The Water Boy (Narry)

Chapter 8

I had gone off to school early this morning so I could finish up the team's laundry for practice in the evening. The linen basket rested in the exact same spot I had left it so at least another sporting assistant hadn't decided to move it. I usually found myself staying late at the school to do the laundry so I didn't have to wake up early on a Monday morning to tiredly wait for the uniforms to be washed and dried. On the early mornings, I sometimes took a quick nap in a random folded chair until the loud buzzing of the machines frightened me awake.

Not this morning. I actually, dare I say, had a spring in my step. I actually wanted to be at school which was never a feeling that I had, for obvious reasons I don't need to constantly repeat.  The motive for a happier Niall, was all because of one sentence, one promise:

"I'll see you on Monday, Niall Horan."

That got me through a rather boring weekend. Last night was an exception. I think I went to sleep with that same plastered smile on my face because I was excited to see Harry the very next morning. Sleep would knock me out and, in a matter of what only felt like seconds, a new day would exist. Yeah, I'm over-thinking things like I sometimes can't help to do but everybody does that. 

Not only was my mind focused on that alone fact, it was also worried about Harry. I have no idea the extent of his injury, or maybe even injuries. I really didn't want them to be so serious that Harry was out for the rest of the season. I already witnessed his smaller breakdowns and I never want to find out if there was more to them than that. He's young and has so much potential. Hell, he has it all. He doesn't deserve to lose any of it, not in my eyes at least. 

I've barely seen Harry for who he truly is, other than him on the field because I was always afraid to look his way. Now, maybe because he knows my name and wondered enough to ask for it, he'll be the one looking for me. I could picture his curly hair as he tried to look over a sea of people just to spot me out. I'd catch his gaze, he'd  send me a genuine smile and I'd gladly return it. 

It might not be as simple as I imagine it. My reality is still out there and it's in the form of rambunctious machinery. 

With a sigh, I stood up to go check on the dryer. I never dried them all the way in case they shrunk. I didn't need any of the boys on my case because I shrunk their uniforms. After removing them and placing them on top of the washer, I went to go grab the clean linen cart so I could roll it all the way back to the locker room. There were some days where I felt like I was in the maid service. 

Once I made it back, I parked the linen cart in the athletics section of the locker room. From there, whatever happened to the uniforms wasn't in my hands. At least, the boys had to face some responsibility in their lives. Still, I wouldn't be surprised if the blame was put on me; like I wanted anything to do with a uniform that didn't have my last name branded on the back of it. 

I couldn't help but notice the bold and black 'STYLES' appear on top of the folded pile of clothes. Looking around, I picked it up and traced the letters over with my fingers, wishing I could feel the sense of pride that came with getting to wear this particular jersey. Harry didn't usually show it because he was too determined on his self-excellence. I wondered if he ever stood in front of mirror with his uniform and smiled at himself because he was proud that he had a great football career in his life. 

As I gently placed Harry's jersey back down, the morning bell signal rang. 

"Okay, Niall, here we go." I told myself as I went to grab my book bag from my locker, throwing it over my shoulders, my fingers remaining as they held firmly onto the straps. 

I walked past the coach's office door and then some of the PE teacher's offices as I made my way out of the locker room. Opening the large gymnasium doors, I was now one of thousands of students; just one, not that people noticed me.