17 Black

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FUCK IM SO SORRY FOR TAKING FOREVER TO UPDATE AND FOR THAT SHIT CHAPTER I PROMISE ILL MAKE IT UP TO U ALL JUST WAIT YOULL SEE I LOVE U GUYS UR LIKE MY KIDS -BELL
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It's three days later. Louis is a liar.

He knows that like, well, three days ago, actually, he promised Harry he wouldn't go to practice, even though he totally would not have said that if he wasn't so distracted by Harry's dangerously good looks. Now that he's thinking about it, he would be willing to bet major money that Harry did that on purpose just to get him to agree to sitting out of practice. Well hey, it worked so credits to him. But still. Louis is a liar.

Because right now, he is in the locker room lacing up his cleats and pulling his Man. U jacket over his shoulders, telling himself that the sharp aches in his bones and muscles are no big deal and that he can handle it, right? Right. He's in control of his own body, he knows he can do it.

Liam is sitting beside him and pulling his socks up over his guards, his big brown eyes casting wary glances every once in a while in his direction. Louis is suddenly reminded that the last time he was in this room, he was being carried out of it.

"You sure it's nothing?" Liam asks Louis again for what seems like the thousandth time.

Louis rolls his eyes, half acting like it's no big deal, half just laughing at Liam's constant daddy instincts.

"Yep, thanks again for asking, padre," Louis says with a sarcastic grin.

Louis' torso is covered by the three layers he is sporting tonight in honor of the ever-freezing temperatures in good old Donny, but underneath, everything looks the same as it did three days ago except less fresh and more oddly colored. All of his jackets and hoodies have always been a little long in the arms, which has actually come in handy now since they very effectively cover the brace on his wrist. He tells Liam that he was texting and ran into a tree on his way to his car after work (oh, the things Liam will believe) and that's how his face got all bruised and scratched up. He blames his fading limp on his previous knee injury, claiming that he re-twisted it at practice last week and just needs to play it off. With the sorts of lies Louis is having to bend over backwards to come up with, he knows Liam is bound to become suspicious at some point. He's a smart kid. Gullible, but smart. It's inevitable.

Liam sends him one last cautious glance before Louis practically begs him to chill out and leads the way out the door. Only as soon as he's out of the locker room does Louis realize that maybe he should have taken into consideration how pissed Harry is going to be that he showed up at practice tonight, in his gear instead of on the bench. The first thing Louis notices is Ryan Shoemaker across the field, pretending to kick a ball straight at Stan's nuts and then laughing after Stan flinches. Louis shakes his head, ashamed that someone with such a low level of maturity has been able to both continually harass as well as hospitalize him. It's embarrassing.

The second thing he notices is Harry, hunched over his duffle bag which sits on the bench, and rifling through its contents, his broad shoulders clad in an Adidas jacket and a pair of fitted black sweats hanging on his hips, matching sneakers on his feet. His back is to Louis, meaning he hasn't yet seen him, and therefore giving him the opportunity to ditch before he is spotted and save himself from Harry's wrath. It's a good plan, and he is actually considering taking action when Harry stands up straight with a clipboard under one arm and one hand in the air as he signals the team's attention.

"On the line," he calls out, his rough voice carrying across the field. Louis freezes. It's too late, he has no other option now.

Liam scuffs Louis' hair as he jogs past to join the group of boys who're forming their usual straight line in front of Coach Styles, whose attention is temporarily diverted to his clipboard, scrubbing the eraser across the surface and correcting whatever it is he was working on. Louis' stomach churns with some sort of fear, and he momentarily curses himself for being so stubborn and feisty. He knows it gets him into trouble a lot, just as it's about to in a few seconds, again.