From the Wind, Take Me Home - Gekruze - All For The Game (2024)

Chapter 1: A New Era

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Not until recently had I taken up the habit of walking home after school rather than taking the bus. It had been a subconscious thought really, “It’s a really nice day out, how about I walk home instead of sitting in a cramped bus?”.

From there on I just began to walk every day even throughout the frigid Chicago winters despite thoroughly refusing to bring a coat and the wet spring season also, purposefully neglecting to bring an umbrella. I’d always brave natures’ elements because I didn’t care enough for mother nature to stop me.

Though, today as I walked out of my Calculus BC for last period, my name blared over the loudspeaker ahead, instructing me to haul myself off to the office before leaving the building. The monotone voice of the office secretary was akin to an embodiment of the type of person to think, “What did I do wrong to end up working at a high school in Chicago? Why here of all places?”.

All the same, I drag my feet out of the classroom and off to my locker to collect my items before trudging up the steps to the main office. I’m sure the way my brows subtlety, a mix of worry and confusion is readily visible as I see a taller, jagged-looking man who I have never seen before stands to greet me.

I haphazardly scan around the room for exits because this guy looks like he could be a copper, and not all of my hobbies are exactly compatible with the law. Nonetheless, before I say a word, instead the man across from me with dark hair and a rough stubble does. “Nathan Cirrel, I assume? I heard you haven’t applied to any colleges yet, in spite of this being your senior year,” and he’s right but what’s a random stranger know about it?

I dust myself off about the guy, “Yeah, what of it?” and my eyes flick to the file he’s picking up off the counter and placing in my hands. “I have an offer if you’d like to hear it. Though, if you’d like to direct me to a separate area where we could discuss the matter more privately, I’m sure it would be appreciated,” and though I’m not quite sure what his ultimate goal is, I lead him out of the room and to the study hall across the way everyone has departed from in their rush to leave the building.

I set the file I’d been handed down and opened the cover, only to reveal a shot of my face with a school record containing my name. “What’s this?” I ask even though I know what it is attempting to imply a why somewhere. The stranger who came here for me begins with an explanation, “Your coach wanted to connect you to some scouts for your following years in college, assuming you’re planning on going. Thus, he sent your file to me. I am a coach for Exy in South Carolina for Palmetto State University, Coach David Wymack, and while we’ve created somewhat of a reputation for ourselves, I want you on our team. Your coach has shown me footage of you playing and I’ve seen your incredible GPA for also being able to keep up in studies. We could use another backliner on our team and I think-” I cut him off after listening to enough of him talk.

Some of my tension from earlier had dissipated after I’d found he wasn’t a cop. Either way, “Look that all sounds great but, I’m sure you can find other players that are better than I am, why’d you choose me in particular?” though that did come off rougher than I’d intended. The man, as far as I was concerned, meant me no harm.

The coach in front of me, as he’d introduced himself, flipped to the third page of my file, past my records for typical information and GPA nonsense. It seemed he pointed to a particular snippet which I can see is not in a paper from the school but is instead a printed manuscript of a phone call. “I have already contacted your mother and she was entirely open to the idea of you playing for my school if you’re concerned about that at all. As for why I picked you, actually I had a member of my team pick you, another backliner. When I’d asked him why, he told me that you had ‘the balls to pull crazy ass moves and the potential to turn around our entire game’. Just as much, our roster of candidates is composed of kids like you with one problem or another if that’s any potential consolidation. I’ve put up my campaign but I'm not going to force you to buy or sell. I’m here to offer you another option.” Even I do have to admit, his offer sounds promising.

After a few minutes of silence, attempting to run his entire offer through my mind I came to the conclusion it’s a pretty solid offer. Weren’t these part of my dreams to begin with? I ask him a simple question “If I were to accept your offer, I’d get a place to stay and a court to play on?” to which he nods in agreement. I’m thinking this is actually viable and I’d never actually expected some kind of deal to go through. In fact, I’d never actually been aware of the scouts at any games either. Although, I had one last question, “Does the school offer music production or performance classes?”.

Amongst a plethora of my dreams, this dream to be a musician was the most prevalent of them all as I’d had it since I was eleven and had any real appreciation for the art. He’d adopted a small hint of a smile as he returned “I had a feeling you’d ask. I’ve been informed you’ve done band for the last eight years but, yes Palmetto does offer a selection of musical courses. I hope this means that we’ll be seeing you in the future?” while a slight gleam appeared in my eyes.

Even though I hadn’t actually applied anywhere, this glimpse of seeing at least one of my dreams to potentially be real was exhilarating. “I think it sounds like an enticing offer, sir,”. Just like that, he flipped the file to the last page of my composed file with a couple paragraphs of text I was inclined to read.

The words written stated, with the consent of a parent of guardian and athlete, etcetera, until I had come across a line that had struck me slightly. Predominantly, the coach seemed to have noticed my slight falter in the wording on the page. I begin to read the words out loud, “With any unpermitted excessive drug use to be strictly prohibited under any circ*mstances and any use of may result in confiscation in addition to suspension and depending on the supply, expulsion,” suddenly, the knowledge of a myriad of substances I possessed burning a hole in my gut.

This had been my main concern all along in addition to the reason I didn’t apply to any colleges. Within a couple sentences my hopes had been shattered. “You knew about this part before reaching me didn’t you? The drugs? That’s why you implied my problems and that your team is a place that made me a valid candidate?” I was ready to walk out just then when he begun to explain, “Yes, Miss Jacobs had told me about all the drugs you’ve used and still have and even still, I want you on my team because I told myself that if it were a good enough deal, you’d quit so you could join our team as a Palmetto State Fox. I want you on my team because I’d assume you were not under substance at any actual game and your value to my team was too important to pass on.” With his words, I felt myself trusting him just a little bit.

Out of all the resolve and trouble, I felt it worthless for him to leave empty-handed. I nodded in acceptance, “I’ll sign and sell my stock. Thank you for the opportunity,” and signed my John Hanco*ck on the designated line. With that, he told me “You’re officially part of our team now and it’s April now but, our practices start in June so you’d either have to fly down or drive if you have a vehicle but I’m sure the rest of the team will be thrilled with someone else new and we are grateful to have you.”

After the last statement, I had picked up the backpack I had set down and he had gathered his file before we shook hands. I saw as the coach disappeared out the study hall room door and disappeared before being tempted to follow suit. The lack of practice in the afternoons being a small blessing as I was able to walk home with something new on my mind to think about as my body winded it’s way through my city and alleyways to get back to my house.

Chapter 2: Old Habits Die Hard

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Stepping into the threshold of my quaint home, I could see both a surly Dodge Demon in maroon and a sleek Nissan Rogue in the driveway to signify my mother had returned home from work. The Nissan Rogue was hers but, the Demon was my very own that I’d won in a bet because someone had thought I could zero-sixty in the old car I fixed up. On the offhand, they never let me say I’d hidden all kinds of powerhouse tools like a v8 and amped exhausts inside and outside my car.

Walking through the front door, I drop my backpack on the bench next to the coat rack and shout to nothing, “I’m back!” before walking up the stairs to my ma’s room. She wasn’t my real mom but she took me in a few years ago after a real rough going and gave me a roof over my head, food on the table, and a blind eye to my bad habits.

Finding her sitting at her desk at her sewing machine was natural since she liked to stitch right after she got home because it helped relieve the days’ stress. I stride over to her station and ask “You knew a scout wanted me?”. She seemed to stop her sewing for a moment before turning to me and letting her brown doe-ish eyes rest onto my hazel-green. “I got a call and the man asked me what I thought of you going to the college, so I wanted to surprise you and let someone else tell you”.

I understood what she was saying but why did I still feel slightly betrayed that she didn’t tell me? I thought at least something this important, she would tell me about “It also said that I couldn’t have all my drugs so I was thinking about selling them,” but I had no heart to ask.

Though, when I told her, her eyes seemed to light up when I mentioned ridding the drugs from my possession. She set down her kit and stood up to hug me, “I think that’s a fantastic idea Nate. I’m sure you can find someone who’s interested and, if you want to go to the school I think it’d be a really good thing for you,” I love her warm hugs. Despite that, I broke away to tell her “I signed the documents and I’m going to start in the summer. I’ve gotta drive up after school ends,” and it feels great.

The feeling of having a destination to go after high school where I can spend effort and do what I’ve dreamed of is actually attainable. The anticipation is eating me alive but, I relish in that feeling before I have to take all of our end-of-year exams and worry about how I’m going to get off drugs without trying to relapse.

For the time being, I wave goodbye and let my ma back to her sewing so I can jog off to my room to collect all the weed and Vicodin I've stashed so I could find a buyer. Fortunately, it turns out scouting a drug user was just as easy as calling up a few of my street racing buddies who had never tried to kick the habit like I’ve been akin to for so long. Though, without any college I probably wouldn’t have stopped any time soon and, that reminds me to get rid of the substance variety as soon as possible before I could burn to feel it again. The familiar ache of longing for the pills, for the gummies, for the blunts.

After not much past an hour, I found a buddy that’d be willing to buy the whole lot for a party. All the better for me, I think to myself as I begin to feel the itch in the back of my mind. Brian was comfortable with paying six stacks for the stuff I had and I decided to be rid of it immediately where I could set up a meeting and not be within any range of the substances.

Packing all my stuff into a bag, I threw it into the car and drove across town to Brians’ place in my Demon to dispose of it and when I got there, I took the money and left before I could get another whiff of the bag's contents. I had planned ahead and brought an air freshener to get the scent out of my car in an attempt to be smart but, getting rid of the contents meant I’d be taken off so suddenly and could potentially go through withdrawal or some of the roughest final weeks I could manage.

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Not but a week had passed before I’d grown an immense craving and resorted to those multi-packs of spearmint flavoured chewing gum (which I had discovered to be the best flavour). My ability to pay attention to anything remotely interesting was declining as my attention span became shortened exponentially. My ability to play in games steadily declined since I’d begun throwing up a couple days ago and when asked, I told everyone it was the stomach bug. Nonetheless, it was going to be an increasingly challenging task to score well on finals as I tried to steady myself out and not die.

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This point in time has reached the climax of withdrawal to which I was grateful, though, it had taken my performance and study time for finals. I’d end up okay I thought as pain subsided to ache to which subsided to small itches. And, with the most stressful of times admittedly in my life, I had crammed and passed as well as capping out my last couple games. I was not a failure and I would be ready to take on a new beginning for myself as finals had passed and I’d been freed of the standard thirteen years of schooling.

I was finally ready to be part of something real that wasn’t just a high school sport, or solo racing, or mixing various drugs. I was free of myself to join the Palmetto State Foxes on the exy team officially in the fall and I was excited. Excited to move yet, sad to leave ma. But, then excited again to drive my prized car to warmer, sunnier, South Carolina for a new experience that I’d never thought I’d have: College.

Chapter 3: The Long Drive

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My car was packed with utilities for my thirteen-hour-long road trip. Cruising one of the main highways, Route 40 probably, I’d rolled the windows down, blasting some rock station on the radio. My thoughts jumping from one prospect to the next, the relaxation I felt whilst I was driving was insurmountable. I’d made it to Kentucky so far and rather bland as the endless fields were, the time flew.

Leaving early in the morning and saying bye to my ma was challenging since she’d looked after me for the past four years and as much as I was grateful, I was also relieved. I was relieved to leave that city I’d not cared to pay attention to, not for the lack of interest, oh no, but for the mountain of premonitions surrounding the land. I guess being sober changed how I saw things outside.

Parading the near baron roads (minus my Demon), I was left to myself and whatever I could think of to truly entertain myself. Truth be told, all I could dream about was how the Foxes would be. ‘Who are they? What are they like? Will I fit onto the team?’ It could almost seem as if I were back in primary school when I’d be moving to a new school, with new people, none of whom I’d known but they’d known each other for years. How would I fit in against the people who already fit together?

About halfway down, I’d stopped at a rest stop to get gas for the third time and see a bit of the town I was in. Not that I’d be staying for long of course but, see what this town was like without the guarded care of a social worker or some so-called parent. A new perspective did me good trying to see the world from a different lens.

Differing from the Chicago area to somewhere in Kentucky, the buildings were made of more rugged materials instead of sleek and shiny glass. Nonetheless, they’d still have the sense that the walls were watching. Something a small, rural town and a bustling, city atmosphere have in common is that someone can always see you, even when you think they aren’t there, even when they don’t really notice you’re there.

After a half hour of wandering random side streets, I return to my beautiful fossil fueled car and shrink down into the driver's seat, ready to head back to the road. I’d still wanted to make it to the state with some time left in the day before the dawn subsided to dusk and day sank from day. Though, in my hurry to speed towards my destination, I’d neglected to pick up a lunch that left my stomach rumbling.

The broad roads provided commodious space and grounds for testing my vehicle's real speed. For races, this car is one of the most threatening from its sheer stats and since I’d lived in such a crowded area, I’d never gotten a chance to test the maximum speeds. Even so, as soon as the impulsive thought crept into my mind, I pushed the accelerator forward in a slow ascent to reach my beauty's’ maximum potential.

The winds blowing from outside the window and stereo cranked rushed through my hair and brain provoking a moment I’d never forget. The thrill that reminded me why I’d raced in the first place, of my dreams. This truly is the dream car huh? I hadn’t felt as high as I did now when I was on drugs and I suppose the answer to why has to revolve around the natural adrenaline someone can attain from being reckless. But, that is who I am, Reckless.

Speeding my journey by almost a third, I’d gone much faster than I’d anticipated by shortening that remaining five hour drive to three and a half since my escapade was forced to cease once I’d reached civilization. So, when I reached the state of South Carolina, nine and a half hours after I’d left my hometown due to a bit of speeding, I was relieved to find a place to eat near the border to feed the howling in my stomach.

As the evening stretched and the day grew dark, the beast inside me had be soothed with a gyro and soft drink. All that remained was to let my AI navigator guide me to where I had reserved a hotel so I could get a long hours worth of sleep for my body that only grew more drowsy every minute spent driving the long road.

Competently, the directions led me to an Inn forty-five minutes away from the border. I had booked this so it was only near an hour to the University where I could actually arrive tomorrow if I wished. Wymack had told me in May that there would be people from the team staying instate throughout the summer as would he so, I’d be free to come down any time.

Unloading the various items in my car from the long trip like my suitcase wasn’t nearly a problem until I’d actually remembered how much else was in my car for my dorm. Id had a thick roll of posters and such to stick to the wall along with lots of notebooks for all music, writing, and drawing, and a lot of assorted books I had picked up and really, really enjoyed reading. I’d brought shoes and accessories along with hoodies and hats. However, most importantly I had packed the few sentimental items I owned from my years from my small number of close friends I’d had and my ma’s gifts.

I’d never realized how much I’d accumulated until I remembered that I was leaving my roof, leaving my shelter and going somewhere I’d never been before. Semi-permanently, at least. ‘It’ll just have to be something to come to terms with over the span of time I have,’ I thought to myself as I was checking in with the clerk at the front lobby desk. When I obtained my key card, I went up to the elevator and pushed the call button for the third floor.

I feel asleep on my feet when I unlock the room with my digital key and take off my shoes. Walking to the bathroom, I piss and brush my teeth to get ready for bed. I want to change for bed too since I’d been in these clothes, driving, all day, but as soon as I laid down face first right into the mattress, I fell prisoner to my land of dreams immediately. Being wiped out meant that today had been a day rightfully fulfilled and tomorrow would be a day worth fulfilling.

Chapter 4: The Walls are Orange

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The drive to Palmetto had been comparatively facile from the day before as I was fully rested and my destination was within reasonable distance. Even now, I couldn’t have prepared myself for the rush of emotion I was experiencing now that I was really glancing from the walkway to the building at the campus front. Everything seemed so grand since where I was from, half of the buildings looked like they were ready to collapse from being so dingy and reprehensible by health inspector standards.

I had informed Wymack what day I would be down and he, in turn, gave me directions to the stadium and a time to meet him. Now, it got me checking the route I programmed into the GPS before I left to make sure I wasn’t going the wrong way and I’d be on time. Even checking my watch on the opposite hand had been a constant.

Taking the directed number of turns, I could see a rounded area painted in orange and white looming in the distance. Hard enough to miss, it gave me chills making it all seem so real.

The moment I’d parked in a designated space, time seemed to slow as I stepped out of the car into the June sunlight. My walking seemed to slow as I crept towards the gated area of the fence and punched in the given code my coach had given me. The
light on the electronic lock flitted green and the door clicked open.

I pushed the gate further and closed it behind me on my way in. The gate clicked shut once again and I continued a steady stride down the long, neon-orange hallway towards a lounge. A lounge devoid of people, yet mementos hung on every wall and sat on every shelf. Pictures of the current and past teams hung on the walls, secured by fishing line and a bold trophy at the centre with an oversized one carved into a plate on the bottom of it. Just as much as the rest, the couches and chairs inside the room were yet another bright statement to accent the schools’ colours too.

After wandering around the lounge area for multiple minutes, I continue down the hall and pass through the locker room with massive orange lockers, all stamped with white lettering and numbers on each. The locker-lined walls appeared to stretch into a world of wonder.

Further down the hall, I noticed a door slightly ajar out of the corner of my eye. The wooden barrier had a plaque reading ‘coach’ and a handle that looked like the door had been slammed one too many times. Upon approaching the door, I wondered to myself what to say in a silent plea the older man could carry a conversation.

I knocked my fist three times at the length of where my arm was resting before I could hear a slight shuffle of rolling chairs and padded footsteps. Opening the door, revealing my coach standing slightly over me with his signature surly moustache. “Hello, Cirrel. You made it down okay?”

I stepped out of the way slightly to let him pass me to go out into the hallway alongside me. “Yeah, the drive wasn’t bad. I’m clean too,” I felt like adding after as if telling him would seal my revolution to better myself. He takes a step into the hallway and shuts the office door behind him before turning back to me and nodding, “That’s great. But, since you’re here now I’d like to introduce you to a few members on the team and show you around a bit so you get to know your court better.”

I’m sure Wymack can see the gears turn in my head before I answer any question. “Cool. Who are they?” I ask nonchalantly even though I'm as excited as a guinea pig that I can meet my team and find out who they are.

The coach pulls out his phone and types a few characters in before slipping it back away into his pocket. He talks to me as if he’s still thinking of the words before he says them, “Currently, the members in state you are going to meet are Nicky--the guy who picked you out--and Kevin, Andrew, and Neil. The others are out in another state or other and you’ll meet them at a later time”.

I knew those names sounded somewhat familiar. At least a couple like Kevin and Neil but, I couldn’t quite place them. Despite how much I loved the sport, I didn’t watch many games or follow up on news. I suppose being on a collegiate team would entice me to keep myself up to speed but that would be a topic to address at a later time.

A voice inciting me to follow with a motion of the hand to lead me on a tour of the stadium drew me out of my thoughts. I followed closely behind Wymack as he led me around to various rooms I had already seen like the locker room and the lounge as well as rooms I didn't like, he showed me the showers and the equipment room. Very helpful to know where everything was in my opinion.

As we were nearing back towards the lounge after making a full loop around the stadium, I heard the door to the stadium open and four guys I had never met before walked in. The leaner tanned one with moderately wavy darker hair and a bright smile led the group inside the building and towards the lounge. Towards me. Behind him, another man with a complimentary build and a queen chess piece tattooed on his cheek followed with a somewhat-blank-somewhat-eager look.

The last two in the group were shorter, even than me and I was shorter than average. One with platinum blonde hair, hazel eyes and a completely bored and straight faced expression and the other was severely scared on his face with cuts and burns that seemed to be healed that did no more standing out than his bright auburn hair in a fringe on his head or the oceanic blue eyes that held a politely-friendly smile.

Wymack had noticed them and nodded in their direction before telling me, “I’ve got to go take care of a few things with our school's psychiatrist to get some papers in order. These guys will show you around the rest”. Then he went to the stadium, and I could have sworn he muttered something along the lines of play nice to the bored one before exiting.

The guy leading the other three, the most excited one, walked a bit faster with a skip in his step before approaching me. “Nathan! I was wondering when you’d turn up! I tried to get the coach to take me with him to meet you but he said he wanted us to wait to meet you. I’m Nicky by the way,” he began rapidly. I extended a hand for a handshake and tried, “Hi Nicky. I just got here today and coach started showing me around a bit, tellin’ me about it”.

Nicky took my hand and shook it firmly before I noticed the other guy with the queen on his face approached too. Nicky let his grip lack and fall before the man next to him took my hand in replacement of Nicky. He stared directly into my eyes like he was trying to find something, a quality, “Kevin Day. I’m a striker for the team. Behind are Neil and Andrew. Neil is the ginger and Andrew is the blonde. Don’t be shy and I look forward to seeing what you can do on the court”.

I looked at Neil and Andrew against the wall and Neil gave me a polite smile while Andrew said nothing and did nothing to show any interest. Though, Nicky gained my attention again, “Don’t mind Kevin. All he talks about is Exy,” to which Kevin gives a “I do not!” and Nicky resumes, “And as I was about to say, Andrew doesn’t care for talking to many people but he might warm up and Neil is great. But first, what do we still need to show you?”

He turned his head to all three of his companions to emit no responses. “Got it. Hey, where are you staying until dorms open back up in July?” I stood puzzled for a moment. I guess I never actually thought about where to stay. I’d made a kind sum off the last race I won in Chicago but I didn’t want to use it on hotel rooms for two weeks, though it didn’t seem like I had another option.

“That is one thing I may not have foreseen,” Admittedly I shy away and scratch the back of my neck. I continued on though so they at least no I had some place to go. “I’ve got a hotel room though.” It may not be that much but it's sufficient for me.

Nicky didn’t appreciate my accommodations the same way I did though. “You know Wymack will let you stay if you don’t have somewhere else until dorms open right? We can set you up on the floor at our house if necessary. I will not let you stay in a hotel room!”

I don’t think he was ever going to let this point go. After Wymack had showed me around the stadium, the tour they could give me was basically complete. Athletes dorms weren’t open for a couple more weeks and neither was campus. So, somehow Nicky had roped Andrew into allowing me to stay at their house (which I discovered, they’re also cousins and Andrew has a twin brother Aaron who’s away for the summer with his girlfriend).

The debate had begun in English and escalated quickly to furious German. Nicky hadn’t actually made leeway until Neil tried to step in and provide what was probably solace. I’d taken years of German in high school yet, neglected to opt for a seal of biliteracy. I thought it was pointless honestly, I mean I can speak it, why do I have to prove it.

I’d gotten to understand them slightly even as Kevin stood off to the side. Even if I could understand their language, I didn’t understand their antics. Therefore, I still don’t know how I got convinced into cancelling my hotel and persuaded parading the other four in a Maserati--which I did admire--back to their home. I was confused now but, in time I’d grasp the concept of their antics. Mindlessly following the other car let me think to myself again. I am extremely grateful they invited me to their home but, maybe I could use this chance in my favour and get to know them a bit more. Neil seems interesting.

Chapter 5: Invasion of Privacy

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Arriving at the cousins’ house had been a trivial matter. Out of everyone in the Maserati Andrew drove, only Nicky stayed behind instead of going directly into the modest house. He walked back towards my car and bent over to look inside as I stepped outside. “This car is insane. I mean, I don’t know that much about cars but it looks like it can do some serious damage,” sounding awed by the interior, cherry leather seats and the demon plate sealed into the centre of the steering wheel and the navigation screen. He stood back up and backed away so I could close the driver's door and open the trunk for the suitcase I had.

“She is my pride so, I’m glad she definitely rips it up on track,” I joyfully explain. I heave the suitcase out of the trunk and shut it again. I drop the bag on its wheels and swing it to my side. “Where am I going? I don’t want to intrude a lot,” I inquired shyly to the older male. In lieu of responding, he walked forward with body language that said ‘follow me’ and opened the sandalwood door using one of those handles that you had to place your thumb on top of the tab and push it down to use.

Sidestepping, he moved himself into the house though still allowing me room to shove my suitcase in along with myself. Kevin was sitting on a plush recliner when Nicky pointed to it, “We can get you blankets but you can sleep there. Kevin sleeps on the couch and I’ve slept there a few times so, it’s pretty comfy”. I saw Kevin's’ attention directed at the television which had been tuned to an exy channel but paused the moment I laid eyes on it, the other guy on the recliner stood up and walked over to where I was standing,

“You’re going to be Nicky’s responsibility but, tomorrow three of us are planning to go to the court and you should come”. The offer had been so blatant, I wondered whether it was obligatory or because he was interested in my skill. I’d decided on replying curtly, “Alright, I’ll be there,” and Kevin turned away to go to the kitchen and open the cupboard with various glasses.

I watched him for a moment before I manoeuvred my legs towards the side of the room between the window and left side of the couch and let go of my suitcase. Nicky had begun to voice some simple rules: Don’t enter Andrew or Aaron’s bedroom, Don’t change the channel on the tv, Don’t use up all the hot water in a shower. The third rule hadn’t even been much of a problem since I took moderately cold showers, not that any rule was particularly problematic.

Once he seemed content and checked in on me to make sure I’d be alright, he practically hopped up the stairs while pulling out his phone. I could make out the name Eric before I heard a bedroom door close and I was left to my own devices. Not entirely sure of what I should be doing, I ended up kneeling down next to my suitcase and tipping it over so that I could unzip it without anything spilling all over the floor like a liquid that couldn’t be contained.

Kevin reentered with a glass of water and resumed his seat on the recliner without saying a thing and unpaused the game he paid so much valuable attention to. Slowly, I unzipped my suitcase with care in the case anything had gotten jostled around. I revealed a side layered with clothing ranging from cargo pants as well as shorts to just as many joggers and running shorts as I could find in thrift stores without being excessively battered. My mediocre range of shirts and small selection of hoodies lay neatly folded next to my underwear and socks that separated bottoms from tops.

The other side of the suitcase, held in by straps, was one notebook, a folder of music, drumsticks, guitar picks, and every hat, bandana, and earring I had ever owned. My contacts lie in a separate pouch stowed with my essentials like a toothbrush and products I use for my heavily waved locks. Essentially, everything I could want and bring was in my suitcase and everything in my suitcase was all that I could want

Instead of fishing anything out, I decided to close the suitcase back up and sit on the couch facing the television and join Kevin in watching the exy game silently. I had never seen many and to examine other play styles may be helpful if I can attempt to develop any better moves to play my position to an even higher degree. Examining each backliner on the teams chase their marks and attempts to block every pass in and out from each striker was truly enticing. Each play, being able to change the tide of the game.

