17 Black

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In case you wanted to choke on your saliva at the size difference like I did, here's this picture. (Ps. Only look at their hand sizes if you can control sudden urges to him out of windows). (Pps. Bakery Larry and Grocery Store Larry. That's all.)

I left you on another cliffhanger (I know, I'm awful, sorry) but I hope the upcoming larry spiciness will make up for it ;). I've been SUPER busy lately and writing on and off as much as possible, and fucking writers block isn't helping much either, so it's a struggle and I'm SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT BUT HERES THE CHAPTER LOVE YOU
-Bella 
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There's a lot of things that Louis should be taking interest in. Better things that he should be focusing on. He's not picking up as many shifts as usual at the bar, and that could easily affect his ability to cover rent on his apartment. Which could easily affect his non-homelessness. Which could be a problem. He got a C on his last History test, too, for some reason, and that's not good. He's struggling with his studies, and behind on his laundry. Just everything that's really, actually important seems to have been going...slow lately. Or maybe just going slowly downhill. He's just distracted, with football and all. And with school--he has been studying a fair amount and doing all of his homework, but he's just not getting it, is the thing. It's like somewhere in his brain, something isn't clicking together, and the words from his textbooks are just that, just words, and they can't make sentences or sense because they're all like little same-pole magnets that just repel and repel and repel each other and Louis can't understand any of it. He's distracted. He just wants something that clicks.

Tonight, Louis actually does have a shift at the bar, which makes hm feel a little less useless, even if it might be the late slot. This shift tends to bring in customers of a bit more mature age, and they're always quite generous on their tips, so he really doesn't mind. He's just bored, and tired, is all. Not really up for the whole bartending thing. It's like that a lot of the days--where he just honestly despises his job and sometimes, when he's especially exhausted of it, he'll even wish that he was back at home living with his mum so he wouldn't have to have this job. He only ever thinks about going back, then, when he's at a low point like this. He doesn't think about it at all other than that. The hours go by slowly, but they do pass eventually, and Louis' just glad to get home. After he has showered and taken a load of laundry out of the dryer, it's already past midnight. Remembering about the game he has tomorrow as he climbs into bed, Louis shuts his eyes and wills himself to fall asleep as fast as possible. He forces all thoughts from his mind--especially anything involving a tall, pretty, curly haired football coach (and kissing)--and focuses on the blackness behind his eyelids. He needs to get a good night's sleep if he doesn't want to play like total shit tomorrow. Like he said, he has better things to be focused on.

***

Louis is cold. His hands are bare and defenseless against the biting air and his knees are exposed and his cheeks have gone numb. Even the long sleeve he's got on under his jersey isn't much help. He envies Liam, who's standing opposite him in the team huddle, clad in his full keeper gear and not shivering in the least bit. Louis should've been a goalie.

"I hope you've all rested and prepared for today and are ready to give your efforts to this game," Harry rumbles in his rocky voice, snapping Louis from his cold-induced trance. He scowls and pulls his sleeves over his fingers.

"I don't really know much of this team we're about to play, as I haven't been here long," Harry continues, the words taking what seems like an hour to leave his lips. "But they seem aggressive and well trained."

Louis appropriately takes the opportunity to glance over to the other half of the field where their opponents are involved in some sort of in-sync warm up drill--a combo of different stretches, and, frankly terrifying primal movements that look alarmingly similar to those of a satanic ritual. Aggressive is most definitely a suitable adjective.