Here In The Afterglow

Chapter 1.10

Of course, it's only fitting that the first day of spring begins with a downpour.

Louis has never been covered in so much mud in his life, and he'd much rather be tucked up on the window seat, reading and humming along to The Doors than tackling in puddles for a ball.

Harry, the shit, is sitting up in the stands, wearing a bright yellow raincoat and holding quite honestly the ugliest umbrella he's ever seen, looking like he's just about drowning. He's the only one up there too, and every time Louis looks at him he has to stop himself from doubling over with laughter at his huddled figure.

At first, Stan gets pissy about it and mouths off to Jimmy, and that sets the whole team off. Louis quietly reminds them that Harry is probably seeing how good their form is so he can report back to the senior team, and that shuts them up rather quickly, instead focusing on playing through their drills. Somehow, they actually believe him.

He's going to be covered in bruises and the odd scrape for sure. Stan is being particularly standoffish today, tackling hard and pushing Louis into the mud and laughing it off like it's a joke. At the start, Louis let himself have a little fun and get muddy. Now though, his are shins fully coated and his hair is sticky with it. He's had about enough.

"Mellow out!" He calls after Stan as he's pushed down again, way too rough.

"Don't know what you're talking about!" Stan calls back over the rain, shaking out his hair. Louis just rolls his eyes.

After, he's completely soaked and chilled to the bone, and it doesn't help that the locker room feels like a literal freezer. Everything is concrete and metal and the boys all huff out tiny, stilted puffs of air as they change and shower.

Louis grabs his towel out of his bag and reaches in for his clothes. He pauses, pulling his bag open wider.

"Alright," he calls out, huffing. "Who's psyching me up?"

Nobody answers, and Louis rolls his eyes.

"Stan!" He calls, leaning around the lockers.

"What!" Stan calls back from the showers, muffled under the water.

"Where've you put my clothes, you asshole?" He looks around himself again, then stands on top of the bench to peer at the top of the lockers.

Stan emerges a few minutes later, freshly washed and changed, looking warm in his sweatshirt and pants. Louis is sitting on the cold bench, his teeth chattering.

"Not the faintest idea what you mean," he says breezily as he walks past.

"Oh, come on," Louis rolls his eyes. The room has slowly started to file out, and Louis shivers again, wrapping his arms around himself.

"Sorry," Stan shrugs. Louis narrows his eyes.

"Okay, enough playing," Louis stands. "Give me my clothes back, man."

"I don't have them, I just told you," Stan zips up his bag and lugs it onto his shoulder.

"Dude," Louis says, a little desperately as another tremor shakes him.

"See you tomorrow!" Stan calls cheerfully as he pushes the door open. Briefly, the splash of the rain fills the room. It's muffled again when it nicks shut behind him.

Louis stands in the centre of the room for a moment, before he lets out a frustrated huff and does a lap of the entire room, looking in every single locker. He comes up empty, and he hits his fist against one in annoyance. He bites his lip.

Then, he remembers, Harry.

He grabs his bag and runs outside. It's still pissing rain, and across the grounds he can see Harry standing by the bike shed, wrestling with his umbrella. It's folded completely out the wrong way in the wind, and Louis finds himself laughing as he makes a break for it, thoroughly soaked.