Unbelievers

Chapter 7.9

It's Friday. Match night.

The lads are sitting on the benches in the locker room in what resembles a circle, all eyes focused and jaws clenched, fists locked. Louis' eyes are trained on the laces of Jonah's shoes in front of him. Tonight they're all the same. They're all dressed in the same black socks with the red stripe, the same dark shorts, the same red and white striped jersey covering their chests. They're all determined, focused, sharp.

"Lads," Coach Abrahams begins just like he always does. Louis closes his eyes. "Tonight is it – our first real championship match. We all know what to do, and we all know how what it will feel like being out there. We've been here before. It's hard, it's rough, and it's a bloody competition. This year, though, we're stronger. We've got a keeper with the highest saves percentage in the district, two players consecutively leading the scoring league, another player that tackles so cleanly yet so hard it almost bring a tear to my eye to watch."

Someone snorts, a few chuckle. Louis just breathes.

"Those things we have aren't what going to give us a win tonight. It's the fact that we're a team. Every single player, no matter if first string or second, no matter how many goals scored, how many saves made, no matter how many cards received, are equally important tonight. As a collective, we're indestructible."

The locker room is silent for a moment.

"That was so cheesy, Coach," Lee snorts and the rest of the troop lets out gentle laughs, atmosphere finally turning relaxed. Louis exhales, grinning a little.

"Donny," someone says, thrusting a fist into the hole of space in the middle of the circle.

"Donny!" Stan yells, and the room fills with warrior shouts.

The team forms a huddle, hands in the middle and eyes meeting one another evenly. They're going to win. They're going to fucking win.

They all eventually get out of the locker room, as a team making their way towards the pitch. The sun is on the way down, sky a mixture of orange and pink. The opposing team is already on their half of the pitch, warming up, and the bleachers are filled to the limit, people even standing on the ground in front of and to the sides, wherever there's room. Almost the entire school is here tonight and probably half of the town. Louis' blood is pumping.

He makes the mistake to throw a glance towards the parking lot. He shouldn't have, because he doesn't need this right now.

Niall is standing close to Zayn by a car, both of them mumbling, looking over their shoulders. Louis frowns, steps slowing down. They're exchanging something, but Louis can't see what. He almost comes into a complete stop, making Liam walk into him from behind.

"Sorry," he mumbles, shaking his a head a little.

Liam simply claps him on the back, walking past him and continuing with the team. Zayn seems to look past Niall's shoulder in the same instant, and he nods toward where Louis' standing. Niall turns slightly, eyes catching on Louis who doesn't know what he's supposed to do. All he feels is confusion.

Niall turns on his heels, starting to pace purposefully towards him. Louis' suddenly unsure of his intentions, but he keeps put. They haven't stood face to face in weeks.

Just when Niall reaches him he raises his arms and Louis is fairly certain he is going to punch him. In reality he throws his arms around him, crushing him in a tight hug.

Louis's shocked. The impact against his chest almost makes him stumble, but he catches himself, hands gripping Niall's grey hoodie at his back. His heart beats like a drum, but Niall's familiar scent is almost making him cry with relief. Louis misses him so much it hurts.

Niall still holds him, but his words are clear by Louis' ear. "I'm only here because I know how much this game means to you. Don't think this changes anything." Niall ends the hug with that, and starts backing away.

Oh.

"Good luck, Lou. You suck." Niall grins. Then he's turning around and rejoining Zayn by the car.

Right. Louis clears his throat even though he's just standing there by himself, looking like an idiot. He shakes his head, wondering what he expected. As always, he knows it's his own fault why things are the way they are. Isn't it so with everything? All that is wrong in his life is his fault? Maybe Lottie was right.

No. He shakes his head. That isn't rational and he knows it isn't true. His sister isn't here though, watching the game. She made it very clear this morning that she would in no way be sitting on the bleachers with their Mum and the twins to cheer him on. She didn't even text good luck.

Louis turns around, starting to head towards the pitch. His team needs him.

He never seems to catch a break though, because before he's even taken a step, someone taps his shoulder. Louis looks up, finding Harry behind him. He's a little out of breath, holding his pink little headband in his hand.

Louis inhales, shuddering slightly. "Hi," he murmurs. He knows there are people around but he can't help instantly going soft, thumb finding its way to the end of Harry's jersey. He's just so tired. "What are you doing?" he asks, lowly.

"Forgot this in the locker room," Harry explains easily, holding the headband higher to show him.

"Oh." Louis fiddles a little with the end seam of Harry's shirt, staring at the fabric, eyebrows knit.

"Hey," Harry says, voice sounding too elated. "Did you and Niall finally make up?"

"No." Louis presses his lips together, finally looking up.

"What?" Harry shakes his head. "I saw you hug just now. Did you tell him?"

Louis releases Harry's shirt, taking a step back. "No, I didn't."

Harry sighs and the sound cuts through Louis' system like an axe. It feels like it cleaves him in half. "Louis..."

He stares up at him. He thought – he actually thought Harry might understand. Nobody has been on his side except for Harry. "Are you serious?" Louis asks, mouth open.

Harry stares back, crossing his arms. "Louis, I just... You keep so many lies from so many people!" He sounds so exasperated it makes Louis' tummy clench unpleasantly.

Louis' heart sinks, defensiveness taking over entirely. "That is none of your business."

"Louis, we both know that it's true."

"When will you get it through your head that it doesn't matter?! You still don't get a say."

"Lou!" Harry exclaims, hand landing flat over Louis' chest. His eyes are pleading, his frown deep. "I'm just trying to help."

Louis looks back at him, meeting his eyes impassively. "Why?"

Silence.

"That's what I thought," Louis whispers. He pushes Harry's hand off his chest where it was hovering over his heart. Harry's mouth remains in a straight line, eyes almost passive if it weren't for the small glint of disappointment.

Louis walks away, cleats finally sinking into the grass pitch. Right. Football.