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“Alberto,” Harry says to the man stood behind him, turning to grab his arm to get his attention. “I need to get to him.” Alberto doesn't hesitate for a moment, instantly recognising the panic in Harry's voice meaning that there's nothing he could do to stop Harry from running across the pitch to get to his boy if Alberto refused to get him there safely.
He takes Harry by the elbow and tugs him along the edge of the pitch, uncaring of the people gathered in groups in their path, or the many fans in the audience who definitely know where they're going, and the bollocking he's definitely going to get from management after this. None of that matters because Louis is injured and upset and he's on his own.
Harry doesn't pay attention to the stern words Alberto has with a member of the Doncaster Rovers' security team at the entrance to the team's changing rooms, he's too busy hoping that Louis will appear before his eyes, happy and smiling. As soon as Alberto presses a hand on his back, pushing him forwards, Harry is running.
He asks anyone and everyone he sees if they've seen Louis, and where he might be until he's pointed towards a bathroom down some empty hallway in the back of the stadium. Harry takes a breath before he pushes on the door, sighing in relief when it opens.
It's too like Louis to run off and lock himself away when he's upset or embarrassed, trying to sort himself out without anyone seeing him. Harry doesn't know whether it was trust that Harry would come and find him or frantic carelessness that convinced Louis not to lock the door, but whatever it was, Harry is grateful to it.
Harry's chest clenches when his eyes land on his boyfriend. He's pressed up against one of the sticky, tiled walls, one foot hovering above the ground. His face is buried in his hand, shoulder shaking with silent sobs. Harry quickly locks the door before crossing the room, immediately getting his hands on Louis. “Oh, baby. Come here.”
Louis doesn't even look up. He just pushes himself off the wall until he's free-falling forwards into Harry's open arms. Harry wraps Louis up, the shorter boy's face tucking perfectly into Harry's shoulder as he leans all of his weight against him. Harry runs a palm up and down Louis' back as he continues to cry, his little sniffles and whimpers breaking Harry's heart.
Eventually, Louis runs out of tears and he's left gasping into Harry's shoulder, hiding his red face in Harry's T-shirt as he tries to catch his breath. His chest stutters with every breath, but he's surrounded by the scent of his boy, which always makes breathing a little easier.
“How are you feeling, gorgeous?” Harry asks him, soft words murmured into Louis' hair. Louis squeezes his arms around Harry's waist, humming gently as Harry presses his lips to Louis' hairline.
Louis presses himself even closer to Harry's chest before he replies. “Hurts.” He whispers, and he's not sure whether he's referring to his sore knee, the pain growing in his temples or the burn of embarrassment growing in his belly at puking all over himself in a stadium full of fans. All of them hurt.
Harry just kisses the top of his head and shushes him quietly when Louis begins to work himself up again, breaths coming quicker and sounding more ragged than they should. “It's okay, baby. I'll make it better.” Louis manages to take a deep, albeit shaky, breath as he straightens up. He pulls away from Harry far enough to look up at him, although his hands stay fixed on his waist so that he doesn't topple over.
Harry grins down at him, despite the horrible feeling he gets in his stomach from the look of sorrow painted on Louis' face. When Harry dips his head to kiss him, Louis turns his face away, not wanting his boyfriend to taste the puke on his breath. Harry just presses his lips against Louis' cheek instead, undeterred.
“Let's get your knee iced and then I can take you home and take care of you,” Harry says, warm lips dragging against the skin of Louis' cheek.
“I love you,” Louis says, eyes slipping closed as he presses his nose into the curve of Harry's neck. “Always taking care 'f me.” He murmurs, and Harry can't hold back the grin that breaks out on his face.
“Always, Lou. Love you so much.”
Harry keeps an arm wrapped around Louis' waist as they make their way back towards the changing rooms, half carrying as Louis hops by his side, wincing whenever he jolts his sore knee a little too hard. Harry stops them whenever he feels Louis tense up, carding his fingers through his hair and kissing his cheek until his muscles unclench.
The Rovers' physiotherapist is on Louis' other side as soon as she spots them, guiding the injured boy over to one of the benches on the side of the room and sitting him down. Harry sits next to him, letting Louis cuddle into his side as the lady carefully pulls Louis' boot and sock off his hurt leg.
He whimpers into Harry's neck as his knee and ankle are carefully checked, shivering when an ice pack is pressed against his knee. Harry just holds him close, knowing that there's nothing more he can really do to make him feel better until they're back at the house.
Harry holds the ice pack against the quickly bruising joint once she hands it over, stepping away from the pair to give them some space, not before she gives Louis strict instructions for how to not make the injury worse, even though Harry is the only one listening.
Louis just breathes slowly against Harry's neck, tucking in as close as he can get to Harry's neck with one leg outstretched over Harry's thighs. Harry rubs his back with his free hand, pressing lines of gentle kisses along the side of Louis' face.
“You alright?” Harry asks after a few minutes of silence. Louis lets out a shaky breath, tilting his head up slightly to press his lips against Harry's jaw.
“Wanna go home.” Is Louis' quiet response, cold lips dragging along Harry's skin, trying to leech some of his warmth. Harry pulls him closer, the arm that's wrapped around his shoulders pressing him into his chest until Louis' head is tucked securely under his chin, feathery strands of hair making Harry's skin tingle.
“I'll take you home, angel. I'll text Alberto to bring the car around.” They're out of the stadium in under ten minutes, after the physio has convinced Louis to let her wrap his knee and Harry has gathered all of his boyfriend's things into his bag.
Once they get home, Louis is already falling asleep against Harry's shoulder, completely wiped out from the game. They keep their fingers laced together throughout the whole drive, joined hands resting on Harry's thigh, thumbs stroking gently over each other's skin in memorised patterns.
Harry helps him inside and up the stairs, letting him curl up in the middle of their bed as he turns the bath taps on, dropping a bath bomb in, and goes downstairs to make two cups of tea.
Louis' still dozing when Harry comes back and is pliant as Harry tugs his sweaty football kit from his loose limbs and wraps cling film around his bandage, taping up the ends so that it doesn't get soaked in the water. Harry quickly undresses before hoisting Louis into his arms and carefully placing him into the bath, pink water making Louis smile as he lazily drags his finger through it.
Harry slips into the water behind him, wrapping his arms around Louis' waist as the sleepy boy sighs, letting his head loll to the side, cheek rubbing gently against the skin over Harry's heart. “You were so good today. I'm so proud of you.” Harry murmurs, nipping gently at the back of Louis' neck when he groans.
“No, shush. You were amazing.” When Louis relents, rubbing his cheek against Harry's chest again, Harry hums into his hair. He feels so perfectly calm wrapped around his boy in the warm water, skin pressed together, hearts beating in sync.
They drink their tea before it goes cold, mugs precariously balanced on the edge of the tub, and it makes Louis feel warm inside. He presses a kiss to Harry's shoulder in thanks. Harry eventually decides that the water is too cold, even though Louis could quite contentedly lie here all night, and gets him out, wrapping him up in a big towel that makes him look even tinier than usual.
They don't bother with clothes before tumbling into bed, Louis splayed over Harry's chest, falling asleep as soon as Harry stops wriggling around beneath him. Harry forces his eyes to stay open for as long as he can stand it, just to watch the gentle flutter of Louis' eyelashes against his cheek, body only moving with the rises and falls of Harry's chest.
He loves his boy, and he loves taking care of him, no matter how stubborn he can be sometimes – most of the time.
When he eventually drifts off as well, he couldn't be happier.