Unbelievers

Chapter 9.7

The next couple of days before the championship final are weird. Louis knows there are talks going around school about him and Harry. Nobody seems to actually know what it is they're talking about, but the fact that there's something going on between Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson is evidently out there. It's not the usual talks either. It's not "Harry pushed Louis over at practice" or "Louis yelled at Harry for not doing his drills and called him a miserable twat". It's very hush-hush, A-list gossip.

Maybe the talks seem different because Louis and Harry aren't going back to normal like they usually would after a fight. Through Louis' vision Harry doesn't exist, and Louis isn't even on Harry's radar. They don't talk, they don't look at each other, and they don't even see each other. As far as anyone would know they don't think the other even exists.

Only Harry's always there. He's in Louis' periphery, jogging across the pitch, sitting at his desk in class, and leans against his car next to Zayn in the parking lot.

Louis wonders if this is it, if it's over now. It feels like a book with an enormous lead up, the anticipation over the top, having your skin prickling, and then when you're done and close the book you feel unfinished, because the ending wasn't even that great. Louis wonders if their story is one of those, completely and utterly disappointing.

Luckily there are only two days left of school until the weekend and the big match, and pretending he doesn't see Harry only lasts for two entire days. It feels like a lifetime. At least when they were only avoiding each other they acknowledged one another through lingering looks. Now they don't even pretend the other is there.

Dramatics have always been Louis' strong suit, so obviously he feels strongly that his life is pretty much over. He's not filled with excitement and anticipation for the upcoming game, but he itches in a different way. He feels almost disappointed, because he always imagined the last game of the season to be something happy, something everyone would enjoy. The team should be in a state where the aura is comfortable, much like it was just before the semi-final. Now everything is awkward and wrong.

He doesn't understand the point of the scouts even coming to the game anymore either. It's unfair how he thought he'd be given a chance to as least prove himself before they decided if he was worth a shot or not. He resents them already.

Saturday night before the game he's at the football pitch, letting his frustration buzz around him like a field of snapping electricity. He lines up ball of after ball in front of the goal, kicking and kicking, chest burning and sweat wetting his hair. He shoots until he has to fetch all of them again and start over, and then again and again, over and over. The balls fly into the net, they clash with the posts and crossbar, they rustle the fence behind the pitch, but he never feels relieved.

Nights like this, when he feels like nothing is okay, footie always finds a way to relieve his system. Running up and down a pitch used to clear his brain of the cluster, but it isn't helping tonight. Nothing is helping.

He lands another hard shot into the very low of the left goal post. It hits the inside of the post, but it's too hard and bounces off diagonally, out into the dark on Louis' right.

Louis sighs and starts lining up the footballs once again. There's still this unpleasant energy lingering inside his veins that won't dissipate. He needs to get rid of it, but it doesn't go away.

"Of course you're here!"

Louis stops in the middle of landing another shot to one of the balls. He closes his eyes in frustration.

"Of bloody course you're here...!" He's singing. Louis turns around, watching Harry half walk-half dance towards him from the side of the pitch. "You're always here."