© icatchingfire

Title: Under the Bleachers (Chapter Two) (Chapter One: x)

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, Language, Angst

"I don’t think I can go tonight." Harry popped his gum as he told Niall this over the phone, stretching his arm behind his head. "Ah come on, we’re gonna miss you. You were already late to the pizza party for your game win, you missed coach’s speech. You can’t miss a gathering with all the boys tonight." Genuine sadness was expressed in Niall’s voice, he and Harry were good friends, but Harry knew he just couldn’t go. Harry sighed, "I’ve got… other plans."

"Alright well if it presides over hanging with the team it’s got to be important to you, I won’t ask. I’ll tell Liam not to save a place for you." Niall’s tone was just dripping with annoyance. "Sorry again, really I am. We’ve got plenty of time for hang-outs with the team. Just one night. I’ll see you guys at school Monday." "Sure." The line went dead.

Harry tossed his phone to the other end of the bed and smacked his gum again. He really did want to do stuff with the team, they were his brothers after all, but it got tiring just talking about baseball all the damn time. Girls, baseball, practice, girls, Harry had fully realized how much he didn’t enjoy his life after the last evening. That’s why he was taking a break from it tonight.

The face of the boy he’d met under the bleachers came to mind. The lip ringed, tattered and black-jeaned Louis. He’d invited Harry to see his band- what was it? Harry dragged the sticky note out of his pocket. 17 Black, that was the band. Louis had given Harry the address and time, simply detailing that Harry would have fun and that he should go. And Harry’d thought, why the hell not? Anyone with the guts to try and kiss a muscled baseball player had to be pretty cool in general. Harry didn’t hold the stunt against Louis, he knew it was all fun. And that was what he was looking for. A little fun.

Harry sat up on his bed and stood, knowing it was just about time to get ready. He frowned as he thought about what to wear. The crowd at the concert venue would surely be punks like Louis, should Harry dress like them? He didn’t own anything punk. There was no way he was putting on eyeliner.

He settled on a black shirt and ripped jeans; that was as close as he was going to get. For added measure he flipped his snapback around on his head.

"Mom I’m going out!" He called, going down his stairs. The time was 8:30 and the venue was quite a ways off so he had to hurry. "Be careful and all that!" She yelled from the living room.

Harry left his house and walked down to his truck, tucking his phone into his back pocket as he got in. Why are you doing this, he wondered. You don’t know the guy. Do you even like metal? “No,” he muttered. “But I’ll do anything to get out of this endless stupid cycle.” He shifted the truck into gear and backed out of the driveway.

————-

The venue wasn’t as fancy as he expected, but Harry don’t really know why he expected something fancy in the first place. Of course the address would be a grungey brick building with an underground entrance.

He stepped out of his truck and headed to the stairs. Outside it stood one guard with a blank expression. “…Hi.” Harry started, stopping on the third stair down. The guard nodded at him in greeting. “Uh, can I get inside?” “Can you pay for it.” Harry thanked all that was holy that he’d remembered his wallet. “How much?” “30 quid.” “A little much for a street place like this don’t you think?” Harry asked, opening his wallet. The guard smirked. “You’ve clearly never been here.” Then he took Harry’s money and stepped aside.

What was so special about this place? Harry dismissed it and entered the venue, the door closing right behind his back. Wow. All around were punk-dressed boys and girls, belts with chains, teased and colored hair, if there was skin showing there was black ink needled into it. No place for a highschool prep.

Harry nudged his way through the crowd, stage in sight. There were dim lightbulbs in wall corners and a few flashing strobe lights attached to the ceiling, so it was hard ot tell anyone apart, let alone find Louis. Some rockband was already performing but the boy from the bleachers wasn’t up there. Although finally, after getting beer spilled on him twice, Harry finally spotted Louis’s friend Zayn by the bar.

He rushed through people to the black-haired lad from the night before, who was smoking a cigarette and grinning at the bartendress. “Hey,” Harry said, touching Zayn’s shoulder. Zayn turned. “Ay you came!” Zayn exclaimed over the performing singer. “Louis will think that’s funny as shit. We weren’t sure if you’d show.” “Yeah well I came. Where’s he at?” Harry didn’t want to admit it but he felt sort of scared and it would help to have a familiar face nearby. Zayn gestured to the backstage door. “He’s prepping for his band’s turn. You’ll have to catch him after he sings.” “…he’s the singer?” “Yeah, voice like nothing else. It’s really a delight to hear him croon along to anything. Catch a spot up by the stage while you still can, mate.”

Harry thanked him and started to go that way before he spotted a tray of glasses sitting on the bar. Might as well loosen himself up. “What the fuck are you doing here.” Harry murmured to himself, grabbing a glass of white liquid and downing it. His brain exploded with sparks and he set the glass down immediately. No more of that.

His throat still stung as he left to stand by the stage edge. That drink really had been a mistake; everything was intensified a hundred times over. The lights more glowing, faces closer than what was comfortable, he felt each bass slam in his bones. Then the good part hit. He felt good. Harry briefly wondered if the glass had been laced with something.

"Thank you, that’s it for Leather Glove 5. Next we’ve got 17 Black on stage, so don’t go away! The night’s just getting started."