An hour later, the scores had unbalanced further when the more competent team kept scoring and the final buzzer sounded, rendering the rest of the game complete. I looked to my right to find Kevin with not an emotion on his face. Any reaction he had towards the outcome of the game had been strictly analytical in pursuit to achieve more of an understanding on each individual player. Other than his obvious obsession with exy, he was rather stoic, not having much personality unless directly spoken too and even then, not so much.

The clock on my wrist--a gift given to me by a brother I’d met at one of my houses-- neared the fifth hour. With time to spare since I hadn’t seen either Andrew or Neil since I’d arrived or Nicky since he’d scampered to his room, I decided to strike a conversation with Kevin. “What position do you play for the team?” I began and he turned and looked at me like I was batsh*t, and maybe I was but not that much. He answered from his seat, “Striker. Neil’s our other striker but we're getting another one this season. Andrew and Renee are our goalies and Robin is going to be our new one. Backliners, we pick you up and the ones we already have are Aaron and Nicky along with Matt. Dan and Allison are out dealers and two more are coming on this season too.”

I never asked for all the information but, I’m glad I got it because at least now I know the bare minimum of the positions my team plays. Yet, I was still curious, “What’s the team like?” to know the people behind the players. “We’re kind of split into Andrew and his family and me. Then Neil. Then, the upperclassmen Matt, Dan, Allison, and Renee”. It’s direct but, I think the wording is off. “What do you mean ‘Then Neil?’”.

Just then, the same Neil who I just mentioned silently appeared at the foot of the stairs, “Hmm?”. I hadn’t noticed him until he spoke up and I didn’t quite know what to say. Kevin stood up and walked past Neil, “I’m gonna grab something from the kitchen, you want anything?”. The question had been directed at Neil but he only shook his head and stayed silent. I stayed seated on the left side of the couch, where I had been for the past hour.

“I was asking Kevin about the team since I don’t know much,” I started and I noticed that Neil stayed, even as he moved ever so slightly closer, within a safe distance that he could note exits at. I noticed the habit from my own doing so as well. As much as Neil tried to be polite since he had never met me, I couldn’t help the feeling that he was slightly uncomfortable with me. I extend a greeting in hopes of getting to know him, “I don’t believe we’ve formally met. Nathan Cirrel”. I push my body off the couch and stride in his direction to offer a hand for a shake.

Neil looks at the hand and then back at me before accepting the offer. The first words I heard from this guy's mouth were “Neil Josten,” and he left it at that. His answer was simply kept short and blunt leaving me to ask more questions for the right answers. Though, since I don’t know him I start off with a general, simplistic question, “What’s your major?” and somehow he even turned this question into a difficult one. The answer, “I don’t really have one. Language?” but he seemed inquisitive.

Neil’s intelligence went beyond his curt answers. I could tell so I chose to be direct, “I feel like you don’t like me much.. Am I right or wrong?” so there was no way to avoid the answer. Or so I thought, “You ever heard of the Butcher of Baltimore?” to which I didn’t even think I asked. “He’s my dad and his name was Nathan so… I promised I’d be less guarded but the connection is, important, I think.”

Ah, so I was wrong and I'm the problem but I’m no butcher. I attempted to come up with a solution, “How about Nate? Or Jesse is my middle name if that makes you feel better”. It was a weak attempt at a second first impression but it seemed like an alright way that seemed to work. “I’ll call you Jesse. I think you’ll fit in alright but, I’m gonna grab something and go back upstairs. Later Jesse”.

Neil turned around and I let him leave because I’m not trying to be pushy but, I couldn’t help but still get the feeling he still didn’t like me. It felt as if he were trying to find a way to leave the conversation and already I thought that would be one person who wasn’t going to work well with me on the court. This might just be a rough year if a bunch of others on the team thought the same thing Neil did about me. I knew I’d attempt to make the most of it either way.

Chapter 6: A Fresh Start Needs A Clean Start

Chapter Text

The remainder of the evening had carried on leisurely. For dinner, we had collectively decided to order pizza; a simple dish. As we ate, I was interviewed in a manner of speaking though mostly by Nicky. After his barrage of questions ceased, casual conversation flowed from various exy teams to the apparent limits of Neils’ wardrobe. After I consumed my pizza, I threw the paper plate in the trash and was pointed in the direction of the bathroom so I could wash my hands. The house felt like when you would go to a relatives’ or a friends’ house and would wash up before and after eating.

I pumped the coconut scented foaming soap onto my hands and rubbed them together thoroughly. Then, I turned on the sink water and watched all the white foam slide off like magic. I looked back up at myself in the mirror and I looked like a wreck. Since pulling myself off drugs, I’d picked up the habit of avoiding a mirror so I wouldn’t see how pale I was or the visible effects of my raging addiction. Now, hazel eyes stared back into mine with dirty blonde strands partially obstructing my vision. A silver ring and two shiny diamond studs on my double and cartilage, pierced through my right ear. Around my mouth and jaw, all of my coarse stubble was beginning to shade darker.

I stood for a moment, still, water running, and stared myself dead in the eyes. This is what happens to yourself when you sh*t on yourself for so long. Over the past two months I forgot how to take care of myself. I turned the faucet off and forced myself out the door back to the kitchen where everyone was still conversing and laughing. I sat back down in the chair I’d previously sat in and responded to what had been directed to me. I had the strongest feeling of dependency to find more drugs and get over myself but, I couldn’t. Now that I've come this far.

After everyone had dispersed back into the house, I forced myself to sit in the armchair with a book all night. I held my legs out on the built-in stool and tossed a blanket over myself. I had a feeling it was the only way I could prevent myself from doing anything particularly destructive and if I had gone exploring I'd have found something to keep me company while Kevin turned on another game. Andrew and Neil had disappeared again. While Nicky had returned to his bedroom and done whatever he was doing, loudly. I knew I’d find something that would destroy everything I promised myself and told the coach I’d fix. So, I forced myself to sleep on the recliner, under a blanket, in front of a television on the exy channel three hours before I’d normally sleep.

The morning came and I woke up extremely groggy for someone who had gone to sleep early. The warmth of the sun barely shone through the curtains so I had known it wasn’t that early but nonetheless, the only other person not on the bottom floor was Nicky. He must be a late riser I figured though, I hadn’t ever slept in the same rooms as so many people except for a single group home I went to when I was fourteen. I pulled myself off the cushy chair and padded my way over to the suitcase I left lying down in the corner.

I pulled it open and fished for a pair of running shorts, a band tee I’d found at this one store in Tennessee, and a mauve bracelet to accent it in addition to the daily items I wore as well as a pair of briefs and socks. I collected the clothes and accessories and bag of items for my self care under my arm and waded into the kitchen. “Where’s the shower?” I ask, clearly still tired from the morning. In spite of Andrew never talking to me before, he answered “Up the stairs, down the hall, second door on the right,” though I do suppose it is his house. Regardless, I nodded down in appreciation and picked my feet up the stairs two at a time, as I normally walked up stairs.

Once I had taken Andrew's instructions and entered the bathroom, I tossed everything I was carrying on the floor, shut the door, and locked it. I stripped off all that I had and set the dirty clothes in a pile to the right of the other and the accessories on the pile to the left. Standing back up, I glanced at the mirror quickly and felt a deep pang of disgust for who I’d become. Turning towards the shower, I stepped inside then turned the faucet on, leaving myself to deal with the freezing cold water while I cleansed myself.

After the fact, I shut off the water hastily--It never warmed up--and removed myself from the tiled casing. Grabbing a towel from the back wall, I threw it on the ground so I wouldn’t soak everything and clean what I had dripped water on. I also grabbed at my pants and underwear before sticking my legs through each side of both. After I’d done that, I threw the towel on the ground to my head so my hair wouldn’t continue to drip water everywhere as well. Then I hoisted the bag off the ground with my razor and shaving cream and caught it again before placing it neatly on the counter.

I removed the canister and applied the substance to my hand so I could spread it on my face. Once I had completed that step, I dragged the razor along in the direction my hair grew so I wouldn't knick myself. It had been slightly of a tedious task as I hadn’t done it in a reasonable amount of time, though I did manage to come out of the other side without a cut. I cleaned the razor off in the sink and used an aftershave to clean my face and washed my face with a type that my ma had bought me after seeing in the store when I was just like any other prone-to-acne-teen. I was glad she bought things for me even when I didn’t ask. At that moment I was reminded how genuinely much I’d grown to miss her even only after the few days I’d been gone.

I brushed my teeth and set the bag back down to fetch my bracelets and necklaces from the pile, placing them back on one by one. When I was done, I took the towel off my head and messed my hair up with my hands to keep my waves afloat and draped it over my shoulder. Then, when I had picked up my shirt, I removed the towel and slid the shirt on over my head. After I had finished checking to make sure I put everything back on, I mopped the floor of water with my singular towel and slipped my socks on and threw the towel into a basket by the sink. Presumably, I threw it where the other dirty towels had been thrown and exited the bathroom. I felt cleaner and somewhat like I could look myself in the face again.

It hadn’t been long after Nicky woke up where Kevin was nagging us all to get into the car so we could drive to the court. Though, it had been entertaining to watch Andrew do everything in his power to deny Kevin until the very last moment. Nicky began cramming some piece of toast in his mouth when almost everybody else was ready and were already heading out the door. He held his hand up like he was going to say something, “Coming! I’m coming!” before he too rushed out the door after Andrew threatened to drive away without him.

I ended up getting crammed in the backseat in between Nicky and Kevin with Neil in the role of passenger princess and Andrew in the drivers. I wasn’t that big but, putting three adults in the backseat, albeit me being slightly below average, not by much. I’m still sitting at five-foot-seven. The backseat of a Maserati is extremely cramped. The only sound in the car besides Nicky, who I’d found definitely loved to talk a lot, was the rock station on the radio much like I had on in my own car which I enjoyed honestly.

The ride to the house was the same duration as the ride back to the stadium which admittedly was not very pleasant but, when we got there we all clambered out of the backseat in relief. Or at least I did, Kevin seemed more concerned with being within fifty feet of the stadium, he hadn’t taken his eyes off it. The car doors locked and Neil’s voice sounded behind me, “Don’t be so hard on him. He hasn’t played with us before,” to which Kevin half grunted-half agreed.

Walking towards the stadium, even though we weren't that far away because there were no other cars, I let myself drag behind the others. Kevin put in the security code and we entered the gates like I had yesterday. The bright tangerine walls still surprised me when I saw them as we headed to the locker room. Inside the locker room, the four of them opened their lockers and pulled out all their gear before strapping it in. One problem, I didn’t actually have gear so I voiced my problem.

Kevin, replying while putting on his chest plate, “We have an extra set of equipment we ordered for each of our new players but, Wymack just hasn’t put it in your new lockers because no one’s officially here yet. But, since everything is in the equipment closet we can just go grab it for you,” Kevin helpfully offered. Once he finished pulling on all his protective padding, he opened the supply closet and ducked his head in to fetch a size medium for me and a heavy orange and white stick, meant for backliners. Already I could feel back in my element before my season ended in high school. Kevin placed the stick in my hand and even though it was a bit heavier than I was used to, getting second rate equipment and all, the weight of it felt familiar.

Everyone else had finished with their equipment by the time I had but waited for me to head to the court. Once I had told them, “I’m good to go too,” we all headed through the entrance of our side and onto the court. The size of the stadium and the number of seats I could see lining each wall would be quite something to get used to. There was never as large a turnout in high school because people had always been watching football rather than exy or just the fact exy was lesser known in a lot of ways. Here, I could imagine it was game night and all the stands would be filled with friends, with family, with classmates all cheering for us.

Kevin broke my string of daydreams, “Alright, Nathan-” before I cut him off. “Call me Jesse,” still remembering the conversation I’d had with Neil the night before. I glanced at Neil behind me and he seemed appreciative of my gesture. “All right then.. Jesse,” he corrected himself then continued sparing me a quizzical look, “I want to see all of your potential and abilities before we leave today to see what I’m working with. We clear?” and I nodded.

First thing we did was run half a scrimmage and slap me as his own mark while Nicky was on Neil. The first thing I noticed was that Neil was much faster than anyone else on the court and could dart around quicker than Nicky could run. The second thing I noticed was that the two strikers were versatile and able to bounce a lot of ricochets off walls. The main goal in my opinion would be to prevent them from passing to each other so I’d have to keep track of Kevin's inside and outside. Quite the tedious detail it was since he’d obviously had much more experience and a heavy stick as well.

I hadn’t seen anything like this technique honestly in my high school league, so I had to adapt quickly if I wanted to stop anything. Kevin had a height advantage over me but he was quick and calculating so that would be the area I’d have to best him at. I had to feint Neil and rely on pure instinct to get me where I needed to go rather than calculate because, even if I were calculating I’d be outsmarted by an exy geek. The next play I took a false step around Kevin to the inside and when Neil shot it to the wall where I figured, I took the opportunity to run behind Kevin because I feigned in front of him so it would’ve been straight to me instead.

As I had guessed, the ricochet was off the wall behind me and my instinct of how Neil was going to play proved me right and I intercepted the ball. I ran forward enough to get a short lead and handed it off to Andrew since we didn’t have a striker to get it to. Just then, Kevin took off his helmet and called for a break. I stopped running, thankful for the break since I hadn’t run with so much effort I don’t think ever and he started walking in my direction, approvingly. “Good work on getting it from us, we needed to know you’d be able to make moves against people like us because if you can get past us we know you can at least do some reasonable damage. Now we’re going to work on basic skills,” he instructed me.

For the next couple hours, Nicky gave me drills he’d known and helped me better my form and even Neil came over once or twice to give a few tips since I’d discovered he’d played backliner before playing striker. At the end of our session, I’d implemented everything I had into another partial scrimmage where Nicky and I had to hold out Kevin and Neil from scoring for four consecutive minutes. Andrew would stop what was in front of him, but nothing more.

After another fourteen minutes, Nicky and I practically collapsed when we finally beat the timer. The irritating sound sent a wave of relief through me as Kevin made us collect ourselves and return back to the locker rooms. Everyone stripped off their gear and I was allowed to put it into locker number eleven, next to Neil’s. Kevin told me “Eleven’ll be your locker in the fall and we’ll just clean everything up before the season starts when we give you your gear with the other four”. So, I shoved everything into the locker how the others did and trudged off to the showers with them.

I took one of the stalls (which had walls, unlike most other showers) with at least one on either side of me open. The cold water felt nice mixed in with all the summer heat and sweat from the practice. When I was finished, I turned off the water and put my clothes back on. We all returned one at a time out of the rooms and gathered our personal belongings. Kevin had been first, Nicky had been second, and I had been third with Andrew and Neil dragging behind. They always seemed to be attached.

When everyone was all set and ready to go, three of us crammed into the back of Andrews’ Maserati. The engine roared to life (I had always liked that sound from the time I drove my first car) as did the radio. The ride back was quieter than it had been before without Nicky talking so much, though I’m sure that was because he had to be as exhausted as I was. My muscles were burning but I still couldn’t help but feel a sense of adrenaline high. I didn’t have those often but I was still getting used to how they felt and I thought they were pleasant. Even after one practice with them, I felt like this was a team I could definitely play with.

Chapter 7: Not To Poison The Mind

Chapter Text

The following few days progressed in a similar fashion. I’d slept ‘til the sun was already up and by noon we’d go to the court where I’d practise drills again and again at Kevin’s request. Working in pre-season conditioning would make it a lot easier to get used to the team though, so I was ultimately grateful. We’d always ride in the Maserati to my dismay, never in my demon. It meant I only took my car at night to drive around the town since I didn’t feel there was enough for me to do in the evenings without any instruments.

Music and exy was really at the centre of my life and having half of my life missing created lots of time gaps for me. After I drove around, I’d work on transcribing new music to play when I got to school. It never filled up all of my time though and that’s when I’d just pull out one of the books I brought with me that I’d already read over and over. A good book is always good, right?

Nicky had asked me about writing music one time, “Whatcha working on? It’s summer, there’s no work,” and I tried to explain a bit of the song but he didn’t actually understand anything. After that, he didn’t ask again. Out of everyone who talked to people, really only Nicky said a lot since I preferred to stay quieter after they let me into their house over their break. Kevin was always watching exy and spoke to Neil the most and Neil spoke to Kevin in return about exy. Elsewhere, Andrew never really spoke unless it was to taunt Kevin or speak to Neil.

I hadn’t heard much German again since I had met them but I supposed that just means they have nothing to hide. They might’ve though, I just try to stay out of the way. I was able to do so pretty easily actually, until Nicky appeared in front of me while I was transcribing music the Monday before we were allowed inside the dorms. As he approached me, he told me, “We’re going to go shopping,” in which the two of us actually did take my car and drive to the nearest clothing store. Dragging me around, he showed me heaps of dark intricately cut clothing. Continuously piling them in my arms, he instructed me to try them on.

I had to find the changing rooms because I doubted he’d let me leave until I did. All the while, I showcased each outfit to myself and cycled through clothes that were too large or too small, ones that were barely even clothing at all, and only a couple outfits I’d deemed moderately acceptable.

Outside the changing rooms, Nicky waited for me on an off-white cotton couch next to the stalls. When I walked out with a couple shirts and pants, he stood up so fast I could swear I heard something crack and with a bright smile on his tanned face.

He began to lead me to the register while telling me, “I’m glad you actually found something. For Neil we kind of just bought him something and handed it to him like ‘here you go’ but, I figured why not bring you so you can pick what you like,” but I still didn’t understand the premise. For that basis, I let him talk until we got to the front of the store. When we actually did get up front to pay, he insisted upon paying for the outfits even though they were now my new clothes saying it was a welcoming gift.

Having no choice to accept it after him being so persistent, we loaded ourselves and the new clothing into the front of my Demon (which admittedly looked out of place in South Carolina). On the ride back to the house, Nicky actually stayed silent and became content with just shaking his leg like a kid would do at a desk similarly. Upon arrival, Nicky shouted, “We’re back!” and received the reply, “Great go get changed, we're leaving in thirty minutes,” from Andrew.

Leaving where, I didn’t know. For why, I also didn’t know. When we’d be back was also a mystery to me. Nonetheless, by the tone of Andrew’s voice, he was impatient and I didn’t want to aggravate him further by stalling. I figured change meant what I’d just gotten so I trotted off to the downstairs bathroom and redressed in loose black ripped jeans, a braided grey belt, and a tighter black long sleeve that looked like it was layered with a tee. It looked fine enough to me, so I emerged from the bathroom and stood idly waiting.

From back in the living room, I saw Andrew attempt to grab something from the counter before Neil scolded, “Put it back!” from another room and he set it back down. I don’t know how that was possible but, I saw it. Kevin pulled out a bottle of whiskey from the liquor cabinet they had and downed about half the bottle which is definitely impressive. Neil returned down the stairs and greeted me, “Hey Jesse,” before adding, “Nice outfit,” too. I noticed he was wearing something similar to me but with eyeliner surrounding his eyes, like I sometimes used if I went to perform drums or guitar at a place it was suitable.

That reminded me of the one time my friend Kyle and I got fake ID’s and played at a bar when I turned seventeen that February. We both went back to my place after and we were both drunk, I thought I was going to get my ass handed to me by my ma and I almost did until Kyle helped me talk my way out of it. We never played another bar after that and that was fine by me. Bars normally had a lot of drugs and alcohol but, that’s when the thought hit me like a freight train. We were going to a bar weren’t we?

The clothes to the eyeliner and Kevin consuming so much alcohol before we left was only logical wasn’t it? I pushed my thoughts down as I tried to cloud that idea with other possibilities. Before I knew it, Andrew was herding us all into his Maserati where I remained squished dead in the centre of the backseat yet again.

The car slowed to a stop and I looked out the window to look at the building we pulled in front of. Stepping out, I read the sign, Eden’s Twilight and judging by the bouncer at the door and the line of people, we were most definitely at a bar. To my grand dismay, we all stepped inside after Nicky talked to the bouncer like he knew them and he probably did from the way Andrew got a parking pass for a separate lot.

Nicky and Kevin went to find a table so I decided to follow them because I had no clue what I was doing. There was an empty booth Nicky claimed as soon as he saw it and we sat down to wait. Actually engaging in idle chatter, some minutes passed and Andrew returned with Neil who had been carrying a tray of drinks. Setting them down on the table, the other two slid into the booth alongside me with Neil to my right and Kevin to my left.

As much as I knew drinking was just as bad as getting addicted to drugs, the inviting sight of a crystalline glass chalked full of hard liquor with multiple others, identical to every side of the one. I couldn't help myself but to take the small cup into my fingers, bring it to my mouth as everyone else did, and let the forsaken liquid pour with a crisp burn at the back of my throat as everyone else did.

The next thing I could discern, I was pouring down shot after shot after shot. Each concentration of alcohol coursing through my veins provided me with a newfound buzz that grew stronger and stronger. The desire to consume more and more was overwhelming. It’s like alcohol was a replacement to the desire I’ve had for drugs all these years.

Unfortunately, it’s not like any of my teammates had a clue about why I was on the team. I assumed it was some sort of confidentiality thing with the coach but it wasn’t helpful when I was trying to do everything in my weak, weak willpower to stop myself. While I was downing as much alcohol as I could, Nicky was encouraging me, “Damn, I didn’t know this kid could down that much. He’ll give Kevin a run for his money!” like it was actually cool I had such a massive addiction to all things that could keep my mind away from what it was.

Needing to leave before someone went and brought more to the table, I got up and strolled off to one of the branched-off hallways. It remained empty for the most part except for a couple of strangers against the wall after having clearly too much. They looked how I felt despite me clearly, not having nearly the same amount of alcohol that they’d had. I found this as a way to make my escape from all that would get me in trouble. Yet, somehow trouble always found me.

I collapsed along one of the walls and closed my eyes for however long. I could feel someone sit down next to me but I still kept my eyes closed. Their voice was gravelly, no doubt dry from a lack of water, “You drank too much or got dragged here?” which was ironic the answer was “Both,” I guess. I try to ignore the guy and just sit there but he scoots closer to me. Though, since I can tell he’s even more drunk than I am, I get up and exit the door on the end of the hallway.

I’m greeted with a dose of fresh, humid, late June air and a dizzy rush to the head. Before I nearly black out from the rush, I attempt to search for Andrew's car. It was easier than I expected because well, it was a Maserati and I had the most unfortunate timing to come across the car with Andrew next to it. Alongside Neil. Making out.

I was so temporarily shocked, I stood in the street for a moment because somehow as ignorant as I was, I wouldn’t have guessed they were hooking up. Or dating? I didn’t know nor care to know. While I was standing in the street, a car honked at me to move and the bright headlights seemed blinding as I looked dead into them as I apologised to the driver and hurried across, out of the way.

Andrew and Neil must have noticed me because, when I approached the car, they were sitting there, holding out two cigarettes to light. The action almost made me believe I was imagining things. But, I knew I couldn’t imagine it. There’s no way I could have.

Only half aware, I walked up next to the passenger side, to the window Neil had begun to roll down. I leaned down a little to ask, “Mind if I join you?” and I heard the click of a car door unlocking. Opening the back door, I clambered in and shut it again, sprawling out between the right-side-seat and one in the middle. I could hear Neil asking me, “What’s up Jesse? I thought you’d be having more fun.” to which I shook my head.

I thought an explanation was due, “Wymack wanted me, partially because I’m a foster kid. The other reason was that I was a hardcore drug addict until the end of the school year really. The contract got me to stop but, the alcohol replaced it all-” I didn’t know how to continue. The other two stayed silent until Andrew spoke first, “I had to be on drugs for three years. They took me off last winter. But since it was mandatory I never had that problem,” and to that I wish.

I wished with all my heart it was that easy. I knew it wasn’t though so I asked them, “Can I just stay here until we leave?” but they came up with a better solution. “We won’t be leaving for a while, why don’t we just drive you back? Kevin won’t be done drinking and Nicky won’t be done dancing for a while,” and I accepted.

The distance from the house to Eden’s was much shorter than Palmetto’s so when we arrived back at the house, I got out of the car and padded inside. Neil followed me to make sure I got in okay and to check on me, “You sure you’ll be fine if we go back?” and I nodded. As much of a buzzkill as I felt like, I knew it was better I felt safe than being surrounded by alcohol and other substances that could be problematic for me.

I changed out of the clothes I was in and into something more practical for bed. I didn’t have many pyjamas, but I did have one pair from the same brother that gave me my watch. They had SpongeBob on them and were Christmas themed but honestly, a feeling like home was all I needed. I checked the clock that only read ten-twelve but I was content with checking out that early. I laid down on the recliner I’d called my bed the past few days and closed my eyes long enough to succumb to sleep. The dreamless type of sleep even.

Chapter 8: The Art of Decoration

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Since my trip to Eden’s, no one had mentioned much. Neither Andrew nor Neil spoke to me about the ride home. Neither Kevin or Nicky mentioned the fact that I left early. I found in myself that I was alright with that development. Matter-of-factly, I was also content with never going to that oh-so-effervescent place again. It was unnerving to surround myself with substances again and I’d hate to do it a second time.

I tried not to think about it, but in trying to do so, I only led myself back again and again like a goddamn broken record. It even began to effect the last couple practices we’d had since then. In telling myself not to think about drugs or alcohol, I started to allow Kevin to slip past me and Neil to swing his stick so that the ball ricocheted off the boards.
I knew at least Neil noticed because he kept muttering to Kevin, “Go easy on him, he’s had it rough.”

I could only hear it so many times before I thought it was enough. Kevin had too apparently, since he didn’t appear to be going easy on me. He only stomped in front of me more to snap me out of the trace I’d slipped into, unmasking the veil that held a seal over my eyes.

That’s why I was sure it was my fault when Kevin announced, “Practice ends early! Go change out,” and left with his racquet in hand. By this point, even I knew what an obsession Kevin had with exy and whatever he noted about the topic, he took it seriously. Meaning, the best course of action was actually for us to remove ourselves like he suggested.

Per our common sense, we rounded up the stray balls we’d whipped about during the practice and deposited them into the bucket of identical ones in the centre of the court. As I brought the last one back, I picked up the heavy bucket along with my racquet and waded to the locker room to leave my racquet behind, then to the equipment closet to drop the bucket down.

Once everything was returned, I stripped my sweat-soaked gear off and headed to the showers where Kevin had already finished but the other three were still busy. The steam of the others’ showers made the room feel moist but, when the faucet slid only to the royal blue dot above the handle, the icy water slid over me. I could feel the cold through my spine down to my fingertips.

