© icatchingfire

Title: Under the Bleachers Chapter One

Summary: Harry is the star of the baseball team, everyone loves him. He doesn’t really know if that’s what he wants to be though. One night at a baseball game he has a run-in with some badboy named Louis under the bleachers, and he finds something he never expected to find in a punk like him.

Warnings: Smut, Angst, Swearing

It was becoming quite cold in the November night, but Harry could barely feel it through the amount of energy coursing through him. His team-mate was standing at the plate with a bat in hand. After him would go Harry, who would be the last one to wrap up the game, and Harry was nervous as hell. He ran his sweating hands through his curls, clutching his cap in his palm tightly.

The sound of the ball whooshing through the air lasted only a split second before Harry heard the crack of the bat smacking it. His stomach dropped with dread. It was his turn. He stepped out of the dugout, receving a few slaps on the back from his team-mates as the audience cheered the last batter on to third. The opposing team was of course very pissed about this and Harry observed the pitcher growing red in the cheeks out of the side of his eye. Great, this wasn’t going to go down easy.

The roaring applause started to die and the opposing team started calling things at eachother, some mocking at Harry, others on what to shout “when he missed”.

Harry exhaled and slicked his hands down his white pants, bringing the bat into his grasp. “Do it.” he whispered hoarsely.

The pitcher grinned. Everything else seemed to disappear but the weight of the wood he was lifting, the sphere in the middle of the field racing at him. Harry struck it, clenching his eyes shut. Instinct took over and Harry’s feet dug into the earth, taking him across to first base. From the sound of the cheers he assumed that his team-mate had made it home.

As he rounded second he heard the ball smack into a nearby glove and he threw his strength into his legs, flying to third. To try for home or not? He couldn’t let anyone down, he never did. Harry spun on his heel, ducking as the third base-man caught the baseball and sprinting towards home. He was wheezing when his cleats grazed the square and screams of excitement arose from all around him.

He smiled widely.

Suddenly he was surrounded by everyone, team-mates, his coach, people that ran down from the stands. His friends Niall and Liam hoisted Harry onto their shoulders and he let out a surprised laugh. “Guys put me down before I injure myself.” “No way,” Niall clapped Harry’s thigh proudly. “You just won us a trip to regionals. We’re carrying you.”

Harry shook his head, allowing them to carry him off the field to the dugout where more congratulating ensued. They rambled on about different ways to celebrate while Harry climbed off his team-mates’s shoulders. “I vote pizza honestly.” Niall shrugged. “There’s no better way to celebrate a game win.” Liam nodded agreeingly, “I think that would be best. What do you think Harry?”

Harry looked up from where he was about to leave for the lockers. “Pizza sounds a’ight. I’ll get dressed and meet you guys-” “Ah no,” Liam protested, gathering the bats together. “Wear the outfit with pride!” “It’s covered in dirt!” “A sign of victory.” “No it’s a sign of wow-he-doesn’t-wash-his-clothes.” “Fine, wear your street clothes. We’ll meet you at Fabianos later on then.”

Waving over his back in confirmation, Harry departed the dug out through the back in direction of the locker room. He sighed as he walked in the cool night. His heart was still slowing from running home but it didn’t feel like anything. He’d won for the team four times already this season, and it had barely started. But did it matter?

Harry found himself with an increasing sense of lostness these days. He was a senior, he’d be graduating. He’d be in college by this time the coming year. There was certainly a path in sports for him but… Harry wasn’t sure that’s even what he wanted to do. A lot of kids felt lost in high school and Harry was one of them, unfortunately. Only he couldn’t act like it. He had to act like the cool guy, the guy who knows what he’s doing, the guy everyone either hates or wants to be. He was getting sort of tired of it.

Reaching the locker building under the bleachers, Harry went for the handle only to find it locked. “Fuck seriously?” he murmured angrily. He turned to see if the coach was anywhere in sight. The dim-lit parking lot appeared empty. The coach had probably taken a group of cars holding the team to Fabianos. All that sat there was Harry’s truck. That meant he was probably stuck with wearing his uniform to the pizza resteraunt.

