As a result of his fucking unnecessary heat Louis wasn't chosen as a player for the next game against the A-B University Football Team of Wolverhampton. It wasn't so much disappointing as it was annoying. He could have been chosen, is pretty sure Collins wanted to pick him, too, but with him missing almost an entire week of practice that really wasn't justifiable. Didn't mean that Louis couldn't be pissed about it, though.
So maybe he was showing his frustration a bit too openly in the locker room, which brought him some concerned and some pitying glances, which — that didn't help, thanks!
What also didn't help was Harry Goddamn Styles.
His mind had been in a constant state of messiness ever since his heat had passed and he was able to think clearly once again. All that had been occupying his brain since then, of course, was Harry's behaviour on the day his heat started. First of all the Alpha had helped him out of a situation that could've turned nasty pretty quickly. Then, he took care to bring Louis back to his dorm room, assuring that he would end up there unharmed, undetected and alone. And lastly, there had been another spark and Harry had recognised it, Louis was sure of that, but he didn't take advantage of Louis. Just like he hadn't in Oxford.
Unlike the morning after in Oxford, though, this time around Harry didn't ignore him. He didn't act indifferent anymore, or as if handling and supervising Louis during practice was the heaviest burden. That wasn't supposed to mean that he acted quite the opposite, either, because that would be an exaggeration. No, weirdly enough, he simply started to act naturally, civilly. He greeted Louis just like he greeted every other member of the team, for one, which didn't sound like a big deal but actually was. Then, during practice, Harry didn't constantly skip over Louis anymore, failed to pass him the ball or deliberately left him out in tackling and team-building exercises. And that one time Louis managed to score a near-impossible goal with his left foot Harry even paid him a compliment, and even if it was straight to the point and slightly stilted, Louis couldn't help but be giddy about it for the rest of the day.
It wasn't much, but somehow it still was, if that made any sense at all. It probably didn't for anybody who wasn't Louis. For the first time he felt like an actual member of the team, appreciated and involved, and he was happy about that. He wasn't all too happy that all this was brought about by the pitying appearance he offered up while going into heat right in front of Harry's eyes.
He'd take what he could get, though, obviously. Because it was impossible to deny that the bits and pieces of Harry's attention and goodwill that were directed Louis' way felt like rays of sunshine on his skin.
+++
The Thursday before the next game weekend was a bad day for Louis, there was no denying.
Upon waking up and getting ready for the day Louis had realised that his stock of Yorkshire tea was gone. Like, honestly, how could that even have happened without him noticing? Everything started to go downhill from there on, obviously. The light on his bike broke right during his ride to the university campus, which sucked, because now he would have to make time to get that fixed. Then he was unable to answer not only one but two questions his professor directed at him in his Canadian Literatures Seminar. Louis despised not being on top of the topics they were covering in class, but with his heat making him miss almost an entire week of uni he still had catching up to do that had prevented him from reading the novel that had been assigned for the day. It was an excuse he, of course, couldn't use. It sufficed to say that the professor wasn't pleased with him in the slightest.
Embarrassed and discontent as he was it was no wonder, really, that Louis had then proceeded to play a terrible game of football during practice. He lost the ball countless times, missed the easiest passes and fell for half-hearted tackles more often than he cared to admit. If the sharp glances Coach Collins had thrown his way were anything to go by the man wasn't pleased by his performance, either.
Bitter thoughts occupied Louis' mind as Collins blew his whistle and shooed them towards the locker room, effectively ending the session. As he considered his bad performance Louis couldn't even be angry for not being chosen to play against Wolverhampton, could he? It still sucked and the knowledge that he would spent his Saturday on the bench didn't help to get rid of the aggravation he was feeling, but after the day's failure of a practice he felt as if he deserved just that.
He was the last one to leave the pitch eventually, having decided to run a few more laps to cope with the mixture of disappointment and annoyance that was bubbling low in his guts. Fucking hell, he needed a better coping mechanism! He couldn't completely lose his composure whenever something didn't go his way. He wouldn't be chosen for the starting eleven in every game and it would probably be helpful for everyone involved to learn to deal with that fact.
