Competition

Chapter 1

Louis POV

"You know what Trevor? I'M DONE WITH YOUR BULLSHIT!", my voice came out hoarse and shaky, "tell me where you were or it's over".

"Louis... I... Can't", the douche has the nerve to say.

I am tired, just utterly spent. Tired of fighting. Tired of hurting. Tired of him. I collected my thoughts and reached inside myself to find the last sliver of patience I had.

"I think you should leave Trevor. This isn't good for either of us. You can come get your stuff tomorrow" I saw his eyes fill with tears but I'm not fucking buying it. He came home drunk with bruises all over his neck and messy hair. His excuse that the bruises were from hockey did not fool me. The bastard slept with somebody. My Trevor, that hasn't done anything intimate with me for 3 months, slept with somebody else. I watched as he took a swig of the Jack Daniel's bottle and walked out the door.

It was probably that asshole Harry, from his fucking hockey team. God, that guy is such a dick and I hate the fact that it could quite possibly be him who slept with my boyfriend of 4 years.

Sulking into my room, I switched off the light, stripped down to my boxers, and flopped down on the bed. The thoughts of the beautiful moments Trevor and I used to share in this bed fill me mind and tears immediately spring to my eyes. Oh god. What if he and Harry had sex in this bed. Oh god.

Fuck I can't sleep in this bed. The image of Trevor sleeping with Harry in our bed makes me nauseous. I'll just take my comforter and sleep on the hardwood floor. I cocoon myself in the blanket on the floor and decide it's best if I cry myself to sleep.

*BEEP BEEP BEEP*

"DAMNIT", everything cracked as I uncurled from my little ball and stood up to turn off the incessant beeping. Fuck. I have football practice and I have absolutely no urge to go.

Walking to the bathroom and switching on the lights, I looked in the mirror and cringed. My hair was fluffy, my eyes puffy from the lack of sleep and crying, and my face unshaven and scruffy. Fuck it. I could give a shit what I look like. I'll just get changed and go.

The car ride was absolutely horrible. I was left with my own thoughts, and let's just say they weren't very pleasant.. To avoid tearing my hair out, I blasted Adele from my iPod and screamed/sang it from the top of my lungs while bawling my eyes out. When I arrived at the arena my favorite security guard asked for my card.

"Louis Tomlinson, Doncaster Rovers", this might as well be The Lord's Prayer for me. I recite it every day.

"Greg Gilbert, Security Guard" he says earning a slight chuckle from me. I patted Greg on the back and walked in. As I strolled through the locked room there were lots of 'LOUIS! My man! What's up! What's shakin!' And worst of all 'Aye Puffffyyyy'.

"Damn you Damon, you know I hate that fucking nickname" I mumbled to my best mate as I pulled in for a bro hug. I call my stomach puffy once and will regret it for a lifetime.

"Shit dude, you look terrible" Damon half laughs as he takes in my appearance.

"Fuck you too" but I know he's right. My hair isn't styled like it usually is, the fringe is swept across my forehead, my eyes are lifeless and red, I haven't even put my cleats on, and I have a rather large toothpaste streak on the front of my shirt.

"Seriously Lou, what's up? Did you and Trev-"

"Don't. Not right now" I warn my best friend. Even though he's about 4 inches taller, he seems a little intimidated and for some strange sadistic reason, I feel accomplished "let's just play some ball, yeah?"

I work hard, leaving all my frustrations and anger on the field. The drive home is much more peaceful, yet the quiet is what scares me the most. When I feel most empty. I stop by Rocket's to get my self an ice cream cone and park outside my flat.

When I walk in the front door my ice cream is immediately dropped to the floor. There in front of me is a man in brown suade boots, ridiculously tight jeans, a green hockey jersey that is a little large on him, and a bandana tied around his messy curls. He is holding a picture of my mum and I in a hand with several rings on it. I can't help but get a little tingle in my stomach. I like bantering back and forth with him.

"Nice to see the devil still walks the earth. What the hell are you doing here Harry?" The smirk on his pink lips tells me that he was the least bit offended by my remark and I have to say I'm a little disappointed. Just as he opens his mouth to say some witty remark, Trevor comes walking out of our- I mean my bedroom. His blonde hair is pulled up into a quiff, a new development that I quite like, and he is wearing his hockey jersey as well. His skin is glowing and no longer marked with bruises. The tattoo on the base of his neck looks more exquisite than ever and he has a huge smile on his face. He is also carrying... a box of clothes? Oh yeah that's right. He's still the asshole that cheated on me.

Seeing him so happy and healthy kills me. Physically kills me inside and my knees buckle as I collapse to the floor and pretend to occupy myself with cleaning up the ice cream. My heart is broken, ripped from the inside out, as I see my ex-boyfriend of 12 hours so happy and thriving without me. He's better off with out me I guess. A few tears are shed when I hear him talking to the sadistic prick I hate most in life.

"Pretty much got everything. Just got to grab my hockey bag from the closet and I'll be set to leave this place - oh, oh Louis when did you get here?"

"Few minutes ago" my voice comes out as a whisper as I stand up and wipe away some tears. I want to tell him off. To cuss him out for looking so damn good when I'm a god damn mess. For bringing his suspected lover to our once-apartment. For doing so well with this break up. But I just can't. I'm too weak and broken.

"I think it's time to go. Don't want want to see anymore of the water works. I'm in the splash zone and didn't bring an umbrella" Harry says to try and lighten up the mood or to make me break down even more, I can't tell which. I shoot him the middle finger as the two walk towards the door. I hold the door open and Trevor carries the last box of his out of our home.

"Goodbye Trevor" I say to him but he just nods and doesn't say anything back. Ouch. That one hit right in the heart.

Suddenly I feel a very unnerving presence behind me. His face is too close to mine as he whispers in my ear, "What, no goodbye for me?", his lips lightly graze my ear and a shiver runs down my spine. Is his goal to make me uncomfortable? My question is answered when he smacks my ass while walking past.

"Dick head!" I yell after him but all he does is turn around and blow me a kiss. The nerve he has. I swear one of these days I'm just going to punch him directly in the throat, tie him dow, and whisper dirty things in his ear. I would definitely win the uncomfortablity game. If it even is a competition.