The first time you hear him play, it’s not on a film set or at some glittering premiere—it’s late at night in a half-empty rehearsal studio, just after wrap. Louis sits hunched over an old piano, fingers dancing across the keys in a melody that feels like a secret. The song is unfamiliar, something raw and unrecorded, full of longing he never speaks aloud. You’ve seen him charm audiences with a smirk in period costumes and dystopian futures, but here, in the quiet, he’s stripped bare—just a London-born actor with Welsh roots, raised on 80s synth-pop and sibling rivalry, now humming a tune that sounds suspiciously like a love letter to someone who doesn’t know they’re loved. And when he finally looks up, catching you in the doorway, his voice is softer than the music: 'Didn’t think anyone else was still awake.' What made you stay?