Bloodsport

chapter 65

The goalkeeper jumped up screaming. The green team stormed towards the penalty area, their arms raised and voices a collective, piercing shriek.

It hit hard. Watching their joy, Harry only felt empty. His teammates fell to the ground, their eyes staring blankly at nothing as reality hit them. They had lost the championship.

Harry watched Louis walk away. He watched Liam slam his fist into the goalpost. He watched Jonah erupt in tears, and he watched Ed biting his lip into his mouth not to cry. Stan was staring at his shoes where he sat on the grass, and Harry heard the echoing silence from the people on the bleachers mixed with the cheers of the green team and their few supporters.

“No, it’s not okay!” he heard from the corner of the pitch. It was Louis’ voice. Harry spun around, and saw Louis angrily rip away from Coach, heading down towards the parking lot. He was running, leaving.

Harry bolted after him. He ran past Coach, who was shaking his head in sadness, and past his parents who were huddled in the corner. Harry made his way quickly through the crowd, around the corner of the bleachers, and caught Louis’ hand at the edge of the parking lot.

“Louis!” He pulled at him, tugging him back towards himself with tangible force.

Louis practically fell into his arms. Harry squeezed around his body as hard as he possibly could, and he felt it as Louis’ body started shaking against him. He felt his tears against his throat.

The sound was the worst. Harry had never felt a sound strike through his very core like that. Louis crying, against him, was the most painful thing he’d ever experienced.

His own eyes were welling up, tears sliding down along his nose as he pressed his cheek to the side of Louis’ head, holding on for dear life. Louis’ fingers clutched around Harry’s t-shirt, as if he, too, needed this.

Eyes shut against Louis’ hair, Harry inhaled. He loved him so much it hurt.

“It was only a few inches, baby.” If only.

“Close, but no fucking cigar, innit?” whispered Louis. He tore free from Harry’s arms and hurried away, far from the school and out of Harry’s reach.

In the locker room, they sat silently. Harry was on the floor, heated tears burning in his eyes. Liam’s arms were around his shoulders, his sweaty temple pressing into Harry’s jaw as they simply sat there. Lee was lying on a bench, feet on the floor, arms covering his face. Stan had punched his locker so hard there was a dent at the corner of it. Ed was consoling a crying Jonah who’d also missed his penalty. Coach was sitting in the middle, arms wrapped around Oli and Freddie’s shoulders. There were no words of wisdom tonight. That would come later when they’d had time to process.

Harry wished Louis was there. He wished he hadn’t run away. He wished he’d allow himself to be consoled by his friends. He wished he knew that the team never blamed anyone. They were a team, winning and losing. Harry just wished Louis knew that.

“I should have saved,” said Liam, shaking his head.

“We shouldn’t have let it get to penalties,” Lee angrily hissed from under his arms.

Harry sat there until it was time to go. Hardly any of them stayed to shower, and Harry walked out of the locker room, still covered in sweat and wearing his shinpads under his socks. He’d only switched to sneakers.

As he trudged out of the locker room, he spotted the scouts from Manchester again. They were talking to one of the green-clad players. His face was red, but filled with joy. It was the boy with dark hair and black eyebrows, who’d called Harry “princess”. The word still tumbled somewhere in the middle of him.