17 Black (Part Two)

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He hears the crowd cheer, and Liam pulls him in for a tight hug.

He made it in. He won the game.

"Mate, you did it, fucking shit!" Liam shouts in his ear, still holding Louis in the embrace. He hears the rest of the team running toward them, but all he can really think about right now is trying not to lose consciousness from how much pain he's in.

Isaiah tears Louis away from Liam and pulls him in for a hug, and Louis let's out a reluctant cry of pain, though it seems to get lost in the commotion.

"Lou, that was bloody incredible! I've never seen anything like that in my life! Why'd it play out like that, though? Like, why was Liam practically holding you up?" Isaiah asks, pulling away so he can see Louis' face.

He sees the tears in Louis eyes, despite the smile on his face, and he frowns with concern. He feels Louis practically shivering under his hands from the cold, even though it's still probably fifty degrees out.

Louis tries to focus his eyes, but the dizziness mixed with the noise seems to be throwing him off.

"Louis, what's wrong?" "Lou?" "You alright, mate?" He hears the string of questions from multiple people, and he screws his eyes shut, breathing in deeply through his nose. He opens his eyes slowly, and sees that almost everyone is looking at him, minus the few people who haven't noticed the situation.

He grabs Liam's arm for support, who slings Louis' arm around his shoulder, seeming to understand what's going on.  Louis turns his head and spots Harry jogging toward the circle of players, hair flowing in the wind.

"Holy fuck, that was- Tomlinson?" Harry asks, mood changing swiftly once he sees Louis' expression.

"Back up, guys. Give him some space," Harry calls out, and the rest of the team- besides Liam- hesitantly take a few steps back, talking amongst themselves about the victory.

Harry's hand brushes Louis' arm, gaining back his attention.

"How bad is it, Louis?" He asks, voice low enough so that even Liam can't hear him. Louis feels every muscle in his body tense, trying to keep himself standing.

"Um, bad? Pretty bad. I don't think I need to go to the hospital, but I definitely can't play for the next few days. This knee brace doesn't do shit," he huffs, and Harry's face is edged with worry.

"Shit. I knew I should've sat you out," he mumbles, and Louis shakes his head.

"No, it's not your fault. My knee was messed up anyway, and sitting down wouldn't have changed that," Louis reassures, but Harry still doesn't look any more at ease. He leans down to Louis' ear, making sure Liam can't listen in.

"Pass out," he instructs, and Louis just stares at him.

"Excuse me?" He asks. Harry rolls his eyes.

"Look, I need to carry you off the field. There's no way in hell I'm letting you walk on your own, and you look like you're in so much pain that someone could've just stabbed you. We both know that you're not going to let me carry you if you're 'awake', but this is non negotiable. So just, like, close your eyes and start to fall. I won't let you hit the ground," he explains in a rush.