Yours Truly, Louis- Larry AU

7. Football match

Louis 

It seemed like forever before we pulled up alongside a curb. Harry had spoken the truth, earlier today a man and a security guard curtly escorted me into a sleek black BMW, informing me about how the days events were going to play through. 

Yes, I was completely off the wall when Harry direct messaged me, and Tina had left shortly after my extreme meltdown in the kitchen, only after hearing, "I WON'T BE A VIRGIN FOR LIFE AFTER ALL!"

She quickly excused herself from the room, and hadn't really come back after that. My best guess was that she had made a trip to her god-awful sisters dorm.

I'll admit, the whole situation had seemed a little dodgy at first, but then when Modest! e-mailed me, I slowly caved in, agreeing to their terms.

To say I was nervous was an understatement. My palms were sweaty, and my neck felt hot, I had requested for the driver to turn the air conditioning up several times, up to a point where he then became annoyed with.

I went to open my door, but was soon cut off by it being opened by itself. I was originally going to deem that it was some sort of illegal black magic, but brushed the idea aside when I saw the same bulky security guard that had picked me up, standing in front of me. 

There were no windows in the backseat of that car, so I wasn't exactly prepared for what came next.

Screaming, and lots of it.

"Louis!"

"Oh my god, it's-"

"LOUIS I LOVE YOU."

Random things were being screamed from every angle. I had never been exposed to such a thing before. Fans- my fans were mobbing me.

I felt a nudge from behind, and Bulky roughly spoke into my ear, "don't sign anything. We need to keep moving."

Sign anything?

People wanted me to sign their stuff? Heck, I can barely write cursive, nor' have I practiced my signature. Not kidding, my debit card has my chicken scratch scribbled on the bottom. People just assume it's my signature because it's so goddamned messy.

All of a sudden, I could breath again.

The room was grey and lifeless, yet resembled a locker room. Obviously it was. Blue lockers lined the walls, with light wooden benches attached below them. Shower stalls were to my left, white curtains preserving them.

Bulky came in again, holding clothes and my duffle bag that I came with. "Thanks..." I said, wondering what the heck his name was.

"Jared." He nodded.

"Oh, okay, thanks, Jared."

____

I walked back onto the field, lights blinding me. We had won the game, as sweat dripped off of my forehead.

My cleats dug into the turf, and I placed my hands on my hips. Someone came from behind me, running past and smashing my shoulder in the process. I scowled, and rubbed my shoulder, a blond bob of hair was running frantically around the field, waving at nothing in particular.

The people in the stands went crazy.

What was with this guy?

He turned towards me, "ah! Is it him, Paul? Is that Lewah Tomlinseh?" he spoke. Irish, it had to be.

Holy mother of baby Jesus on a hot summer day. 

Of course, me being the fucking idiot I am, well, I just stood there, mouth parted, gawking at him, probably looking like a down-right fool. Way to embarrass myself in front of the Niall Horan.