Desirable

~46. Dried Blood

"Shhhhhh!!" AJ stands up on his seat and watches with wide eyes.

Louis dodges opposing players who were trying to challenge him and quickly carries on his way. Approaching the white goal, he held his breath as he aims his shot within a split second then follows through. Flinging his leg out in front of him with all his strength, he belts the ball at lightning speed directly at the goal. 

It goes in. 

"YEEEEEEEEEAAAHH!!" AJ shouts at the top of his lungs, his small fists in the air. 

The crowd cheers loudly and the cheerleaders giggle and spell out his name in a song again. Fellow players on the pitch clap their hands a few times and nod approvingly. Clem smiles and giggles at their reactions.

 At the same time, though, a pain twists sharply in the man's stomach. 

A pain so extreme that it makes his knees buckle and an entire wave of agony overcome his body. He falls to the floor and leans over, grabbing tight fistfuls of fresh grass and groaning out. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to catch his breath. 

Due to the crowd cheering and talking, no one except people near him could hear his groans of pain. From afar, it just looked like he was tired and proud of his goal. 

Clementine straightens her back, closely observing her boyfriend with her eyebrows gently furrowed. She knew something wasn't right. 

Marlon sprints over to him and squats down, placing a pale hand on his back. 

"Yo, Louis! Are you okay, can you hear me?"

The blond leans closer to his best friend and hears his painful groans and laboured breathing, and his quiet reply of 'no'. 

"What's hurting?" he pats his sweaty back. 

It takes Louis a few seconds to answer. 

"My stomach.." he groans with a fragile voice. 

"Like where you were stabbed?" 

Louis holds his head in his hands and leans forward, resting it against the ground. He nods. 

"You shouldn't keep playing, Louis. Come on, I'll help you to the side and you can go to the hospital." Marlon sits up and tries to hold his best friend's arm. 

Louis stays still and shakes his head, refusing. 

"Try to sit up, come on I know you can do it."

Slowly, the dreadhead lifts his head from the grass and grabs a hold of some again. 

"I can't.. my dad is here, and my assessor.." he lets out a painful hum and opens his eyes.

"Your assessor?" he carefully puts an arm around his waist and tries to help him stand. 

"For my scholarship.." 

Louis slowly stands up and furrows his eyebrows and tenses his jaw tight, holding in any more painful sounds from escaping his mouth. He didn't want another confrontation with his dad, therefore had no choice except to pretend he was absolutely fine. 

The game continues nowhere near as flawlessly as before. 

Louis scored no more goals and hardly ever got the ball in his control again; and every time he did, someone tackled it from him. He limped around the pitch and even stumbled over another player because he got dizzy, the pain in his wounds only grew more and more unbearable. He often held his side and bent over, thinking he was going to vomit or pass out on the spot.