Warm up is hectic. Much like the previous match, the anticipation and excitement is swimming in Louis' veins, the rest of the boys pumped and ready next to him on the pitch.
Louis can still feel last night in his bones.
He went out like a light as soon as he closed his eyes, falling asleep instantly. When he woke up little past ten in the morning, Harry was already downstairs, making "proper" breakfast, as he called it. That meant pancakes with bacon, egg on toast, and tea.
They didn't mention the previous night. Neither did they have to, but Louis felt as though Harry was keeping himself distracted from the subject. The moment Louis strolled into the kitchen, hair ruffled and face still scrunched from sleep, Harry was moaning on and on about the game, the opposing team, the talent scouts, Liam's goal kick technique — anything, honestly. After a while Louis figured he was just nervous about the match.
They ate a sizeable brunch, packed their bags and rode over to the school where the bus was waiting to take the team to the town where the semi-final game is being held. He received a text just before arriving from Niall. Can't make it to the match. Believe in you. We will talk.
It left Louis feeling fairly reassured they could repair their friendship somehow. It's okay, he supposes, that Niall isn't there to watch him for once, because he's already spotted his mum, Lottie and the twins in the stands. He hasn't seen Mark yet, though.
The team huddle up before kick-off, wrapping their arms around each other and hyping themselves up. Harry's arm is solid on top of Louis', Liam standing between them unbeknownst to the way Harry's fingers are pressing into his arm.
The game starts in only a few minutes. After their huddle they go to the bench for a last drink. As Louis chugs down at least a third of his bottle, he notices Coach Abrahams pulling Harry aside. They talk lowly, carefully. Louis' eyes flick to the crowd, instinctively searching for Jay and the girls. He always finds reassurance in knowing they're there. He finds them, but he's completely stunned when there's a fourth girl standing with them.
Fizzy.
Her hair is long and dark, looking like an exact copy of their mum. She's beautiful. Louis' missed her. He can't believe - And oh. There's Mark as well. All of them. Watching his game.
Louis quickly averts his eyes, feeling so astounded and fucking... fucking... He doesn't know. It's heart-warming.
He walks out to take his spot on the pitch for kick-off, opponents and teammates doing the same. Louis is about to walk up to the referee to flip the coin, but suddenly Harry's there.
"They're not here," he says. A pang of sorrow and distress hits Louis at first, then comes the anger. Harry's parents didn't come. It's so fucking unfair, because not only did Louis' dad come like he promised, but there are six people cheering him on. Harry's got none. Before Louis can say anything, Harry continues in a quick pace. "The scouts are not here."
Louis' stomach drops. Oh.
"What?" he whispers.
Harry's eyes are clear and his voice is filled with purpose. "The scouts from Manchester aren't coming tonight. They're only going to watch the Championship final. Coach didn't want me to tell you because he thought it would only stress you out, but... We have to win, Louis. They're never going to watch us play if we don't get to the final."
Louis' heart is almost beating harder than last night when they had sex. They're not here.
Slowly, he nods.
Talking to the referees and the captain of the other team goes by in a blur, Louis unable to even remember what the other captain looked like.
Once the match's begun, everything turns into a haze of tackles, free kicks, dribbles and passes. None of the teams score. Liam saves, and their keeper saves, Harry hits the goalpost and they hit the crossbar.
By the time the match is coming to an end, everybody is exhausted. It's even. The crowd is on their toes, the coaches are yelling, and the match feels far too familiar to the first one of the season. Louis' skin is prickling, Harry's words echoing through his head. His entire family is watching him play.
There's only a few minutes left. Louis makes it past one of the other team's half backs, ball close to his feet. He sprints, the ball safely following his movements. Harry's running on the other side. There are two players defending in front of them.
"Hey!" It's Stan, suddenly calling from his left, having spurted to catch up. They're three against two.
Louis quickly passes him the ball, running toward the middle of the penalty box. Harry's in there with him, and two defenders in blue jerseys as well as their keeper. Stan makes the cross.
The ball flies high above their heads, Harry jumping up to head it into the goal. He misses. It lands against Louis' chest and he brings it down, kicking with all of his might, making it fly straight up in the roof of the net, the keeper nowhere near able to reach it.
It's a goal.
Louis is tackled down by Harry, not much later by Stan and the rest of the boys. The pile is huge and somebody grabs Louis' head, smacking his lips to his forehead, subsequently yelling in his ear. The boys are heavy on him, but all Louis can feel is relief. Happiness, too.
They won. They fucking won.
They all start to roll off, a few more minutes remaining of the game. It's a mess. Louis' not sure who's who, and he can't see much other than striped jerseys. But then. Harry's eyes. He's smiling at him in pure awe and adoration from where he's lying between cleats, mud, and limbs belonging to Donny lads.
In the midst of it all, Louis kisses Harry.
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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...
