Bloodsport

chapter 37

Last night was fucked up, he texted Zayn. He sat up and ran a hand through his hair. The curls were getting a little too long. He needed a trim, but he couldn’t be bothered.

Tell me babes, read Zayn’s reply a few minutes later when Harry had pulled the clothes from the night before on. Later, he responded. It was a little much for a text conversation.

He glanced about the room. It was messy. There were clothes on a chair, the blow dryer rested on the desk, still plugged in, and Louis’ football gear lay in a heap in the middle of the floor. The can of glitter sat on top.

Memories of the night before echoed. Harry hadn’t ever experienced sex like that. It had been different, yet again. Sex with Louis simply got better and better. It was quite incomprehensible. How was it that Louis could do things like that? Everything he did made Harry crazy. And his hands, so soft and firm all at once. Harry knew why, but he still couldn’t keep from asking himself how Louis did it. How he made him feel like this. Furthermore, Harry didn’t know how Louis could do it when Harry barely knew anything about him. How could you fall for someone whom you knew nothing about, really?

Harry began organising the bedroom. He didn’t know if it would piss Louis off, but he needed to do something. He pushed the dirty sheets into the hamper in the bathroom, used Louis’ toothbrush to brush his teeth, and continued putting things back in their usual place around the room. He knew the order of Louis’ chest drawer, knew where he kept his laptop and phone chargers. He knew where the Grease DVD was supposed to be. Yet it always seemed to change spots around the room each time Harry saw it.

He tried to establish what he did know about Louis: He loved football, fiercely. He wanted to play at the United academy. He had a mother who worked restlessly at the hospital. He also had several sisters, although, he only seemed to live with one of them. He had a father; Harry had used to see him at their football matches every week over the past years, but recently he wasn’t around much. Harry knew what he looked like, vaguely. Had he moved away, though? Harry wasn’t sure. Did the other sisters stay with him? Furthermore, Louis had a job. His car was kind of old. His mother worked a lot. Harry hadn’t known things were this tough for them. He felt almost guilty for not noticing.

He placed Louis’ shoes in a row against the wall, next to the door. He had Vans, Converse, sneakers, and running shoes. Harry made sure they were in order of colour.

He knew that Louis wasn’t impulsive. He seemed ever contemplative. He was also passionate, and didn’t change his mind often. When he knew something, it was the truth. When he didn’t, it seemed it was a question as big as the one of life.

Harry also knew that Louis had friends. He had plenty of them. Niall was his best friend, even if they appeared to be at odds currently. He had Stan and Oli, and he seemed to be good friends with Liam. Things like that, relationships, seemed to come easily to Louis. To Harry, they were kind of hard. He had a few people, like Zayn, and perhaps Gemma when she was around. Maybe Liam, too? He wasn’t certain yet. Harry also had his grandparents… to whom he needed to apologise.

He found new sheets in a wardrobe in the hallway next to the stairs, and he changed them with only minor issues. He sat down on the bed once the room was organised. He dialled his grandfather first. It seemed easiest, but his heart pounded.

“Hi,” he breathed after his grandfather had answered with a stern, “Styles.”

Harry swallowed. “It’s me, Grandpa.”

“Harry, my boy,” he said calmly. He didn’t sound angry, or upset. Harry hadn’t had time to gauge his reaction the night before, but his grandfather’s voice sounded the same as always, sturdy and to the point.