"Screw it," he murmured. He started unbuttoning the striped shirt, revealing his chest to the night air. He might as well just get dressed right there, no one was looking.

"Damn." a voice said lowly. Well shit. Furrowing his brow, Harry spun to see a boy leaning against the brick wall. For a second he was taken aback. Who was this kid?

The stranger boy had combed back hair, eyeliner smudged under his shadowy blue eyes. Tattoos littered his skin and some band t-shirt clung to his small figure. “What ‘damn’?” Harry asked him.

Nodding at Harry’s half-naked chest, the boy grinned, his lip-ring stretching with the skin. “You ‘damn’.” he replied. Harry frowned. “Damn yourself.” “Oh you roll that way?” “…What?” “I’m calling you hot, mate.”

Harry had no idea how to respond, although his heart was doing something else besides mindlessly beating now. Something was off about this guy but it was a good off. “I’m afraid I don’t, sorry.” “I could change that.”

Realization dawning on him, Harry turned to fully face the boy. “You think it’s fun to follow high school boys around, wrenching them in to shag and holding it against them I bet. I’m not playing.”

Hoping the boy would leave at that, Harry continued to take his uniform top off and he replaced it with a baggy white shirt. Suddenly there was a body right next to him and Harry rolled his eyes, sensing that this was going to be harder than he anticipated. “I’m Louis… Your thighs look incredible in those tight pants, and I bet they look even better with my hands on them.”

Harry had to stifle a laugh on that one. Louis was good. “Come on, just once.” Louis whispered right into Harry’s ear. Shivers went down his arm.

For some unknown reason, Harry got really angry then. This guy had no right to be touching Harry as close as he was. They didn’t even know eachother, he was just trying to get dressed in peace. Harry turned and thrust his forearm against Louis’s neck, backing him against the wall. He gritted his teeth, “Fuck off.”

Louis only giggled. He frikkin giggled. There was no other way to explain the happy noise that came from him, despite the fact that his trachea was being crushed. “Zayn I lose!” He called out. Harry let go some. What was he talking about? Louis looked straight into Harry’s eyes with something Harry had no name for. “You can let me go now I’m not going to do anything.” “What are you going on with? Who’s Zayn?”

Louis pushed the arm off him and started walking away. Harry was left standing there bewildered. “Oy, Louis!” He yelled. The punk turned around, face half-lit by the streetlight. “What is it?” he asked boredly. “What was all that?” “My friend Zayn dared me to get a kiss from you,” Louis pointed to a dark-haired boy that was walking on the bleachers above them. “You were pretty close to doing it, too.” He winked. Zayn came around the side of the bleachers and nodded at the two. “Thanks for getting me some cigarette money. I knew he couldn’t get you to do it.” He told Harry. Harry was still caught on what Louis had said. ”I wasn’t going to kiss- ?” He started, but they were already leaving.

Harry had almost broke the kid’s nose, not made out with him. He watched the two punks making off into the night as he stood there alone.

His heart was still doing odd things and he felt like punching it, too. Louis had just come out of no where and fake-seduced him on a dare? Harry didn’t want to admit it but, he’d actually enjoyed that. It was… fun. Frustrated, he brushed all the feeling away again.

Harry took a few minutes to get dressed in jeans and place on his baseball cap before heading to the parking lot. He’d probably be late to Fabianos by now, he hadn’t meant to take so long on changing. The coach would surely be mad.

When he got to his truck he pulled the door open and a small green sticky note fell to the pavement. He cocked his head questioningly, bent down, and picked it off the asphalt. It was written in a scratchy black print with an address and note; “Tomorrow night, 9:30, my band 17 Black is performing. Be there. You’ll have fun. -Louis” He sighed. He wasn’t going to be able to rid himself of Louis yet it seemed.



posted 1 year ago with 56 notes
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