Bloodsport

chapter 56

During the game, he’d glanced around in panic, watching for signs that his teammates, Coach, the crowd… anyone had seen that kiss. It seemed no one apart from Ed. None of his teammates mentioned a thing, and there were no odd looks finding him across the bus aisle apart from Ed’s. Yet every single glance from his red-headed teammate made Harry falter in his movements.

His stomach hurt. His lips still felt the soft touch of Louis’.

They got back to Doncaster, and Harry staggered out of the bus and into his Rover. He’d hugged the players and told them how splendidly they’d all performed that night as if in a trance. But when Ed had reached him, Harry had hesitated. Ed paid it no mind, only hugged him briefly, patting his back and mumbling, “I won’t say anything” into his ear so quietly Harry felt his breath tickle his curls.

The shock was starting to settle by the time he parked the Rover outside his house.

That kiss meant something. It did, and there was no way around it.

His mother and father were sitting in the living room as he strode into the house. They were focused on a piece of paper, his mother holding a pencil as they both stared at some sort of list with deep frowns. They hardly noticed him as he walked into the house, stuck in his wreckage of a head. He found his way upstairs and collapsed on the bed. They’d just made it to the Championship final, but football had ceased to exist.

For a good hour, he did nothing. Felt nothing. But once his eye-line had touched upon every inch of the ceiling, that strange, restless feeling in his bones arrived. It always came, at home alone. It didn’t seem anything could hinder it.

He lifted his phone and stared at the endless stream of nightly texts between himself and Louis.

Louis: coming over?
Harry: yes!

Louis: you can come if you want
Harry: coming

Louis: you can come now
Harry: yes daddy
Louis: for fuck’s sake harry I swear to god
Harry: jk im on my way
Harry: …daddy

Harry didn’t eat dinner. Didn’t fuel up and reload his body after training as he should’ve. He stayed in his bedroom. He stared at his phone for so long that his neck ached from the position he was curled in. He fell asleep at some point, and when he woke up it was dark outside. The light of street lamps shone in through the window.

He groaned and sat up, a little disarrayed. He looked around, blinking heavily at the room around him. His phone rested right by his pillow. Harry picked it up, and the screen flashed brightly. It was empty. It was two-thirty AM.

Louis hadn’t texted. But then again, neither had Harry.

Déjà vu came and faded; this was different.

Questions irked him all night, and when he woke up, he had no answers. The evening before still tumbled within him, and even though he’d had hours to process, it wasn’t easy to grasp hold of much.

It felt wrong, waking up alone, and having breakfast by himself. Normally, he’d be having tea with Lottie by now, and then in a few minutes’ time, he’d sneak back to Louis in bed. Instead, he was sitting alone in a clean, empty kitchen, staring at a piece of toast on the table. It was difficult to chew. He wondered whether Louis was munching down cereal at this moment, or if swallowing hurt his throat just as much.

Louis. He loved Louis. His Louis.

Harry knew that a big part of him hadn’t been scared to be out for some time. His family all knew, and his best friends knew. Louis’ bloody neighbour knew. So, Jasmine no longer frightened him in the same way she’d used to. But her face lingered between the cracks. Her words from the past were electrical eels shooting out of crevices and hidden places. She hadn’t done anything about her threats, but the emotional calamity they had caused persisted.