Bloodsport

chapter 54

Harry didn’t ask his parents if they wanted to watch the football semi-final. The next morning, he woke up early next to Louis. He spent a long time contemplating it. While Louis slept, he went downstairs, cleaned the kitchen from the previous morning’s adventures, and made breakfast. As he cooked, his mind went in circles, but eventually, he came to the conclusion that he didn’t think he would handle it well if they said no. Moreover, the image of Louis’ father asking to be a part of Louis’ life replayed itself in his head, and he simply was unable to go through with asking them to be there. He wouldn’t handle their answer well at all.
They left the house in the middle of the day, meeting the team at school. They jumped into the bus that was taking them two hours south of Donny. Louis got in the back with Stan and Oli, meanwhile, Harry remained in the front next to Liam. They sat mostly in silence, Harry with music in his ears, and Liam with his eyes on a textbook. They had final exams coming up very soon, but Harry couldn’t be arsed. Getting good grades would be good and all, but when he knew that he had football there was something of a block inside that prevented him from caring.

The opposing team they were playing was blue. They had dark blue jerseys and shorts with white socks, and their pitch had bleachers on either side. Harry usually liked playing away. He loved the feeling of shutting a whole crowd up. When he’d scored, he liked to look right at them, letting the silence and disappointment echo around him. He liked to make sure the crowd knew he was doing it on purpose. Considering they hadn’t lost a match that season, he had gotten the pleasure of having that feeling plenty. It didn’t make sense, but on the pitch, he was a different person. There, he was confident and knew what he was doing. Next to Louis, though, he felt like a little boy sometimes. He made him nervous.

Warm-up felt good. His body followed his movements easily, not a single twist of reluctance in his muscles. The whole team had been unusually blessed by a lack of injuries that season, and perhaps it was one of the reasons they’d done so spectacularly well that year.

After warming, Harry took three deep inhales, exhaling slowly, calming his nerves. They’d win. He knew it.

“Harry.” It was Coach. He was dressed in his usual red training jacket, but his olive skin was taut with lines. His brows were knitted firmly as he nodded to the side, bringing Harry a few paces away from the rest of the boys. Harry felt instantly uneasy.

“What, Coach?”

He crossed his arms and stared solemnly at him. “Harry, I’m just going to get to the point. I know you are set on Manchester United, but their scouts are actually watching the other semi-final tonight. They’re not coming, which means that if you want them to sign you, we will have to win tonight.”

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Don’t freak out. I am telling you because I know you can handle it.”

Fuck.

What about Louis? What about him?

“What about Louis?” he said, unable not to. “He wants to go to United, too! And he… he doesn’t have Chelsea, or any other club, right?”

Coach sighed. “Harry. I trust that you won’t tell him. He gets too into his head. It’s better if you don’t.”

He swallowed painfully. They had to win. They had to win because otherwise there was no chance of Louis getting into Manchester, and there was no chance hell that Harry would be there with him.

Harry nodded, but the reassurance was a blasphemous lie. He agreed to Coach’s request, but there was nothing inside him that even considered not telling Louis the second he walked away.

Louis wasn’t very far off. He was looking at the bleachers, smiling with crinkled eyes. Harry followed his gaze, noticing his family. All of them. Louis’ father, the twins, Lottie, and Jay. And Fizzy, too. Harry hadn’t seen her in years, but he knew it was her. She looked just like Lottie, only taller and with hair the colour of Louis’. Harry felt as happy for him as he was envious of him, but he had more pressing matters at hand.

He caught Louis’ shoulder right before the loud noise of the ref’s whistle.

“They’re not here,” he said, trying but failing to hide the anxious note in his voice. “He watched Louis’ face shape into an expression of anguish as he continued, “The scouts are not here.”

“What?” he whispered.

He breathed in, and spoke as calmly as he could possibly manage. He didn’t want Louis to freak out, and he needed him to focus. He kept his hand placed tightly on his shoulder. “The scouts from Manchester aren’t coming tonight. They’re only going to watch the Championship final. Coach didn’t want me to tell you because he thought it would stress you out, but… We have to win, Louis. They’re never going to watch us play if we don’t get to the final.”

And then I’ll lose you.

It took a few moments. Louis’ face was blank, blue eyes revealing nothing. Then he nodded. His eyes became determined, and he inhaled deeply. Inhale, exhale.

Harry nodded. He dropped his hand from Louis’ shoulder, letting him walk up to the referees for the coin toss.

The match was an even play. For each free kick in Donny’s favour, the other team received their own. Every attempt on target, every corner, every crossbar hit, every tackle. They hadn’t had such an even match in months. Harry was continuously pressing against the other team’s left wingback, yelling at his boys to remain focused on pressure when they weren’t in possession. Louis moved quickly with the ball, but the other team’s sitting midfielder had him scouted. The other team had doubtlessly done their research.

When there were only minutes left, it was still tied up. Neither of them had scored. Harry’s thighs burned, and sweat dampened his hair. He felt pearls slide down the sides of his face, but he forced himself to keep trying to pressure the defence in front of him. He was tired, but so were the opposing players, including the midfielder who had fought valiantly to keep Louis as much out of the game as he could for eighty-eight minutes straight.

But Louis was Louis Fucking Tomlinson, and he wasn’t going to be subdued forever. He received the ball from Lee, and it arrived with enough force for Louis to simply run into its path. At the speed of it, he twisted his upper body to the left, convincing the other opposing player he was heading in that direction. He didn’t. He continued right. Harry began running.

Louis sent the ball to Stan, who was sprinting on his left, nearing the penalty area. Louis continued spurting towards the middle, meanwhile, Harry cut in from the right, rounding his own player. They were both heading for the goal area. Stan made the cross.

Both Harry and Louis were in it, two blue players pushing at them defensively. The ball soared through the air, and Harry jumped. His hands were gripping the blue player’s shirt, but that guy’s hands were just as harshly tugging at his jersey. Harry didn’t get high enough. The ball flew right over his head.

It continued. Louis was right behind them, battling his own man. Harry turned, as if in slow motion, and breathlessly watched Louis take one step backward, away from his player. He ended up in the perfect position. The ball landed against his chest, Louis’ reception a thing of pure beauty. It landed on his right foot. He kicked it in.

1-0.

Harry hurled himself at Louis. The rest of their team followed. He could hear nothing but screaming, felt nothing but the rustling of jerseys, and the force of hands pounding at him with excitement and joy.

There was stoppage time left, but Harry knew they had won. Between the grappling and jumping by the other boys, he looked at Louis.

Louis. He was gorgeous. His face was bright, full of pure glee and relief. He had blue eyes. So blue. He looked like an angel.

Harry watched as it happened. He watched, just like he’d watched the football soar through the air only moments ago. He watched, unprepared and shocked, as Louis moved firmly forward through the mess of entangled players, raised his hands to Harry, and cupped his face.

He felt it as he kissed him.

His lips were firm, determined, soft, and sweet all at once.

In the middle of the crowd, in front of people, in front of their team, Louis kissed Harry.