17 Black

12•

Just gonna say, you guys are the most supportive followers ever and I might have a tiny crush on all of you guys whoops. I'm so sorry I've been so slow with updating, but recently I've been hit with another loss -- one of my friends--such a great talent, kind heart, strong spirited person) died of cancer a few days ago and it was a huge loss for everyone, I can't begin to imagine how his parents must feel.
But I'm like, so busy, because I've got soccer tryouts right now and there's a boy sort of (😉) and the infamous friend drama, so my life is a bit of a mess right now, and I just really need to write this story because I'm honestly really excited about it so far and am having a bit of writers deprivation :/!

But really, I've gotten so many reads it's fucking ridiculous. Keep voting and commenting (love to read them) and being kick ass followers. This is great holy shit. I just love writing for you guys because you're so awesome and ily.

(QUICK AN: This chappie may or may not have a little or a lot of Louis/Harry action...keep your 👀s peeled ;))
❤️u
-Bella
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Louis' apartment seems quiet, dead, but his mind is alive. It had been all night, quite annoyingly, keeping him awake with all varieties of thoughts about seemingly every imaginable topic, but primarily just ones about his entire life in general. He got to thinking about how the whole world seems so much different now than it did before it had been completely ripped out from under his unsuspecting little feet.

He laid curled up on his side, pressed up to the wall in his small bed, shivering against the chill that seeped through the window on the wall, even though it was closed and socks were shoved in every possible crevice of the frame. His eyes were closed but active under the lids, restless, just thinking.

He finds himself remembering all the times he got beat up after he came out --or rather, was outed -- as gay. Everyone liked him before he "changed", so they said, but he didn't understand, and probably never will, because he was always that way, even before. It's like one word, just a petty little label, completely turns people's moods around 360 degrees. He got beat up regularly; sometimes by his former friends, teammates, for a few weeks, suffering through countless numbers of bruises and cuts, through infinite times of convincing Liam not to go serial killer on any of his attackers. He told Liam it was just a phase, it would die down soon, and he would only make it worse. He wasn't totally wrong.

Plus, none of it really affected him at all, especially after a while of getting used to it. After hearing the same insults over and over again, it really started to get old. He does remember one time, a while ago, when Ryan Shoemaker --the one on his team who has been giving him the most shit since forever -- pinned his arms behind his back and broke his pinky finger, yelling at him over the sounds of Louis' own cries: "Shut up, no one's going to listen, you mean nothing to anyone." That's the only one that made the pain go further than a physical level. Maybe because he actually believed it. But he's good at hiding that kind of stuff, good at making sure that nobody sees the weakest part of him, the one that shows the real, raw emotions that he feels, like guilt, shame, agony, desire to be loved for once, all the precious stuff that he can't afford to have broken, too.

He gets hardly four hours of sleep that night, and curses himself for not being more careful on a game night. Football is close to the only thing he can count on, for now. Besides Liam and probably Isaiah, too. He just hopes he does well in his game tomorrow, and prays to God that everything goes uphill after that.

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Louis' mere hours of sleep prove to be the opposite of convenient, and he finds himself dragging his own weight the entire day. Isaiah kindly mentioned that he looks like a zombie, and Liam made a less than polite comment on the fact that he looks like shit. He can't really disagree, though, because it's mostly true; his hair is tousled and badly hidden under a beanie, eyes drooping closed every two seconds due to fatigue, body looking small and pitiful under his very put together outfit that consists of his football sweatpants and a sweatshirt. He must be a sight for sore eyes, but it's not like anyone would care.