17 Black

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Visual of The Ass ō_ō THE SHIRT STRETCHES OVER IT SO TIGHTLY ITS SO ROUND I CAN JUST IMAGINE THE LITTLE DIMPLES THAT HARRYS FINGERTIPS WOULD MAKE IN THE SKIN AS HE GRIPS LOUIS' ASS SOS SOS

Anywhooo another filler-type chapter but it's leading up to stuff so get ready (you know what I mean by stuff *wink). But srsly I can't even tell u guys how much ur votes and comments and commitment to this story mean to me I'm legit SO HYPE TO WRITE THIS THING I WANNA MAKE IT AMAZING FOR U GUYS. ITS GONNA BE ALMOST AS DELICIOUS AS LOUIS' ASS BUT NOT QUITE BC NOTHING CAN BEAT The Ass. love youuuuu
-Bella
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"Fuck you," Ryan spits, taking an aggressive jab towards Louis, and that's when he is certain that this confrontation is not going anywhere good.

Louis, knows much too well by now that he won't--under any circumstance--be able to hold his own in a fight against Shoemaker. An obvious giveaway is the twelve-inch height difference and forty pound weight gap between them. Part of him feels like a coward for running, but he's too afraid of what will happen if he doesn't. Turning on the balls of his feet, Louis attempts to pivot away from Ryan, and is about to bolt around the corner when a hand yanks on his shirt from behind, sending him lurching backwards. He finds himself face to face with Ryan once again, heart rabbiting in his ribcage. He quickly strategizes his escape route while searching Ryan's fiery expression for his next move. Before he's able to dart out of the way, a wide-knuckled fist smashes into the side of his face and he's blindly staggering away, knocking back into the brick wall. Continuous pain spreads across his eye, his jaw, his cheek--and it takes a few blinks for him to clear the scattering dots in his vision and steady himself against the side of the building. Louis notices a hot, dripping sensation that trickles down the side of his face.

"You got me kicked off the fucking team," Ryan shouts, and this time when his fist comes rocketing at Louis' left ear, he's able to barely stumble out of the way.

Within the second, Ryan jerks forward for his next attack. This time, Louis is too dizzied to step completely out of the way. Another blow catches the edge of his chin, and his eyes show him nothing but blackness for a second. He falls back against the brick and struggles to regain his senses, already feeling the damage of the punches slowly diminish the movement in his jaw. Forcing his eyes to open, Louis watches as, lead by the momentum of his last swing, Ryan almost crashes into the wall beside him. When he whirls around to face Louis again, his face is tinged an angry shade of pink, and his thick fingers flex at his sides. Something about this image has Louis imagining himself back in the locker room, laid out on the cool tile, body battered, with Ryan hovering over him. He remembers waking up in the hospital, and the long weeks he spent just recovering from those brief ten minutes in the locker room. The thing that scares him about the memory is that he doesn't know if it could've turned out worse that night. If Harry hadn't found him, or if Ryan had decided not to stop...Nothing keeps him from doubting that it could have been far worse. Or that it could be far worse this time around.

Ryan gets into a stance like he's about to swing again, or maybe even kick a leg out, so Louis does the only thing that will keep him safe and darts away at the last moment, heading towards the bar entrance at a full sprint. Heavy footsteps slap the pavement behind him as he throws open the door and twists the lock under the handle after it slams behind him. Once Louis is inside, he stops, breath squeezing out of his lungs. The dim lighting glints off of the crystalline alcohol glasses and Louis' head pounds agonizingly from the sight of all the little twinkles they cast on the walls. He can see the patrons of the bar turning to look at him, perplexed expressions fixed on their faces, but Louis walks past them, dazedly wiping the blood from a cut below his eye. When he finally rounds the corner and stands behind the counter, his hands grip the wooden surface tightly and hangs his head for a moment, letting out a shaky breath. His head spins, and his exhales come out shakily. If he hadn't have gotten away from Ryan, he knows he'd end up in the hospital again, but likely, with worse injuries. Truthfully, he didn't have the slightest clue to Shoemaker's banishment from the team, but Louis' ignorance of the situation, of course, wouldn't have mattered to Ryan at all. He'd have gotten smashed into a pile of halved bones and bloodied skin either way.