The sweat washed away with all the tension and unrelenting thoughts I’d had throughout the practice. So much so, I forgot where I was. When I changed back into my clothes, I almost accidentally bumped into coach. I hadn’t seen him much besides here and there since I first came to the court but I was the first to apologise. “Sorry coach, didn’t mean to bump into you.”

“It’s alright. I actually needed to talk with you anyways,” I didn’t know what about. “You’ve been here for a couple weeks now but, since athletes dorms are opening up next week, we need you to select courses and properly register by then end of… well today.”

Ah, that’s what it was. “Alright coach, no problem.” I gave him a wave and joined Nicky’s lot back in the parking lot by the Maserati. I gave them a double thumbs up, in other words an all good to go and clambered into the tightly squeezed backseat.

The drive back to the house in Columbia was refreshing. The silence brought me solace within my mind. Mulling over selecting courses and actually attaining a dorm instead of sleeping on a chair was an enlightening prospect. I could finally move everything in my car out and open up the space in the back.

I’d say I was thoroughly excited for the season to start up soon as well. I’d get to meet all the others too. To be fair though, everyone on the team was meeting someone new since the players from last year hadn’t actually met the new players from this year so, that’s a comforting prospect. At the thought of comfort, I decided to dwell on that fact until the Maserati was in the driveway and I could be on my way.

When Andrew pulled up to the house I chose to initially tell them, “I need to go back to the school and select courses and stuff.”

Nicky thought it a smart thought to say, “We could have driven you there! Why didn’t you say so earlier?” while Andrew glared daggers. He started giving off a look to Nicky that could have been a don’t-you-dare-make-offers-I-didn’t-agree-to stare. Sagely, he decided to leave it at that.

Still, I assured him, “I’ll be back by the time dinner is served,” though in truth I didn’t really know how long the process would take. I merely itched to drive my Demon any chance I could and this was a grand opportunity if I’d ever seen one.

I waved to them as they entered the house and I went in the opposite direction towards my car. The keys to my beauty were burning a fiery hole in my pocket as I fished them out and unlocked the car. The bright red leather invited me inside so warmly as I dropped my ass into the seat. As I ignited the engine, I whispered to myself, ‘She’s back baby…’ like I hadn’t been taking her for minuscule joy rides around the town. Though, now it felt like I was putting her back into commission somehow.

As my perfectly-aligned tires sped down the road, I rolled down the window to feel like breezy summer air around me. As long as I drove her, she would always make me feel more free than I truly was. Partially because I somehow knew I’d find a home and maybe even a new track to race on. Maybe I could find a street racer track and place some bets on it. I didn’t know but, everything brought me hope.

Upon arriving at the head of the college, I felt the same as I had the first time I was to arrive at the stadium. In truth, the sensation felt almost magical like beginning a new book, even so the most difficult step of starting a new book was the strength it took to open the front cover.

I took my Demon and pulled around the nearest parking lot I could find so that I could wander to the building where the counsellor was. This, of course, was the first and foremost opportunity I’d had to explore the campus, with being in Columbia the majority of the time I’d been here. I’d rather take a look around when there were no people to tell me otherwise anyways.

Throughout my leisurely stroll, I had admired the greenery and the architecture of the buildings that towered over me. The sight differed from the humble town where the cousins’ house was (since Andrew didn’t like people much I’d assume) or the solid tangerine colour found on the stadium. Though, orange and white banners did decorate everywhere I stood, no doubt to represent the school and greet the new freshmen like myself.

I had reached the building that held office to the counsellors and swiftly pulled the heavy doors open. Then, I searched for the counsellors office that took charge of the last names Cald through E. Luckily for me, it was only the second door on my left and saved me from any trouble of being a lost puppy in a new home.

Sauntering up to the door, I knocked sternly on the door, attempting to display confidence even though it was most likely a farce. A kind voice inside spoke clear as day, “Come in!” in the singsong accent someone might have when answering a door.

Twisting the handle on the door and pushing it open revealed a kind, young lady with wire-rimmed glasses and her deep brunette hair, strung in a high ponytail. She greeted me and I introduced myself, “Hello. My name is Nathan Jesse Cirrel. I’m going to be on the exy team, I’m here about selecting courses,” and her face lit up in recognition.

“Yes, I remember, hello! Have a seat and we’ll begin discussing as much once I can fill out the missing segments of your paperwork. I understand you were asked to join our school by coach Wymack?”
”Yes, he visited me at my school.”

”Alright, it seems you have an extremely elevated GPA from high school so you should be readily able to take higher-stakes courses and pass with flying colours if you like. But, we never took your major or minor down.” I’d been anticipating the question. Some people go into college without answering those questions but, I’d used my free time to discern a few ideas.

“I’d like to study music production and/or performance,” I began, trying not to be too specific in my words. I’d understand what I wanted to do, just not which was more important. I watched her make notes after I’d said it on a sticky note to the side of her desktop. Then, the counsellor pulled a small stack of papers from behind the desk.

“The first package is the requirements you’d need to fulfil the path you want to take and the second is the specific options for courses within that range. Let me be very specific about this and I can't stress this enough, you are taking a five year plan! Only select four to five courses rather than your full six of an average student.” She was extremely clear not to choose enough courses that would deteriorate my ability to perform in my sport due to the rigorous schedule of practises each team had.

I gingerly flipped the first page of the requirements pack to preview what I needed to achieve my course goals. Simply, I needed basic classes and two classes detailing what I’d like though, if I wanted to take one additional course, I could. Scanning over the basic classes, I opted to strive for a Literature course and another more in-depth class that dealt with poetry and analysing a lot more.

“Literature and Poetry courses. Along with.. Music Theory and Performance,” I told her. She’d probably place me into the proper classes herself. Though I still want to take a fifth, being the overachiever that I am, “And French?” She looked at me like I was slightly insane but, she’d seen my high school transcript and that heavy variety of courses I took, so I’m sure I could handle adding a fifth language to my repertoire.

She finished writing her notes and looked at me again, “Are you sure?” and I nodded. Then, she removed the paper stacks from in front of me and stashed them away in her desk where they belonged. When she raised her head again, she continued speaking, “Now, you’re joining a sports team which means the dorms you would stay in would be the athletes' dorms on the side of campus nearest the stadium, are you okay with that?”

I nodded, thoroughly excited to have a dorm with other people. I’d shared a room before but, this time I wouldn’t necessarily be away from people I didn’t particularly know, but especially doting parental figures. The prospect of it was enlightening in my opinion. Of course it probably wasn’t that significant of an event but, for some people it can definitely seem like one.

The woman sitting in front of me jotted down more notes onto a separate sticky note and set her pen down once it was filled. “Thank you for your time, that’s all the business I have with you. Come back if you have any questions, but otherwise you are free to go sir.” Don’t get me right, she was very kind but when she gave me the okay I gave a polite smile and wave before pacing out the door and back into the sunny overcast of South Carolina.

With what I could have only assumed but a productive trip, I unlocked my Demon again and sat in the familiar seat, started the engine, and began my drive back to Columbia. Besides, the meeting hadn’t been too long and let's face it, I was most likely not going to obey the speed limit so I decided, I’d most definitely return in time for dinner. My stomach even rumbled at the thought since I hadn’t eaten anything before practice that morning anyways.

I had woken up to a day of difficult labour and hard-earned relaxation. In other words, it was the official day that we were allowed to move into the athletes dorms. Even better, since I had brought everything I wanted in my car, I was able to just tail Andrew's car all the way there while riding with the window down so the air could rush through my hair and the radio volume could be turned up.

I had already known the way to Palmetto, yet I hadn’t actually been to the dorms yet, hence my need for general direction. Other than that, I assumed I’d have my own room until the others got there. My reasoning for being hopeful was because the others already had rooms didn’t they? But, why would a team of… fourteen be shoved into the same rooms a team of nine could fit into? That’s why I was hopeful I’d at least get some personal space and quiet before the rest of the dorm moved in.

After tailing the other four to Palmetto, I stepped out of my car to find Wymack near the doorway of the Fox Tower. Piquing my curiosity, I padded over to him and greeted him. “Hey coach. What are you doing here?”

“Well, I believe that you don’t have any keys so, you do actually need a way into the room.” Smart. Honestly, I got caught up enough, I forgot I didn’t even know where I was going.

“Right, you’re correct.”

“Well, I have five new keys but since you’re the first freshman here, you get to choose the room. Take your pick.” He held up a keyring and jingled six brand-new, shiny golden keys before snatching them and holding them out in his palm with two different numbers on them. Three read 318 and the other three had 320 inscribed on them.

I hovered my hand over the selection and picked up one of the keys to room 318 before taking it off the key ring. By my choice, the decision between which would be the freshman girls and boys’ dorms had been decided and I felt all the much lighter with a sense of belonging as I added the new key to the ring with my car key and to my home back in Chicago. Ma had me keep it in case I’d ever wanted to return for any reason.

I tried to thank him but he wouldn't accept it. “I promised you when I signed you. Besides, I should leave the rest of them with Neil for when the others get here.” Which puzzled me, why Neil. He seemed like a shy kind of flighty guy but I suppose he was pretty friendly. So I asked.

“Why Neil?” I expressed as I voiced my confusion.

He only turned halfway for a slight pause looking at me as puzzled as I felt. “He didn’t tell you? I should’ve known. Neil’s vice captain this season.” Then, he turned back around and kept moving towards the Maserati and everyone by it, grabbing their bags, which they had surprisingly little of. “I hope you settle in well Jesse,” was the last thing I heard before he was too far away.

I guess even coach knew they were calling me Jesse which made it easier than expected because now it wouldn’t be confusing. Regardless, I tucked my keyring into the pocket of my cargo shorts and ventured back towards my car to start unloading it. I had decided to begin with my suitcase because it was most definitely the easiest along with a selection of sentimental items from some of my homes.

I carried these objects up the stairs even though I knew there was an elevator. In all honesty, I preferred to use the stairs whenever I could even if the task was more difficult. Once I reached the third floor, I paced down the hallway until I reached door three-hundred-eighteen on the right. Twisting the polished key into the golden lock, it popped with a slight click signalling I could push the door open.

The inside was about as bland as an empty dorm could be but to me, it looked like a commodious castle. For a guy like me, who’d lived his whole life with foster siblings over estranged foster parents, having a whole room to myself (at least for the time being) seemed like a haven. Wheeling my bulky, burgundy suitcase into the dorm, I left it in the main room that held absolutely nothing except kitchen appliances, and a separated wall that led to what I’m sure was the living room.

At a turtle's pace, I wandered around the spare space across the kitchen and living room to down the hallway. Gently nudging the two doors, I learned that the door on the right led to the bedroom and on the other side led to our bathroom. The bathroom was complete with a shower and fully functioning toilet and sink. Perhaps this was one of the most luxurious rooms I’d seen.

Returning to the bedroom, I happened upon a single bed and a set of bunk beds and three desks. While choosing which one to claim, I assumed that the bottom bunk had been the most secluded, ergo I was bound to choose that one. Fetching my suitcase from the empty room, I placed it near the bed with plain sheets and emptied it with care on the ground next to the bed. My goal was to use my suitcase to transport my belongings quicker.

Quickly, I discovered this method to be the quickest as I was allowed to heave much more than what my arms would carry. On the second trip, I piled the bag with the books I’d brought and materials I’d need for music like my drum sticks, guitar picks, and notebooks that I had let loose in the car after neglecting to properly pack them back into my suitcase. Lugging it up the stairs, I went back to my dorm and deposited it onto the actual mattress. That way it’d be easier to transport rather than leaving it on the floor.

The third trip, I brought my posters and my good old acoustic guitar. Did I mention I actually brought a guitar? I hadn’t played it at the cousin's house so that I didn’t annoy them, but now I took it up to my room because if no other time, I could always play it when the others were in class. It wasn’t even that loud really. It’s not like I brought a drum set.

Anyways, once I’d retrieved everything from my car, I’d began to move everything to its necessary place. Which meant, my hygienic necessities went into the bathroom and my clothes went inside the closet. The posters went on the wall with some paint-safe tack I’d found a while back. Though, the books only got stacked into two piles on one of the desks because I didn’t have a real place to put them.

Suddenly, I realised that I was actually lacking furniture and the only way to fix that was to either wait for someone else to bring some or buy it myself and since I didn’t know when the others were getting in, my resolve was to buy it.

Checking my watch, I noticed that I’d spent nearly two hours moving what I had into the room. It was now three in the afternoon but I had to wonder if the others were done nearly like I was or if they had much more to unpack. Leaving my room, I opted to knock on the door with the most noise which was inevitably, room 317 where, from the sounds of their voices (even though they weren’t actually that loud), were at least Kevin and Neil. Though, since they were there it was most likely Andrew joining them since I’d seen Neil and Andrew so close and Kevin never seemed to be that far apart really.

Building courage, I knocked on their door even though it was open and pushed it open without stepping inside. “Hey, where’s Nicky?” I asked as politely as I could. As much as it felt awkward to ask for the only person not in the room, I didn’t want to offend them either.

Kevin answered my question though and I don’t think he minded. “Nicky’s going to be in 321 down the hall.” A blunt answer but nonetheless helpful. I waved my thank you and goodbye before turning to the left down to 321.

Nearly, seconds after I knocked on the door of the room Nicky was going to be in, it opened with one Nicholas Hemmick standing in the doorway. “Hey Jesse! Need somethin’?” Yes, yes I did want to ask something.

“I need more furniture for the room. I was wondering if you wanted to come shopping with me. Maybe help pick something out,” to which he vigorously agreed, telling me he was splendid at interior design. Still, I appreciated all the help I could get.

While at the nearest furniture shop to Palmetto, I began to search for a wide variety of things. First off, I wanted a simple table even if it were a coffee table along with a sofa in that case. I had found a convenient lamp for my bunk already and specifically new sheets as well as a different pillow for my new bed. In other words, I considered my leisurely activities and bought things accordingly like a bookcase for my books.

Nicky guided me around, exploring the different types of sofas I could get. I had decided to get one that I could transport easily and that meant I’d have to assemble it. Fine with me, but would definitely take time. Though, as I scavenged for necessary furniture, everything I had acquired would have to be put together for the most part.

At this point, I’d surrendered tomorrow to constructing furniture and setting up the dorm. Though, I wanted to grab one more thing before I was done searching and ready to pay. I knew what I had would wrack up a reasonable sum and that disappointed me but, at least I still had racing funds from not spending all the time I did in a hotel. How fortunate I was after all.

Either way, I found my way back to the technology section of the store and found some hexagon things that I’d seen a couple times before. These were meant to be lights that you could change the colour of and I thought it’d be a nice touch under my bunk if I could find them useful at any point. At this point, it wouldn’t add too much to the total anyways,

Once Nicky and I selected everything I thought I’d need for my room, I went to the register to buy it and the worker really didn’t seem that surprised. I guessed, since we were near a college this happened enough around this time of year where people would have to buy furniture for their dorms. Regardless, I flipped over a couple boxes so they could be scanned and removed my card that I always loaded my racing funds onto.

The scan went through and Nicky and I were free to leave. That is, after we loaded everything into the back of my monster of a car. The heavy lifting made me glad I was a backliner and had the muscles to back me up.

Heading back, I inquired Nicky about his dorm and conversed simply. Though, when we returned to the college, we did end up taking the elevator and pushing the boxes into one corner of the room they belonged in for me to work on tomorrow. Overall, I’d say it’d been an extremely successful trip.

Of course, I didn’t care enough to finish decorating the rest of my room until tomorrow and put it off while Nicky and I joined Neil, Kevin, and Andrew for dinner like we’d done the past couple weeks. The five of us thoroughly enjoyed being alone in the Tower as much as I could tell since no one else was as insane as to stay right next to the college over the summer. Further, the Chinese takeout we had sprawled out (in a fully decorated dorm I might add) tasted even better now that I’d been closer than ever to my dreams.

Chapter 9: Long Days End Tired

Chapter Text

A calm and peaceful night in my very own, empty dorm room gently seeped into a day reaped with the joys of carpenter-ing my new furniture. Sweet. Honestly, I needed something to occupy myself with now that I wasn’t surrounded by a bunch of other people. I never realised how deafening the silence enveloping me was since I’d never been alone without being blitzed out on weed or Xanax.

Waking up and showering on the glorious Sunday was definitely a peaceful event. Leaving the shower however, I noticed boxes of furniture lying in the corner of the sitting room from mine and Nicky’s errand last night. Without stalling, I decided to begin with the first box, dumping it out and sprawling everything on the floor from the wall to the kitchenette.

The instructions to build a bookcase, I found, were relatively quite silly. Part A has to be inserted into part G and whatnot. Why not just connect the board to the peg and call it a day? But alas, of course nothing could be that simple. Sitting alone on the floor alone, it took me an hour from basically the ass-crack of dawn to where I was now. Halfway finished with the bookshelf.

As I reached that point in the 12-step instructions, a knock sounded at my door. Exasperated from working and ready for an intervalled break, I opened the door. To none of my surprise, it was Nicky. “Hey, I see you’re buildin’ the stuff we got, nice. I don’t mean to distract you but, is there any chance you have a phone because I didn’t know and when we start the season it’d be great to have it in case we need to text you..”

Makes sense. I don’t use my phone except for music mostly. It’s not like I had many people to text anyways. “Yeah, I do and that’s cool, sure,” I offered, opening the door wider to invite him inside. Side-stepping and letting him inside I ask, “You ready?” so I could recite the digits of my number.

He nodded and I began to recite the digits to the number in which everyone seemed to stay interconnected and always-knowing through. Entering the numbers into his phone, he slapped on a contact name and put it away back into his pocket. I suppose he felt like it didn’t institute enough of a visit to only ask for my number so instead, he also offered something else, “Mind if I help build some stuff with you? You got a lot left,”

I supposed it was alright that I received some help so I wouldn’t be sitting on the floor until late in the afternoon. I did still want to at least eat a meal. “Sure, I’m finishing up the bookshelf for the bedroom but, after that I was gonna build the couch,” opting for a comfortable place to sit seemed like a great option.

Nearly doubling the speed I was at before since I learned the real Instruction Manual (which thankfully was the easiest language to pick up) and with Nicky’s help, the rest of the bookshelf was daily easy to set up. Though, actually heaving it to the bedroom to the side of the bed in hindsight would have been easier if I had actually built it in the bedroom.

After constructing the bookshelf, we returned to the living room area to build the sofa that lay in the corner next to the unbuilt coffee table. The sofa shouldn’t be as difficult since it had so many cushions and obvious parts that were directly corrigible. Since this task was easier, we decided to engage in idle conversation. We spoke about our feelings towards the new season and what my team was like back in high school. Somehow, that funnelled into him flamboyantly talking all about his overseas boyfriend from Germany and the summer he’d spent there.

Ultimately, I was being informed quite heavily on what kind of person Nicky is. Not that that is necessarily a bad thing, it’s not I assure. I can just tell he’s a lot and that’ll definitely be one thing to get used to. I am definitely grateful it was such a character who chose me out of a roster to join the foxes to begin with honestly. He’s most definitely the kindest person I’ve been introduced to so far. It’s almost as if his heart is too big for his chest. Though, I couldn’t say the same about me, fairly.

The construction of my new couch was quite the breeze compared to the wretched materials of the gruelling bookcase. I had spent a total of about four hours so far building my new residency for the next five years. The time lay about ten in the morning when Nicky suggested, “I’m getting hungry, why don’t we get some brunch or something?” and I noticed my stomach furiously growl at the mention.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” I told him before wiping the slight sweat I’d accumulated off my forehead. With our hunger and two pieces of furniture fully built, we left the coffee table for later and ventured out to a cafe Nicky had suggested, telling me he’d found it during his freshman year and favoured some of the food.

We took my car while he gave directions because though I’d been here for two weeks, I was in Columbia rather than here so I didn’t know where I was going. When I received a menu I took a look at the options which were surprisingly really healthy, some of them. Nicky hadn’t struck me as the type to enjoy healthy meals. I however saw an option for an egg sandwich on whole wheat with avocado spread and options of sauces that included my personal favourite: hot sauce.

I had been proved right when the waitress came to take our orders down as I heard Nicky cheerfully request, “Can I have the platter of pancakes with extra syrup? With chocolate milk too? Thanks.” Honestly, I was slightly disgusted at the concentration of sweets while I opted for my sandwich and a simple glass of water.

The food service was actually not subpar and arrived at our table relatively fast despite having quite a number of other customers. In addition, my obvious delicacy tasted as if it had been created by Gods’ own hands. It was fantastic. Nothing tasted better to me like a good bit of egg and a splash (doused in) of hot sauce in the morning.

Once we had concluded our meal and asked for the check, we both footed our own meals since I didn’t want to not pay because Nicky insisted I shouldn’t again on his dime. After handing both our cards, we waited in the booth, definitely more comfortable than I would’ve been with him had I sat down with him when we first met. Our cards both returned to our own pockets and we were in the process of returning ourselves to the dorms.

When we got back, I told Nicky that I was fine to set up the coffee table by myself and through persistent badgerings of “Are you sure you don’t need help?” he finally left me alone in solace once again. From that point, I dumped out the last large boulder-of-a-box to scatter about the final complicated-to-put-together table components on the floor.

At the end of a couple uninterrupted hours, begs another knock on my door and I wonder, what could it possibly be this time? What pleasure I have opening the door to greet a one-track-minded Kevin Day that I could only guess what he stood at my door for. “We’re actually not going to practise today because we wanted you to get situated at the dorms properly and Andrew has to go pick up Aaron at the airport.” Ah, okay, slightly not what I expected.

“Cool. I do have a few things still to do and Nicky came by and got my phone number in case you needed to talk to me or something, so you can ask him about that.” Our interaction was brief as most of our conversations were since even though he did teach me exy a bit, we never really hit it off on a personal level. Honestly, being as creatively inclined as I am, I have no clue why I expected us to have at least anything besides Exy in common.

We said our short goodbyes and I shut the door after him to finish the rest of the table. It paired nicely with the couch I bought and it wasn’t too much of a difficulty to erect inside the dorm. It had certainly been more simple to make than the bookshelf. Once the piece was complete, I pushed it to sit in front of the couch and admired my hard work.

The painstaking hours of back-breaking self-imposed labour were not over however. I still had to shelve my books, unbox my lamp, and plaster on the glowing hexagon-ish things. It definitely shouldn’t take long though, I think. Bringing the remaining decorative items to the bedroom, I set them down on the desk to the left of the stacks of books.

Organising the piles of books by series, language, and height, I transferred them a few at a time onto the bookshelf. The English books sat to the left while the German books were to the right of the English. To the right of the German, were the Russian ones and to the right of my Russian books were my Spanish stories. I liked to keep books in every language I knew to keep my proficiency of each up to par, even if I didn’t practise them.

Quite efficient my system was really. When all the setup was complete, my books had filled two out of the six shelves and so I threw all of my notebooks, stacked on top of each other into the third shelf. Really, instead of shelves they were boxes and they were constructed by height going one by six to provide more space in the room. Since the three empty slots bothered me, I tossed my heavily beat on drum sticks along with their backups and a selection of guitar picks I favoured.

Finding the shelves satisfactory to my liking, I leaned my guitar against it to cover the two remaining empty spots. I was quite pleased with myself so, I ambled back to my desk and retrieved the box with my lamp. Scratching the tape off the top, I managed to pry it open and dig the lamp out from its styrofoam casing which I let fall to the ground along with the box.

I place the lamp down gently and fall to my knees to plug the extension cord into the wall. Once inserted, I messed with positioning for it to complete its function with maximum efficiency (In other words, I angled the light to face the centre of my desk) and snatched the box with the hexagonal things. Picking at the tape on that box, I set it on the now-spacious desk and slid the product out from inside. It came with a remote and six of the shapes that had adhesive that wouldn’t damage the walls which meant I was free to stick them anywhere I pleased.

I opted to stick them on the top of my bottom bunk like a ceiling light. That way I would work on things in the bed or read with enough light if it was functional. Placing them back and forth in a step-like pattern, I felt content. While placing them, I noticed a cord and attachment hooks so the power from one would flow to the rest which was efficient. Though, this meant I’d also have to place them in another outlet which luckily was right behind my bed as it was behind the bed on the other side since there were outlets on three walls.

Inserting the second plug into the wall, they lit up with various colours that I admired. I knew a lot of teenagers had stuff like this and I thought it was really cool but, I never cared to get some until now because most foster parents didn’t like a lot of things on the bedroom walls. As nice as my ma was, that included her too.

I took the remote that also fell out of the box and trialled the different colours like purple, yellow, and green. I liked the ambiance of it. Then, I took a look at the instructions I had neglected and noticed that they had an app to pair with them. So, I downloaded the app and synced the hexagons with the app. The first thing I did was create a greenish-white fluorescent type colour that was the most adequate for my use of them.

Once I had that sorted out and picked the boxes off my floor to throw them away, I finally felt well enough to sit down and lie on my back. I had been productive since six in the morning when I had finished my shower until now which, as I checked my watch appeared to be three in the afternoon. Essentially, I had laboured a full work day only setting up new furniture and lighting for my dorm. Which, I was completely fine with since it was all for my comfortability.

I hadn’t wanted to lie for long though, so I chose to pick up my guitar. How I missed playing her. I hadn’t gotten a chance to play my guitar Danielle since I moved away from home. God, that felt so long ago. So much had happened in the past few weeks despite it being relatively lax, that I’d nearly forgotten how easily the feeling of her base resting on my left leg felt and how majestically my right hand glided across her neck. How simply my fingertips pressed down firmly against all of her strings and strummed them as I tuned her.

I felt like I was right at home when I played a singular chord on the fifth fret on the board. Rhythmically, I strummed and played with simple beats from classic songs I’d picked up over the five years I’d played guitar for. As much as I thrived playing exy and dashing across the field, desperately trying to prevent the other team from scoring, music was my passion. Aside from racing, nothing could give me quite the same satisfaction as playing music could.

It would guide me through every emotion and event I’d experienced like moving to a new home or winning a game. The tune would carry through my soul and Danielle had been there to accompany me for the majority of my gut-wrenching teenage years. If I had to be honest, I would say I loved Danielle more than I loved any singular person. Though, no person I’d ever met knew that feeling the same way I did.

Throughout my inner monologue and the internal bliss of playing my guitar with a tune that felt like a long-lost-lover, I never heard the door open and someone walk in. I only noticed when I saw someone else’s shoes at the foot of the door by the bedroom. Honestly I hadn’t expected anyone to be in yet besides the fact Aaron was apparently flying in. Looking up from my guitar, I met eyes with a guy.

