I Want You So Much (But I Hate Your Guts)

Chapter 9

As a result of his fucking unnecessary heat Louis wasn't chosen as a player for the next game against the A-B University Football Team of Wolverhampton. It wasn't so much disappointing as it was annoying. He could have been chosen, is pretty sure Collins wanted to pick him, too, but with him missing almost an entire week of practice that really wasn't justifiable. Didn't mean that Louis couldn't be pissed about it, though.

So maybe he was showing his frustration a bit too openly in the locker room, which brought him some concerned and some pitying glances, which — that didn't help, thanks!

What also didn't help was Harry Goddamn Styles.

His mind had been in a constant state of messiness ever since his heat had passed and he was able to think clearly once again. All that had been occupying his brain since then, of course, was Harry's behaviour on the day his heat started. First of all the Alpha had helped him out of a situation that could've turned nasty pretty quickly. Then, he took care to bring Louis back to his dorm room, assuring that he would end up there unharmed, undetected and alone. And lastly, there had been another spark and Harry had recognised it, Louis was sure of that, but he didn't take advantage of Louis. Just like he hadn't in Oxford.

Unlike the morning after in Oxford, though, this time around Harry didn't ignore him. He didn't act indifferent anymore, or as if handling and supervising Louis during practice was the heaviest burden. That wasn't supposed to mean that he acted quite the opposite, either, because that would be an exaggeration. No, weirdly enough, he simply started to act naturally, civilly. He greeted Louis just like he greeted every other member of the team, for one, which didn't sound like a big deal but actually was. Then, during practice, Harry didn't constantly skip over Louis anymore, failed to pass him the ball or deliberately left him out in tackling and team-building exercises. And that one time Louis managed to score a near-impossible goal with his left foot Harry even paid him a compliment, and even if it was straight to the point and slightly stilted, Louis couldn't help but be giddy about it for the rest of the day.

It wasn't much, but somehow it still was, if that made any sense at all. It probably didn't for anybody who wasn't Louis. For the first time he felt like an actual member of the team, appreciated and involved, and he was happy about that. He wasn't all too happy that all this was brought about by the pitying appearance he offered up while going into heat right in front of Harry's eyes.

He'd take what he could get, though, obviously. Because it was impossible to deny that the bits and pieces of Harry's attention and goodwill that were directed Louis' way felt like rays of sunshine on his skin.

+++

The Thursday before the next game weekend was a bad day for Louis, there was no denying.

Upon waking up and getting ready for the day Louis had realised that his stock of Yorkshire tea was gone. Like, honestly, how could that even have happened without him noticing? Everything started to go downhill from there on, obviously. The light on his bike broke right during his ride to the university campus, which sucked, because now he would have to make time to get that fixed. Then he was unable to answer not only one but two questions his professor directed at him in his Canadian Literatures Seminar. Louis despised not being on top of the topics they were covering in class, but with his heat making him miss almost an entire week of uni he still had catching up to do that had prevented him from reading the novel that had been assigned for the day. It was an excuse he, of course, couldn't use. It sufficed to say that the professor wasn't pleased with him in the slightest.

Embarrassed and discontent as he was it was no wonder, really, that Louis had then proceeded to play a terrible game of football during practice. He lost the ball countless times, missed the easiest passes and fell for half-hearted tackles more often than he cared to admit. If the sharp glances Coach Collins had thrown his way were anything to go by the man wasn't pleased by his performance, either.