One Direction One Shots 3

Football (Part 1) (Larry)

“Hands in, Shoes on three!” Louis shouted to his teammates, who were huddled around him.

“One, two, three” Louis counted, “SHOES!” the team shouted, before leaving the locker room for the tunnel that would take them to the field. It was Louis’ first game as captain of Three Horseshoes since they’d been promoted to the Premier League, and he was determined to make a match of it.

They walked onto the pitch to much fanfare, and Louis made sure to smile widely and wave in the direction of each and every stand as he made sure to hold their mascot tightly on his left hip. Lux was tiny – a ball of energy, with a shock of blonde hair and a personality larger than her one year. Lux was the only daughter of Louis’ hairstylist (as the captain of the Premier League’s newest team, a personal hairstylist was essential), and she was around so much that they’d formed a strong bond, and Louis had started to treat Lux like she was his own baby sister.

Though he’d vowed to himself to play a good game, from the moment the whistle signalled kick off, Louis was distracted. At first he put it down to nerves – it wasn’t every day that his team played against the likes of Everton. Louis had spent the entire summer trying to get used to the idea of playing the Premier League, but he just couldn’t get his head around it. It was only just sinking in as he received the ball and passed it off to his centre-mid.

Seven minutes into the game, Louis pinpointed the source of his distraction. There was a teenaged boy on the sideline, probably only a few years younger than Louis, but the distance between them made it difficult for Louis to tell just how old the boy was. There was something about him that made him familiar, but Louis couldn’t quite place what it was – or where he’d seen the boy before. And so he remained distracted, knowing that he knew those curls, but not where he knew them from.

Louis couldn’t help himself – he kept glancing at that boy and it had cost him several important opportunities – fumbled tackles and inaccurate passes.

Three Horseshoes were 2 – 0 down when they traipsed off the pitch at halftime. Moral was low and Louis was aware of more than a few raised eyebrows and disappointed smiles in his direction.

“Lost your touch, Tomlinson?” an Everton supporter, clad in blue and white, jeered as they walked into the tunnel, in search of their locker room. The snide comment cut Louis deeply – he was on form, just distracted – but he knew that the words of their coach would be even harsher.

Louis spent the last few minutes of the break trying to focus on the game, while their manager’s last words to him rang in his head ‘sort it out, Tomlinson, or I’ll have to pull you off the field. The team needs your direction. Get your act together!’

Taking a deep breath, Louis squared his shoulders as he once again led his team onto the field. He kept his eyes straight ahead, in an attempt to maintain his focus. It worked, until he heard a voice shout his nickname.

“Tommo!” of course the stadium was full of admiring fans shouting Louis’ name, but something about this was different. Louis recognised that voice, and his head whipped around involuntarily.

The boy was standing there, not ten metres away. His curls were a mess, and a shiteating grin was plastered across his face as he balanced a match ball under his arm. His green eyes were sparkling, and Louis would know that face anywhere. He’d been dreaming about it for months – years even, but he still didn’t know why he knew it. So Louis did the only thing he could do – he waved, smiled, and shouted a quick ‘hi!’ before taking to the field with his team.

Louis had let their manager’s stern words slip to the back of his mind when the boy had shouted his name – and he spent the first ten minutes of the second half trying to convince himself that the boy didn’t know him, that he was just another admiring fan.