This guy had ash-blonde hair and nearly pin straight, not unlike Andrew’s but, with stark blue eyes that were much like Neil's tended to be and he was pale. Though, he was taller than I’d say I was, maybe settling in around five-foot-ten and simple clothes not unlike ones I owned. His rounder head and acutely lazed look (differing from unattentive or uncommunicative) was the only thing I’d say set him apart from a variety of other qualities I’d say the people I already knew had since I didn’t know his personality.

I decided to introduce myself to him first as he walked into the room to face me with his own baggage. I set down my guitar next to me, holding the neck upright, “I’m Jesse, how’s it going?” beginning with such a simple statement.

He looked at me, surveying me, before answering, “I’m alright. Asher. Mind if I steal top bunk?” asking as if I cared. I guess it’s out of politeness because, without my words, he takes a step up the ladder and peers over the bed itself, presumably checking out its comfortability.

Hopping down from his perch, he even asked if I could help him move some things. I didn’t know what things were and I knew I was extremely tired from moving so much myself, I simply couldn’t say no. It’s not like any of the others would probably help. “Sure, what’d you bring with you?” I wanted to know what kind of items I’d be dragging up the stairs now.

Placing Danielle back against her place near the bookshelf, I followed Asher out the door while he began to list a few items. “I brought my clothes and stuff to live. Furniture wise, just some like nice rugs and functional stuff. Ain’t got much to go off back home.” With that, he began to sound a bit like me except for the fact I got most of my money from street racing but he seemed decent, so he probably worked an average job.

Lucky for me, all he asked me to grab were two rugs that I could carry one in each arm while he grabbed a large bin from a taxi. He probably didn’t have a car and then I realised how unethical it was for an average college student to have a car like I did or even one at all with the types of low income and all that extra. He was probably paying by the minute it was there which sucks.

Bringing the rugs up to our dorm, I dropped them on the coffee table I built earlier and waited for Asher. As he entered the door, he said, “The shaggy one can go in the bedroom and the other one can go here I think. That should be fine,” and hobbled to the bedroom with the bin that looked like it weighed tons.

I unrolled the rugs slightly to determine which one was shaggier than the other and threw the messier one off the table near the kitchenette so I could place the neater one underneath the coffee table and partially under the couch like those interior design catalogues. As I situated it and smoothed out the edges, I stepped back to make sure it was up to par, which it was.

I hoisted the second rug and brought it back to where Asher was and waited by the doorway where he was walking about placing items from the bin around the room. I quickly learned why the box seemed so heavy. It carried simple free weights. As much as I loved lifting, I wasn’t sure free weights were going to be necessary with our rigorous training. Though, I guess if he wasn’t a backliner or a goalie that he wouldn’t be lifting as much as training endurance or such in the gym.

When everything was cleared out of the centre, I placed the shagged rug down in the middle. Personally, I thought it did compliment the room as it was a simple grey that you genuinely can’t go wrong with. The whole room honestly was beginning to have a nice touch of stuff. It had all my creativity mess and the weights Asher had brought, along with additional seemingly sentimental items and a few things that clearly weren’t as sentimental like a potted plant I spotted next to the window.

While putting his clothes away, I noticed a radio at the bottom of his suitcase. As a good conversation starter, I asked, “What station do you listen to?” hoping it would lead somewhere. Thankfully it did because I began to talk to him in hopes of getting to know who he really was. We picked up on radio stations with where we were from, (Illinois and Georgia) our majors, hobbies. We even discovered we were both foster children.

I wasn’t particularly the person to overshare but Asher made it seem effortless the way he’d admit something and get you to do the same. We even spit jokes in the middle and even when we were both finished unloading our stuff again, we kept the conversation going. He even sang this song that was kind of funny because it went, ‘My name is Jesse, I’m super messy.’ and then I made one for him that went ‘My name is Asher, I don’t take showers’ and that’s mainly how we became friends.

We used our time to generally bond and I think that Asher is the first genuine friend I’ve made that didn’t practically sign me onto the team. As much as I didn’t enjoy sleeping in the same room as someone else, Asher felt like a cool enough guy I didn’t care. In totality, we got along on the same wavelength but syphoned our thoughts on different playing fields. Before I fell asleep that night, I thought about ma but, I thought to her like I could telepathically convey my thoughts: Look ma, I made my first friend here.

Chapter 10: Our Greatest Enemy Can Be Our Greatest Ally

Chapter Text

Over the past week, as my new teammates started filtering into the dorms, I met Aaron when he returned and I’d discovered he wasn’t much more talkative than Andrew so I’d made a mental note not to strike a great deal of conversations. Though, his girlfriend seemed bright and cheery enough. After them, I got to meet Matt who had this bulky couch he tried to shove up through the stairwell (it didn’t go over well) and that was my first impression.

Matt picked the other seniors up at the airport who Asher and I got introduced to while we were talking about the variety of books I brought so it really couldn't've come at a better time. Dan introduced herself to us as the team captain and overall, I liked her morale so she was cool. Allison had perhaps one of the most prominent senses of confidence I’d ever witnessed but that made her all the cooler.

The last senior, Reene, she was so kind and attentive I felt like I could’ve told her anything bad in the world and she’d only tell me not to worry. Even the way she gently smiled at me, made my insides feel a little warmer. That’s when I noticed the glint of a silver spark around her neck and asked her about it. Revealing a cross necklace, she told me that she started following when she turned over a new leaf and started brand new and however I didn’t know quite what that meant, the sentiment was the same.

It wasn’t until later the rest of the freshman arrived when I met Robin. As shy as she was, her fiery red hair made me notice her, but the way she looked like she wanted to escape made me engage in a friendly conversation. I learned that she was so, so excited to be here but still afraid to leave her house and be so far from home. She was kidnapped when she was six and let go when the guy found a new kid, who turned up dead. Robin was afraid of people and I understood that, but I resolved to at least try to be her friend.

Later that same day, a darker skinned girl with long, chestnut brown waves arrived. The clothes she wore looked expensive and the swagger of her walk seemed like she’d stop for nobody. But, I reached out to introduce myself and she stopped for me. There wasn’t much that was said between us except that I’d gained the impression we started off on the right foot. That, in itself, was its own fantastic beginning.

Before I got to meet my other roommate, even though everyone else on the team was already there, (I counted) Wymack scheduled a practice where the team would get introduced to each other and receive our gear as he, Dan, and Neil assessed our playstyles. I understand Dan hadn’t seen me before, but practising with Neil over break, I got so used to how him and Kevin work as a team, I hadn’t anticipated how Irina or Asher played. They were both our new dealers so they played both offence and defence.

Honestly, at best our teamwork was shot but individually, I could sense we all had potential. Until, this other guy entered the court with gear strapped on, slightly late. His excuse, “My bad, my flight kept getting delayed!” but at least he was earnest. He was nicer when he was talking to us, but when he joined to actually be assessed as a striker, he was aggressive.

This guy put forth all his effort into trying his best without attempting to work with his other players. I could almost sense desperation oozing out of him, leaking from every pore in his body. What did he have to prove to someone?

I asked myself questions about this guy because he piqued my interest in the way I knew he was an alright guy but, at the rate things were going, I’d say the team would collapse like dominoes if someone like him took the bulk of the pressure during a play. This was a man with something to prove and nothing can be more resilient than one man with enough to prove.

Kevin had completed his initial assessment of the newest teammate and began running drills in groups with every position working together. The returning players were set to teach all the rookies what they knew. I knew the guy that was late would have a hard time but, I only spared him an extra thought at Kevin chewing him out about form.

Since I was a backliner, Nicky was in my drill team which was positively delightful because I actually knew him. Though, this gave me a chance to meet Aaron and Matt as real players. Matt was much more inviting than the former and insisted, “We’ll warm up with some drills and do this together!” where they drilled in basics to me as if I hadn’t been practising all summer because that’s where all plays are founded from.

Once they were sure I understood fundamentals, they demonstrated their playstyles and different moves to work with each other on the field. I took this moment and absorbed it like a sponge so that my puny previous knowledge could pile on to create a new special playstyle for myself.

Losing track of time, Dan called time to hit the showers and checking the clock on the wall, I noticed we’d been there a few hours. Even though my legs didn’t burn as if I were playing with Kevin and Neil, the rush of excitement about the sport was still very much the same. Likewise, I was also very much relieved to be able to wash all the accumulated sweat off my body with a cold shower like how I ended every practice. Relaxed and reverberated.

When we got to the cars, I was grateful to the moon and back Irina had also driven to campus meaning, I wasn’t the only freshman with a car who would have to drive everyone to the court. A simple Rio Sedan from Kia was cute enough I think is the word. In truth, it’s a perfect picture of who I think of her to be, with a team of potential-filled screw ups, but nice enough on the outside to make it seem like she was cleaner than what she was. I mean, if you’re on this team, you’ve got something in you.

Irina let me sit in the passenger seat to give her directions while she drove us back and packed all five of the freshmen in the same car. Robin was small enough but Asher was reasonably lanky and my new roommate wasn’t the daintiest guy. None of us dared to hold conversation, having just met and everyone virtually unfamiliar with everyone. The Spanish station on the radio only played after Irina spun the dial until it tuned, not caring what it landed on.

Arriving back at the Fox Tower was not much of an ordeal since we all ended up going to our respective rooms and shutting the doors. Though, our new roommate followed us in as well. Upon stepping inside, I had seen why he may have been late because there was a television system set up in front of the couch I’d put together the other day and a console with a whole bin of lined-up game cases.

I don’t know about Asher but I was certainly shocked because he’d managed to move into the whole dorm right after we’d left for practice. Now, he headed to the bedroom where all our belongings were and out of curiosity, I followed him. Entering our room looked like it had before except, now there were extra sets of clothes in the closet and a variety of textbooks on History and all sorts of mementos on exy.

“Hey, nice to meet you. We didn’t really talk back there. My name’s Jesse,” I offered in a measly attempt at a welcoming.

“Paxton Merone, pleasure’s all mine. Sorry I just threw my stuff around, I knew I was late but I wanted to get everything out.”

“Nah, man it’s cool,” I conveyed back coolly as Asher walked back into the room and tried to introduce himself. Keyword, tried.

Before Asher could say more than his name, Paxton interrupted him. “Look man, I had a long flight. Can I just play some video games? Do whatever you do just… I’m gonna go wind down.” Then, he left for the television he brought. As much as I felt bad for Asher getting shut down by the guy we have to live with, I felt just as sorry for myself.

If Paxton was as irritable every day as he was now, I wouldn’t be able to play Danielle much, wouldn’t be able to transcribe, wouldn’t really be able to do anything quiet. I very, very quickly found out he never turned the volume off on each game. What fantabulous new roommates. One of whom I had a lot in common with and was really chill about and another, who absolutely wanted nothing to do with either of us. Phenomenal.

Throughout the rest of the month and some change, preparing for classes to start was about as boring as it could get. Wake up, busy myself, practise, busy myself, sleep, repeat. In and out until classes started the Monday after the campus officially opened. Following my routine, I woke up at five (aka much too early for what I needed to), showered, and cooked that sandwich with egg and avocado from that cafe Nicky took me to that one time.

After that, I slapped in some contacts and I was basically ready to go. Three. Hours. Too. Early. So, naturally I resulted in pulling out one of my Spanish books titled Cabeza de Dorado. It was a story about some people trapped on an island and it was a relatively insightful read.

While I was captivated by the story, I had forgotten I now lived with two other eighteen-year-old athletes and admittedly, my heart gave a bit of a jump when Asher half-dropped in front of my bunk. Groggily, he snatched clothes from the closet and trudged on to the bathroom.

I checked the clock when I heard the water start and just under two hours had passed that I was entranced by a world of my own imagination. Though, I was still bored so I opted to take the time to leave and walk about campus a bit. I also made a mental note to wake up at least two hours later so I’d be left with much less spare time.

Though my schedule did vary I suppose. I’d probably have to rework an entirely new schedule dammit. It’s alright. The campus greenery was a calming way to clear my mind as I strolled by, glancing at the different shapes in the clouds up in the sky ahead. Honestly, I thought I even saw a dinosaur.

After over half an hour of moseying around, I decided to find my class. Which I discovered was not that simple actually because even though I’d been out, I’d neglected to notice the surplus of lecture halls, classrooms, and selective buildings. There were a myriad more than I had accounted for honestly.

With three minutes left until my first class started; Music Performance 504, I found the hall and shoved a large oak door and squatted my ass in a row that didn’t have as many people next to me as the rest would. I didn’t know anyone and I didn’t really plan on sitting next to them either.

It seemed I spoke too soon because another person appeared in the seat next to where I was. I suppose I could’ve chosen a better seat but, oh well. The boy who sat to my right was one with caramel brown hair locked in loose curls that were much too long for me to have been annoyed at by this point. He didn’t look in my direction as the professor steadily walked into the room, but I could see the sea of ocean blue that were his eyes from the angle he was at.

They weren’t even the bright blue that seemed to watch you but, the gentle kind that appeared on him even though they were shadowed by his calmed brows. He turned to me and saw me with a matched amount of intrigue I saw in him. His bouncy words however did not match his expression, “You. Are retarded.”

I hadn’t even known his name and he decided to insult me. “Yeah well, you’re sped.” At my comment, we began trading brutal insults back and forth that weren’t loud enough for other people to hear but brutal enough that we both knew it. Just then, the guy who was supposed to teach us strode into the hall.

The professor's introduction spiel began and left us to quit verbally eviscerating each other to the board in the front of the room he began to scribble notes on. A list of information detailed what the year would entail and requirements for grading and such as the semester carried. The second list, to the right of the first, detailed the agenda for the time we were there.

Today’s read, Intro., Survey, First Assignment. Already a task in the first class is crazy but it's what I love so I’m not complaining. About the survey, after fifteen minutes of detailing of curriculum, papers were being handed around to every student in the room. Once I received the stack, I took one and gave it to the guy next to me.

Then, I scanned through all the questions to see what this thing was all about. Par to the course, the sheet asked standard questions. Four standard questions. The first, ‘What instrument(s) do you play?’ and second, 'List years of experience (per instrument)’. The third and fourth questions asked about proficiency and genres we typically played in.

I wrote my name up top with a pen I’d brought and filled out each segment accordingly. It wasn’t very difficult to answer though, I still didn’t really understand how the course worked. That was until everyone passed their papers back to the desk situated at the head of the room and Mr. Fiefer spoke again once every paper was at his desk and he held them all, flipping through each sheet.

“I’m going to look through all your answers and once I call out your name in groups of two, three, or four you will raise your hand to find the others within the group and sit together! First…” He kept dragging on but I didn’t pay any attention until my name was called. “Jesse Cirrel!” and those who followed, “Richard Kalil, Maxine Weller, Declan Tarelleo.”

I raised my hand as well as I saw two other people do as they looked around. They began collecting what they’d brought and started over to me. I realised after looking to my right, the guy sitting next to me also had his hand raised. This could end up well or absolutely horrid. How clearly serendipitous it was that we were in the same group as we were in seats next to each other.

Once all four of us were situated together, we listened to the professor drone on with the other names from students in the course. Awaiting his instructions, we sat quietly. Albeit bored but still quiet. He had quite the monotonous tone as he spoke despite being the teacher of an art that could be so rambunctiously upbeat.

After he sorted every last student he instructed, “I just placed you all into different groups by pairing instruments. Get to know each other, but you will be completing your first assignment as a team. Each team will be expected to transcribe a thirty-second-long piece that will be shared with the rest of the class in two weeks. If you play multiple instruments, pick one.” Then, he left. I hadn’t had any teachers leave before class was over before but, I suppose this was meant as collaborative time
anyways.

I turned to Richard, Maxine, and Declan, “What do you guys play?” while trying not to aim attention to Declan. A simple enough question that ought to make it easier. Once hearing them out, I decided it was fairly obvious what genre Mr. Fiefer wanted the four of us to create.

Maxine told me she played Piano and Saxophone which in my opinion are some really cool instruments. Declan said, “Trombone,” and that was all though, I could’ve sworn he was on the verge of spewing numerous blatant insults at me. Richard relayed Trumpet. It seems like all types of instruments got placed into this class which would whole-heartedly make composing more fun.

My turn, “Drums, guitar, piano. But, I’m thinkin’ Jazz?” I spitballed an idea the other three seemed to like. I actually think Max had the same idea since she asked if she could play piano. I said of course because hell, I’d rather play drums and genuinely given the choice, I’d almost always pick drums first.

The set was the first instrument I’d picked up and it was genuinely one of the cheaper ones anyways since I didn’t have to rent anything or pay for the thing because it wasn’t as portable as the other instruments. When I did need to go somewhere though, I’d bring Danielle for sure.

Regardless, we began to swap ideas around with beats and sounds, trading with our opinions. By the end of the remaining hour of the designated period, we had a lot of letters that would’ve looked like gibberish if I hadn’t been in the music field.

Feeling accomplished, we left on a strong note (excluding half the group despising one another) and let Max handle the paper so she could think about the piano portion until the next time we met. We settled for Thursday afternoon in between ourschedule allowances. I honestly thought it wasn’t that bad of a bad group and when I left, pulling the oak doors and experiencing a gust of the breeze was refreshing.

On my way back to the Tower, I noticed Declan a few paces behind me. As I slowed down to walk next to him, I asked, “Where are you going?” A casual question that I would ask to someone potentially following me.

“Back to my dorm,” he replied, saying nothing further.

I glanced around and saw that the dorms were actually in the other direction as far as I could tell except for my own. “Ah, me too. What sport do you play?” I ask because that's the only logical conclusion at this point.

“Soccer. Why, what are you on?”

“Exy.”

“Hmm.”

“Hm.”

A simple exchange of one word comments. “What floor’s exy on?” Declan asks me when I say nothing else.

“Third.”

We continued a conversation of mainly one word answers until we reached the tower with the only exception being creative ways of slandering one another.

When we reached the elevator in the tower, I took the stairs and we departed in a complex standing. It did feel nightmarish that someone like Declan was even in the same dorm unit as me but, that’s just my luck right? I could at least look forward to practise later that evening.

Chapter 11: Passing the Time

Chapter Text

Turns out, they did keep practising because on my way back to the dorms, I was left alone in the room by myself. I was left by myself for another hour just picking up a book, plopping down on the couch, and reading it until my neck hurt from looking down. Only then, did Asher and Paxton return to the dorm.

I heard the lock click and I felt like a dog awaiting its owners. Honestly, after all this time of being alone I actually liked having people around despite my previous statements of being excited to live alone. Though, when Asher saw me, he looked at me with a pang of guilt.

“Jesse. Is your head alright?” he asked because I think he actually cares.

“Abby said three days off. It’s not too bad though.”

“Glad you’re okay.” He had a small smile and his voice seemed more at ease. Then he walked off to the bedroom to do who knows what honestly.

Paxton stood slightly behind where Asher had been and I had an inkling of just how poor he felt about taking me out of the game he clearly loved for even three days. When he finally spoke, I understood him clearly. “I know I didn’t rub off as a great guy and I’m sorry, I just really want this. But, I didn’t mean to take you out or anything.”

I thought he sounded sincere but, I couldn’t conclude if he just was that sincere and exy brought out another person in him or vice versa and he was brutal but acted kindly. Through all my scepticism, I told him, “It’s okay I know you didn’t mean it.” and he left the room too.

Having this injury was much more of an inconvenience than an issue seeing as classes had barely begun. The coursework I’d even been assigned did nothing for me since I didn’t even have it and wouldn’t be able to play anything if I wanted to.

Essentially, I had nothing to but to read, draw, and fantasise about playing music since actually playing it as well as exy weren’t viable and off the table. God, how I wished it was a reasonable time to go to sleep. I had so little to do, we’d all ordered dinner and brought it back to the dorm.

The friendly dinner hadn’t amounted to much since we didn’t have any conversation to begin with. Honestly, it was rather pathetic really how individually we were all reasonably bold but, sitting at the same table was not the same. There was nothing left to say to each other.

We wrapped up that insignificant event rather quickly since it was hardly an event. But, even a trivial matter such as dinner proved not to take up very much time. These three simple days would prove very irritating very soon, I’m sure.

I only had decided to pick up the Spanish book from earlier and continue until the summer sun had set and it was a vaguely reasonable time to hit the hay. On the bright side I did have French and one of my English Lit courses, the more writing-based one.

Turns out I still woke up too early even after attempting to readjust myself. After years of waking up as early as I did, I neglected to use alarms as my body just woke me up when it seemed time but now, it seemed my body didn’t get the memo. Running through my schedule like the previous day, I showered and ate my egg and avocado with hot sauce sandwich.

Though I did wake up an hour later, my class took place two hours later than it had yesterday. How phenomenal it was to be me that I picked up the same book I picked up yesterday and discovered how few pages I had left. Truly, it was disheartening even though the story was as enthralling as it was. I didn’t really have a specific genre I liked because if I deemed it well enough to read, a good book is always a good book, right?

I finished the book and moseyed to French class an hour later. This class was situated very differently since the seats were like an auditorium and we sat in rows. Our teacher looked much more professional as she introduced herself in French. The format was that she would be teaching and we would be taking notes.

The general idea was that this class was about as boring as it could get but, extremely necessary to pay attention to because of how fast paced this course was. But, as I was of course I could handle it because who would I be if I couldn’t? Certainly not an athlete with a passion for music and an excellent student.

By the end of the first class, I had thoroughly determined that French was a strong language to add to my repertoire. A new language was always a smart idea when communication was the universal pathway to knowledge, skill, and talent. Another bonus was also that I didn’t have to sit by any unsavoury characters in the class either.

Following French, I ran down to the lunch hall for athletes that was stocked with healthier foods than the normal lunch halls. Grabbing quite the delectable grilled chicken and a simple salad, I maintained my diet which I found rather delicious anyways. I did have to eat fast regardless though since I had my Literature class soon.

Once I had finished my meal, I threw the tray along with the others and brought my belongings with me to the English building. Wandering through the vast halls of the complex, I found what had the number plate to my room and entered. I was pleased when I saw Irina in the same class as I was upon gazing around the rows.

Always nice to see a familiar face, I brought myself over to her and sat down with a space in between so I wasn’t too close. “Cool you’re in this class. Now I know someone.”
She chuckled lightly at my comment. “Well hey, it’s one of those classes you gotta take, right?”

I hadn’t said anything back and neither did she until class started and my third professor began to lay out our ground rules. Simply, we were supposed to read books and take tests on them. After we tested, we were to write essays on an approved topic connecting to the story.

To put it simply, it is akin to an oh-this-is-going-to-be-easy-I-did-it-in-middle-school type class. Except, it most certainly wasn’t going to be like that because I could sense this teacher was not there for anything short of incredible work. The class should give me an entertaining challenge.

As for Irina, I made side comments to her throughout the class and by the end we were engaging in a full conversation which is the most I heard her speak since joining the team. At least, the most she spoke around me. I was content that I could make friends with Irina and bond over Literature of all things. What a pleasant surprise.

After English ended, Irina and I accompanied each other back to the dorms since it had been late enough to be time to go to practice. I knew I couldn’t actually participate but, I told myself as long as I was there it was good enough for the time being. Besides, I still brought a book.

Finishing my magnificent island-plotted story this morning, I selected a Russian novel that was an interesting mix of both The Hunger Games and Percy Jackson series. I had read this book four times from the library before I bought my own copy actually.

I was actually going to drive my own car to practise because I hadn’t actually been needed so I’d be free to leave when I pleased. Emphasis on I was because as I stepped out the dorm, Nicky greeted me with an expression riddled with worry.

“I been meaning to check up on you. You sure you’re good Jesse? Wymack told us you’re out for a few days but I wanted to make sure you weren’t going to drive yourself up the wall.”

“Yeah, I’m alright. Slightly bored but I’m not in pain or anything more than like an average cut would be.”

The tension within his face eased as he said “Phew, didn’t wanna lose my favourite rookie,” and tousled my hair. I watched his back as he happily practically skipped away and configured the fact I didn’t need to leave yet.

Heading back inside my dorm, I waited until everyone else on the team had left and collected my keyring and book to bring. Heading out, I locked the door and unlocked the door to my beautiful demon. Lowering myself into the driver's seat, pride yielded itself to me at the feeling of sitting behind the wheel of what was undoubtedly my most prized possession.

Once checking to make sure my car was in the right conditions, I leisurely set out for the stadium where the rest of the exy team already was. Arriving, I noticed the same three cars as always. Andrews’ sleek Maserati, a clunky pickup, and Irina's cute Rio were all scattered into the spaces in the parking lot.

Locking my car, I used the passcode to buzz into the front gate of the stadium. I strolled down to the box you had to walk through to step onto the court and met Wymack. He was watching the players on the court, surveying them but turned over to look at me as I entered.

“You didn’t have to come but I’m glad you showed up. When Neil got injured I forced him to take notes on game tapes,” he said passively as his attention was focused on the court.

I chuckled and commented something he should’ve known. “Couldn’t keep me away if you wanted to, coach.” I sat on the bench and watched the sorted groups from my perspective.

Today, I saw the goalies intertwined with the backliners as the dealers and strikers worked together. Each player partnered with someone from the opposing position and they drilled basic skills and worked on teamwork as far as I could tell.

Since there was a different number of strikers and dealers though, Kevin was partnered with both Irina and Asher while Neil was with Allison and Paxton was playing with Dan. Even from this distance, I could tell Paxton was still so aggressive while he played. I wonder if come game time, it would ever be an issue.

From my seat, I observed my senior backliners as they practised. I noted in my mind the particular way they swung their sticks, the balance of their feet as they moved, and the stance of their bodies. I distinguished what I didn’t do so that I could improve myself to align with these players who were two, three, even four years older.

Even though I was trying to learn for myself, the repetitiveness of their actions got boring enough because I wasn’t out there. Not being able to practise killed me the longer I watched so I picked up my book that I brought with me instead. The captivating words grabbed my attention enough to keep my ever-thinking brain off of the sport it longed to play.

So many minutes later, Dan called for a water break where everyone headed back into the box and drank from an assortment of water bottles. Surrounding me, a flutter of conversations broke out. I could actually hear Kevin speak about me to Dan about what kind of player I’d been over the summer.

To the left, away from most everyone else, I listened to Andrew speak in his usual undetailed manner though I swear there was an unusual bit of interest in his voice unlike anyone else he ever spoke to besides Neil. Speaking of, the guy walked over to me on the bench with my little Russian book in my lap.

