An Unbelievers Story: Bloodsport

Chapter 11

Louis was silent when Harry opened the door to the car. He sat in the passenger seat, arms crossed and eyes cast out on the front lawn. Harry dropped Louis' bag in the backseat, hopped into the driver's seat, and started the engine, reversing out onto the street. The absence of sound was too much for Harry, and he quickly turned on the radio. It played a soft tune. He hummed quietly, hoping the tension would break. It didn't. Louis didn't move an inch in his seat. Harry's insides felt full of rocks.

They reached Louis' house much too soon. He didn't want Louis to go. He didn't want to go back into his own house and face his family again.

He parked along the curb outside Louis' home. He braced himself for the conversation. His voice was quiet as he asked, "Are you still mad, babe?"

Louis' head turned swiftly, movement hasty and full of fury. "Don't call me that."

"Louis."

"I hate you."

Harry didn't like those words.

"I didn't plan for this whole thing to happen."

Louis' eyes turned into slits. "I know you wanted chaos, Harry. Just like I know you kissed me that time outside your house because you wanted your mum to see. You have an agenda with everything."

Well. Harry hadn't actually considered that Louis knew it was for a cause. However, it wasn't like the kiss was purely intended for that. He also liked kissing Louis. He loved it, actually. It felt good. Furthermore, he definitely did not have a secret agenda with everything. Rather, he seemed to make rash decisions based on overwhelming emotions, which he came to regret every single time.

"I don't," he replied.

"So, what I said wasn't true?"

"Fine." He couldn't exactly lie about it. "I knew she was looking."

"I don't get you!" Louis exploded. His hands rose in the air, strained and filled with exasperation. "This is a secret, Harry! We don't like each other — we have sex. And nobody is supposed to know that! And then you kiss me in front of your mum and make a scene in front of your family on your birthday, and it's like you're begging for attention! I just want to take you and shake you, and explain to your thick head that this is not how you keep a fucking secret."

His shoulders heaved, meanwhile, Harry stared back at him. If only Louis knew just how right he was. Harry was begging for attention. It wasn't like it was handed to him on a silver platter daily. However, he hadn't expected Louis to be so attentive to detail. He didn't know that Louis could see through him so easily.

"Sorry," he pressed out, compelling the words to leave his mouth. Louis' eyes were difficult to look into, especially when they were gazing so powerfully, straight into his. Harry looked away eventually, unable to hold it. How was it that Louis' words, his actions — everything he did — seemed to strike Harry to the floor? When did he ever win? Louis always won. "You forgot my birthday," he added.

"Sorry, sweetheart. It's not as if we're dating, or anything."

Did that matter? Harry's heart felt like it mattered.

"You usually remember anyway."

He sighed. "Are you mad because of that now?" He crossed his arms again and glanced off towards the house. "I gave you a present, at least. You didn't get me one."

"We were on break."

"It was still my birthday, wasn't it?"

"I haven't gotten my gift, though."

Louis huffed. "Well, you're not getting it, either. I'm still mad at you for this stupid birthday party."

It had been a stupid party. Harry despised everything about it. Except for the little parts where Louis had been soft and warm against his side, solid and connected. It sure looked like he was defending you pretty well out there, Gemma had said. It was true. He had defended him. He had said that Harry deserved to be the captain of the team. Did Louis really feel that way? Harry couldn't tell what Louis was thinking. He never could. His actions spoke nothing of his truth. Not a shadow of it.