Sighing, Louis entered the locker room, which seemed empty apart from one last sports bag of one of the other guys that was sitting forlornly on one of the worn wooden benches. Louis didn't pay much attention to it, too busy stripping down and grabbing a towel and his shower supplies so he could get under the hot stream already.
If he hadn't been quite so worked up Louis maybe would have noticed that the shower room wasn't empty. As it was, the sound of running water and the sight of a broad, naked back under the stream startled him.
"Oops," he muttered, more so to himself and not with the intention of actually being heard.
The person whirls around though, seemingly as surprised by the sudden company as Louis had been. Louis should have expected that he would meet the eyes of one Harry Styles, really. That was just his luck. And looking back, the tattoos that had been visible on Harry's arms, even when he had his back turned towards the door and Louis, should have clued him in.
"Hi," Harry said, voice deep and slow. It was a stupid thing to say — they had spent the last two hours on the pitch together, after all — but since Louis was now confronted with Harry's naked front, mocking him for his nonsensical greeting wasn't high on Louis' list on priorities. Averting his eyes from Harry's wet and glistening abs, from his fucking groin area, had certainly primacy.
The steamy air between them turned awkward quickly. Only upon realising that he himself was, indeed, starkers as well, Louis understood why Harry's eyes were now avoiding him. At least it could be a reason. Louis preferred his nakedness as reason over any other, honestly. He didn't want there something else that made Harry avoid him as soon as they were alone with each other.
Swallowing loudly, Louis made his way to one of the free shower heads. He made sure to keep his distance from Harry, but also didn't chose one at the end of the room, because that wouldn't make the situation any more bearable, would it? It would only put focus on how strained the atmosphere actually was.
But was there a reason? For the last days, he and Harry had got along splendidly (if one took their history with each other into account). Honestly, by now they should be almost ready to have a trivial conversation about the weather or something. Seeing each other naked wasn't anything new or unusual, either. Hell, they showered every day with a whole bunch of perfectly sculpted, sweaty, naked lads.
Here they were, though; both of them insistently staring in different directions and not exchanging another word. There was no irateness between them this time, just intangible tension.
Louis was trying to get this shower done as fast as possible. So much for the hot water helping him relax the sore muscles in his back and legs. But he wasn't thinking about his shitty day anymore, so there was that at least. The question that now presented itself was not any less troublesome, though: Was it wrong to fantasise about Harry, about his beautifully formed body, his enticing eyes, his plump, rosy lips, when said boy was standing only a few feet away, wet and naked? The answer was yes. Yes, that was wrong and creepy and actually a bit perverted.
Louis scrunched up his nose at his own thoughts, displeased. Still, it took him a grand piece of self-restraint to keep his eyes away from Harry. In the hopes of distracting himself he proceeded to go over all the stuff he'd have to get done today — completing his essay for his Literature Lecture on Tuesday, finishing the book he was supposed to read for next weeks Canadian Literatures Seminar as to not end up clueless once again, packing his bags for the weekend. There, totally innocent, well-mannered thoughts.
As fate would have it, Harry shut off his shower the same moment Louis shut off his own, and the reality of the situation he found himself in slapped Louis in the face again. The following silence, barely interrupted by a few stray water droplets hitting the ground, was suffocating. For a split-second Louis pondered if it would be terrible obvious to turn his shower back on — then decided on yes, and grabbed his towel instead. He didn't dare to even glance in Harry's general direction.
Jesus, where was this hole in the ground when you needed it? More importantly: why was it needed anyway? What the heck was even going on?
Louis heard Harry leave the room, his naked feet slapping against the tiled ground. It took Louis at least four deep breaths to steel himself and find the courage to follow him, wrapped up tightly in his towel.
"Fuck!"
That wasn't what Louis planned on saying upon entering the main room. He just couldn't help it. As soon as the shower door fell shut behind him, cutting of the steamy, soapy-smelling air with it, something else hit Louis nostrils, hard. It was undeniably Harry's scent that was enveloping the entire room. Louis had taken it in often enough to make the scent out wherever, really, could remember it better than he cared to admit. But something was different about it — it was heavier, almost piercing now that there wasn't anything to gloss it over. Louis couldn't recall it ever being so overwhelming, but that might as well could be his brain playing tricks on him. It was more probable that Louis was just actually time and time again left flabbergasted by how delicious Harry smelled.