It didn’t take long before Louis and his bandmates strolled out on stage. Cheers of encouragement started rising from the crowd and Harry found himself joining in. “Louis!” He shouted. Louis turned to the call and he smiled in awe at the realization that Harry had come. “Hello everyone,” Louis greeted, situating his microphone as he slicked his feathery brown hair back. “We’re 17 Black. I’d like to thank my friend… I actually don’t know his name, we’ve only just met. But anyone who resisted punching me after teasing him like I did deserves my honor. It’s his first time here tonight and I’m excited he gets to see this. We’re going to open with Teenage Dirtbag, a little raunchy but it’s a good starter song.” (x)

The guitar player strung the strap around his shoulder and plugged it to the amp. Louis gave him a nod, winking once at Harry before turning back to the crowd. As the song began Harry found himself fascinated with how easy this came to Louis; he was a true performer. Zayn had been right.

Louis was swaying to the drum beat, closing his eyes and bending his knees when he belted a lyric. It was really cool to watch. Harry took after everyone else in the crowd and started dancing around, placing a hand on his snapback and tossing his neck around, eyes on his shoes as he moved. This was actually a really good song, the band was really talented.

Too soon the song was over but the band was quick to launch into another, this time a Rise Against classic. Harry had stopped dancing as this one was blasted through the basement area. Now he was fully enveloped in Louis’s singing. His voice rang so clear and the way his lips grazed the microphone… Harry didn’t know why but he really wanted to talk to Louis. He wanted to be alone with him. Right now. He shoved his hands in his pocket and grinned at the punk onstage.

Harry figured the alcohol had really gotten to him since he was observing Louis this closely. He wanted to know the story behind the boy’s tattoos, he wanted to bite his lip ring and hear Louis moan- what? Harry furrowed his brow and turned away, embarassed at his thoughts. Of course he didn’t want to do that. Louis was just a good singer, that was all. Oh but how warm Louis’s breath had been when he was whispering into Harry’s ear under the bleachers….

Breaking through the crowd, Harry blew out a drunken breath exasperatedly. It was getting way too hot in here. He headed to the bathroom and tried to ignore the couple making out against the wall on the way there. Was he having fun? He felt sadder now than he had in previous weeks. Why? Harry took his hat off and tousled his curls as he entered the bathroom and slid back against the wall. He knew why, he wanted to be with Louis really, really badly. And he didn’t like that. He didn’t like how much he desired to learn more about the punk boy. That draw he had. It was like Harry had been infected since they’d first touched.

He heard a new voice start to echo from the main room, it wasn’t Louis anymore. His band must have gone off. This song sounded a little bit more pop-y (x) and Harry figured a DJ had been put in charge of music now.

"Hey mate, Zayn said you’d come in here. You alright?" Louis was suddenly coming into the dim bathroom with concern lined on his flushed face. Harry watched him take off his jacket and head to the sink to rinse his hands off. "I’m fine," Harry lolled his head against the brick. "Just a bit… out. I took a drink of something a little strong I think." "Ah, yeah never trust a glass unless you ordered it here. Even then be wary. They put some fucked up stuff in the drinks to get girls sometime, an awful practice really." Harry got to his feet.

"You’re a really good singer you know, Zayn had tipped me off that you were but now I really believe it. Killer voice man." Harry tried to wipe his voice of emotion but it was hard, and he slurred more than he’d meant to. Louis chuckled, "You’re drunk. Come on, we can go dance it off of you baseball boy." He came forward and hooked Harry’s arm. Harry graciously followed him back out to the mainroom and tried to ignore the pain of the lights blinking brightly at him from all angles.

Louis giggled now, much like he had when Harry was about to break his nose. “You look like you’re about to pass out. You got to get your body moving,” Louis started to kick his feet around on the dance floor, shouting above the music. “I can’t take you home like that.” “You’re taking me home?” Harry asked.

"I have to, you’re a wreck." Harry brushed it off, deciding to follow Louis’s idea of getting a move on. He started with a slight sway, moving his hips to the side and leaning his abdomen to the other direction so his body waved to the beat. He took his hands and dragged them up behind his neck as the song became lighter in tone; This won’t stop, till I say so, this won’t stop, till I say so…

Harry rocked his body to the music, shouldering into strangers every now and then, but he didn’t mind. He was really enjoying himself now. But when he looked up he saw Louis had stopped and was staring at him surprisedly. Harry stopped too, “What?” “You just move real good… real good.” “Come dance with me, show me what you got Lou.”

Grinning at the challenge, Louis twisted on his feet and started to circle Harry, trailing a hand across his back. Harry felt the shivers return. What was it about this punk that electrified him so? As Louis came around to Harry’s front, Harry started to grind his hips at him challengingly. Louis met Harry’s ruts with his own, hooking his fingers in Harry’s belt loops.

Their faces were impossibly close now, and their breath mingled and brushed on eachother’s cheeks. Harry’s heart flinched. They were eye to eye now, foreheads bent together, moving as one, the song changed. (x)

It wasn’t fitting to the scene, but it fit Harry’s emotions right then. Hot, wasted, fried. Wanting. All I want is your skin, no jeans, no clothes, take’em off… Their erections brushed as they were grinding closely, and Louis’s hand slid to Harry’s stomach. “Fuck.” Harry groaned. Louis crashed their lips together.



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