“Hey Jesse, still sorry about yesterday?”

“Not much I can do, but I’m alright. I can only really do work and read.” I hold my book up to him passively for a second in a half-hearted attempt at a joke.

Instead of laughing, his eyes sort of opened wider like a child at a toy store begging his mom to buy the newest action figure. “Is that book in Russian?”

I didn’t know that knowing Russian would be that fascinating for someone who speaks multiple languages himself. “Yeah, it is. Do you know the language?”

“No, but I’m trying to learn it. Andrew and I picked up a few books at the library.” I hadn’t been to the library but I might eventually I guess when I burn through the books I have already.

“I just started French actually, so that’s pretty cool.” The look on his face grew ever so earnest.

“I know French! Pretty cool. What if we teach each other or something like that? It could be a great opportunity to learn better.”

I actually liked the sound of that idea rather much. “When do you want to do that? I’m free-” I check my watch sarcastically for the date, “At least for the next two days just about all day.”

He chuckles slightly at my joke. Honestly, I’m not sure if I’ve ever heard him laugh since he seems like he always keeps his emotions under wraps without really letting you acknowledge it. “I’m free after practice for a bit then Kevin, Andrew, and I are going to have a night practice. If you’re down, I am too.”

“Sure, sounds good,” was the last thing I could say to him before coach put a stopper in everyone's’ conversations and told them to get back to the court. Also, in doing so leaving me alone again with only my book and eyes to watch them practise.

If the first half of practice was boring, the second half was a graveyard for me. As I predicted I would be, I got so antsy I didn’t want to stay so, giving Wymack a goodbye and whoever might have been looking a wave, I hightailed it out of the stadium and back to my car.

The drive back to the tower was quiet since I turned off the constant of my radio and let the sounds of the summer overtake my Demons’ interior. Quiet seemed to be everywhere the past day since there was no music in my life to interrupt the silence. Though, when I returned to the tower, the sound of music came flooding back to me.

Not physical, audible music, but the musical metaphors that swung around in my head when I would be making a new beat or something along the lines. As I pulled into the lot, I saw Declan from my Music Performance class, whom I was also in a group project with walking up to the wide doors at the base of the tower.

I shut the engine off and practically jumped out of the vehicle to catch up to him before he entered the elevator, leading to the higher floors. Pushing the door open after him, I noticed he was carrying a bag and a staggered number of others with the same type of equipment were there. I’d make a based assumption to say the soccer team had finished practice just now.

“Declan. How’s it going?” I ask a small group of people at the elevator.

Declan turns his head and looks me in the face before turning back to his teammates. He mutters something to them as the elevator doors open and they step inside but he hands his bag off to one of the others and stays behind.

“sh*thead. What are you doing here?” Doesn’t even have the nerve to answer the most basic question someone can ask.

“My dorm is kind of in this building too, thank you, sh*thead.” I echo his insult back for emphasis.

“Doesn’t your team have practice?”

“How would you know?”

“Only the exy team is insane enough to own a Mas.” Okay that was a fair point. “Didn’t answer my question. Why aren’t you at practice?”

Because I got bashed in the brain with a racquet by my roommate. “Head injury.”\

“Only you would be that f*cking stupid to get a head injury in a sport with helmets before the games even start.” He scoffs and shakes his head with a small smirk dusting his lips.

“Okay, A I got whacked on accident. B, you f*cking suck, you ass.” Then, he chuckles. This guy has the blatant audacity to chuckle at me.

“If you wanna hang out sometime, 412. Otherwise, I gotta go take care of some stupid stuff for class. Later bitch.” I wasn’t expecting an invitation and I probably was not going to take him up on it but of course I’m insulted again. I swear, every sentence.

“I think I’m good. Later, co*cksucker.”

He pushed the button to the elevator and the doors opened quickly since there weren’t many floors to the building. “I probably wouldn’t answer the door anyways,” he said before he disappeared behind the hefty steel doors separating the two of us.

Once he was gone, I realised I didn’t have my book so I had to unlock my car again and grab it before heading back up to my dorm. I waited there until I heard the doors’ lock click like it had yesterday that told me my teammates had returned. I greeted them as Asher returned the favour and headed to the bedroom while Paxton sat on the sofa in the living room.

I threw my book on my bottom bunk and left the dorm without saying goodbye because I didn’t want to bother Asher with whatever he was doing and Paxton didn’t care what I said, I thought. Knocking on the room I knew was Neils, I waited for him to turn up.

He didn’t keep me waiting long before the semi-poorly crafted door swung open and he sidestepped to allow me space to enter the room. Instead of greeting me, he told me “Andrew says he’s cool with it but we’re just going to stay out here because Kevin was reading a bunch of stuff in the bedroom. Cool?”

I nod and find Andrew on a table near the window. “Cool. How do you want to do this? Do you know how to read the characters yet...or?” I trail off, not really knowing where to begin.

“We’re pretty much starting from scratch.”

“Great, at least I know what to start with. Pencil and paper or do you want to memorise it all?” Another question I ask to get a general idea.

Neil grabs a pencil and paper and Andrew hops down from the table to grab a seat. “You’re fluent in Russian?” Andrew asks me from his ground seat.

I drop down across from him and Neil joins us in between Andrew and I. “Yeah.”

Not many full length words were exchanged between us as I began presenting them with new characters and how to pronounce them. We all took turns writing them down and getting familiar with the Slovak dialect since it wasn’t anything like any French, English, or German. Once I felt two of them had enough of a grasp (which took half an hour) of everything, I gave them ‘Hello’ and ‘Goodbye’.

After I taught them, Neil spoke to me with pronunciations in French. I suppose Andrew was learning two languages in the meantime. French had been easier to learn on my basis of Spanish somewhat and nearly an hour had passed before we felt all of our time spent was productive.

Since we had finished with the first ‘lesson’, I gave them my thanks and goodbye before leaving. I didn’t really want to intrude into their dorm that long anyways, Columbia had been long enough. Heading back to my own dorm, I returned to Paxton still hogging the television with his ridiculous games and Asher lying on his bed.

I thought it was time enough after seeing so many people today that I could finally go to sleep at a reasonable time. So, that is exactly what I did. I slept at a reasonable time, and well at that. I knew I’d wake up too early than I had to be at class for anyways. Why not just bank all my hours earlier than sleeping later?

Chapter 12: The Great Return

Chapter Text

After driving myself nearly insane with nothing to do. Today, I had my Poetry class and to meet with my group from Monday. Now, officially, Abby hadn’t actually cleared me for music but on technicalities I’ll be fine. Just… wear earplugs maybe?

I’d figure it out by the time I needed to anyway. Procrastinating in my Poetry class was unsurprisingly dull as Prof. Shrellis projected a poem onto the board at the front of the hall and read it aloud. Slowly. With no character. Breaking down each line of poetry was usually easy since I thought words were my forte, but the monotonous tone my professor had made it ever maddening to stay still.

As soon as we could be dismissed, I collected the few notes I could have written down and scampered out of the room before most anyone else could even gather their belongings. I never wanted to rip my hair and ram my head into the wall as much as I did now. Truly though, I didn’t have a single desire to get benched from even more exy.

On the way back to my dorm to fill up my downtime, I had an epiphany. A rather unfortunate one at that because I realised, I didn’t actually know where we were supposed to meet. Besides, it isn’t like we kept each other's numbers and I rarely used my phone anyways.

Since I’d given anyone here my number (Nicky) he’d used it to see how I felt and that’s about it since I didn’t care to pick it up enough to begin with. So, in totality I really had no choice but to find the one shot I had at not totally missing a session for the first opportunity to play and create music since I’d started here and I totally wasn’t upset at myself for not acknowledging my issue sooner.

Since I had frantically panicked, I arrived at the dorm sooner than I anticipated I would and opted to take the elevator. Pressing the fourth button, inside the steel space I watched the doors close and impatiently stood as the floors dinged every time the number of the floor changed.

Once number four appeared onto the screen, the bell over the door chimed and other hallways that looked identical to the one on my floor greeted me. I meandered past each door until I arrived at a certain 412. Using the underside of my first, I knocked low on the door and waited for someone to open it. Honestly, I didn’t know anyone else who lived in this dorm.

A minute later when the door unlatched, I was met with one of the faces I’d seen with Declan when I’d seen him the other day. I even thought he was the one Declan handed his gear to.

“Declan. It’s for you.” this taller Hispanic guy who looked like he had some spunk called over his shoulder.

Backing out of the way, the guy who greeted me disappeared into the back of the room. I didn’t step inside but I did wait for Declan to walk around the corner into the main room. “What do you want, Cirrel?” addressed me from inside.

“Where do we meet the other two?” Straight to the point.

“Look who didn’t stick around to get the information we needed.”

I began to get annoyed with him, “Do you know or not?”

“Yeah. Max took in a slot in one of the booths with all the instruments that aren’t portable. Eastside.”

How helpful Declan is. Not actually, he really is very irritable. “Great. Wait, you asshole, you left at the same time I did!”

He chuckles before he responds to me. Can you believe it, he chuckles, “Yeah, Max is in one of my other classes. Wait, don’t you have a concussion or some sh*t? You aren’t playing drums with a busted up head, you moron.”

“I’m going to. Earplugs. Don’t say a single f*cking word about it.” I hope I got my point across. I was honestly desperate enough to play something, I wouldn't have listened to begin with.

“Fine. You flinch and you’re out though.”

I mean, I get what he means. “Later.”

“Later.” The oak door shuts in my face, forcing me to turn back to the elevator and lead myself back to my dorm.

As I reached my dorm, I scoured my bookshelf for some resemblance to ear plugs. Back home, I wore headphones a lot when I played but not ones you can just plug into a laptop, no I wore the headphones someone would wear at a shooting range.

To find some ear plugs, I actually had to dig to the back of the slot with my drumsticks and guitar picks. Trust me, it was no easy feat because that had been the last place I expected them to be on my totem pole of musical items.

I genuinely didn’t have much time before I had to make my way off to the group project though. I hadn’t made it back with much time left before I had to leave in the first place and speaking to Declan as well as searching for the ear plugs… Needless to say, it drained the little time I had to relax in the first place.

Collecting the things I needed, my drumsticks, ear plugs, some paper, I headed out the door to my room and set forth to the eastern building where they kept the instruments. All my nervousness and excitement bunched up into one jumble of feeling since I didn’t want to damage my head further but music was my passion.

It killed me to miss playing as long as I did and even two days felt like two years. Upon stepping inside however, the wave of familiarity to see the silhouettes of instruments made me slightly giddy with joy. When I arrived, Max was already there along with Richard, waiting and talking amongst themselves.

“Hey, how’s it going?” I ask them cheerfully to join in.

“Good. Richie and I were just talking about making a group chat or something with the four of us so that we can keep in touch because our schedules overlap so much. Sounds good?” I have to admit it’s smart but, I knew I probably wouldn’t check it anyway.

“Sure, yeah.” I tell Max and hand over my phone so she can take down the number,

Richard spoke to me while Maxine's’ fingers typed away at the cellular device. “You got any ideas for the song? I think we should add a good swing.”

Something I can most definitely agree to. “What kind of tone do we want to set?” I ask him trying to get the right feel for the type of beat we were laying down.

“Mellowed.” the voice from behind me said.

Spinning around, I come face to face again with Declan. Again. “You wanna go for mellowed out?”

He nodded at me and I turned to the others who seemed to agree with him. I can’t believe the bastard had a good idea, how infuriating for such a dumbass.

Max told him to give her his phone as she handed back mine. Before we started to actually create anything, she saved his number and I felt a chime in my pocket. Max created a group chat with Richie, Declan, and I to keep track of everything. Then, we were graciously allowed to start brainstorming.

We began with diving into slower tempos and beats. Max set up on piano for a backbone of something softer that I could mould into later. She was playing through a simplified portion though because Richard had suggested a brass heavy song. I wasn’t opposed to that idea where Richard and Declan could build off a good rhythm and melody where Maxine and I ran the backup.

It certainly wouldn’t be as hard on my ears to have quieter beats played around me. After a few minutes of Max playing around with a rhythm, I sat down at the drum set in the corner behind the piano. Declan stared me down until I had secured the ear plugs in place like he would jam them in my ears if I didn’t do it myself.

While that factor did make it harder for me to hear Max, I set a calm, quiet beat on the ride cymbal that should mesh nicely with Max’s synergy. The backgrounds from what I could tell were heavily co-dependent and that was a perfect sound for our general motive. We didn’t want the rhythm sticking out too much from the melody.

As comfortable in the general vicinity that we were, Declan and Richard both unpacked their instruments from their respective cases and experimented with a few sounds to warm up. As soon as they felt they were prepared, Max and I kept playing what we had been trying to add in variation while the other two experimented with their own sound and octaves.

Throughout the rehearsal bit so far, we hadn’t needed to talk much, continuously trying to adapt to each other's sound. Still, the only sounds now were Declan and Richie suggesting pitches and rhythms to each other. It was a livid feeling to be able to harmonise with each other and relish in the full potential of sound.

When I was a kid, I went to school plays and such. One year, my high school put on an excellent production of The Sound of Music which even now, I related it much to how I felt. The sound of music was magnificent, so much so that I could never get enough. I supposed that was how the Von Trapp's felt within the play as well.

By the end of our four-hour-long session, we had curated the base for a piece that reminded me of water lilies on a rainy day. I thought it was just on the mark of the goal we were trying to reach so naturally, I felt proud of my work.

At the end of our session, we wrapped up what we had. Since we wrote what we had as we played, we had some sort of organisation when we handed everything back to Max. Honestly, I would have gladly taken it but Richard and Maxine didn’t trust either me or Declan because of the transparent hostility we had towards each other. Which, in truth, wasn't entirely correct but that didn’t mean it was necessarily an incorrect assumption.

We each said goodbye as we left each other and I made an empty promise to keep watch from texts. Declan and I walked back to Fox Tower since we had nowhere else to be and clearly we had to walk in the same direction.

I carried my drumsticks and ear plugs with me by stuffing them into the zippered pocket of my cargo shorts since I hadn’t actually wanted to hold them. Though, I caught Declan's attention with the action of sticking them into my pocket, “So, how’d the plugs work for you?”

In truth, not as well as I could’ve hoped. “Minor headache.”

He turned his head to look at the right side of my face. “Maybe next time, don’t get a f*cking concussion. Idiot.”

“Yeah, well I’m not going to miss this so, I’ll deal with it if I have to.”

“Fine. Don’t hurt yourself. You’re no use to this group if you can’t play your part.”

“Great to know I’m valued.”

“I’m sure.”

The remainder of the walk to our dorms ensued a multitude of insults trading both ways along with some boasting about a great idea for the tone of the song and bragging about how well the backgrounds brought out the entire melody of the piece.

The two of us going back and forth were ridiculous really because it was foolish as much as it was aggravating neither of us let up on our charade. We only stopped bickering and comparing everything once we made it to the third floor of the elevator in which we left off on another note where Declan told me, “I can text you later. See ya.”

Before the elevator can depart again after I step out, I tell him, “I might not answer it though.” Then, the steel doors clamp shut and I’m faced with the option of returning to my dorm. It isn't late now but I won’t go insane. Probably. Tomorrow, I should be able to get Abby’s clearance to return to practice. I really hope I can get Abby’s clearance.

Our first match is two weeks out against Breckenridge and as much as I’d heard, it would be a good match and I didn’t want to fail my team by not being at practice. Besides, I was practically itching to rejoice with my teammates in a proper setting. I had begun to bond with a few of them I suppose,

To my immense happiness, I was able to return to exy last Friday and build my skills up further which I honestly couldn’t get enough of. Working on my weaknesses gave me a purpose, showing me that I wasn’t the best and being on this team showed me I was a long way from professional level and even further from perfect.

Now, we had practices in the gym during the morning before classes, and even more on the court after our classes. In between exy, I played as much music as I could and built upon our song for the group project. Overall, I didn’t get very bored even in the time I had between classes which was perfect. If I really got bored, I could talk to Asher and sometimes Irina when she was around. They’re pretty good people, I think.

To pace our practices differently, after we had finished sweating out our sets in the gym that morning, Wymack got us together in the lounge and formally informed us about the game schedule we had, aka the starting match against Breckenridge. With only a week and some change left until our first game of the season, all of our returning players lit a fire beneath them and they started breaking everything down further in the afternoon.

If I had thought practice had been intensive before, Dan, Neil, and Kevin amped the rage even further. Seriously, the hype spread like a wildfire because every day that passed, the closer it inched to my first collegiate match. I almost even forgot to finish the song with my group. Actually, I never answered the group chat as I believed I would, instead Declan came pounding at my dormitory door demanding that I go.

Cranking out the final kinks for the composition, we set it up and played in class the Monday of the same week my first game was on. I thought our song, Lilac Rain, went well but that could have also been my nerves. Even without the excitement of exy, I always felt like I’d run a mile after playing music. My heart burned with passion and so far did it run that I had to catch it.

Despite all my classes and work, the week flew by and before I knew it, I was sitting in my Music Theory class, clad in my shocking orange jersey for game day. I knew the jersey drew attention from quite literally everyone but, the focus didn’t matter as much as the thrill within my body.

The thought of really playing encompassed my mind throughout the course of my day around the building. Then, I knew it was time. Time to drive over to the stadium, comfortably in the passenger seat of Irina’s Rio with the other freshmen squeezed into the back. The radio cranked rock tunes into the air that buzzed with the sound of our thoughts.\

When we arrived, the Seniors were already in the lounge and Andrews’ group sauntered in directly after us. Each taking our unassigned respective spots, we anticipated coach and his pep talk. Wymack wasn’t one for giving speeches but his information about the lineup and court orders were definitely crucial. I was up for the second half with Aaron and working as a sub for the first half if need be.

The least that I could say was that I was ecstatic. Even grabbing gear and warming up, I could see the stands of our turf filled with a mass of bright orange everywhere and thrill. The air was alive, truly as we made our practice and left for the other team to take over the court. Afterwards, we ran through plays and strategies one last time before the game started. My team felt like a family even with its different groups.

We all made our way down the box and lined up in the starting order so that when the announcers called, everyone in our lineup jogged onto the court to take their positions. Our starting lineup put Kevin and Paxton on the front with Neil as a sub because coach hadn’t fully anticipated Paxton’s stamina extent yet and apparently both Kevin and Neil could run full halves. Allison was the starting Dealer as Nicky and Matt were the starting Backliners. Last but not least though, Robin sat in goal.

Moments in, everybody was witnessing the downright offensive game of the Jackals. They had a massive player who didn’t like to play nice and since he was a striker, our backliners had to handle him. I watched the ball whiz by in every direction until it landed into Gorillas’ net. As he ran down, he completely bodied Matt and took him down.

Once he attempted to stand again and walk, his limp was evidently noticeable and our team called the first timeout of the game. Even with all our charisma, we were not off to a great start. Though, as soon as Matt was brought into our box, Abby checked him out and told Wymack, “I can’t let him play the rest of the half. He can sub in the second half but that's it.”

Matt was not off well but, I thought I’d be back with him while they sub Aaron in now. I was wrong. Coach turned to me and instructed me, “Helmet on, you’re up kid,” and snapped me out of whatever I had going on. I nodded and slammed my tangerine helmet onto my head.

“Good to go!”

Coach sent me out on the field to take Matt's place to the left of Nicky’s position and motioned to resume the game. The buzzer sounded again and the game resumed with a toss up to the centre that Allison stole swiftly.

If I thought the pace was fast off the court, then it was lightning paced now. I kept on the mark of whichever striker Nicky wasn’t on and kept a razor focused view on any twitch that might signify their next move. In my acute awareness, I managed to intercept a pass from one of the teammates which I threw off to Kevin like it had burned me.

My quick pass prevented the other players from adapting since I was a new player who didn’t have many statistics down yet. Forcing Kevin to run up the ball, I watched out of the corner of my eye, still keeping a mark on my striker, as Kevin made a mad dash intertwined with a fancy move that awarded him a point as the goal lit up a blazing red.

A flurry of cheers surrounded the stadium as everyone returned to the reset point. I gazed upon the soaring ball as the tip went to the opposing team this time, Allison narrowly missing the ball and letting it fall into the opposing team's midst.

Since we no longer had possession, Nicky and I had no choice but to run at the strikers as hard as we could while Allison did her best to trip the Dealer up and she sent it down to the goalie who threw it back out to the striker Nicky was guarding.

The coordination of these particular strikers wasn’t on a synergy level of Kevin and Neil though and Nicky knew that. I knew it. Practising with the two beasts all summer made it possible to stop whatever they were planning before it happened. Though, when we tried to block a pass, Nicky’s striker juked him out and ran at the goal where our own goal lit up red.

Robin apologised even though she didn’t need to because she was so polite, and an evened out score. A frustratingly even score. Which, back at the reset, kept forcing itself back and forth. There would be a turnover and a goal. After that goal, the other team would get a goal, so on and so forth.

The scores tied up twice before the Jackals got a lead of 3-2 and the half ended. Our timer went off on the clock and each team filed off the court. Back inside our box, I thirsted for water as did every other player who didn’t get subbed out during the half. I mean, I got subbed in but I nearly played a full half anyways.

Wymack revised strategies for our second lineup going into the latter half of the game with Aaron and I, Andrew, Neil and Paxton, as well as Irina. Paxton would most likely be swapped out faster since he didn’t seem like he could handle himself much now but, Kevin and Neil as a team was to create a strong ending for the whole game. As for me, I’d switch out with either Matt or Nicky eventually. Renee and Dan acted as our other two subs.

As soon as coach had us all figured out, he gave us a few, quick words of motivation for us to win. Of course, the reward was having a good drink after the game in victory if they won and consolation if they lost which most definitely wouldn’t happen. Though, before I really stepped on the court, he muttered to me, “I got you somethin’ else so ya don’t have to grab alcohol later like the rest of ‘em when we win.:”

He pulled back and faced the entire team before the official buzzer sounded that halftime would be over. “You guys better be prepared, Gorilla is out now but everyone else is just as much of a problem. Lock ‘em down so we can have our first win!”

My entire team shouted frenzied cheers as we headed back onto the field for starting positions. With a semi-new lineup, I’d have to adapt to everyone else on the court and adjust to them. For example, Irina lost the toss up because the dealer facing her was a massive guy and she was a rather small girl, but that helped her stay light on her feet and assist everyone around the court.

Play after play, move after move, the ball landed up again into their possession and Aaron was trying to cover the one with the ball. I had an idea so, like any teammate would do, I suggested it to him. Only, Aaron didn’t appreciate what I was suggesting and kept trying to steal it back his own way even though it wasn't successful.

I thought maybe he’d at least attempt what I thought and to my defence it was a rather great idea. The thing is, as soon as Aaron tipped the ball, he tumbled over his speed and someone who ran so close, he accidentally fell on his ass.

When I tried to recover the ball, Aaron grew annoyed, telling me it was my fault he screwed that up. The thing is, when I had really registered how Aaron felt about me, or anyone, was that we didn’t matter much. We began an argument that escalated into brutal words and the ref had to stand in between us.

As the situation progressed, coach had no choice but to sub me even though it was not my original fight, I did participate and really I was so tired of moving. Returning to the box, Matt got sent out to the second half and Aaron and I were most definitely not off to a strong start. What an excellent way to start my season in my opinion.

Just as much fun as the actual game was, we barely pulled through with a 7-5 lead with it being the first game and all. As promised by Wymack, we chalked full of alcohol as a team and I shied off of those contents with Renee who else never drinks. Truthfully, it was quite a refreshing game and the afterparty was a perfect situation to prove the statement true.

During the post-game, so many people got sh*t-faced that they couldn’t even figure out the dorm was theirs. Regardless, Renee had simple, civilised conversations with me until I was either ready to leave or fall asleep. She didn’t strike me as a dangerous type of person but, getting to talk to her meant getting to know her.

In sum, the after party was a success and I didn’t really understand the context of history but I knew that my teacher was boring. Renee and I traded numbers while I tried to keep every drop of alcohol within a certain peripheral to be both out of my sight and rave. That way, I wouldn’t have to get addicted and prevent my dream from coming along as it was.

The day after the game, nearly the whole team was wiped out with hangovers from the night previous. Not drunk along with Renee, we were perfectly fine, but everyone else most definitely wasn’t. Well, not everyone since it seemed some of the team had a certain tolerance to the concentration of substance. But, especially our freshmen were totally washed out.

Either way, Wymack probably foresaw everyone getting drunk and cancelled practice on Saturdays. Really, I didn’t even know how many bottles of liquor my team had but, apparently the number was a lot. Regardless of how much I drank, I had the joy of spending the majority of my morning trying to make sure Asher could stand upright.

Among the variety of players who were hungover, Asher had definitely been one of the worst. Even though he was similar to me enough that we were friends, one thing we didn’t have in common was our substance tolerance. Asher hopped down from his bed and I thought he would’ve fallen over if I poked him hard enough. I put it upon myself to make sure he would be alright for the day.

For that, my task was deemed ‘caretaker’ so that he, or any other freshmen, didn’t do anything sickly on my watch. To be fair, I didn’t really have any events going on today in the first place. No classes, no intense homework, no exy. My only consumers were Asher's’ wellbeing and the group chat Max created for out project group.

Even though we had perfected and performed the song, Maxine and Richard still talked into the screen. Sometimes Declan and I joined in but not often since if we really needed something, we could just instant message each other. Though, the only thing we’d started so far was an insult war and the occasional sports commentary. Overall, it was a relatively simple day, in my opinion.

Chapter 13: Complications of an Overgrown Teenager

Chapter Text

The first class I had to go to after my game was the Music Performance class on Mondays. As I went to take my seat off to the back area of the class, some of my classmates approached me and told me I was ‘really good out there’ and I thanked them but really, it’s not that much of a big deal.

Okay, it kind of is a big deal because it’s my first game I ever played with the foxes. But at the same time, I just wanted to sit in my seat without any commotion. Thankfully, Professor Fiefer happened upon the room right as I took my seat after attempting to run away from the other people talking to me.

At least I wasn’t the only one being bombarded though because Declan had a soccer game the same night I played exy, but at a later time than we started because the games staggered so if someone chose, they could see multiple teams. To escape his personal barrage of soccer enthusiasts, he sat near me, away from everybody else, as Prof. Fiefer began the class.

After a few classes, we all began to grasp just how interesting of a teacher he was. This time, he began class by asking randomly pointed out students why they took this class. When most of them answered, “For my major,” he told them no.

“No, no, no. Why are you here then? Why did you choose your major?”