"Are you okay?" said boy asked, looking up with furrowed brows and damp curls.
Louis cheeks heated up instantly. Well, so much for trying and making this encounter less awkward, then. "Uh, yeah, sorry. It's just —" Shaking his head, Louis interrupted himself. What was he even trying to achieve here? With his eyes lowered to the ground he walked towards his own locker and began to towel himself dry.
"Just what?" Harry inquired, relentless as always. He was busy shuffling into his black skinnies and Louis made it a point to turn away from that entire scene.
"Just your smell," Louis answered, refusing to feel all too ashamed about it. It was natural to notice this stuff about other people, after all. It was biology and all that shit. Scents belonged to their everyday life, so there was nothing to worry over.
Harry made a weird sound, which had Louis looking at him after all. "What about it?"
Rolling his eyes, Louis straightened up from where he was hunched over his bag searching for the fresh pair of pants he was sure he put in there somewhere. If Harry wanted bluntness, he would get bluntness. "It's strong, fogging up the entire room. Are you close to your rut or something?"
Harry seemed genuinely baffled by the words. "No," he answered, slowly.
There was nothing to say to that, so quiet fell between them for the umpteenth time. Louis threw on his clothes as quickly as possible, ruffling through his bag louder than necessary just so there would be at least some kind of disrupting sound. Of all the weird, unpredictable encounters he'd had with Harry over the last few months this one was probably the new number one. And that was counting the embarrassing heat surprise. At least then Louis was, for the most part, too out of it to really care and in hindsight he just didn't bother remembering it in detail, because obviously.
"You like it then?"
The question out of Harry's mouth was unexpected, but when Louis thought about it just as arrogant and conceited as was usual for the boy. Louis had waited for Harry to return to his usual self, honestly, couldn't believe his civil self was actually there to stay. He had wondered when the politeness he'd offered Louis in the last days would vanish once again. He wouldn't let himself be riled up, though.
"I'm sure I'm not the first one to comment on your scent, Styles. Like, you know you smell good, don't you? Don't try to get compliments out of me, because you won't succeed."
When their eyes met, Harry didn't look half as self-assertive as Louis had imagined him to be, surprisingly enough. Instead, he looked put out and exasperated.
"You drive me insane, Tomlinson, Jesus fuck!"
Well, that was honestly the last thing Louis anticipated to hear. It was also damn unfair!
"What?" He asked therefore, jaw hanging open slightly. This conversation was turning more outrageous and unbelievable with every other sentence. After a second, he caught himself. When he continued, his voice was loud and frantic. "No actually, what? How? How the fuck? We never even look at each other, let alone actually talk. How in the world would I drive you insane? You are — honestly, you're so dumb." That had to be Louis' most convincing end yet, good Lord!
Harry sighed so heavily that Louis could see it from all the way across the locker room. How did they even end up here?
"You are — you're just impossible," Harry started off, hands gesturing wildly. Louis could swear he had never seen him so beside himself as he was in that exact second. His eyes looked ready to shoot fire. "I can't stand you during practice. You're always around, mouthing me off, doing your own thing, refusing to listen to me. I can't concentrate because you're always capturing my attention, making me focus on you and forget everything around me. And then, after, you swagger around the shower room, around the locker room, naked or barely covered in a towel with all your fucking curves on display and I just. I want to slam you against the next wall and punch you in the face and then I want to fall to my knees and suck you off and you drive. me. insane!"
Louis heart skipped two beats.
That was ... well.
Harry was breathing harshly, eyes wide. He seemed to have an almost animalistic edge to him, as if his true Alpha nature was just a second away from going through with him and make true on everything he just said. Louis couldn't help the low keening sound that escaped the back of his throat at the thought alone. He had never felt wanted before, had never realised that he held anyones attention even for a second. But here Harry was, Harry of all people, losing control, something Louis has never witnessed before. Even when Louis was in heat right beside him and they were alone in Louis' dorm room Harry hadn't faltered for a second, remained strong and aloof and in check.
