Unbelievers

Chapter 7.4

On Monday, Louis jogs before school. Football is going to kick up again soon and they have their qualifying match the first week of March already. The championship is looking rather bright as it is right now. The team is sharp, Louis and Harry leading the scoring league between all northern school teams at the moment. Louis is already preparing with the rest of the team. Coach Abrahams is taking a bigger role at practice nowadays, but incredibly he trusts the two of them as captains more than Louis would have thought at the start of the season.

Partly, he suspects it's because of their decrease in fighting. Louis can't deny it; they're unbelievably good together on the team lately. Sure, Louis rather dribbles than passes to the other boy, but it's gotten "better" as Coach puts it. Harry is still doing his yoga stuff, which... erm. Louis didn't know he could become this bendy. It's improved his ability accelerate faster and switch directions quicker. Harry's knee exercises have helped him an extensive amount.

Stupid Harry.

Harry who is currently sleeping in his own house. Apparently his father had requested his presence at Sunday supper, and he told Louis he'd stay the night. Louis still feels terribly awkward about his conversation with Anne, and as the time passes by he only gets angrier with Harry's parents. And with parents at in general.

Some are absolutely amazing, but others... Look, parents are supposed to make sure their kids feel safe and are healthy in all ways, both physically and emotionally. Parents are supposed to stand by their children, give their all to them. Parents don't fucking leave their children when everything hits rock bottom. Stupid, fucking parents. Some people don't even deserve their children anymore. Harry deserves better, and fucking damnit, but Louis deserves better too–

Louis contains himself. His thoughts have wandered away in a direction they weren't supposed to. This was meant to be about Harry. It was, but... He sighs, letting out a hefty breath. Enough.

He's reaching the street he was heading for – the red brick house down the road his goal. He can see Maura Horan's car still in the driveway as he comes closer, slowing down into a walk. The ground is still frosty, the morning quite grey so far. He can see the light in the kitchen from the window as he crosses the yard, heading for the front door.

It opens before he reaches the porch, Niall's father walking outside. "Ah, Louis!" Bobby says with a big smile. "Haven't seen you around much, son. How are you? Out for a morning run?"

"Yeah," Louis nods, smiling back. He's even missed Niall's parents, he realizes.

"Niall's inside, eating breakfast. Have a good day! Good luck on the qualifier!" He claps Louis on the shoulder as he walks past, heading for Niall's mum's car.

Tentatively Louis steps up the small porch. Bobby left the door open, so he walks inside without knocking. He feels strangely awkward. He knows Niall's angry with him and he hasn't felt this out of place in Niall's home since the first time he visited. He can barely remember that day now; all he recalls is playing footie in Niall's yard and being terrified of his older brother, Greg.

He toes off his shoes, wiping sweat off his forehead with the sleeve of his jumper. He pokes his head into the kitchen, finding his best friend chewing on a piece of toast, a glass of orange juice by his side. Maura is nowhere in sight. Louis swallows, carefully clearing his throat.

Niall looks up and Louis smiles, close-lipped and sheepishly. His eyes are apologetic already and Niall instantly rolls his eyes at the puppy face Louis knows he's probably pulling already.

"Sit, dickface," Niall says, kicking the chair on the other side of table in front of him.

Louis does as told. He awkwardly watches as Niall spreads butter onto another piece of toasted bread. There's a crunching sound when he takes a bite, and Louis finally opens his mouth.