World Cup [larry stylinson a.u.]

57.0

THE BATTLE

“Okay, now you need to breath in and out,” Liam shows me how to do it and, somehow, he looks stupid. “Because your face is starting to look purple,” he puts a hand on my back.

“Don’t you touch me now,” I warn him, “Because I need to punch someone very, very hard right about now and, shockingly, your face looks like it needs to get a punch.”

“Hey,” he backs off, “This is not my fault.”

“Look at them,” I grunt, “It’s so obvious that they are back together.”

“You are overreacting, they are just hanging out.”

“They are probably talking about me now,” I feel disgusted, “Look at the way they are laughing. I can totally imagine how that conversation is going.”

“Again, you are overreacting,” he sighs.

“You are so much prettier than Harry, Niall,” I fake the midget’s voice,  “And then the Irish goes like ‘I know that, tourist, I know’ and then, he hypnotizes him with his damn blue stupid eyes.”

“Stop it,” he insists as he tries not to laugh at how pathetic I sound.

“And then they start making out and,” I get even more nervous at the thought, “I can’t even think about it.”

“It doesn’t look like they are going to make out any time soon.”

“How can he stand hearing him talk? What kind of accent is that anyways?”

“An Irish one,” he stupidly answers.

“What?”

“The accent,” he coughs, “It’s an Irish accent.”

“Oh! Seriously, Liam? I didn’t know that. Thank you for clearing it up for me,” I roll my eyes at him, “Asshole.”

“Hey, I didn’t even do anything,” he complains, “Stop insulting me.”

“I bet he is not even Irish,” I breath out, “I hate them so much.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“Nothing?” I turn around to walk to the bar, “I already did all I could and it never worked, so.”

“All you could?” he frowns, “That doesn’t sound like the Harry I know.”

“The Harry you know is dead,” I state sharply, “I’m a new man.”

“Um, are you?” he seems incredulous.

“What’s up, gorgeous?” I wink to a girl who’s waiting to get her drink by the bar.

“The hell?” Liam asks, “Is this new Harry guy straight or something?”

“Apparently,” I sigh before calling the barman, “Can I get a beer?”

“Two beers,” Liam sits next to me, “Anyways.”

“Anyways my ass.”

“I’m pretty sure the tourist still wants to be with you though,” he says, “I can read people and he definitely still does want your D.”

“Can we not use his name anymore? Please?”

“The tourist is not actually his name. You know that, right?”

“Let’s refer to him as the midget,” I affirm proudly, “The midget suits him better.”

“That’s evil,” he laughs, “And I don’t even know why I’m laughing.”