Maybe it was the keening, maybe it was Louis' shaky voice saying "Do it, then," or maybe it was the way his slick was starting to drip down the back of his thighs from how suddenly and overwhelmingly aroused he was, the smell covering the room in no time at all — Harry was in front of him in a blink, pushing him into the closed metal lockers with a painful shove and then, then they were kissing as if some force from above was making them.
Their teeth clashed in their haste to get their lips touching, and Louis shivered from head to toe. He had never imagined his first kiss to go like this, always thought of it as more sweet and gentle, but he certainly wasn't going to complain. This was everything. Harry on him and all around him, finally giving Louis what he had been craving for ever since that damned night in Oxford, was everything.
Louis was breathless in moments, air stuttering out of his lungs and hitting Harry's face in hot puffs. His hands were searching for something to hold onto, something to convince him that this was actually real and happening. Harry's shirt was bunching up as Louis' hands clawed into it. Clearly distinguishable from the both of them breathing harshly and the wet sounds their lips made mashing together Louis realised that he was whimpering, the tones high and desperate. Harry's response was a low, guttural growl that made Louis cock honest-to-God twitch in his pants.
Time passed and Louis felt as if he was losing himself in heat and want and need. He'd never felt anything like this kiss, had never experienced anything so overwhelming, enrapturing and ravishing, and that was coming from a person who has lived through dozens of heats on his own. His heart was beating out of his chest, he was sure of it, as he felt Harry nibble and bite on his lips, felt Harry press his full body into Louis' smaller one, capturing him as a whole.
Louis wouldn't have any problem with doing this for the rest of his life.
Good things always came to an end, though, and eventually Harry pulled away. Louis' blinked rapidly to clear his eyes and, hopefully, his foggy mind as well. Harry's curls were ruffled around his face, (and when did that happen), his eyes were glassy, his lips red, swollen and wet with saliva. Somehow, his dishevelled appearance was the sexiest thing Louis had ever taken in. He wanted Harry, here and now and with no regrets.
"God," he breathed, and then he realised what exactly he had justdone. All that had happened in the last however many minutes suddenly seemed like the most twisted dream that left a bitter aftertaste. None of this was okay and none of this could happen again, not under these circumstances. "Oh God," Louis repeated, this time with more emphasis on his words, voice scratchy. He pressed a trembling hand against his own chapped lips, sure his eyes must be wide and shocked as they stared ahead in Harry's unreadable face. He probably made for a hilarious sight, standing pressed flat against the lockers half-naked, half-hard and fiercely red, out of breath and completely confused, but the situation felt anything but funny to him. "What —? We — that — that shouldn't have happened, oh my God."
Harry didn't say a word. He didn't agree or protest or flee as Louis pushed past him roughly to get to his bag. He reached for his university sweatshirt, pulling it over his head carelessly. He could feel Harry's close presence, could feel his gaze burning through the back of his head. Fuck. Fuck! What was he thinking? What were they thinking? This wasn't okay, not okay at all.
Louis didn't turn around, didn't offer another word or any kind of explanation as he left the locker room in a hurry.
Harry didn't stop him either.
+++
Louis decided to go for a run as soon as he entered his dorm room, instantly feeling suffocated in the small space and by just the memory of Harry being here, watching Louis' feverish self entering heat.
Fresh air would help him clear his mind, certainly. It at least wouldn't make him think of Harry, or the kiss, or the dried slick that was no clinging to his briefs. He would just run it all away, because even two hours of football practice obviously hadn't exhausted him enough to make his head stop spinning now.
Harry had kissed him and somehow it had been the most perfect thing Louis had ever experienced. He had never felt like that before, all fluttery and giddy and warm, as he had just then with Harry's large hand encircling Louis' slim waist and pressing him against the cold metal lockers.
