heal me (in more ways than one)

Chapter Three

Louis is 100% not a morning person. He's been this way his whole life in fact, and he blames his mum because, honestly, who lets a toddler sleep in until noon? But the habit formed and it stuck, so now Louis thinks he'd rather be dragged to the fiery pits of hell than wake up at 6:30 am for a bloody football practice. He's never been a violent person either, but when Eleanor shakes Louis awake after he blatantly ignores the fifteen alarms he set, he kind of just wants to take the blaring phone and shove it down her throat so she'll shut up. But honestly, Louis isn't one for violence.

Regardless, the world, particularly his insane coaches, think eight o'clock in the morning is a perfectly reasonable hour of the day to function, and that's how Louis finds himself leaning up against a set of lockers with his foot on the bench in front of him, momentarily forgetting how to tie his shoelaces because that's how tired he is. Louis rubs his hands over his face, sighing as he does so, and blinks hard in an attempt to wake up.

At eight o'clock sharp Louis is standing on the field, subconsciously digging the teeth of his cleats into the soft turf, because although he hates mornings with a burning passion, he's still the bloody team captain and tardiness is not a good way to start off his career as such.

The coaches, including Liam, join the team on the field a few minutes past eight. (Really, Louis can't be late but the coaches can? Power trip, much?) They explain the schedule for today's practice, pointing out different stations on the field set to focus on refreshing particular footie skills. The stations are set up like a clock, and as the coach points out the stations Louis turns to look at each one.

"That over there is your training station. We have weights and other equipment set up for you, and physical therapists to help you stretch and whatnot." He points to a station at the top right corner of the field, and Louis squints to see it. He can't see much, only some very large metal equipment and two people in white coats talking to each other. The coach begins talking about the next station, and Louis turns his attention away from the former.

Sure, mornings suck, but once Louis actually starts moving and getting into the swing of things, it's easy for him to slip into a simpler state of mind. He starts at the middle of the field, taking shots on goal while Liam watches, silently taking critiques. Louis heads the ball down to his feet and turns to Liam, who honestly seems to be spacing out a bit. "Any suggestions?" Louis asks him.

Liam looks at Louis, eyes widening a bit. He looks down at the ball at Louis' feet, and then back up at Louis. "Oh! Uh, no. I think you're, uh, you're doing just fine." He flashes Louis a smile, but Louis isn't done yet.

"Are you sure? That last one was a bit off, don't you think?" Louis cocks his head, and places his hand on his hip.

Liam flashes a glance at the goal, but returns his gaze to Louis. "Well, yeah. I mean, it wasn't too bad. Just.. put a bit more power into it next time. Keep your eye on the ball and all that."

Louis bends down to pick up the ball and tucks it underneath his arm. "Oh sure, yeah of course," he says with a smirk on his face. Liam looks nervous, and Louis is thoroughly enjoying taking the piss out of him. He throws the ball at Liam, who fumbles with it for a bit before latching onto it with both hands and nodding at Louis, who walks up to him.

"I'm just fucking with you, yeah? Let's go to a pub tonight, how about that?" Louis claps his hand against Liam's chest, who gives a relieved smile.

"Alright, yeah. See you then." Louis grins back and moves clockwise to the next station.

Louis works hard, getting back into the rhythm of things. It feels good to play after only having to occasional footie match with friends during the off season. He feels confident, and his previous worries of not being up to the responsibilities of the team captain melt away. He's got this.