Bloodsport

chapter 61

It felt like the tears didn’t stop for days. He cried against Zayn for minutes, and when he got home, his mother took one look at him and opened her arms, and he fell into them sobbing like a child. Everything happening over the last week burst out of the closet, and he couldn’t keep it in anymore. He clutched the t-shirt while his mother held him for the better of an hour. The whole night, he slept with his nose in the grey fabric, unable to believe it.
“Harry,” Zayn said to him that weekend, eyes downcast and sad. “I saw him go into the bedroom with her at the party. Liam was helping him, but Liam left. Alone. People are saying…” He shook his head. “But it can’t be true, right?”

Harry wanted to believe it wasn’t true so badly. He wouldn’t believe Liam was a liar, either. He was his friend. Just thinking about Louis hurt, and made him want to cry. He almost didn’t feel angry. He was blindly hoping it wasn’t true. He was too emotionally exhausted for it to be true.

On Monday, he walked into school, his body slashed in two. Part of him felt distraught at the thought that Louis could have actually done something with Jasmine. He had seen her kiss the corner of his mouth, and it still made him angry, but if Louis had really slept with her… The thought was crippling.

The second part of him was preoccupied with piercing guilt and a throbbing agony, knowing he’d hurt Louis.

He hadn’t done it intentionally. It wasn’t like he’d chosen United over Chelsea to hurt him. The opposite, in fact. He’d done it to be with him. In whatever way he could.

Stupid. That’s what he was. Naïve. He’d made a choice based on someone else and simultaneously fucked it with that person specifically.

It had also been his dream to play at Old Trafford since he was a kid. United was one of the biggest clubs in the world, and who’d say no to them? No one. They’d asked for him. How could he want to wear blue, if someone was placing red in his hands?

If only he could trade his spot for Louis. But it didn’t work like that, did it?

Harry didn’t see Louis all day at school. It was most likely for the best because he’d probably end up breaking down if he saw the pain in his eyes one more time. However, Louis didn’t show at football training, either. The boys waited an extra five minutes before they started, but eventually stepped out onto the grass. It felt wrong. It was Louis’ day to lead training. Harry asked Coach Abrahams and was told with a grumble that Louis was sick. Harry didn’t believe it for a second.

Despite all that had happened, Harry knew him. He knew Louis Tomlinson. And he wasn’t at practice because he was sick; he wasn’t there because he was giving up. It was easy to see. If Louis couldn’t get into United, what was there to play for? He was a cynic. He didn’t believe in miracles, or trust the future. He didn’t believe in God, and while Harry didn’t, either, he still sensed goodness and believed in something.

Loving someone like that could never be easy. Loving someone like that was hard. Harry still did, though.

That night, lying in bed, he picked up his phone. He wrote, Louis please come to training, don’t think the match doesn’t matter it matters very much a lot

The team needed him. Coach needed him. Harry needed him. The championship match was coming up, and they needed him to be there for them. He was the captain, and he was supposed to lead, not cower away. Harry fucking hated going to practice, unable to share secret smiles and winks between him and Louis like they’d used to, but he showed up. If not for himself, then for the boys. Louis had to know that it mattered, right? Just being there for them.

Louis came to training on Tuesday. Harry didn’t know if his message had anything to do with it, but he hoped so. Even so, during practice, Harry felt nervous. He watched out for any gaze from Louis, any sign that he was willing to talk, but the few times their eyes met, Louis looked away, discomfort set in his shoulders and deep frowns cutting his forehead.