we're like bumper cars ~ l.s.

chapter 9

Louis is sitting alone at his table with a continental breakfast in front of him. It's half eaten. He's not hungry this morning, but he's forcing himself. Energy to deal with Harry's shit is required.

Harry's across the room feeding his face with an assortment of the hotel's freshest food. No one should look pretty while eating, and Harry is no exception to that. Louis can't believe he kissed that face once upon a time, let alone sucked his dick. Louis doesn't even know why they breathe in a 10 metre radius of one another.

Louis is only a little bit pissed off this cloudy Wednesday morning.

The morning is scheduled to be a slow one. Most students were out of the dining room by 8 in the morning, heading back upstairs for a relaxing two hours break before they head to the stadium for their final training. Tomorrow is the day. It's the day of the competition. The day Louis will be announced champion and head into the interstate competition. Then into nationals.

Louis knows he'll win. The confidence is a horrible stench on him that won't and can't be rid of.

He leaves his table without any word. He leaves his half full plate of food and takes the elevator to the room. He has the room alone for five minutes until Harry comes in with an aggravated gruff. Louis wants to leave the room.

Harry sits on his bed, laying back against the head board and messaging God knows who. His eyebrows are furrowed tightly, like the balls of Louis' fists currently. His eyes are sharp and direct to his phone, and there's small mutters coming from his mouth that are too inaudible to understand.

It's too late to turn back, Louis tells himself. He's just had about enough with this fucker

"You're literally a piece of shit," Louis barks at him. Harry looks up from his phone, eyes unapologetic and carefree. Louis absolutely, positively hates him. "Your fucking fault. You said you had set it. You said! Then we fucking wake up fifteen minutes into breakfast. Who fucking knew what we would have woken up to, Harry!"

"The thing is, he didn't walk in on us. We weren't doing anything, so besides you being a fucking asshole and overreacting about everything, maybe set the alarm yourself next time!" Harry rebuttals, eyes darting straight to his phone as he texts frantically.

Louis knows today could have started out far worse than Harry has made it. Harry doesn't seem to understand that both of them are still hidden from the public, let alone Harry still being in the closet. Harry doesn't understand that Coach could have caught them in bed this morning, if they had slept together last night.

Their alarm didn't end up sounding its horrible marimba tone. Harry had forgotten to set it. Louis knows he's lying when he said it just didn't go off. Louis knows that some stupid, faulty mistake would be because of Harry, not an iPhone 6. Louis does not believe him.

Earlier this morning, fifteen knocks on the door shook through the wood and into the room. Both Louis and Harry were frightened to find the Coach standing in front of their beds after a screech echoed into their ears. It's how they woke up this morning. Louis swears to God everything could have ended up worse. They could have been fucking, they could have been spooning. They could have been doing anything else but sleeping in their own two beds. How doesn't Harry see how lucky they really are.

Just... Harry's a fucking idiot, that's why. A fucking idiot that... sleeps with other people.

"You're a moron," Louis decides to tell him. He walks over to his bed, unmade, and slips under the sheets. They have an hour left of their downtime due to being late to breakfast. Louis doesn't mind - it's less time to spend with Harry.

Harry doesn't respond to him, and Louis thinks that the way it should be, for the rest of their lives.

He gets suited up in his running gear, tying his laces tight before walking out the door in his sport shorts and polyester polo. Harry doesn't follow him. Instead, he holds up the group an extra five minutes when he comes strolling out of the elevator by himself. He's late, again, but without a word, Coach leads the students onto the bus to drive to the stadium.