Frame of Hearts - l.s.

Chapter Fourty One

His feet are hot next to the ball he's dribbling down the field. He has no intention to stop, or pass the ball, and Liam's hollering to him, calling him a fat hog from behind, but who cares. It's ten seconds until the end, Harry needs this goal to get into the finals. 

There's an opponent ahead, growling like a dog and trotting on the spot like a bull. Harry looks to his eyes, a mere grey-blue which looks like Louis' angry eyes. Louis. Fucking Louis. Stupid Louis.

He shoves the man away and kicks the ball, crying out a grunt when he falls to the floor. It goes in, the bells ring, they're in the final. He's picked up by his teammates and crowded by words of praise and cheer. They're clapping him on the back and Harry's just smiling weakly and breathing out tiredly. 

A shower is ready for him and he leans against the tiles and lets himself cool off. He drives home without a goodbye to anyone then locks himself up in his room for the rest of the day.

It's July, and Harry is still wearing sweatpants in the Summer heat, but he doesn't care. He has his air conditioner at full blast and he's sitting under the duvet reading through his text messages. Zayn's asked if he wanted to hang out later in town, but he declines with my mum said no, sorry, and finds himself curled up ready to have a sleep.

There's a door knock around an hour later. Harry is hoping it's his mum with some nicely made lunch, but two boys storm in and sit on either side of Harry's bed with legs crossed and smiles on their faces. Harry groans and sits up. He didn't want company today.

"Why," he says, not even a question to the lads. "I just want to be alone--"

"You've been alone since June, H. You're fucking obvious. You use the lamest excuses in the book," Liam snaps. "Don't play coy with us, Styles. What's wrong?"

"What do you mean, what's wrong? I told you I'm fine! I've always been fine, see?" he smiles so wide that his jaw clicks. Harry grunts and holds a hand to his cheek. "Don't try and assume things. I've told you I'm fine. I'm just tired after footie."

"So I suppose you're tired after maths as well, are you? So much hard work with quadratics, hm? So much work that you do two questions and you talk the rest of the lesson--"

"Stop being sarcastic, it's hurting my brain," Harry hisses to Zayn. "What do you want from me?"

"We want you to be happy," Zayn states. "You've told us a lot, H. I-I know it's been hard over the past few months but you're not living life as full as you can. There was the carnival last week and you didn't even make the effort to get into town."

"You know why? Because I'd be third wheeling both of you when you're snogging on the ferris wheel and winning each other prizes. I don't find that very enjoyable."

Liam smirks at Zayn. "See what I mean?"

Harry cocks up an eyebrow at the two boys. "What are you on about?"

"Haz," Zayn says softly. "Do you... do you miss Louis?"

The name immediately causes pain. He screws up his face, looks down to the duvet and growls out, "don't mention his name."

"But--"

"I'm serious, Zayn," Harry continues. "Don't... just don't. I don't want anything to do with him."

"Ah, I call bullshit on you," Liam snaps, earning a groan from Harry. "No wonder you've been cranky and pissy for the past few months. You miss Louis, don't even fucking deny it. Louis Louis Louis. Does that do anything for you? You're still in love with him and if you deny that shit, I'm going to shove a hand down your throat."