hate you, with love (L.S)

Chapter 1

"You frog faced fuck! What the hell is your problem?" Louis yells from where he's standing on the field.

"What the fuck did you just call me!?" Harry yells back.

"Are you fucking deaf!?"

"Guys can we stop swearing at each other?" Liam tries to cut the thick tension in the air.

"FUCKING SHUT UP!" They both yell in unison, approaching each other.

"Now what was it that you said?" Harry asks, anger and frustration evident in his voice.

"Are you slow or some shit!? I told you to pass me the fucking ball! I could've easily scored a goal!"

"Like you would." Harry scoffs.

"I know you don't want to admit it Styles, but I am hell of a lot better player than you."

"It's just some fucked up version you've made of yourself in your head. Touch some grass and you'll know who's the better one. Get your head out of your arse and into the game."

"That's because you never pass me the fucking ball!"

"Ever wondered maybe that's because you can't score a goal!?"

"That was the only fucking time I missed a goal, don't use it against me every fucking time you argue."

"Well, too bad. I already did."

"Styles I swear to god you're going to get it from me."

"Try me." Harry says towering over Louis, challenging him.

Louis is blinded by anger right now, his hands form into fists and without even realising it, he punches Harry right in the face causing Harry to groan in pain.

"Did you just punch me!?" Harry asks angrily, holding his cheek. He flexes his jaw trying to relieve some of the pain. He didn't actually think Louis was this strong.

"You dumbfuck." Louis shakes his head. "What does it look like!? Me giving you a goodbye kissy?" Louis pouts the last part maintaining eye contact.

Harry has had enough of Louis today and doesn't hesitate to tackle him down to the ground. Louis tries to break free but Harry is quicker and much larger than him, grabbing both of Louis' hands in his left hand and as he's about to punch Louis back, Louis hits him in his stomach with his knee, causing Harry's grip to loosen for just a millisecond. Although, the effort goes in vain because Harry still has a strong grip on his hands.

They're not fighting anymore though, just staring at each other with rage filled eyes. This definitely feels very weird but not weird weird at the same time. Louis can feel Harry's hot breath fanning over his face and Harry's eyes staring his intently. Harry's eyes dart from Louis' to his lips and without even realising it, he's leaning in;

"Tomlinson! Styles!" A loud voice booms through the now empty field.

Both boys break free of each other and turn their heads towards the voice. Great! It's their coach.

"What did I tell you both about getting in each other's faces!?" Coach asks them.

"He started it!" Harry is quick to say.

"Wanker." Louis says under his breath, rolling his eyes.

"Both of you! Cut it!" Coach says upset, shaking his head.

"10 laps of the field! And I don't care how exhausted you are."

"Are you serious?" Harry groans, throwing his head back and boy does he look hot. Alright, why the fuck did Louis just think that!? A gross thought enters Louis' mind which he would like to delete but can't find that option. He wonders how it would feel, Harry's throat in his hands. He shakes his head once he realises he's going too far. Harry is his nemesis.