His eyes searched around the room and landed on one most unfortunate person, me. I didn’t care about talking in front of a class but I spoke anyway, “I’m doing what I love, I guess.” That was as great an answer as I could provide but, apparently it was the answer he was looking for.

“I want people here who love the art of music and who want to learn with passion! This leads me to my next assignment. For the new project, it will take up three weeks and you can grab a friend, someone you don’t know, anyone to bounce ideas off of for this one, but not work together. I expect an individual piece from every one of you!”

His instructions were quite specific but I figured the easiest person to grab would be the person who lived in the same dormitory complex I did. Turning to Declan, I wordlessly inquired if he had a partner with a simple raise of my eyebrows. When he nodded his head slowly in my direction, I took it as yes for an answer. That was settled.

“Great, now the assignment! You’re all going to create a piece straight from your heart.” Professor Fiefer was still incredibly eccentric when he spoke. “It doesn’t matter whether this composition is sombre, upbeat, really rage filled… It just needs to represent you as a person.”

Simple enough I thought, until I reached the point in considering what kind of music represented me. I suppose for this piece I wouldn’t be able to play drums but, this also gave me leeway since I could play guitar. This meant, I’d be able to use Danielle a lot more this time around and she’s amazing so, it’s all good.

Either way, I still didn’t have any ideas so I’d prematurely decided I was going to put the issue off until I could play something for real. It didn’t matter for the time being though because he only used the first fifteen or so minutes of class to introduce this subject.

Another set of time passed by, enduring the gruelling lesson when surely everyone would rather write than listen to rhythmic technique. At least I had someone to talk to when I felt like making a snide comment. Sometimes we didn’t get along great, Declan and I, but in truth I’d rather talk to him than most of the other people here.

Additionally, he humoured me with his own hushed commentary, “You think he drank like twelve energy drinks before walking in here?” mocking his movements.

“I wouldn’t be surprised, hah.”

I really could tell how Professor Fiefer noticed us joking around in the back, but as a college professor, it wasn’t his job to make sure we paid enough attention on our own. Even so, after the third time he looked directly into my soul from the front of the hall, I understood his message. He didn’t care for ‘tomfoolery’ in this class even if we were quite proficient in the actual course.

I tried to tell Declan to shut up by pressing my lips into a tight line and looking at him through the hoods of my eyes as I tapped my pointer finger against my mouth to shush him. The silly motion did its job because the boy next to me composed himself and uttered, “Bastard,” before turning to face the front as I did.

Even if it were slightly better terms, we were most certainly not dropping the habit of insults. Despite the absolute joke of a man next to me, I actually managed to copy down some notes from Fiefers' wordings that could help. I didn’t know much the notes could help with though because a lot of the teaching was about tone and how the music could be played. But, I normally just let myself play and whatever feel I had, I built upon the original stanzas.

Once class dismissed, I gathered my belongings and dissipated with the rest of the gaggle of students leaving the building to do who knows what. Taking a step out into the late summers’ air was magnificent since the hot and sticky mess had begun to fade. Once I slid away from the mess of acquaintances from Music Production, I was able to relish in the sun and bask in the light breeze flowing through my dirty blonde waves.

I didn’t really want to go back to my dorm yet, so I resigned to make a stop at the athletes cafeteria on campus. I still frequented chicken and salad combinations from earlier in the year, but maybe a banana here and there or some white milk. They’re simple options but consistent within my routine so I never have to worry about what I’m going to eat and whatnot.

As I tried for myself to find a table to eat at, I noted Renee, Dan, and Matt and it seemed at least semi-pleasant because at least I considered Renee to me more than only an acquaintance or a teammate. I walk over to them during a pause in their conversation, “Mind if I join you guys?” I ask ever so politely.

Dan beams and insists, “Yeah, have a seat! We were just discussing the fall banquet.”

Fall banquet? This was the first I’d heard of such an event. Evidently, Matt notes my confusion as I undoubtedly scrunch my eyebrows like how I do when I don’t know what’s going on.

“Second Saturday in September, every year there's a banquet and all the Class I teams are invited so thanks to last year, we kept our place in Class I and we’re thinking about what to wear.”

Hypothetically, this made sense, but why didn’t I even know about this. It’s… next Saturday! “That’s next week! Oh, this’ll definitely be something,”

“Don’t stress. Do you have any formal wear you may have brought?” inquired Dan.

I shook my head in response.

“A date or something?” Dan asked me in an attempt at an uplifter.

Again, no I didn’t but Renee spoke up first. “It’s alright, I don’t have a date either. But, someone’ll definitely take you shopping if you want to. It’ll be fun.”

I felt like Renee was almost impossibly sweet how she mysteriously took the edge off everything I felt. I started munching down my food while Dan, Renee, and Matt continued discussing what they’d be wearing since two of them were dating and I didn’t know if Renee had a date or not.

As I finished my meal, I began to stand up. I say began because Matt spoke to me before I fully rose up, “Leaving already?”

“Yeah, enjoy your lunch and thanks for telling me about the banquet. I’ll see you guys later,” trying to give them one of my sweetest smiles and lighthearted voices.

Each of them wave me off goodbye as I take my trash to the disposable bins and push open the doors at the entrance back into the fresh air. Nothing to do but think to myself, I toss over the banquet Matt mentioned and think about a date and an outfit. I could always go bright purple and neon green for classic joker, but maybe even that’s a joke taken too far.

Maybe a tan would suit me nicely? A tan suit with a light undertone would probably be my best option but as for the date I didn’t have a clue. I began to think of the people I’d grown close with or at least close enough I could ask them to a polished banquet. There was Irina.. Max might have fun. Renee was a minor option in the case she didn't have a date but probably not since she was a senior and I’m a freshman. Sure we’re sort of friends but, I think it’d be odd.

Unfortunately for myself, when the words ‘Who would you invite’ circled about that funny brain I have in my head, the same name kept forcing its way through the barricades I pushed it behind every time it prevailed again. The name Declan kept appearing at the forefront of my thoughts and the barrage of actual feeling of some sort instead of the prudent urge to spit slurs into his face.

The feeling of wanting to softly gaze at the pair of disconcertingly beautiful, oceanic blue eyes. To watch the corner of his lip curve upwards as he tells me a joke or thinks up a particularly brutal insult. To glance upon the way his lips part when he speaks and to glimpse the rosy glow of his face. To listen to the dragged accent of his from another state and the sharpness of his voice.

The way I could readily describe Declan provided me with enough background to warrant me an epiphany I never thought I’d have. Could there be any possibility that hell hadn’t frozen over because I didn’t think so. Could it be possible everything flooding back to my subconscious told me we’d built some sort of connection like I had with my brother when I was in the foster system.

Only, the level of fondness I harboured for Declan rose to a different standard of the location I’d marked ‘brotherly’, so could it be labelled another way? I didn’t want to know much if I did have more feelings than I’d originally thought. Actually, my epiphany buried me so deep into my thoughts I had nearly been at Fox Tower already.

I even approached the door just as ash fell from overhead. Now, the only things above my head were every window up to the roof as were the latter. Using my palm to block the sun as I stared up, I caught a glimpse of a platinum tuft of hair that I originally thought was just some sort of shadow but clearly, upon second glance it was undoubtedly someone on the roof.

Deciding to examine the ash in my hair, I discerned it was most likely from a cigarette and that I would visit the person who so kindly dropped it on my hair. Swinging the Tower doors open, I meandered to the elevator and took it up to the highest story I could climb to without stairs. Once I’d taken a step out of the titanium box, I took the stairs the remainder of the journey to the roof.

Happening upon the roof, lay sitting one Mr. Minyard. Which one, most likely Andrew because of the armbands I could see even through the long sleeve shirt. “How’s it hanging Andrew?” I ask in hopes he’d actually respond.

“Jesse. Any reason you’re here?” He didn’t seem quite annoyed at me but he was particularly indifferent though, not particularly welcoming.

“Your ash fell on my head,” I told him as I pinched a strand of hair between my fingers and rolled it.

“Ah,” he said solemnly, returning to his previous silence.

After a minute of standing watching him smoke, I used my legs and moved towards the edge of the roof where Andrew stood peacefully looking at the rest of campus.

A memory struck me as I neared the half-wall and had a view of his side profile that reminded me of the clubbing experience I had had over the summer. The image of Neil and Andrew greeted the forefront of my mind. I thought of where my imagination had lingered as I continued back to Fox Tower.

The images plagued my head but the scent of cigarette smoke filled my nostrils. The tobacco infused small carried towards my brain, yelling at me to yearn for the blunts I’d left behind. Shouting at me to find the source of substance that intruded upon my body for so long.

Each impending question warred within the recesses of my thoughts until I had to blurt one out before the ideas consumed me. “Why do you smoke?”

He turned to me and looked with very little intrigue, but it wasn’t quite none. “Why do I smoke?” he echoed back in the most laid back tone I’d heard from someone at this school.

I realised I didn’t have the balls to ask him about Neil because that would imply I had to have seen them or something and I wasn’t ready for any type of conversation with either of them like that. I’m sure every returning player knew about them but, I don’t think any of the freshmen had a clue about how they spent their time together. I gave the guy a simple question in retaliation to my question instead.

“Yeah. You have a reason right?”

When he didn’t answer me, I attempted to rephrased my question and gave him a pathway for a direct answer. In lieu of thinking that through, I pondered what the best way to phrase it was while he took another drag and exhaled the smoke towards the sky.

“Sorry, how can you smoke so often and not be affected by it?”

“Tolerance.” Of course the obvious answer but, that isn’t what I meant really.

“I know tolerance but.. Mentally, how can you smoke all the time knowing it can damage your lungs. Or your body too.”

The platinum blonde boy dropped his cigarette from his lips and let it hang at his side. “I know you don’t know anything about anyone prior to being on this team. I had court mandated drugs for three years. Cycle to pop another pill every set amount of hours. It was a chore. If I wasn’t dosed, they could pull me out of this.”

In a way, we had the exact opposite situational standard. I was battling myself every other moment I saw some THC or bottle of beer. Andrew, would be objectively okay if he never touched another drug in his life.

“For me, when I signed, coach had a requirement that I had to stop doing drugs. When I had no drugs, I resorted to alcohol. I’m an addict and I know it. I’ve been trying as hard as I can to fix it but…” I trailed off, not being able to find the right words to convey the message I wanted to.

“You can’t stay away? Neither could I.” I didn’t understand what he meant. I couldn’t possibly when he probably had no issue with drugs, alcohol, or any of the sort so what could he not leave? What was I missing?

Before I could try and decipher what he meant, he confided, “If you need to, go to Betsy. She’s here for a reason.”

I stood still, acknowledging his solution. Before the season started, Wymack had a day during practice where every player had to talk to Dobson for a preliminary assessment. I didn’t have a personal bone to pick with her, but I answered some standardised questions and left the ones I didn’t feel like answering in the air after being told I didn’t have to talk.

Since Andrew was recommending I talk to her, I figured it was worth at least one shot since Andrew most definitely wasn’t the type to acknowledge others’ help often. His words could be undoubtedly trustworthy since he was a man of such little to say.

When enough time had passed, Andrew took one last drag of the cancer stick, flicked it from his fingers and onto the concrete roofing, then snuffed out the last ember. Before he turned on his heel, I gave him a small, shy, “Thanks,” and left it at that. Him leaving through the door I walked through, I was left by my lonesome.

Sure enough, after taking a few solitary moments to collect myself, how my blood pulsed and how my thoughts scrambled, I followed the way the other boy had returned and ended up in my dormitory. Picking up Danielle, I began to play how I felt. I plucked each string as if it connected to the very beat of my heart and strummed every ounce of depreciation to myself from my soul.

I might have found what my newest composition could be about; Uncertainty and Sombre Mystery. It could entwine the pitter-patter of rain pounding against a window with an air of the noir in a silent film. The atrophy of a soul without being able to recall a reason for the decay. My piece could have the melody of a leaf eroding as its’ being consumed by a greedy caterpillar. The sad, dark, untold truths.

The more my soul cried, I had no choice but to acknowledge I would at least need someone else to openly convey what was at least on the surface of my consciousness. I’d have to accept that I needed help and as Andrew suggested, Betsy was without a doubt one of the best people to go to if I needed some sort of help along that field.

Usually Danielle had been enough to express how I’d felt but, apparently my new chapter called for a new solution. With no one else in my dorm but myself, I moved Danielle to her original home in front of the bookshelf and left the dorm with my keys.

Bringing myself across the hall and slightly to the right, I knocked on the oak door, identical to mine, of room 317. To my pleasure, Andrew answered the door after I heard enough slower shuffling behind the door on his part. I noticed he wasn't very keen on swift movements but rather pacing himself rather slowly, enough that he seemed to drag himself around.

“Need anything, Cirrel?” he asked in his average bored tone.

“Do you know if Betsy’s free now?”

The short, intimidating goalie opened the door and allowed me to step foot into the room. Closing the door, he disappeared in the direction of what was most likely the bedroom. Kevin sat on a beanbag, crouched over paper but he didn’t care enough to even look up from whatever his task had been;

When Andrew returned, the man had an outdated flip phone in his hand. Genuinely, I understood the appeal since there was no real reason not to have one in my opinion and I could tell he cared even less about me than having the cellular device.

As he stared at his phone waiting for a response most likely, I waited for him. Not having a glance up from his phone, he told me, “I asked Betsy if she has a slot open now. If she doesn’t, you can go.” I nod and thank him for doing me a solid after I owed him virtually nothing. Being indebted to someone wasn’t the greatest occurrence but I’m sure I can manage something to help him in return.

Not a minute later, Andrew snapped the phone shut and dropped it into the dark pocket of his black jeans. “Betsy doesn’t have anyone now.” Looking back at me, he made eye contact with me as I pushed off leaning against the wall. Clasping my hands together, I raised them in front of my face and bowed my head to thank him. Not wanting to intrude any longer than I was, I turned away and exited the dorm.

Out of the Tower, I stepped into my brilliant Demon that probably needed a new tank soon but that was a pressing matter for another day. Driving out of the parking lot gave me such a freeing feeling I hadn’t been able to experience as much lately. I didn’t particularly want to drive the other freshmen in my pride and joy nor did my classes require me to drive to each. I was able to take this fine opportunity and cruise peacefully to Betsy’s office, where I’d been during my preliminary assessment.

As I arrived like Andrew had told me was fine, I knocked on the door to her office. Even though I’d been in the room before, I had forgotten how the comfortable armchair sat across from the sofa and next to an alternate but equally as comfortable chair. I opted for the chair that didn’t look as if I’d sink in when Betsy asked if I wanted to have a seat and introduced the session formally.

“Hi Jesse. I understand Andrew set this up so you could talk to me but he didn’t tell me what about. Would you like to begin by telling me what I could do to help you?”

Her soft-spoken tone evidenced from the different sorts of people she had aided, probably over various years. Betsy was gentle in her phrasing, so I answered her, “Yeah, but I don’t really need a solution. I mean, obviously I need a solution but-” I cut myself off because my mouth is working faster than my mind for a change and I can’t keep up. “Could you listen and help me after? I think that’s a good way to start.”

The woman across from me agreed wholeheartedly with the idea. “I think that’s brilliant. But, I do have to ask if you want any sort of refreshment before we begin, the need arises. Water, Tea, just ask.”

In a half-witted acceptance I tell her, “Water, thanks,” as she stands up and moves to the other side of the room and fetches water from behind me. After she hands it to me, Betsy returns to her spot on the sofa and waits for me to speak as she straightens herself out, listening attentively.

First, I begin with the original problem to her, “Well, the original reason I’m here is because of seeing Andrew on the roof and I was having like a...like a crisis or something and then he was smoking and I got caught up in myself but-” When I speak I have no true formulae for transmitting the thoughts in my brain to coherent words.

“I have this mate, call him…Axel! Yes, call him Axel. Axel and I argue a lot but overall, I believe we’ve gotten to be somewhat close friends and Dan and Matt and Renee were talking about the fall banquet and dates, I’m sure you know.”

Betsy nods and makes no movement to speak but every sign that she actively listens to what I say and for that I am very appreciative of who she is. She makes the room a comfortable space to be in.

“Well, I don’t have anyone like that so I was thinking who I could ask and I thought of Irina, my teammate, but then, I thought of Axel and his eyes, his lips, his skin, his voice and I thought ‘Oh my god, I like Axel’ and I know Andrew has a thing with Neil. I don’t think the other freshmen know it or that anyone else knows I know it, but I know it. I wanted to ask him when I saw him on the roof.”

I took in a sharp breath that I never knew I was holding back until I let it go. Taking a sip of my water, I composed myself for the true problem to my story but, it had also been the first moment I’d admitted so many internal thoughts out loud. Still, Betsy made no motion to comment until she was sure that I’d be finished with my telling.

“What brought me up to the roof was the cigarette ash that fell on my head. When I went up, Andrew was smoking and I moved to stand next to him. Being so close, I inhaled the second-hand smoke and the smell made me forget all about…Axel and focus on the smoke. The reason I’m here is because I was addicted to substances. Drugs, alcohol, THC, a dabble in tobacco.”

Openly speaking about everything I could felt so relieving, but also having everything I kept introspectively on the outside made speaking feel tighter. The air around me felt cramped, unlike the commodious air of the outdoors. Though, I made no move to loosen my collar or to stand up and pushed the confining feeling to the pit of my stomach.

“Wymack made a deal that if I quit, I could be here and here I am. But, Nicky, Kevin, Andrew, Neil all took me to Eden’s and the alcohol was overwhelming; they drove me home. I can cope without alcohol but the cigarette smoke drove me insane and I just- I don’t know how long it’ll take before I cave into myself…”

Finishing my story, I trail off and let Betsy pick up the conversation as I gulp more water, trying to rehydrate myself after draining every emotion that poured through my body in the past few hours.

“I can tell you’ve had a lot going on and to begin with Axel it’s okay to consider liking a boy and I’m sure you’ve noticed by now. Andrew and Neil, Nicky, you’ll be alright I promise. About the addiction thing, in your case it most definitely would not be safe if you ever continued to use any of those substances. I’m proud you stopped yourself from drinking when you did.”

I felt the cold temperature of the water seep down my throat and flow through my chest and into my fingertips. I could adhere to the temperature in the room, but not maintain the heat as my body began to shake and shiver. The jitters felt like a sensation of the withdrawal I had experienced a few months ago even though I had no substances, and it made me scared.

“I would suggest forcing yourself out of a lot of activities that result in those not-so-favourable habits and invest in other things. I heard a lot of people who quit cigarettes try to chew gum so, I’m sure that could be of at least some use. Why don’t we talk about other topics if you’re comfortable?”

The solution Betsy threw my way could be viable and what I was experiencing may not even be as deep as I had made it out to be. I’d be alright if I stayed away and tried a replacement, healthy habit. I could get behind a healthier habit anyway. So, I thought of a different topic that supported my emotions to change the subject to a lighter topic and ease myself away from the wallowing pit of despair.

Since the anti-wallowing-pit-of-despair of the moment was undoubtedly the person I’d had my whole rom-com moment about, I decided to bring him up first. Betsy was as interested to hear about Axel as I would be to hear music again for the first time.

When I had no more to say about Declan, I spoke about the exy season and my thrill as a backliner. I told Betsy about being a backliner in Chicago and that led to a conversation about Chicago and somehow even venturing to my Demon SRT 170. Betsy and I were able to talk an ear off for enough of the lengthy amount of time, I had to leave and head to the stadium for practice.

Thanking the psychologist, I left the office in a much lighter mood that I had been in when I stepped out of the car originally. She really did wonders, being able to talk about everything I needed to. The only other person I had felt that sort of ease with had been Renee. Speaking of Renee, when I had parked my car in the stadium parking lot and left it after practice to drive back to the dorms, nearly the entire team blatantly gawked at her and I couldn’t begin to tell you how proud I felt of such an accomplishment.

Chapter 14: Need for Speed

Chapter Text

Throughout the course of the week, after practice there was a mild chatter about the banquet from everyone on my team. In reality, it was quite irritating as I still had no idea who I was going to take. Thus, on Thursday after sweating all our asses off from dashing up and down the court, I showered and waited to leave with her.

When Irina had finished in the shower, I tried to ask her, “Do you want to go to the fall banquet,” more like a statement than anything else. Sure she was one of my closest friends on the team and we shared a class together, but I had to continue and tell her exactly what I meant, “With me? Would you want to do that?”

The sweetest smile stained her perfect full lips and the hard expression her eyes normally portrayed softened. Her dark tanned skin radiated positive energy as she showed me what was a beam of joy to her standards. The effervescent glow she emitted made me believe no one had ever asked her out. Ever. Clearly, that couldn’t be true.

Even if I wasn’t exactly head over heels for Irina, I could tell she was as beautiful and charismatic as a butterfly. At least, by general standards she was. supposedly, the way that shied people away from her could have been because she never seemed to be open to anyone but herself, but I didn’t mind that quality at all.

As cliche as ever, I tell her, “It’s a date,” while we gather the rest of the freshmen and huddle into her car to drive back to the dorms; the drive was not awkward or as silent as when we had first met and for that I was most definitely glad. We’d seemed to bond together as a team, even slightly, since Paxton still wasn’t as cooperative as we’d all hoped.

Though, with the banquet looming ever closer, I still didn’t have any formal wear to bring. Thus, I found my footing in front of the senior girls’ dorm the following morning. When I knocked, I received a warm and inviting beam from the one and only Renee Walker.

“Hi. Renee! I wanted to come by and see if any of you were free if you wanted to go shopping with me for the banquet. “ There, I stated my purpose concisely. I had briefly considered asking Nicky to go shopping but, I didn’t entirely know how well Nicky knew formal wear, so I just as quickly dismissed the idea.

The pure girl with sandy blonde hair and pastel rainbow highlights offered up, “The others aren’t here, but I’d be more than willing to take you, Jesse.” The politeness in her could illuminate the entire Mag Mile back home I thought.

“Really? That’d be fantastic, thank you.” I attempt to use the kindest voice my mouth allows because as much as I genuinely respect her as a person, I love her just as much for how sweet of a person she is.
I take Renee outside the tower to my car where she doesn’t gawk at it like the larger majority of the team, but instead swoops inside next to me in the passengers. Safely and securely, I drive the two of us to the nearest suit and tie fashioned shop to the campus.

As we arrive, I’m confronted with a myriad of options for a piece. I could go for a simple black and white style, maybe I could have a wine-red and jet-black combination, or I could collect the tan idea I had in mind. The challenge in the search wasn’t actually trying to find the snazziest clothes, but rather finding the type that fit.

Really, when I searched racks to comb through, I had to look through the mediums and then I had to scan through slim fit or average fit. Genuinely, I found the whole process painstakingly unnecessary even though it most definitely was a requirement for the banquet. Every idea I had, I got to pluck it from its rack and try it on. Once I’d done that, I’d show it to Renee and obtain her opinion.

“No, not that one, it doesn’t fit right.”

“How about this one?”

“The fit is pretty nicely tailored but the colour combination is a no because no one on our team will accept a red and black style.”

Through the many, many outfits, we began to develop an easy flowing type of conversation that was no more than idle chit chat. At least, it had been chit chat until I’d seen someone across the way with fiery red hair. In no way did the girl represent Neil in any way except from his hair but, the sight of the auburn, flowing locks slapped my thoughts into Monday and the panic I’d fussed over next to Andrew.

“Renee? Can I ask you a question. It’s silly but, can I ask?” I begin shyly since I didn’t know about Renee's general opinion on my inference.

“Yeah, Jesse?”

“Andrew and Neil are dating right?” I had to try and confirm what I knew at least in the slightest.

“Yes, why?”

If I wanted to get my true intention across, I’d have to be honest. “They’re taking each other as dates right? I just, I asked Irina and she said yes. But-” again, my mouth stumbled and tumbles amongst its own words. “But. there’s this one guy…” just as every middle school girls’ story begins, how subtle.

Renee chuckled at my decent attempt to extract information from her. Chuckled. “Yes. Go on?” She probably had no real clue where this story was going, but I’m sure she would guess regardless.

“I think I like this guy but I don’t understand anything about it. I was always moving around in a foster home and had to keep changing schools, and I had to keep up my extracurriculars. I never had time for dating but now… I see this guy and I just want to punch his face in but, also he’s so pretty it’s almost” what’s the word, “distracting?”

That seems to be the best way I could describe that portion of my mind now, but I still didn’t actually understand the complexity of myself.

Exiting the changing room with another outfit, again, this time she surveyed it and seemed more approving that she’d been in the last suit. I could tell from her decisive composure.

The girl flashes a small, Renee-kind smile at me, then a confused pinch of her eyebrows, “How do you think Andrew and Neil tie into this?”

How to explain, how to explain? I didn’t know how, so I asked Renee a follow up question, “What were Andrew and Neil like last year?”

She complied with my minor topic change when she answered, “Andrew had a lot of medication at the beginning, but they all thought they hated each other. Eventually, Neil was about the only one Andrew would listen to and go out of his way for, and Neil was absolutely the most trouble-prone person ever but we love them all the same.”

The one thing I noticed about describing Andrew was that Renee said they instead of we. “But, you didn’t think they hated each other?”

The last outfit I tried on was this white undershirt with the wider fit and a camel-coloured overcoat to match with the slightly darker pants. The tie I wore was a deeper brown to stand out but, when I stepped outside the changing room, Renee seemed rather approving.

“That one really suits you I think.”

“You think?”

“Very.” I spun around in the full length mirror, examining the ways the outfit framed my build, admittedly, rather nicely.
Placing every item I did not want onto the racks in the room, I changed back out and retrieved the set I was going to buy; striding to the front counter of the exquisite store, I set the clothing on the counter and brought out my debit card. If I kept spending money as frivolously as I did, the card would for sure run out, but I could sort that out later.

Once the items had been purchased, I took back my card and kept the receipt. As it was time to leave, Renee and I pushed out the door, stowed the packaging in the backseat of my car, and sat inside ourselves. But, I didn’t drive off yet. “How did you know Andrew and Neil didn’t hate each other when everybody else thought they did?”

Renee sat next to me but I witnessed her facial expression bunch into one of consideration to my repeated question, “Andrew didn’t tell me everything, he never tells anyone much directly, but, he told me enough I could figure it out for myself.”

“Cool. Do you know how Andrew reacted to acknowledging Neil?” By now, I didn’t want to ask too many questions but somehow, so many different images of Declan had flashed through my mind and Andrew and Neil had been the only semblance of a model I could have to figure myself out.

