The Brother I Never Wanted (Larry AU)

Chapter 7

"Damn, Louis. You picked the wrong day to wear your sexy skinny jeans," Niall complains, attempting to tug the material over his large bum. "Seriously, Lou. How'd you even get them on without my help?"

"Don't be so dramatic, Niall. They're not that tight."

Niall looks at him exasperatedly, grunting one last time to yank it up his hips. Louis' still shirtless, and he can see a few scratches along his waistline, cringing when Niall's fingers accidentally brush them. He expected the damage to be worse, but most of it is just small, shallow scrapes on his legs and elbows. It's not like they trampled him with their cleats or anything. He has that much to be grateful for. His bullies could definitely be worse to him.

Shifting on his good leg, his hand latches onto the lockers by the bench he's using for support. He can remember Niall's face when he unveiled his marks though. It was utterly disgusted and appalled. Louis was worried for a second that it was him that he was disgusted by, but then he ran a finger over a small bruise on his hip and clicked his tongue angrily. The Irish boy ranted for a good ten minutes about how despicable they all are. How they need to get a life because it's the f*****g twenty-first century. Louis tried to convince him multiple times that he's fine - that bruises will heal and he only has to deal with it for two more weeks. But he could still tell that Niall was pissed off.

When the boy finally did stop talking, Louis found himself thinking about what Niall said about Harry being jealous. It seems utterly ridiculous the more he thinks about it. They've only known each other for like twenty-four hours, and Louis' a complete nerd. If Harry has found anyone in this small town attractive yet, it's not him. And he really doesn't seem like the jealous type.

It apparently takes longer to get him changed than they anticipate because the other players scurry in after practice ends at the same time Niall wrings up the bottom of his shirt and throws it over his head. He feels he should be embarrassed by the fact that Niall is dressing him like a three-year old. He can see their dark shadows pass through the fabric, and it's confirmed that they're judging him hardcore when Niall pulls the collar down to his neck. His best mate's blue eyes flicker over the pink on his cheeks, and then over his shoulder to growl at the people who are looking at them weirdly.

"What are ye looking at? Carry on, would ya? Haven't seen a guy change another guy before?"

Some - the nicer ones - chuckle lightly at the way Louis groans, face flushing. Not everyone on the team is a jerk that treats him roughly. No one really ever gives him a hard time about his sexuality except for some of his teammates. Quite a few of them have actually told him that they respect his leadership as captain, but they do it with secret smiles and hidden pats of encouragement because they don't want to get dragged down the social ladder by befriending him. Everyone else in the school just ignores him. It's nice to know that he's not that hated on the team. That he's actually doing something right as captain.

He doesn't remember exactly when he suddenly became too uncool for everybody - he's guessing somewhere around the time he came out and when he got glasses, but he doesn't necessarily mind not having a lot of friends. If they are worth having as a friend, they wouldn't be so afraid to sacrifice their social life.

Harry's the last one to come in, tugging the collar of his shirt up to wipe over his slick face. He runs a large hand through his curls, smiling as people come up to give him high-fives. They congratulate him like he's already part of the team, but if they watched him perform like Louis did, he can understand why they think he already has the position. There's a slight breeze behind him, ruffling his loose, sweaty hair, and Louis hates the way his heart speeds up.

Of course Harry has to come in at the most awkward time - when Niall is threading his arms through the sleeves and jerking the hem of his shirt down. Louis really could've probably done that himself.

Harry raises a thick eyebrow when he passes. His eyes roll over the pair, but he doesn't bother to make a remark. He moves past the two boys, brushing against Louis' shoulder to reach his locker. Watching from the corner of his eye, Louis notices that Harry had picked the locker right next to his own. He doesn't really understand it. There's plenty of other lockers to choose from. He wants to say that it bothers him, but he's hit with a wind of his crisp scent and sweat, and suddenly it doesn't seem as problematic as it did a second ago. His cheeks get a little warmer when he sees him peel off his sticky shirt from the corner of his vision. He doesn't think he's ever been more conflicted about being able to see pretty well without his glasses. He avoids staring the best he can, but that doesn't stop him from noticing the black that decorates his chest.

Thankfully Niall distracts him, hauling him down a couple of lockers. But it turns out his luck is short-lived because Niall yanks him down by his wrist and whispers in his ear.

"Go talk to him."

"What? Why?"

Niall nudges him forward. A flash of panic runs through him as Harry hooks his thumbs under the waistband of his shorts. Oh, f**k. His breathing picks up and he scrambles to turn around in Niall's grip. A desperate whine leaves his lips when he continues to shove him forward. "Please, Niall. Not today. I'm too tired and crippled for this."

His best mate pinches the bridge of his nose, rolling his eyes when Louis chickens out. "Fine. But you better talk to him tomorrow."

Louis breathes out loudly. "Okay."

Niall gives him a strong, reassuring pat, walking around him to go to his locker on the other side of the room. He wishes Niall had known him three years ago when they had picked their lockers because now he's painfully aware that he's alone with Harry. He huffs, plopping down on the bench so he can dig through his bag without falling over. Niall's not going to let this go till he talks to him.

