Together On The Field - l.s

three

Harry stumbles in the car park and notices Tomlinson's car, parked in the spot number ten, his jersey's number. He gets closer, and then stands there, dumbly, without knowing what to do. He can still feel his cheeks burning from before and his heart beating faster than normal. He bends to look at his reflection in the rear-view mirror, he throws a hand through his hair to try and tame it, but it hopelessly falls back on his forehead, more ruffled than before.

Suddenly, the car makes a noise.

Harry, lost in his thoughts, twirls around scared, hoping intensely he hasn't activated the anti-theft device or something. The last thing he needs is somebody accusing him of trying to steal Louis Tomlinson's car.

All he sees instead is the very same footballer, walking to him with a big radiant smile plastered on his lips, probably caused by Harry's clumsy reaction.

Harry fixes his button-up seemingly unperturbed and hands Louis a folder.

"Your results," he deadpans, trying to play it cool.

"Oi, cheers Harry. Jump into the car," he gestures to the passenger seat, while settling behind the wheel. "Fasten your seatbelt, okay?" Harry nods.

Louis starts the car and gets out of the car park. There's a bunch of supporters waiting by the exit gate, as usual, trying to get a glimpse of their favourite footballers. As soon as they take in Louis' car they start screaming, surrounding the vehicle in a mob. Louis pulls the car to a stop and rolls down the window with a smile, ending up with a lapful of presents, jerseys and pieces of paper to sign.

"Hii, how's going?" he asks amicably, but he's immediately assaulted by screams, touches and questions. "If we're quick and calm down a bit I can do everyone," he tries, while a girl shoves her iphone in his face to try and get a picture.

"Lou, Lou, a selfie!" yells the girl, entering with her upper body inside the car and grabbing onto Louis' neck. After a surprised choke he forces his mouth into a cordial smile, complying to that stunt that probably happens every day.

"Louis can you sign my shirt?"

"Tommo we need to win the Champions League!"

"I LOVE YOU LOUIS!"

"Let's try not to lose to Arsenal like last year, eh?"

Harry watches Louis replying politely to everybody, even the ones who are being obnoxious or inappropriate. He feels uncomfortable, but can't avoid noticing how well Louis seems to handle all of them, how nice he is, how different his media image is from his real self.

He's so focused on Louis he doesn't even hear a boy tapping at his window until Louis presses a button to roll it down as well.

"Hello," starts the gawky boy, nervously. "You're Harry Styles, right? How's your knee doing?"

Harry looks at him with his mouth wide open, and looks back and forth from the boy to Louis, who gives him a reassuring smile and a nod of the head.

"Uhm. Hi! It's good. Pretty good, actually. Going back to training tomorrow."

The teenager beams at him. "Great! I hope you can play soon. Can you sign this paper for me?" he asks, handing him a pen and a card. Harry has never actually developed a proper signature because he's never needed to sign anything, so he awkwardly writes his name in his ordinary shaky handwriting. Which is shit.

"Right. Here it is," he says, handing back the paper and the pen to the boy as if they were burning in his hands.

"Good luck!" screams the boy, smiling at him with a content expression. Louis, who had complied to every request and was waiting for him, starts the car with a knowing smile.