But they couldn't do this again. Louis couldn't let this happen again. Because kissing Louis was something else entirely for Harry as kissing Harry was for Louis. As vehemently as he would deny it should anyone ever approach him about it, Louis knew there were real, actual, serious feelings involved from his side. He liked Harry, and although he still couldn't figure out how that could have ever happened, especially considering Harry was such a huge jerk to him 95% of the time, there was no denying or changing it now.
Harry though. Harry obviously just felt attracted to Louis. His words had made that much clear. He liked Louis' body, especially naked, his curves and his sassiness, apparently. That was neither here not there, though, was it? That weren't feelings reaching any deeper than just beneath the surface of Louis' being.
And Louis wouldn't risk that. He wouldn't risk falling in love and getting fucked over. He wouldn't risk his future for the heart inside his chest that would most likely end up broken.
Louis nodded to himself as he jogged rounds through the park closest to the university campus and his dorm house. It was blessedly empty, the weather too cold and unforeseeable for most of the students to willingly spent time outside.
At least he knew now that he hadn't imagined the spark between Harry and himself. There certainly was attraction there and it pleased him, somehow. It just wasn't enough.
+++
It wasn't until they reached Wolverhampton in the early Friday afternoon that Louis realised that he would have to share a room with Harry once again. He hadn't really forgotten, of course, had actually spent most of the drive silently fretting about it until Niall lost his patience with him — which actually meant something, because Niall was the most placid human being. Anyway, Louis knew what was awaiting him in Wolverhampton, he just didn't realise what actually would come along with the room-sharing. Harry's scent, the unavoidable closeness they would have to endure, heavy silences. An entire weekend testing Louis' self-restraint.
Because even though he didn't plan on ever giving into Harry and act upon the attraction they felt for another, there was still his traitorous Omega-body that would be all to happy to get used by Harry in every possible way without asking Louis' brain for permission. But no; no no no! That wasn't going to happy. Louis would sleep on the floor of Niall's room if that is what it would take to resist temptation.
He and Harry hadn't spoken all morning, hadn't even looked at each other. While Harry spent his time goofing around with Liam and some other lads in the back of the bus, Louis had cuddled up next to Niall and tried to cope with the nervousness that made his heart race and his hands sweat.
But now here he was, in a lift with Niall, Adam and Mick, ready to move into his room for the weekend and trying hard not to shake from the suspense of facing Harry for the first time since the kiss. Louis wasn't even sure if kiss was the right word to describe what happened between them, honestly. It had been more of a snogging session ...
"See you later, Lou," Niall shouted after him, as usual in much too loud a voice for the indoors, as he stopped in front of his own room. Louis waved absentmindedly and walked on, almost mechanically searching for room number 131 with flickering eyes. He lost Mick and Adam along the way as well and was beginning to think that maybe he was on the wrong floor when the last door on the floor, positioned around a corner, came in sight — the brassy number 131 was attached to it. Finally!
Turns out that Harry wasn't in the room, and since his luggage was missing also hadn't been there yet. Louis tries not to think about it too long, about Harry avoiding him so urgently. He probably regretted losing his control yesterday, Louis figured as he took to the bed near the window. Why wouldn't he? He was obviously overwhelmed by biology, chemistry, not by real emotions. Surely he was embarrassed, maybe even thinking about a way of explaining it to Louis, trying to make clear to Louis that he shouldn't hold any hopes, which, Louis couldn't imagine anything more horrible than that. The idea alone made Louis shudder.
He decided to take Harry's absence as a blessing and fell face first into his pillows. He hated bus rides, being confined in a small space with two dozens Alphas and Betas. The different scents got overwhelming quickly and his nose tended to be especially sensitive after his heats. Since there wasn't the option of opening windows Louis hadn't been able to catch a break. Smelling the starched hotel sheets was a true revival.
Afterwards, he couldn't tell when he had fallen asleep, just that it was a warm, firm hand that shook him awake. It took him a beat to remember where he was. When his eyes focused on Harry, who was hovering over him with his mouth open as if ready to speak, Louis felt a blush creeping up his neck. Up this close, Louis was once more flashed with how truly good-looking Harry was; something he hadn't even been able to properly admire in the heat of the moment of the day before.
