk cheeks. These eyes are glowing green with amusement and there's a dimple hovering too close to lips that Louis sees in the dreams he pretends are nightmares.   

  
     
  

   "Lou, come on," Harry says, and Louis is glad the smile is back on his face, but at the same time, he regrets sending Niall over to cheer him up. Happy Harry is way too fit for Louis' current frame of mind, which is about five years empty of decent shags.   

  
     
  

   "God, H," Louis grumbles, and ignores the hand Harry extends to help him up. if he touches Harry now, he will want to touch him all over, and that's not going to be getting them anywhere anytime    soon.   

  
     
  

   Liam's already warned him today, and if that's obvious enough for him to spot it, Louis knows he's in a bad way. He's going to have to figure out a way to deal with this side of Harry too, and since he's yet to figure out how to deal with any of the sides of Harry now that he's back, that's a slight problem.   

  
     
  

   "Are you finally    ready, Tomlinson?" Bernard smirks.   

  
     
  

   "No," Louis retorts. "Not even close."   

  
     
  

   "That's the understatement of the century," Bernard chortles and Louis rolls his eyes as the song begins again.'
User: Summarize the chapter based on the content provided, ensuring to follow the set format and emphasize key aspects within the specified length.
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