Dan and Matt never fought, never insulted each other to no ends, never spoke with the sound of music. Granted neither did Neil and Andrew but, they weren’t quite as bubbly as the seniors were.

“All I know is that Neil was probably the first person Andrew felt as he did towards someone that wasn’t within his family, excluding Kevin because that was a circ*mstantial thing.” Now, I had somewhat of a light shed onto who Neil and Andrew are based on each other.

Each passing question, at least some part of every answer resonated with how I felt about myself, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t slightly fearful myself. I had no clue how to think about someone I liked, no clue how to ever actually become that close with something; basically, I was emotionally celibate until now, for I never knew anyone I’d actually wanted to know more about.

I started the engine to the car, then I turned to Renee, “Thanks. I think that clears some things up,” I assured her. The ride back was silent for the most part, excluding the whistle of wind through the open window. Silent, but comfortable really.

As I pulled back into the Tower parking lot, I dropped Renee off. When she asked, “Are you getting out too?” I told her I wasn’t so that I could drive around and clear my head. She waved goodbye and a ‘See you later’ before I could drive off again.

Now, all I wanted to do to clear my head was drive. But, I didn’t just want to drive, I was itching for a race. Over the past few weeks, I had begun to yearn for the freedom of speeding in my demon, competing with the driver next to me, ripping through the grand streets of Chicago.

But, since I clearly wasn’t in Chicago, I resorted to the next-best option; I opted to search silently for racing the still grand, but not as, streets of South Carolina. Upon my vast search, I had only found a couple smaller groups that organised races.

All I needed was simply the location and I would be able to volunteer myself and my baby for one of the races. To add some more fun, I could even play it off like I had no idea what I was doing, or I could just stand up to them like the man I am. Though, the former had to be much more entertaining.

The more viable option for which one to intrude upon would be simple. Which of the groups would be holding a race sooner, and that would be… only a few towns over. Tonight. Ten.

I had already planned to sneak out of the tower and attend this race so really, me driving out with my Demon was just another pre-race sort of lap I could run on. All the better, even without being able to go full speeds or actually do any serious damage on a course, the wind in my hair and breeze on my face always was the grandest feeling in the world.

After my lap, I had no choice but to return to the Tower since I had nothing else for me that afternoon. Today, we had a game in our stadium since it was a Friday and all. Quite the grand day today would be: suit shopping, exy gaming, car racing. Having the game before the race was all the better in my opinion.

The time for the game arrived with a tad of guitar here and a splash teaching Neil and Andrew Russian since we hadn’t forgotten our exchanged lessons, fitting them into our schedule whenever necessary. Even so, if I had thought the interlude before the game had such a short duration, the game stripped by even quicker,

I could picture myself dashing up and down the court, passing to my own team and putting my whole body into stopping the opposing strikers from hurtling down the same court. I could picture flits of orange and a few in white scurrying past me as they pursued the same game I did.

Entirely based on instinct, I passed near perfectly, almost my best performance yet, and blocked all the same. Through the post-game haze, I was sent along with Nicky to deal with the press. Answering each question, I don’t remember actually listening because from what I could remember, every sound blended into one hazy noise in a sea of sweat and fog.

The fog of victory and the perspiration of a guy who’s anticipating his most captivating point of the night, fuelled me as far as I could go. In true fox fashion, the bottles of liquor were busted out and games that contained a load of alcohol consumption were played.

As Renee and I abstained, I was in the highest state of mind I could reach without really being high. Even so, to the best of my abilities, I shrouded to the sides where I could so no one could pay much attention when I snuck out.

I had to sneak out of the tower because I’m sure we were allowed to leave peacefully yes, but street racing in cars that were very much not street legal, was definitely illegal. I love some of them but, it doesn’t mean I can afford to run any risk at all of them narcing on me.

Not to mention, typical cars used in races have modifications on them that increase the cars’ potential while also going way, way beyond street legalities; it was yet another reason why I wanted to, and had no choice but, go it alone.

Needless to say, I made my escape when I thought everyone was drunk enough and not paying any attention to me. Hunched, I slink to my Demon and pull away as soon as possible, trying not to disturb anyone or notify a soul what I was about to do.

Back home, I’d just be able to leave and ma could say, “Good luck!” but here, I had other people that depended on me in a way. I had people that encouraged me. I had people that cared about my wellbeing and couldn’t risk going to jail, so I had to leave as discreetly as possible.

Searching for my destination hadn’t been difficult since I’d been out, taking drives around the city more recently to familiarise myself with it. I could become attuned to the streets and buildings in my vicinity and have a better grasp on my wheel after not racing for how many months.

At the site, few people were there since it was nearly a reasonable time to begin arriving. Though I wanted to make sure I’d be able to enter, I strived to get there early enough to guarantee myself into the race.

Stepping out of my car, I made my way to one of the guys already there, specifically the one who seemed to be handling bets. I had to be up front since this was the most ‘professional’ setting I’d been in all my life.

Racing to me, was like a banquet or a phenomenon to be experienced and not witnessed. These cars were more important than exy, more important than my friendships (which I had very few), even more important than I considered my grades. Racing could only be second to music in its’ entirely but my Demon still won my heart over Danielle.

When I begin speaking, I say, “Where do I enter myself?” The man checking his setup looked to me and then to my whip some ways behind me. Surely, he recognized all the frequenters’ cars since it wasn’t a large organisation.

He lowers his head again to gather an item from his table, “Write your name, you’ll race against one of our own first.”

Sick, I monologue to myself as I write the name John. the only reason I wrote this name was because I had used it as a name back home and I’d obtained that idea from time I’d spent taking religion at one of my foster homes. Even though the woman raising me forced me to go to church every Sunday, the story of John resonated with my being and I’d used him as an alias for that.

Returning the name to the man, I took a step back and relaxed my adrenaline-fuelled nerves and got kinks out to make sure all my gears were in place. I didn’t want my pride to wash out on me, did I?

Many unfamiliar faces kept appearing in every direction as time went on but many had been spectators, only wanting to watch the races. A few racers got put on ‘the list’ for later races while I sat back and watched everyone's’ preparation unfold.

It was absolutely captivating though to see everyone else’s preparation rituals, but I was being confronted by someone else I’d never seen before to be told, “Prepare your vehicle, the race will begin momentarily,” as he handed me a copy of the track. That is the moment every nerve that I had dispelled came flooding back; I was hyper with excitement.

Pulling my Demon around next to the other car that seemed to be on the track, some people nearby gawked as if they’d never seen a real Demon SRT before, and I would too had I not gotten her so many years ago. Looking out my window, I noticed another driver also inside the driver’s seat, to my left. I couldn’t even tell who this person was which made things a whole lot more interesting.

Listening semi-patiently for the signal to go as I reviewed the track, I anticipated the announcing of my alias and listened for my opponents as well, MacKenna, so I’d heard. The sound I heard had to be through a megaphone, considering how loud the guy was through my tough as hell shell.

The bouncing of my leg right underneath the gas locked into position the moment I heard the crows fall quieter than they should be and the countdown of a slowed count of “Three, two, one-” I had barely let finish before I stepped on it as direct as I could.

My model's acceleration had a 0-60 of 2.3 seconds which got me moving so fast, my body was pressed up against the back of my seat. Gratefully, I never set my seat too far back because I was short and if my foot inched off the gas even a little, every tiny misstep could lead to a loss.

Speaking of, my acceleration was off the charts, but this guy next to me had a fully modded out R8. Typically, my Demon outranked the model in every spec except for handling. The reason the Demon isn’t street legal is because of how dangerous the car can be for someone that can’t handle it properly.

After a straight, there were turns and corners I’d have to be strict on if I wanted to successfully drift, not into a building complex. To the track I had committed to memory, I saw building lights flit by because I was speeding by so quickly and I truly had to cut my speed down nearing a corner which shaved down potential milliseconds at a time.

Quickly into this world, I had discovered many matches came down to a few milliseconds and I could just sense the Audi chasing my tail. That only mattered until we had to ramp up through a parking garage and my momentum had to slow. The R8 surpassed my position with its stronger handle.

I could do nothing until I was out of the parking garage but handle ym grip as best I could, so I had to strategically take a lane that would grant me the largest straight I could navigate. Luckily enough, out of the parking garage, the street opened up into an abandoned lot with no one around and out of the real city and into the countryside area.

I couldn’t tell how long it had been since I’d left and I didn’t want to either. All I could focus my eyes on now was the slightly distant backend of an Audi, a sexy one at that but hey, the backside nonetheless. As the track opened up, I slammed my gas as hard as I could, so hard I felt like I’d break my foot; stomping down so hard, the car seemed lighter as two of its front wheels hovered above the concrete road.

My beauty was so magnificent, she could rise off the ground while I was racing, but that was also why the Dodge Challenger Demon SRT 170 is such a dangerous vehicle. Still, for that I loved her even more, as if every danger made me love my car even more than I already did somehow.

This distance between us two contestants closed as my pick up speed made it impossible for the Audi to stay ahead so consistently. I would be able to pull this out if I just pulled around a shift to the right and could land us back onto an exit, easy to the finish.

Both of our drifts were clean and while I obviously couldn’t contain myself as well on each turn, the race was neck and neck until we reached the exit. I tried my best to maintain speed, but to my luck, the Audi jerked a tad too far the the left and caused the controls to swing enough off course that the guy didn’t crash, but he slowed down.

I took my supreme opportunity and pulled out this race as I could without moving to look around or having my wheels take off the ground again. I may love her for it, but it was still quite a scary experience to know I had even less handle and could spin out way too fast.

Once I crossed, I had been right as I typically was about these things. This race had come down to milliseconds because the Audi hadn’t been as far away as I had made it out to be. I heard the woosh past the finish line and as I braked slowly to not break my car, I saw the vehicle in my mirror and passed right around me as my wheels spun slower and slower until they came to a complete stop.

The race led to cheering and people chattering about how close the match had been, rather excitedly. Plus, I had discovered that the racer that won the bets, they would get to keep a portion of the funds that were made in bets for the winner.

Excellently, many people who apparently attended these races were seemingly rich because I would be walking away with a couple thousand dollars. Though, maybe that was because I had forgotten they brought out a briefcase sometime. Now, I expected to hold a bash for the winning party.

MacKenna had not been the happiest soul about barely not sticking it out, but at eleven I hightailed my ass out of the ring. I had no need to stay if the races were for my thrill, not entertainment. Besides, I had been out a while and there couldn’t be a shot my team would still be partying, right.

The drive back had been positively uplifting with another sum of cash in my possession that wouldn't last long, typically, but I was not the typical person anymore. I was receiving free room and board basically since I was here for exy and my grades were excellent, and I suppose colleges valued that trait.

I had also been returning with another win secured, my thrill compromised for another time, and the most authentic fun I’ve had in a sizable amount of time. You could even say mission success, until I arrived at the dorms.

Chapter 15: Confessions and Condolences

Chapter Text

Under the assumption that no one was still around since my team had been so drunk already, I hopped up the stairs past the lobby two-at-a-time and nearly skipped to my dorm. Hey, I may be an adult, but why couldn’t I still skip around?

As I unlocked the door to my room, I heard not a thing. Clearly, everyone had dispelled and quieted down; clearly everyone except one person. I heard a slightly echoed grunt emit from another room. Not until I turned down into the hallway I saw the bathroom light was on and the hurling sound continued from the same light source.

The race had shot my hearing a bit because as I may have not heard everything during my race, before I left I was in the presence of the start of a second and the roaring of the engines still growled in my ears. I wouldn’t regret damaging my ears if I was able to race again for the first time in so long though. I used to compete every couple weeks.

I inched closer to the sound and nudged open the door to find Asher sitting with his eyes closed, next to the porcelain toilet bowl, leaning on the wall of the shower. The guy looked like a wreck, but who am I really to judge? I’ve seen myself look much worse.

I set my keys down on the counter and sat down against the sink, “You alright?” I didn’t know much at all to say, but I suppose just a simple conversation could work.

“Remind me not to drink so much again,” he said to me before he spun around over the bowl and retched into the water, presumably again.

I chuckled, who was I to stop him really. But, I lied anyway, “Sure, man.” I’ve had enough bad habits of my own to know if I could hardly stop myself sometimes, who was I to stop another guy.

When he collapsed back onto his back, he asked me a question I never expected, “Where were you?” Such a simple three word, three syllable question, yet I never thought anyone would notice I was gone. Maybe I wasn’t as stealthy as I thought?

“What do you mean?” I tried to play off as ignorantly as I could.

“Ahhh,” he dragged and joked, “I saw your car pull out of the lot a while ago.” Of course. Of course I should’ve paid more attention and he saw something. But, maybe I could tell him something else or convince him I wasn’t anywhere.

As my brain ricocheted ideas for an excuse, it thought of, “Music. I was practising for a set.” Not the best idea I’ve had, but it seemed to twist his face in some sort of function.

“All the campus is closed this time. You lyin’ to me?” True, it was much later than any part of the campus would be open, but what was I supposed to say? I snuck out on my whole opportunity of a lifetime to chase some illegal thrill that is also one of my greatest passions? I don’t think so.

The guy looked at me across the floor, “I know you’re not telling me the truth.” But, he said no more from where he sat.

Still, I feel like I word him an explanation. Almost, I felt as if the man had unintentionally guilted me into the truth, “You know what kind of car I got?”

“Yeah, Demon SRT, says so on the front.”

“You know what those cars are for?”

I knew every guy knows a little about cars, but Asher didn’t know a thing beyond the general understanding, “Nah. Just that they’re pretty cool, bud.” I had to agree, but I knew he had no clue what the purpose of the car was.

“Made for racing. For street, for sport. I won it while racing.” Actually, I won because the other guy turned the corner way too rough and shifted the whole gear almost off the track.

I knew some cogs were turning in his head even though I hadn’t explicitly told him about my purpose for leaving the tower. “You race don’t you? Cool.”

I sighed because there really wasn’t much more I could say. Besides that, I couldn’t let the rest of the team know about my illegal activities. “You can’t tell anyone else though. Promise me that?”

He sat up properly and stopped slouching so hard against the wall of the shower. “No reason to not, so I promise.”

While he began to stand, I could’ve sworn he was about to fall, the way he was swaying ever so slightly. I braced my body against the sink to lift my tired body up and made sure Asher could flush his vomit and make his way to actually sleep on the top bunk.

While I tried to keep him steady, I asked, “You good, Asher?” while he tried to steady himself, using the doorway as leverage too.

“Yeah, now help me into the bed.”

Always so impolite, I know. Helping him, I pushed his back up the ladder so he could pull himself onto the mattress and get comfortable. When he is, I only backed away when I was sure he wouldn’t fall off.

Meanwhile, I collect my keys from the bathroom and lay them out by my bedside. Slipping off my shoes, I place them in their spot by the front door of the dorm where the shoes we wore every day were, along with a few extra pairs we’d collectively, Paxton, Asher, and I, brought.

Trudging back to the bedroom, I grabbed other clothes to change into so I wasn’t in my bed with the same smells-like-sweat-and-car-grease, murky clothes from today. Once I was in my comfy, spongebob pyjama pants my brother had given me so long ago, along with my average bracelets and chains, I removed my contacts and disposed of them into the trash, then I laid myself up in bed.

I laid myself up in bed with the full knowledge that Asher knew the most important detail that could most likely get me ripped off the team, from where I stand at this point in time. But, I could trust Asher, couldn’t I? Yeah.

When I awoke, it was past sunrise, unlike normal, but just before Asher woke up; when I turned over, I noticed Paxton was already void of his residence on the single bed next to the bunk. I knew I had awoken just before Asher because I heard a light snoring for a mere moment, then silence. After silence came a small rustling of sheets.

Either way, it was time to wake up. As I shoved myself off the comfortable mattress, I dragged myself towards the closet and snatched clothes from within. As I was about to walk out to take a shower since I didn’t want to be disgusting today, a voice echoed from Ashers’ bunk.

“What got you to race?” I hadn’t been expecting the guy to talk at all since he just woke up, but I guess he was in the mood to; that meant I would have to be in the mood to answer. “Been thinking about it.”

I gave him the best response I thought I could without saying everything. “Picked it up back in Chicago.” But, apparently I didn’t explain enough for his liking.

Asher asked more directly, “Why?” but even the vague question called for a more specific answer.

“Had other people around me doin’ in, ya know?” Then I remembered something that we originally bonded over on his first night in the dorms, “How did you cope with bein’ a foster kid? There’s gotta be somethin’.” A way to spin the conversation in my favour.

The guy was silent for a moment like he was thinking about what he was trying to say, “When I was six, a tornado hit Kansas, wiped me out. When I came to, my parents were gone. Some lady found me alone, but I never saw them again.”

Now, I felt bad that I hadn’t even said anything about myself and he told me so much about himself, moderately unwarranted. Still, he continued, “Tried to find them again when I was fourteen, some kids do, mine never made it out of Kansas, they died.”

As he finished the last two words, I could hear his voice crack and a sniffle escaped from where he lay. I knew he had no parents, but I never knew how he lost them. But, now I felt like I had to give him something, so he wouldn’t have given everything and received nothing in return.

“When I was a baby, my ma, she left me at the hospital. They turned me over to DCFS and I bounced around the system again and again and again. Took in a habit of drugs and alcohol, ciggys somewhere too. I was f*cked up man.” The hard part was over, now Asher knew everything about me that Wymack knew. He knew what Andrew knew, what Betsy knew. Neil knew it too. I didn’t intend to let so many people understand where I’d come from.

Now, I just had to finish the rest of my story and get everything over with and out, “Wymack made me a deal I quit everything when I came here, but I never wanted to stop racing. I love it so much. But ultimately, the same guys who got me to pop my first pill were the same ones who taught me how to drive my first car.” The way I saw it, explaining about the addictions was the only way to explain why I started racing.

My other hobby, music, has been a way for me to escape from every difficulty I’ve ever had and just express myself, but it never meant I wanted to drop off racing or weed or Xanny. These three things are how I kept myself in check over the course of my eighteen, almost nineteen, years of living: music, racing, and poppin’ pills.

I pushed off the leaning position I had slumped into, against the wall, sometime during the talk and waited by the door as if I would say something. While I hesitated, Asher climbed down from his bunk and stretched so I decided to switch the pace of our conversation to a light subject, “I call first shower.”

Snickering, I swung across the hall and shut the bathroom door. Tossing my clothes to the ground, I turned on the shower faucet ninety degrees so it could run extremely cold. I took off my bracelets and chains that were a constant on my body and slapped them on the counter.

After the accessories, I slipped off the childish pyjamas and let them lay on the floor next to the pile of my clean clothes. While dropping them, I caught sight of myself in the mirror.

My messy, dirty-blonde waves lay astray and my hazel eyes were rimmed with darker shadows. I could see the rough stubble growing in after neglecting to shave for a few days. I observed the rise and fall of my chest, noticing that I did not resent how I looked, yet I didn’t fully appreciate my appearance in its entirety.

After my systematic assessment, I rubbed my eyes over like it would dispel my reflection and stripped the rest of my clothing off and stepped into the shower, nearly shivering from the temperature. Determined to get the activity finished as quickly as possible, I washed myself as well as I could before I was chattering and turned the water off.

I dried myself off and slipped on my clean clothes before shaking out my hair and putting some of my usual product in it. After I placed the product in, I washed my face and replaced my chain that contained a cross and my watch only so that I could put on nicer bracelets.

I pampered myself as best as I thought I could since we were (my team) due to go to the exy fall banquet later that day. When I had finished, I walked back out into the bedroom and traded places with Asher while I clasped silver onto my wrist and a stud with a star chain to slip into my double earring hole and thin rings placed into my cartilage.

Once I had everything on my person set, I acted as if nothing had happened at all to Asher, to Paxton, to Irina, or anyone. I only made myself an egg-guacamole-got-sauce sandwich and picked up a book until it was time to collect my formal wear since we’d be changing later, my phone as I got used to bringing it various places, and my AirPods when I knew I’d eventually want music. I packed it all on me and with me on the bus to Penn State, the hosting University this year.

While being herded onto the bus, there naturally tended to be groups everyone sat with. Meaning, the seniors all sat together, the freshmen, Nicky and his family. Actually knowing the people that I do, I wanted to sit in back of Irina because she was my date and in front of Nicky so we could catch up a little because I’d been so wrapped up lately, I hadn’t genuinely had a conversation with him in a minute.

Throughout the ride that was barely under ten hours (our excuse to fly) I got to speak to Nicky about Erik, a little bit about Marketing, some about Music. The words were kept moving and light, not to cause us to think too hard or be too guarded and still enjoy the airy small talk.

During our chat about vacation spots in Europe, (my personal favourite was Germany, but Nicky considered it more of a residence) Aaron asked his opinion on this new video game Katelyn had been playing recently. Reluctantly, he pulled away from me after asking, “You sure you’re going to be fine?” and turned to join Aaron and Katelyn in their discussion.

Left with no one to talk to, I joined Irina, Robin, and Asher. I hopped in their talk when they mentioned something about hiking. Us freshmen, we hadn’t really found much common ground to talk about yet since we only knew each other for barely upwards of a month. Yet, I thought it was quite casual as it was.

“I love hiking. Used to do it a lot when I was like nine.”

Irina asked me where and I had told her Maine because I’d truly been all over the east coast with my foster families. In response, she told me, “I used to hike trails up in New Jersey with my mom on the weekends.”

One simple topic switched to the next a few times before Asher talked more to the date he brought from his experimental sciences and we ran out of things to drone about. Gradually, the conversation lulled and we broke it off which let me talk more to Irina. How she had been, was she excited, general questions that were cosy enough to ask my date.

After the elapsed time of our trip had neared halfway, Wymack stopped at a rest stop where everyone was allowed to go to the bathroom or get snacks, whichever they pleased. However, he told us all, and I quote, “If you’re not back in five minutes, we leave without you!” and we all herded off the bus.

I only wanted to go to the bathroom since I wasn’t really hungry. Quickly, I did what I needed to and collected myself back onto the bus where almost no one had stayed except Andrew, Neil, and Paxton. I didn’t want to interrupt Andrew or Neil, and I certainly didn’t care enough to talk to Paxton about anything; I sat down on the seat I’d been in for five hours and slipped my phone out with my AirPods that I knew I’d need at some point.

Turning the screen on, I tapped just about the only app I used and typed out a ‘What are you doing right now’ to Declan. If I had no one I had to say anything to on my team right now, I could always talk to him and before a minute, he replied back.

‘Texting you’ oh how obvious it was irritating.

‘No sh*t, really?’

‘Aren’t you going to some thing in Pennsylvania this weekend?’

‘The drive is boring.’

‘At that point, my team would fly. I’d be bored too if I were driving.’

Then, we talked about any ridiculous, inappropriate thing we could until he had to work on some essay for another class and go to the gym. Though my conversation with Declan had been multiple hours, I had just enough time left within the drive to take a kind nap until we arrived.

When we arrived at Penn State, the blue and white banners shined ever-so-brightly as they led us inside. We all changed into our formal wear and entered the stadium, walking out onto the court that had been replaced with tables for every team in the league.

When Kevin found the team plastered next to that of the USC Trojans, he was ecstatic like that of a child on Christmas morning and quickly struck greetings and conversation with half the team. The rest of my teammates had greeted a Jean Moreau like an old friend that made me wonder if he transferred from the Foxes. Then, I dismissed that idea when I noted the tattoo on his face right by the spot Kevin had a queen and Neil had a scar, was a number three.

My team exchanged pleasantries with the Trojans and kindly found our seats where I sat besides Irina, determined to treat her as my wonderful date, and Asher, my best friend on the team.

While the Trojans were discussing previous seasons and catching up with our Foxes, I listened both to Irina speak and to the Trojans since any past information would be helpful. I still never bothered to look for news headlines so what I did was a technique called paying attention.

Though, I’ll regretfully admit I paid slightly more attention to the Trojans. But, to compensate for being a poor date, I held her at my side which I think made her feel better about it. It’s not like I didn’t absolutely adore Irina, I did really. Only, just as a great friend, but who else was I supposed to bring? No, stop thinking about it. You’re here now, it doesn’t matter, enjoy being here.

My inner monologue was ever persistent in its thoughts. Quite frustrating it was to have all these little intersecting thoughts crossing over each other like tiny impulses. Just when I thought it would never end, I felt my hands get a bit clammy and that may have been from my bodies’ inner workings or anxiety, I had no clue.

When Irina asked me, very quietly, “Are you alright? You seem warm,” I brushed it off and said I was fine. Then, thank my life the hosting team began a speech that thoroughly attained everyones’ attention.

“How grateful we are to host such a fine group of teams this year! This season will hopefully be a season like no other, despite last year, and I hope everyone finds themselves at home,” the Lions' captain called into the crowd of student athletes.

Just when I thought there would be no more escape, the food had been prepared such as a banquet normally has. Each team began eating at the same time which meant everyone was shovelling food into their mouths, yet the steady idle chatter never seemed to lull. I deemed that the magic of the bright and cheery, Jeremy Knox. That guy is the most uplifting person I’ve ever met.

Regardless, as everyone was served, there had also been some mediocre wine to go with the meal. I assume it was supposed to be considered a treat to those who wanted it. Apparently, Asher had a favour for the substance because he collected a glass like most of the rest of my team.

I sat and abstained once again, but that never mattered much because as Asher set his glass on his left-hand-side, I placed my glass on my right-hand-side. Since every glass was the same, without looking I accidentally knocked back Ashers’ wine and got the taste.

As soon as the burn hit the back of my throat like I had felt at Eden’s, I went and got a glass for myself. Then another, then another as an addict does. Only, this time I didn’t have the particular barrier to run away like a coward, so I stayed with the rest of the foxes and continued to take another glass as one of my teammates did.

Kevin I knew could handle his alcohol; I could too but I shouldn’t be drinking anyways. My contract covered no excessive substance use in case I were to become addicted like I had in the past. Unfortunately, the only people I’d told about my contract were Betsy and of course Wymack knew.

I tried as best I could to ask for help with my eyes to Renee, just down the table in hints she’d take it away from me because I didn’t have the willpower to do so. I was so weak, I had always been so weak.

As I caught Renees’ attention, she must have noticed the sight I was trying desperately to ask for help without words. I never functioned best with words in my opinion; now, I couldn’t utter a single word of plea regardless.

I thanked the heavens for Renee because she seemed to get my memo because she stood up and placed her hand on my shoulder, with the underlying assistance in her grip. She hunched over slightly and asked me gently, “Do you feel sick?” giving me a chance to leave. Then, she continued, “Abby can check you outside if it’s too much to be here right now. It’s okay, everyone will understand, right?”

