Come football practice, Louis has had enough. The collar is chafing, he has to use full-body movements so the bloody hickeys won't sneak into view, and he looks absolutely ridiculous. He pulled his hair upwards into a quiff this morning, and he feels too proper, like some rich Ralph Lauren type who wipes off his Ray Bans with fifty-pound notes.
He stalks into the locker room, just having realized that he'll have to keep the polo shirt on beneath his training jacket because it doesn't cover enough of his neck. He's one of the first people in the locker room and he quickly changes into his football kit, jogging out onto the pitch, leaving his bag on the damp grass and begins to run laps around the field.
The shirt absolutely sucks to work out in. It keeps hitching up his hips so he has to frequently pull it down, and it itches terribly against his warm skin. There's a thought, he's going to skin Harry alive!
Finally, when Harry and the rest of the boys reach the pitch, Louis stalks over, demanding a captains-only meeting. Harry rolls his eyes as Louis sends the other boys to warm up before he grabs Harry by his jacket and pulls him to the corner of the pitch.
"What now?" Harry sighs.
"What do you mean 'what'?" Louis hisses, aiming a punch at his the chest. Harry recoils, just barely avoiding the hit and he makes an indignant noise. Louis scowls, zipping down his jacket and grabbing his collar to pull it down.
Harry's eyes lock on his throat and the expression on his face instantly turns smug. He reaches his hand out to Louis' neck, fingertips light against the purplish bruises. He's admiring his work Louis realizes, and he slaps his hand off.
"You're such a dick. Do you understand what a burden this has been all day? See, this is why we don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Kiss and... stuff! You can't be trusted! I should've realized the moment you started with that in the shower that you were going to do something stupid. What if somebody sees it?"
"Maybe I wanted to mark you up?" Harry says calmly.
"Oh, okay! Hmm, I feel like I want to run you over with a car... so, should I just get on with it then? Huh?" Louis shakes his head in exasperation. "I was nice to you yesterday, and yet you avenged me by printing your fucking teeth into my skin. You ungrateful fuck, I swallowed for you!"
"I know," Harry says, eyes sparkling. "It was ridiculously hot." His hand comes up, reaching out to touch Louis' throat once again. Louis takes a step back, giving him a warning look.
"You're unbelievable."
"What is unbelievable is how many times you've pulled me aside at footie to chew me out."
Louis squints. "If you didn't constantly make me want to kill you, I wouldn't have to."
"I think you like it." He smirks, eyes blinking innocently at him.
Louis is going to burst. "I do not– What the fuck are you doing?!"
Harry's hand has slipped onto his lower back, and he's stepped up to stand flush against Louis – in public. He's looking down at him, biting his bottom lip, and no, no, no. Louis pushes him off, horrified.
"Harry!" he hisses angrily, and with a smacking sound he slaps Harry's arm down that's extracted towards his chest.
"You look so hot in that polo. Your cheekbones... When you speak it almost looks like when you sucked me off." He's coming up close again and Louis puts a hard hand against his chest, keeping him away.
"Do you want to get caught or something? Do you have a death wish? Because if you expose us I will make sure you're in your grave before you're nineteen."
"How many times have you promised to be the one to end my days? I think I'd rather die in –"
"Hi, Louis!"
Harry stops in the middle of his sentence, eyes flashing as he looks up. Louis turns around, noticing the girl who has a tendency to randomly greet him behind them.
"Oh, Harry," she says. "I didn't you know you two were friends..." She ticks her head to the side.
Louis drops his hand from Harry's chest immediately, taking a step back. "We're not."
"Why don't you fuck off, Jasmine." Harry's voice is cold and his face is harder than Louis' ever seen it. Not even when he punched Louis square in the face that time before summer quite measures up.
"Wow, friendly," she says, raising her brows. She crosses her arms, and Louis frowns. And wait, her name is Jasmine? Wow, Louis was way off on that one.
"You don't deserve friendly. You're horrible person."
"Harry!" Louis gasps, shocked. Harry usually seems so nice to people, Louis himself excluded. He's always been unusually respectful towards women; this is definitely out of character. Jasmine has been nothing but friendly to Louis and she doesn't deserve such words from Harry, who is being an idiot.
However, nobody says anything, tension thick.
"Anyway," Louis tries, attempting to divert the awkward tension that's more than confusing. "What are you doing here?" he asks the girl amicably.
"I saw you over here, so I thought I'd stop by and say hi," she smiles.
"Oh." Louis smiles back.
"Well, he doesn't have time to talk," Harry interjects sharply, grabbing Louis' jacket. "We've got practice."
Louis pushes Harry's hand off. "Rude."
"She doesn't deserve more than."
"You shouldn't talk to me that way," she says, eyes hard, while Louis feels completely out of element. "You should know better, Harry."
"You're literally the scum of earth," Harry retorts, shaking his head, turning and walking away.
Louis cannot believe this. He sees how Jasmine bites her lip, and this time he's the one to grab Harry's jacket, pulling him backwards. Before he can say a word, though, Harry's hands are connecting with his chest and he's sent tumbling back onto the grass. Furious, Louis rips off the ground, apologizing to Jasmine in a haste before stalking after Harry, who is clearly absolutely insane.
"What is your problem?!" he exclaims.
The only answer he gets is a V from Harry's fingers, and then he's disappeared towards the locker rooms.
Louis gives up. He has no idea why, but Harry is an unstable wreck. He doesn't understand where these violent outbursts come from. All he can think is that Harry just abandoned practice and is seriously bipolar, and he clearly has some problem with Jasmine.
Louis doesn't know what the fuck is going on, but he is sure as hell not going to pretend to be some shrink and figure it out. He's got enough trouble on his shoulders as it is, he doesn't need any more. Harry can figure out his mess by himself.
Louis goes back to practice and the lads who've finished their warm ups, and luckily Louis' already run a few laps around the pitch. He begins practice, starting with a few defense exercises. He can't help it, though, if the picture of Harry's wet eyes from the day before pops into his head more than once.
YOU ARE READING
Unbelievers
FanfictionIt's Louis' senior year, and he's dead set on doing it right. However, along with his pair of cleats, a healthy dose of sarcasm and his ridiculous best friend, he's also got a complicated family, a terrifyingly uncertain future, and a mortal enemy m...
