Bloodsport

chapter 57

Infinite. It was an infinite amount, and it was showcased in the most gruesome, unequivocal way.

Someone else. A woman. Jasmine. Louis couldn’t have done better if he’d tried.

Harry spun back around. His stomach spasmed.

Zayn’s eyes caught on his face, and concern carved into his forehead. “Mate?”

Harry brushed past him. He made it down the stairs in three steps, practically falling out the front door of the house. Everything hurt all the time, but… this.

He ended up on the lawn, dry-heaving in the lamplight. His fists were pale against the knees of his jeans, grasping for something to hold.

“Harry.”

He didn’t look up at the sound of Zayn’s voice. He tried to calm down, inhaling and exhaling, but all it did was make his stomach turn. He was going to be sick.

“Harry.”

He pushed his friend’s hand off his shoulder, vigorously twisting around. His body seemed to turn inside-out, all of his emotions pouring out.

“You said —” he gasped, aiming his finger along with all of his anger at him. “You said he loved me back!”

“H…”

“This is your fault!” he cried. “You should have stopped this! You should have told me to stop it! You should’ve said — I wouldn’t have fallen in love with him! I wouldn’t! It’s your fault!” He breathed wretchedly. “It was a mistake. You knew it, and you should’ve convinced me! It was a mistake, it was a mistake, it was fucking mistake!”

Zayn didn’t say anything back, but his face was torn with sadness and distress.

His hands pushed against Zayn’s shoulders. “Your fault! You and fucking… fucking Liam!” Zayn stumbled backward, but didn’t retaliate. Harry turned back to the dark street running past the house. His hands gripped his hair, and he felt despair slither down his spine, seizing a steadfast hold. “It’s my fault,” he said into the cold air, voice lowering. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have let him make me feel so —”

He stopped talking. He sat down on the grass, leaning back on his hands, legs stretched out before him. The ground was cool under his palms and jeans, but he felt breathless, like he’d just run a marathon. Zayn slowly walked over and sat down by his side. He stared at the grass just like Harry.

“I’m really sorry.” His shoulders slouched.

Harry felt the grass through his fingers. It was one of the best feelings in the world, but tonight it did nothing for him.

“I thought that… Well, I thought you’d work it out.”

“He doesn’t love me.” Harry shook his head. “I made it all up. In my head.”

Louis didn’t love him. Louis hadn’t kissed him on the pitch because he loved him. Hadn’t touched him and kissed him for months on end because he loved him. Because at that moment, he was upstairs, letting someone else kiss him.

Someone who wasn’t Harry.

Maybe it was the same shit for Louis. It didn’t matter who was in his bed at night, as long as there was someone.

Harry felt his face scrunch up, and his shoulders begin to shake as his eyes filled up with tears. “Why would he do that to me?” he hitched. “He must know I love him, why would he do that to me?”

Zayn’s arm wrapped around him. He didn’t reply. He didn’t have anything to say to console him, because he had no idea why he would be so cruel. Harry had spent months sleeping in his bed, and he had no clue how Louis could hurt him like that. It wasn’t the person Harry had gotten to know. It wasn’t the golden boy with the blue eyes.