larry- one shots

galileo

ps the playlist at the end is super cute!

"What do you think, Niall?" Louis whispered.

Niall bit his bottom lip and tilted his head toward Louis. They turned to exchange glances.

They were checking out the three remaining boys. Two of them, Stan Atkinson and Jimmy Selley, stared glumly at the ground, nervously shifting their feet, glancing up at the two groups of boys who had already been sorted. The others were already practicing, dribbling, drilling the soccer balls back and forth, chatting loudly, laughing.

Neither Louis nor Niall recognized the last remaining kid. He must have been new to the school. He was awkwardly gangly—although not exactly tall— moving like a marionette adjusting to his new limbs. His face was obscured by a jumble of chestnut curls, held down by a gray heather beanie, the ends flustered by the wind. Despite being one of the last boys left, he wasn't paying attention to Louis or the other captain at all.

Who the heck is he? Louis thought. Who wears a beanie to soccer practice?

The kid threw a ball into the air and attempted to head it, but the ball landed squarely on his face. Immediately, he doubled over and rubbed his face in pain.

"Erm," Niall said in a loud whisper, "not that one."

"No kidding," answered Louis with a curt laugh. Louis had been playing soccer since he was five. He was captain of the school team. He could see a player who needed to be carried a mile away. His coaches had always taught him to pick wisely.

He turned toward the other captain, Nick. "Hey, we'll take Stan."

"We'll take Jimmy," Nick shot back without hesitation.

Stan and Jimmy shuffled to their respective sides, relieved not to be the last person picked. Someone on Louis' team high-fived Stan with both hands. Stan ran into the huddle and kicked a free soccer ball.

"Crikey," Louis whispered to Niall. "We're gonna be stuck with Wonderwall over there."

The kid hadn't seemed to notice that team selection was over. He was still awkwardly rubbing his eyes.

"Uh," Niall called out to him, "Hey you! Looks like you're on our team."

"I am?" The boy turned in surprise. He began to amble toward them. "Oh, cool."

Did Louis hear a hint of a British accent? He watched the kid come closer.

"I'm Louis, and this is Niall." Louis waved his hand toward Niall. "What's your name?"

"I'm Harry," he said. "Harry Styles." His voice was high, raspy, and laced with unnecessary eagerness. His eyes reflected the intense green of the pitch. "Ready to play some football?"

He was British. Louis internally rolled his eyes.

It was already pretty horrible that people of different athletic abilities were lumped together in seventh grade phys ed class. Louis loved soccer, and he loved playing with friends like Niall, who knew soccer. They had been playing together on the travel team for three years now, where Louis was also captain.

He had promised his coach to be on best behavior, but he was sure that this Harry Styles, whoever he was, was going to be a menace. Harry was going to drag the whole team down, and it would be three weeks putting up with him. Harry was going to be so bad, Louis thought, such an irritating disaster, that he would end up hurting Louis more than he hurt himself.

Well.

Louis wasn't wrong.

Chapter Text

"Hey team." Mr. Leeds was directing everyone's attention to the white screen. The students of the Industrial Design and Visual Arts class settled their talking and turned their heads toward him.