Harry shimmies on his tight skinny jeans, and Louis feels his breathing turn uneven again. This locker situation is going to be a problem. His hands shake so badly that he drops his keys on the cold floor when he finally finds it. It just barely slips through his fingers, landing with a loud clank, and Louis thinks he really could've tried harder not to look like such a klutz.

"Fuck."

He doesn't know if Harry had noticed that when he fell on the field it wasn't an accident, but he's definitely not an i***t when it comes to reading body language. Louis looks up at the feeling of eyes on him. Harry's eyes dart to his locker door as he shuts it harshly. At least he's dressed now. "You seem nervous." Louis plays with the ring of his keys as Harry turns, the boy folding his arms across his chest and leaning back against the lockers. "Do I make you nervous?"

Louis doesn't say anything for a couple of seconds. Harry's gaze flits over his body quickly. He keeps an impassive face as he pushes off the metal and grabs a necklace from on top of his phone, appearing as if he no longer expects an answer after his silence.

"No," Louis responds gruffly.

It's a clear lie, and Harry sees right through it. He loops the chain around his neck and lets it fall to his chest, lips taking on that cheeky grin he saw earlier. Louis' knuckles turn white. Harry slips his phone into his pocket and breezes by him, slowing to pat his cheek twice condescendingly. It's way too alluring to actually offend him though. Especially when he gets a close up of his emerald irises and sees all the different shades that color them.

"Good. I like making you nervous."

Harry smirks, hauling his bag onto his shoulder and heading for the door. Why is he in such a hurry to leave? He can't go anywhere without -

Louis looks down at his keys and groans. s**t. He forgot about that. He's no expert on driving, but he's pretty sure he should not be driving with the leg that he can't bend even a little. That seems a bit dangerous. Coughing, Louis works up enough courage to call after him.

"Styles!" Louis chucks his keys at the boy, watching him fumble to catch them after only a second of warning. Louis grimaces, using his arms to help push himself off the bench. Harry looks at him expectantly, eyes darting between him and the keys he was just tossed. "I hope you have your license because you're driving. Try not to wreck it. I'm quite fond of being alive."

His eyes light up, sparkling with a mischievousness as the grin breaks out again. "Sweet." He looks a little too happy about the fact that he's driving. Like a villain who was just handed the key to the city in those cartoons he used to watch as a kid.

Louis squints at him. "Uh-huh." He snatches his own bag off the bench and hobbles towards the boy who reminds him of the Cheshire cat at the moment. Oh, he's so going to regret this.

The sound of footsteps rush up behind him, hands grabbing at his waist. They're frantic and fast, holding him up. "Louis, be careful! Don't put too much pressure on it. It might open again."

Huffing, Louis swats his hands away. "I'm fine, mum. I'll be fine. I think I can make it home without you. Well . . . assuming Harry doesn't kill us first."

Niall raises an eyebrow. "Kill you? How on earth would he manage to do that? Or should I ask: What twisted fantasy is in your head this time about how he's an evil demon?"

"I'm offended, Niall. Really. I don't think he's evil, okay? I'm just a little nervous because he's driving us home. It's only a five minute drive, but you never know what could happen. And I've never seen him drive so -" Louis looks over Niall's shoulder - notices Harry's gone. "s**t. Where'd he go? You don't think he left me, do you? f**k, he left me, Niall. What am I going to do? I can't walk home. It'll take me ages."

Amusement spreads over his features, and he smirks, pointing over Louis' shoulder. "He's right there, Lou. He's been there the whole time - watching you freak out. And, might I say, he looks fairly pleased that you just admitted that you need him." Louis spins on his heel, flushing when he meets those coy green eyes on him.

"Blondie's not wrong," Harry confirms, crossing his legs out in front of him where he is set on the bench, twirling his key ring around his spindly fingers. He grins, straightening. "I do find it rather pleasurable. Makes me almost want to leave you just so I can hear you beg." Louis' face scrunches.

"So that's what he sounds like," Niall whispers in his ear. "Hot damn, Lou. Set me up if you're not going to chase him."

Niall takes the initiative to step forward, smiling. Louis feels his childish side come to the surface when Niall sticks his hand out in greeting, and Louis purses his lips. Harry's smug face isn't making him want to befriend him, and he doesn't like how Niall seems to keep pushing him that way. "I don't believe we've met. The name's Niall. I'm Louis' best mate coming up on three years. You must be Harry. And, may I just say, you're extremely gorgeous."

Louis frowns, bumping Niall with his hip. He may not be trying to chase Harry, but that doesn't mean he wants Niall to. In fact, the idea makes him uncomfortable. He doesn't like the way Niall stares at him. Especially when Harry smiles back, scanning him up and down. He takes his outstretched hand, shaking it slowly.

"Pleasure."

Why the f**k is he being nice to Niall when he ignores Louis and snaps at him when something bad happens? They just met! "Okay!" Louis exclaims, pushing Niall to the side. "We're leaving."

He doesn't know where this sudden bravery comes from, but he grabs Harry's wrist and drags him to his feet. The boy stumbles along ahead of him as he lets go, his bag bouncing noisily against his back. "Whoa. Easy there, tiger. I'm going." Louis limps after him, making sure he keeps walking. After a second, he rubs his hand over the spot where Louis touched him, and Louis wonders if his skin is tingling from the touch too.