A Piece of His Heart / larry uni AU

chapter eleven

It all comes down to this.

Feet smacking the grass, breath falling and crashing into his chest—it's the first day of the winter break before finals and he's panting, heaving the air in and out of his burning lungs, his heartbeat roaring in his ears. With coursework and exam revision merely a passing thought, the space between him and the goal posts grows smaller and smaller and smaller, until he digs his shoe into the curve of the ball and—

Goal.

Harry leaps forward hastily, tripping over his own feet, but it was hopeless the second the ball left the frozen earth. It's careening into the back of the net before he can stop it.

Goal.

"No!"

Goal!

"Yes!" Louis screams into the December air, spiking his gloves into the ground, falling face first into the grass, "Yes! I won! I actually won!"

"Oh my..." Harry's just as shocked, his body unmoving under the starlight, "You actually did."

Louis continues to laugh loudly, rolling onto his back as a new pain blooms in his hip, "Who said I was only gifted in virtual footie? Huh?" and he's still laughing, clapping and pointing toward the clouded sky.

Harry collapses next to him. Louis lets his hands fall. They puff air in and out of their chests.

When Louis finally looks over at Harry, the boy's face is tucked into the crease of his elbow, the curve of his arm making his expression completely unreadable. Louis likes to think that the art of reading someone's face is a skill he happens to possess. But now, Louis beginning to think that maybe he'd just been lucky, just guessing he reckons, because he honestly can't tell whether Harry's about laugh so hard he cries, or just cry in general, and that's a little scary.

So Louis pauses for a few moments, and then a few more, deciding if he should take the piss or not.

Louis takes the piss, obviously. "Oh, love," He coos, rolling onto his side and propping up his head on his palm. It smells like dirt and it's icy against his burning skin, but he isn't fazed, really, how could he be? "Please don't tell me our little Harry has shed a tear in defeat?" He doesn't even try to hide his smirk. He probably won't try to hide it for the next few days, either.

"I couldn't focus, love," Harry mocks, finally turning his face toward Louis, and he's absolutely forcing away a smile, "I have important stuff stuck in my brain right now."

Louis rolls onto his back. His tone is as condescending as ever when he scoffs, "What, Christmas shopping?"

"No."

"Then, what? Admit what we already know, Styles."

When Louis hears no response, he turns back toward the boy. He's scowling now, tilting his chin a little as if to challenge Louis, but he cracks not even a second later.

Harry's practically beaming, "Never." he whispers.

Louis' beaming too. They laugh in unison. Reflections of the moon dance in their eyes.

A moment passes.

And, "Is there really important stuff stuck in there?" Louis asks, earnestly.

Harry shuts his eyes, his smile fading into the shadows on his face.

They stay like that for a while, just inhaling and exhaling frozen breath under the dim moonlight, until Louis nearly forgets where he is entirely, his question long forgotten.