"We were supposed to meet Collins at the bus ten minutes ago to go visit the pitch for the game. Come on," Harry said, voice bland and with a blank face to match.
Harry was so fucking unreadable that Louis felt like ripping his hair out. He only nodded, thoughts still cluttered from his nap, and he needed two attempts to sit up. As he was stretching himself, his back cracking, he noticed Harry's eyes on him. He raised a brow, questioning.
"We should talk," Harry said.
Louis bit his lip as he got up and smoothed down his shirt. They walked to the door next to each other. "If you think it's necessary."
Harry nodded. "I do."
Sighing, Louis left the room after Harry and pulled the door shut. He hoped Harry had his keycard with him, because Louis' own was somewhere on his bedside table, probably already buried under phone chargers, a bag of crisps and the books he needed to read for his upcoming seminars. As they entered the lift to get downstairs he asked, "I guess this is about yesterday?" Upon Harry's agreeing hum, Louis continued. "Honestly, there isn't much to talk about, don't you think? It was obviously an accident, a slip-up. I was a little overwhelmed by your scent, you were affected by my words and one thing led to another." He shrugged and marvelled at this own ability to appear far less bothered by any of this than he actually was. "You don't need to — I don't even know — let me down gently or something. It was — nothing, isn't that right?" He made a point of looking straight into Harry's eyes while uttering those last words.
Even though it was expected, Harry's reaction still hurt. His body seemed to relax, his face falling as the tenseness left him. He didn't look happy, but he never really did with Louis around, did he? "Yes, right," Harry affirmed. "Let's just forget it ever happened, all right?"
The lift doors opened then, and Louis could see Collins waiting for them near the hotel's front doors. He looked pissed. Turning to Harry, Louis offered up a strained smile. "All right." As he made his way across the hotel lobby he seriously doubted he would ever be able to forget the moment he and Harry shared, in a muggy locker room of all places. Just as much as he doubted his feelings for him would disappear into nothingness anytime soon.
Louis was glad Harry apologised to the Coach for the both of them, because Louis was too distracted by the lump clogging up his throat to do much of anything but keep walking; keep going. It wasn't like he had much of a choice.
+++
They lose the game against Wolverhampton, which is a shame, because even though games this early in the season didn't count for much yet, it should have been at least a tie. Wolverhampton didn't offer the strongest squad and Louis wasn't sure what exactly happened to his own team, but the dynamic was off for the biggest parts of the ninety minutes game time and mostly it was just painful to watch. Harry in particular seemed almost lost on the field, and a quiet voice in the back of Louis' head asked if maybe Harry played better with Louis beside him, with Louis as his partner in the forward field. It was a ridiculous thought — after all, Harry had played the entire last season without even knowing of Louis' existence and he was perfectly good on his own and with various go-to forwards — but Louis found the itty-est bit of joy in thinking of himself as important for Harry's game strength anyway.
Needless to say that the atmosphere on the bus on the way back to Manchester was more than a little subdued. Coach Collins had made his anger quite known back in the locker rooms, wasting no time to criticise every single player who had been on the pitch. It was the first time all week that Louis was glad he hadn't been chosen, because if the contrite expressions of his team mates were anything to go by, Collins wrath wasn't something you'd want to have directed at yourself.
Harry was, unsurprisingly, taking it the hardest. Louis could understand that — after all it was Harry's first loss as captain and in only the second game. Louis noticed how he avoided everyones eyes and snapped at anyone who dared to try and console him. It was pitiful to see poor Liam, who's puppy eyes were wide and sad as Harry harshly told him to "shut up already". It made Louis' scowl — because here Harry was, once again, grumpy and facade, taking out his frustration on his players, who were no more at fault for the loss than he himself was.
Louis decidedly turned away from the scene, imagining that in the split-second he turned his head, Harry's eyes were searching him out in the crowded bus. Clearly he was imagining things. After all, the situation between them was cleared up now and there was no need to linger and interpret nonexistent signs that could maybe, possibly imply Harry might feel differently than he let on in their short talk the day before.
Louis really needed to learn to let bygones be bygones.
Just because he was halfway in love, didn't mean that the universe had planned for his feelings to be returned.