Coach Styles [l.s]

11

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"Why did they beat you up," he says and I can hear the concern in his voice.

"Must be me being the new kid I guess," I shrug.

"Is that the truth Louis," he asks sternly.

"Yes," I whimper, looking at him.

"Louis," he scolds.

"Fine, its because I'm a faggot!!" I shout and look out the window, feeling tears come to my eyes.

"Oh lou," he says in the saddest tone ever.
•
I look out at the parking lot, begging myself to not cry. I can't cry. Not in front of him. That just slipped. I got scared and it slipped. I didn't mean to tell him all that, I couldn't stop myself though! Before I knew it, it was already said, unable to be taken back. I am confused and it just came out! I didn't mean to say that!

I can tell that he's staring at me, well the back of my head at least. I don't want to look at him, I just want to go home and cry under my covers. I've been holding this in for so long. Ever since my dad cheated on mum leading all the way up to now, I've kept my cool fairly well if you ask me. Yes, I was upset the first night, I know. But considering I could have been much worse, I think that I did alright.

But this feels like my breaking point to be quite honest. Just two days ago I was sassing Harry like no other. I was being so rude, not like he didn't deserve it, and now it's just embarrassing for him to know all this about me. I hate this. I feel so vulnerable and awkward.

I just want to open the door and run out. I know it sounds like a dumb idea but I actually contemplate it. If I run home I won't have to face Harry. I don't know what his next reaction is going to be.

"Listen to me, Louis," he says in a monotone voice. I don't look over though. I'm embarrassed enough. "Look at me," I don't. I continue to stare at the back of the school, not wanting him to see my tears that are obvious in my eyes. He can't see me this weak.

"Listen! I'm trying to help! Look at me!" He says coldly, his voice increasing two times louder and I visibly jump a little. It scares me enough to follow his command, slowly turning towards him. I know there are obvious tears in my eyes and I know he will see them. But his voice was so cold, that my brain literally didn't process his command, just complied to it.

I stare at him, my sweaty fringe sticking to my forehead. I probably look like shit. Dark circles under my eyes, messy and sweaty hair, a bruised face. Everything about me looks bad. I am so sore. I was already super sore this morning, and then having to run that much. I can't believe I'm not passed out by now.

He stares into my eyes, his eyebrows furrowed, and his lips slightly apart. I've never felt more intimidated than in this moment right now. So vulnerable and weak. Who even is this guy offering me a ride home? Who is this guy asking me what's wrong? Who is he? I met him only two days ago, and it wasn't a friendly meet either. Sure, I thought he was hot in the first picture and when I first saw him. But sometimes it's not all about the looks. He was pretty rude to me, but I don't care. It's whatever now.

I feel scared in this moment, but mostly embarrassed and awkward. Only I can end up in a situation like this one. In my coach's car, who is kinda my enemy and is asking me what's wrong. Asking why I'm so beat up (emotionally).