Midplay ::: Larry Stylinson ✔

Chapter 11

A/N

I cried writing this.

Warning: Homophobia, Abuse

Please do not continue if these may trigger you.

Vote and Comment 

Louis POV / Present

I hop into my car as tears stream down my face. My hands clasp over the steering wheel as I bang my head against it. I don't want to remember what I saw. But I don't think I can help remembering.

Louis POV / Earlier that Day

Sunday arrives soon, and my nerves for tryouts tomorrow arise.  I sit on the center of the football field, Liam and Zayn long gone to give each other a few blowjobs.

The sun is starting to go down. The grass is very green and has been freshly painted. I shut my eyes and groan at the pain. I may have overdone myself with the sprints, but I need to be in shape. I point my head towards the ground and start picking at the grass, trying to calm my nerves.

I hear foot steps behind me, but don't look up, I just continue to pick at the grass. The footsteps stop as a broad-shouldered figure slumps down beside me. I look up to see Harry.

His curls are pulled back again by a bandana, and he looks out towards the net. He wears a gray jumper and black skinny jeans.

"So, Harold-"

"Please. Don't."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not in the mood for your sassy comments right now, okay?" He snaps, and I hesitantly nod my head. 

For the first time today, he moves his head to look over to me. I gasp when I see how clear his eyes are today. His hand slowly moves up to cup my jaw. He strokes my jaw and a million butterflies arise in my stomach.

I adjust myself and move into his lap, bringing my hands up to cup his face. Harry' eyes look towards the ground and his head ducks down.

"Darling, look at me," I say, and he raises his head, "What's wrong, love?" Harry just shakes his head and looks away again. I wrap my arms around his and bury my face in his neck. Harry tenses, but eventually wraps his arms around my, holding me tightly. I let out a content sigh and bury my head deeper into his neck. His hands grab onto my shirt tightly as he hugs me back.

About five minutes later, I pull away, unable to hide the wide grin that spreads across my face. He looks back at me with his golden smile. His dimples are visible, and giggling, I poke one of them. He laughs too before clutching hold of the back of my neck.

"Can I?"

"Please, Harry," I reply and he smiles and nods, pulling my neck down to him and connecting our lips. A spark of electricity flies through my body and I shiver as he rubs his tongue over my bottom lip. Just as I am about to push him to the ground so I can straddle him, I hear a man's voice,

"Get the fuck off him you faggot!" My eyes widen and I crawl off of Harry. His eyes are wide, and his bottom lip is trembling. He reaches for my hand and I grab it.

"What do you want, Michael?" Harry asks as the tall man nears us.

"What the fuck, fag! You are fucking disgusting, and you dare to speak to me, spreading your disease! Get the fuck up, and let go of the other fag's hand!" Harry just narrows his eyes. He glances between Michael and I before letting his hand slip out of mine. He stands up, but doesn't make a move towards the man. 

"Get the fuck over here, fag!" The man roars, and Harry slowly steps towards his. I want to help, but I am completely speechless. As soon as Harry nears Michael I scramble to my feet and try to make a move towards him until Harry whispers,