I nodded to her and let her guide me out of my seat and back out from where I came after announcing, “Jesse’s a bit sick, I’m gonna bring him outside, but he’ll be okay. Promise.” After that, she shined her bright, beaming smile.

I apologised, “Sorry I didn’t say anything sooner. It’s not great right now though. Bye, thanks for having me here, I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer.” It almost felt like I was trying to fake being sick like I occasionally did when I was a little kid. A charade at best.

Nonetheless, Renee let me off near the bus and went back inside to fetch Abby. Later, Abby returned without Renee and I assumed she only went back to the banquet; I mean, I would hate for her to miss the event because I’m a weak little coward.

Since I inherently was one, Abby asked me questions about how I was feeling and took my temperature like I was really sick. It appeared I’d have to be outright with every adult that ran this team. In hindsight, I didn’t know why she hadn't known already, but I suppose Wymack and Betsy are very serious about confidentiality, not that I’m complaining.

“Abby, Abby. I’m not really sick. I just- my contract when I came here made sure I didn’t have a lot of alcohol or drugs and I got carried away and I couldn’t stop myself and- It’s too much. Sorry for dragging you out here.” Her worry and frown faded into more of a passive, moderately sympathetic look.

She put all of her ‘tools’ away and dug for a bottle of water. “That’s perfectly alright. As adults, we’re supposed to be there for you kids and if you let us be there, we can help.” From my position, just above her, I look down and feel a tear slip down my cheek.

I hadn’t even known it was a tear until Abby wiped it off and offered to bring me a hug. I accepted the embrace with open arms and not-so-subtly began to sob into her shoulder. Sniffling and stuttering, I forced out, “S-sorry. I- I j-just don’t wanna l-lose this.”

The woman calmed me down as she rubbed circles into my back and gradually, the racks of sobs transformed into mere sniffles. Of course, now I feel bad for waiting her time and sobbing into her shoulder, “I’m sorry.”

She pulled back slightly and looked at me straight, “How many times do I have to tell you kids, you don’t have to be sorry. And, don’t you ever go saying ‘I’m fine, I’ve had enough of that’.” Then, she chuckled an infectious laugh that made me crack a small smile.

Abby got permission to take me to the hotel beforehand since we most definitely didn’t intend on driving back tonight. There, she left me a key and took all the alcohol out and moved them to one of the other rooms so I wouldn’t be tempted or anything which I suppose was very kind.

She too left me alone to my own devices so she could return to the banquet once she was sure I’d be fine alone. I thanked her for everything, but ultimately I only had my formal wear, casual clothes, phone, and AirPods. So, I did the most comforting logical thing I could think of and texted Declan.

He answered after a few minutes and at the time it was, his schedule had cleared up. I mean that I was able to stay talking to him until my team returned. Though I didn’t talk to him out of boredom; Declan had been the only person I actively pursued talking to that didn’t live with me and I would eternally remain grateful for someone as infuriatingly, confusingly, benign as he was. I’d grasp everything that he was eventually.

Chapter 16: Confronting Conundrums

Chapter Text

The Monday after returning back to campus from my little escapade, I returned to my classes as normal. I let everyone walk up to me and congratulate the Foxes on the win, as normal. I exemplified progress of the truancy of mystery and false hope from my soul on Danielle like it was normal. Nothing had been out of the ordinary from my weekly routine and I intended to keep it that way.

Internally, I knew I was a liar, a coward, a fraud, but no one else had to know that; excluding the one person I’d openly pour my soul to without intending to in the first place. And so, I let Professor Fiefer question me on the backstory of my piece: Lying and telling him it came from the death of my mother, whom I didn’t know but he had no clue about that detail. What I felt was not for his peeping eyes to discern, I thought.

I knew now that no matter the way I skewed my ideas, the most efficient way to convince someone else of my lie was to believe it myself. For this much, I decided to believe that I knew my mom, to convince myself of a tragic tale. For, the longer I let myself forget the truth, that I’d been abandoned, I might start to feel a bit better about myself.

The being inside of me may want to fix itself for the better, fix me for the better. The creature may find comfort in expressing itself through guitar, as I did. It may find gravity in understanding behind every score, as I did. It may be able to formulate a beautiful composition, composed only of the most wispy tuning.

Everything seemed to disconnect the feeling in my fingertips from the nerves in my mind. Thus, when Prof. Fiefer began to give suggestions, in hope to help each individual on adjusting the tone or sonata entirely, his ideas went in one ear and out the other; akin to shoving a bucket over my head and drowning me in a pool of water.

Really, playing Danielle always felt surreal for me, but never to this degree where I could disassociate with all that surrounded me. Was it her fault, or was the disconnect my fault? I wouldn’t know at all. Mostly because a trumpet player squeaked a little too loudly on her instrument and snapped me out of whatever my mind was doing. Backflips, summersaults, the world may never know, nor I for that matter.

Individually working, I sat with Declan who was creating an almost completely different piece not unlike a circus march where the beat never stopped and the fire behind the undertones was subtle, yet a magnificent idea all the same. It was enlightening to share an interest with someone who thought so similarly yet also in a quality, so antipode.

Though, when we tried to compare and offer whatever help we could, I noticed how he lackadaisically bobbed his head to the sound of my music. Some would have considered it rude, but the notion all the same had been positive because the melody was meant to be slowed with a hint of noir and rainforest.

While I was working on improving what I had, Declan threw out, “Why don’t you change a plucking pattern a bit or play lighter to add more depth. I mean, the way you strum it changes the sound right?”

For someone who knew virtually nothing about guitar, that had been a pretty good suggestion because I usually had a typical way I’d strum and variation might do me some good if I were trying to play directly from my heart. If there are so many layers to myself, why couldn’t my music have that? Brilliant.

To Declan, I spitballed, “Why not force more air, if it’s such a heavy song, make the sound heavier, y’know?” I didn’t know what he thought of my suggestion, but he wrote the idea down even though I didn’t know what that meant. Most likely, he’d not thought of that like I hadn’t thought of strumming techniques. Could that be why partners were such a good idea, to bounce ideas off?

I had no idea of ulterior motives from my professor, but the one thing I was certain of was what kind of semi-classical sad-tone banger this guitar piece would be, surely. This was my passion, my ambition, why could I not put my highest amount of effort into the writing? Answer, I couldn’t ever put too much effort into music. However, I apparently had since I had no clue how to write as if my ‘second’ language had been abandoned.

As time moved forward, the clock spun around and each individual worked both alone and in pairs to mark out kahoots on their own progresses and suggestions for their partners. Fiefer, I had duly noted again, was extremely proficient in the way he taught his classes with maximum efficiency in such a way that he could rotate through and privately help the mass number of students in the class and still have assigned work.

Ingenious the guy really was, but still it did not stop everyone from falling off the bandwagon of ideas like I had. Nearing the end of class, just when I thought I had a placement down right, I couldn’t get the count right that it sounded right for the piece. The mental struggle that I knew was wrong but not how killed the very tracks of my determination.

I watched as Declan worked, I heard as Max worked, as Richie worked, for their resistances did not falter. Yet, somehow mine had. Somehow the walls of my excruciating musical talent had collapsed for the time being. I even felt ever-so-foolish when the class was dismissed because I couldn’t find enough to fix the slightest crack in my rhythm. Was it simply too fragile of a detail the measure seemed to snap without the smooth flow of how it was meant to sound? I had no idea.

I packed away my belongings like I had entered and slung Danielle around to my back in her case. Urging Declan out the door, since he was so wrapped up in his own work, had been more challenging than standing up on my own. I hadn’t experienced such a feeling since I hit this brick wall with my studies in middle school when coursework began to challenge me for the first time.

On the way back to the dorm with Declan, I had thought of a new idea: To write a song with lyrics. I was never too much of the type for perfect lyricism, so I thought the creative continuity of Danielle should have a little more challenge. A new skill tree to work on, perhaps. It’s something I’ve never done before, and perhaps it could let me put emotions into words.

I dismissed Declan as I left the elevator first and unlocked the room to my dorm. Around this time of day, no one else sat in the dorm because we all had morning classes on Mondays, though some earlier than others.

I stripped my shoes from my feet and laid Danielles’ case onto the coffee table in the sitting room. Sitting on the arm of the sofa, I unlatched her coffin and lifted her gently into my grasp. Being the acoustic-electric she was, I decided to write a simple song for eclectic. On acoustic. I had no amp to play electric with.

The melody sounded reminiscent of an older Rock’N’Roll song from the 80’s and I could not find a way to hate on it. There was something so nostalgic about quite the type of song, but it was also the type to allow for angry type lyrics; Intense emotion could flood out of the gates of my soul.

I wanted to start with a lower key that I could adapt into an upbeat-montage sort of piece. It was all about tapping into my inner-passion and overall dream I had since I was a kid. I always wanted to be in a really cool band or play pro. I wanted this song to mirror every dream I’ve ever had.

On that notion, I was begged by my mind to sprint and find my notebook in my cubed shelves. I grabbed one from the second of my four shelves (Paxton had asked permission and claimed the bottom two for his game collection) before dashing back to the open area.

I ravenously flipped open to the next page that had no words and took a pen from the spiral sealing the entire book together. Uncapping the ink, a jumble and rush of words began to flow to my fingertips and onto the paper.

You messed with my head
All that you left unsaid
She said that you missed me
I said that you twist me
All of your messages left on ‘read’

A similar format, playing on words, writing for myself about how my ma left out on me before I even knew her in the obscure way that I did. Until I reached a new part of the story breakaway that continued:

You left me to my own de-vi-ces
I got a new hobby
It kept me from thinking about you
I couldn’t feel sorry
The sound of you missing
The ringing was hissing
The silence is fading
Replace the degrading

I wrote until I had come up with a chorus, two verses, and a bridge that I could format properly. Then, I decided to play Danielle with my rendition of lyrics. Though, I wasn’t actually very good at singing or lyrics because I never played with words much, mainly instrumentals.

When I thought the tune was at least not subpar, I typed everything I had into my phone and recorded a video of the acoustic ‘shredding’. I sent the formatting to the only person I really knew how to send anything to and awaited a reply.

To my relief, the wait time was relatively quick. Until it wasn’t. Declan began typing, then the three dots bouncing would disappear. Then reappear, then disappear for at least a minute or so before I get a voice message.

Throughout the course of the clip, it never sounded like Declan though it was overtly bad, only heavily able to fix. Maxing suggestions on pairing different words, rhyming the schematics, switching about the format of the lines. It almost seemed like everything I’d done was revoked. Which is ridiculous since I’m not that bad. Am I?

Either way, I wanted to refuse to accept constructive criticism until the words itched at the back of my throat. I was barely able to fool around with the lyrics until it had been more along the lines of what Declan had suggested. But, I did nonetheless.

Picking up Danielle and reviewing the words again, I tried to dub them back over the original melody I had on Danielle since that wasn’t what he was focusing on. Begrudgingly as I have to admit, I had to state that Declan actually knew what he was saying.

Flip some words, use a few poetry skills here and there, the song sounded so much better than it already had. Even though I wasn’t very good at creating lyrics to songs, I was able to ask someone for their opinion. Really, it may not mean much, but I never really asked for help and especially not on music.

Declan had only sparked more of this creative passion in me for me to create something even more wonderful than I had ever known. As much as an obvious insult to humanity as he was, he wasn’t such a bad guy, really.

As much as I didn’t want to, I sent a revised copy of the lyrics I wrote back to Declans end that he reviewed at his own discretion. Still, relatively quick, he had more comments to make, though such few.

Change this word here, take this line out. Being much less harsh, he sent a thumbs up and I revised the song again. It’s not that I definitely didn’t enjoy looking over music, believe me I did. The fact was that someone clearly knew more about what they were talking about than me and I had to resolve my issues.

After changing the scripture for the second time, I returned edited portions to Declan and he seemed to at least narrowly validate my post-performance-class-self-imposed-homework. Anyway, a seal of approval from a man like that was basically a trophy in my book, so I stowed Danielle back into her case and sorted my stray belongings.

Stuffing them back into the shelves, I take a look at the basic French vocabulary I’d been given as well as the English paper that was due next Friday. A necessary evil as I liked to call it. Yet, I stayed that way until Asher returned to our dorm within the hour.

Practice later consisted of conditioning and introducing a new set of skills that our stickers could do: aiming really low, through everyone’s feet. Basically, it was a difficult tactic, but would be very difficult to stop if it was able to be performed correctly.

Essentially, Kevin and Neil gave the rest of us the most difficult time on the planet from adapting so well, and Paxton lagged behind them from not being able to interpret the movements as fast. Don’t get me wrong though, he’s still a beast and we let a few down.

Within what seemed like no time at all, my breaths were scarce and the adrenaline pulsated through me. My instinct and observing Kevins’ and Neils’ playstyles for so long had been the only thing keeping me afloat throughout practice now.

It was so intense that I swear a few of us looked like we were about ready to collapse. Namely, Nicky, myself, and Irina. Nicky muttered something about not liking running and Irina was more petite and had to be so goddamn fast. I knew it was difficult and she wasn’t particularly the type to run up as much as the seniors.

But, collectively our Goalies, Backliner, and Dealers stopped the Strikers and remaining Dealers from scoring more adequately and the offensive improved significantly from the introduction of the skill. Though, Kevin may have been proficient because Wymack and him had discussed it in the first place.

Our team was so thorough with our practice, that Coach agreed to let us off a bit earlier than normal since we’d worked so hard and accomplished our original goal.

Unfortunately for me, less practice meant more free time. I’m sure I'd find something to do eventually, but right now my highest level of concern was the cold shower I’d be taking in a minute. As soon as I peeled the sticky gear from my body. I packed it away as I always did and greeted the sweat and aching pain with freezing cold water.

The blasting cold shower after a heat-filled, relentless day had always been a great reward in my eyes; Even if I rushed through it because I didn’t actually want to freeze my balls off. It could happen, you never know.

When I had finished, the rest of the freshmen and I packed ourselves into Irina’s car like we’d been doing for about two months now. The drive back to Fox Tower became more lively than it was at first because as much as I didn’t particularly bond with Robin, Irina definitely had. The red head contributes to a lot of our car conversations and even Paxton gives his input sometimes. Though, it’s never about anything serious or important.

When I return to the tower, I step out with the rest of us and walk into the lobby. To my surprise, (which shouldn’t have shocked me in any way) the soccer team had just been getting off practice at their normal time. Now, I could have an activity to do, I thought; work on my music for class.

It sounds stupid but every time I lay my eyes on the team, I think of Declan. Usually when I think of Declan, I think of music and all that accompanies it. So, connecting the two factors together, I walk up to my ‘friend’ and invite him, “You want to go back to my dorm and work on music or something?”

I completely ignore the rest of my teammates honestly when he rolls his eyes and tells me intuitively, “There are other things to do than music.” While that is true, most of my life generally centred around music, exy, and racing. That could potentially be something, racing.

I nod and wave goodbye since he still needs to put the rest of his equipment back in his dorm. Really, I didn’t know what equipment you needed for Soccer, but Soccer equipment was definitely not the same stuff you need for Exy.

I returned to my room with my teammates and Paxton occupied the couch as he always did, but Asher had been in the bedroom with me. When a knock sounded on the door, I felt suddenly terrible for exiling Asher from his own room but he told me it’ll all be alright.

“I’ve been meaning to study at the library, it’s cool anyways.”

“I don’t want to kick you out or anything?”

“It’s all good, I’ll see you later.”

As he collected what he’d need for the library, I invited Declan in and pointed him in the direction of my room, urging him to ignore Paxtons’ occasional gaming screeches.

Asher stumbled out of the bedroom with an assortment of books and his laptop before rushing a quick bye and telling me not to wreck everything. How childish and oddly accurate to tell me that anyways. I wouldn’t be surprised if we broke something.

Anyway, as we walked into the dorm’s bedroom, he threw himself on Paxton’s bed. It was kind of funny, but I still had to inform him, “Not my bed. Get off.” Which he did thankfully and even straightened out the blanket on the mattress in addition to re fluffing the pillow.

After that awkwardly funny moment, he threw himself onto my bed and leaned back against the wall. His words that greeted me, “What do you wanna do?”

I sure as hell didn’t really know. “Anything? This was partially your idea.”

“And you invited me over, twat.”

“All my stuff is on that bookshelf and that desk.” I move my pointer finger and exemplify which belongings in the room were mine, as if to show him around but also let him explore the setting at his own pace.

While he dug through my non-incriminating belongings, I decided to ask him about the one thing he probably couldn’t find about my possessions by searching the depths of my bedroom. “You know a lot about cars?”

He never looked over from scanning through my selection of multilingual books while he replied, “I’d say a bit more than average, but not much. Why?”

I found myself wanting to tell him about my Demon and all that encompassed my baby. “I know a lot, love ‘em actually. Got myself the fastest-manufactured car run on gas. Tesla is a good contender, but my baby's got better top speeds.”

I chuckle and he snarks, “Oh yeah? What do you got?”

I had a sensational, stunning, wine red, “Dodge Challenger Demon SRT 170. 2.3, 0-60 and 808 horsepower.” I always loved the name of my baby in my mouth and the sound of her stats in my ears. “I race her actually.”

Declan switched over from examining the bookshelf to the contents of what lay on my desk. The same desk that held a lamp, a small potted plant, a spread of papers, and a notepad for English ideologies. I walk over near the side of my desk and stand, gazing at him filing through my homework.

“Isn’t street racing illegal? I doubt you do it professionally,” he said to me as I smirked to myself while he kept his monotone voice consistent.

I slightly scoffed and reasoned, “A little bit. I’d appreciate it if you said nothing about it, but I’d definitely be in jail if you do.”

This time, he chuckled and I stepped to his side as he took up the song I’d sent him before practice that I’d been working on. When he looked up to look at me in the face after not being very talkative for once, he stood too close together.

I could tell we stood much too close together because when I looked at him in return our faces were much too close for the comfortable liking. Even so, neither of us backed away from our current position at the desk.

Just when I thought the moment couldn’t get more sensuous, Declan looked at each of my eyes, left to right, then down past my eyes, below my nose, and presumably at my lips. The notion of his caught me carefully in such a way I imitated the movement with awareness.

I took in some sort of connection that these were social queues and I closed my eyes gently, being able to sense everything around me, but not see. Though, the first thing I would feel would be the fiery lips that paired against mine. Sliding like sailing waves, he guided me through the sensation until we had to pull away.

I thought the feeling was brilliant and I had actually never kissed anyone before so the whole experience was virgin to me. The second advancement harboured more passion as his lips were slightly rougher with mine as he waited his turn to slip some tongue into the kiss.

The texture and taste was odd at first to have someones’ mouth on mine, but with each passing second the only word I could use to describe the fleeting wave of sensation was real. Not real in the sense that Declan was physically tangible when he intertwined his fingers into the back of my hair or gently set his other hand on my shoulder. But, he was real in the way that he was authentic.

Truthfully, I had never given much thought into doing anything physical with Declan. Sure, I liked him a lot but I’d never know the outcome of how he felt or thought about kissing him, perhaps further. The thoughts had never crossed my mind to begin with. Now, all I could feel was the authenticity of his physical passion.

Drawing back, still only feeling slightly awkward, but very much euphoric, we say nothing to each other. Then, a time passes before his facial expression melts from enveloped to regretful.

Declan starts to question himself internally but still out loud, “Why did you do that? You had no right. No idea if it were even-”

I cut him off before he could say more, “Hey. I’m all good.” Then, I talk down to him so that he could even have a possibility of staying and ‘hanging’ because I could tell his fight or flight response right now was most definitely into it’s flight situation/

But, there was no way Declan could listen to me, as if he was trapped inside by his own mind. “No, no it’s fine. I’ll go now. See you later,” he hurriedly tells me. Crossing around, collecting what he owned after throwing it into his pockets desperately.

Before there truly is any time to say something to prevent Declan from bolting, he strode out of the dorm so fast even Paxton paused his game and took it off to tell me, “What did you do to make that guy run away?

First of all, that was between myself, Dominic, and the lord himself. Second of all, “I really don’t know.” Even whilst my friend had completely bailed on me, I could relish in the growing experience of a first kiss. As well as a second. And a third. Regardless, Paxton resumed his game right away and paid no attention to me.

All the while, I didn’t know what I entirely did wrong to Declan and I felt subtly like a teenage girl: giddy and mentally exhilarated. Plus, when I tried to text him, I’d see he opened the message and said nothing about it. Even then, his calls never picked up.

I knew I’d be okay not talking to him for a bit, it’s not like my life had depended on anything related to Declan, right. Only now I knew his ‘battle’. That’s how I would at least describe it now that I’m talking about because I had thought probably similar to him at one point.

‘This is wrong.’

‘I can’t stop thinking about him.’

‘I find him more attractive than a lot of girls I’ve met.’

His mentality had to be somewhat similar, no? Regardless, I was forced to engage in my hobbies and put off any remaining thoughts I could have of Declan still.

Chapter 17: Fuzz Brain

Chapter Text

At this point, Declan hadn’t talked to me all week, I’d played so
much guitar my fingers' calluses' had filed down, and I had an English paper due and a French summative. Yet, with as much as I had going on, I still had a game to play today.

I forced myself to channel all my thoughts and stress into music. My energy all shot directly into exy, despite still being subpar to normal because my thoughts and emotions clouded my judgement.

I couldn’t find the guy at all during the past week, not for lack of trying though, that’s for sure. I texted him, tried to catch him leaving for practice (and failing). I thought I messed up the best friendship I had made at this place.

I thought so heavily, until my eyes laid upon someone that looked identical to him seated in the stands. I heard the outdoor sports had been cancelled due to a thunderstorm in the area, but I never imagined some of the other teams would watch our game.

I saw a number of the soccer team sitting in the stands, close together. And someone I had thought I’d seen in a football jersey one time. I wasn’t very well versed in many of the other sports. I only knew some of the soccer team because I had occasionally run into them with Declan.

But, now he was here. Him being here meant he couldn’t hate me, right? Or was he forced into tagging along by one of his other friends. Surely not. Right? Regardless, I had to keep moving, hopefully not sustain any injuries, and play better than I had been at practices. Those had been disasters.

I had been so absent-minded all week I even had a sit-in conversation at the diner Nicky had taken me to that one time. Not only had I talked a bit of everything out with Nicky, I had also booked a second slot with Betsy because I knew I could at least talk to her.

In the end, they didn’t really ‘help’. I was only able to actually voice my self-imposed issues out loud, and they’re advisories weren’t helpful. “Visit his dorm, find him before or after class.” Tried that, couldn’t do that, we only had one class per week together.

By the time I pulled myself back in from my internal tangent, it was because the ball was being whipped at my face by Matt. He was aiming for Neil who was supposed to run through the centre, but Matt’s aim was too far off to make the proper pass. I was left to throw my larger net across my face and clutch the ball from the striker I was trying to defend from as a mark.

The only thing to do is to practically close my eyes and shoot. I whipped my head around and kept the ball tucked, making a split-second decision to try and pull off what Kevin and Neil’s specialty was. No one had been open since I couldn’t pass back to Matt and Paxton was stalking past this really big guy. I mean at least a foot on me, I swear.

Either way, Neil wasn’t directly open and Allison had taken the chance to drive Neil’s mark away so he could get open, but those two were ever so slightly ahead of her she’d need time to catch up. Time I didn’t have.

I glanced sharply at Neil and threw a nod to the barricades that held up the plexiglass. Using the epitome of my instincts, I shot the ball down court, to the right side, to Neil. Off the wall of the plexiglass, the ball made a clunk noise and if my angles and trajectory had been any more off, Neil would have missed.

This would be about the time I thanked the Gods I had paid so much attention in Trigonometry back in high school. But hey, I managed to barely pass off their move. Right?

To be fair, the striker around me on the Catamounts blocked my line of view as soon as the ball left my net, so I hadn’t been sure I made it until the announcers called it a ‘narrow save by Neil Josten’.

The watching eyes scanned from me to Neil, from Allison to Neil’s mark, from Neil to the goalie, from the goalie to one Catamount dealer. I could feel them. The foxes had fans in the stands responding with “Oooh.” like they’d been hurt from every angle.

After my selfish move, our team lost momentum. Playing through the first half, Robin left a few goals in sure. But without the full extent of our spirits, every time we should've had an easy goal, I dropped it, or Paxton dropped it, even Neil dropped it and led to a turnover.

The way we had been fighting with ourselves had been miserable. Even after four games now, three of which were at our home stadium, we’d been winning. Our strength in playing and teamwork matter-of-factly had been nearly spot on.

Now, no one was so sure we’d be able to stick this one out. When we’d gotten called in for a time out, Wymacks’ player speech left us to throw ourselves out of the gutter. “I know you guys can do this, I’ve seen it before. We’ve played damn risky games,” the man looks in my direction and nods, “but there’s no reason to quit now. Play out the rest of the half, Paxton you’re back on in the second, and let’s finish this half. Robin, I know you’ve been workin’ hard, don’t let them score on you.”

His words dug us out of the trenches, but his motivation never lit our kindle. We didn’t play as horrible and we became barriers of steel. We stopped as many plays as we could in the remaining six minutes, but still we were unable to actually score on them and tip the scales in our favour.

The halftime was greeted with relief and going back on, I did not play again. Our team in the second was better than in the first and while it was possible to come back out on top, I could tell each and every person was giving their hardest efforts. It wasn’t enough to pull ourselves past the Catamounts. They had handed us our first loss on a silver platter.

Eager to get away from the game and the press, which were left to Robin and Paxton, I changed quickly as I could after barely sticking around for Wymacks’ you-did-good-but-not-good-enough-speech. Practically speeding through my shower, I was determined to be the first one to leave so I could at least get a single word in to Declan.

A single word would be all I needed if I could at least get through to him in some way. Dodging people into the crowds leaving the stadium, I noticed the clump of athletes, hovering slightly off to the side to wait for more people to pass.

Shoving my way over to them, I greeted him and thanked them for coming. They all said their ‘sorry for your loss’ bits and told me it was still cool to watch though.

“Sorry you guys had to come see us in a losing game.” I rubbed my neck awkwardly and faced the group, addressing them all.

That’s when the star of the show said, “I’ll catch up with you guys later,” and his friends joined the thinner horde of people leaving.

When they were gone, he said to me, “That one play was pretty cool. But, it didn’t look like you.” Truthfully, it wasn’t. It was only a copied tactic I thought I could use.

“It wasn’t. But, that doesn’t mean I don’t have stuff of my own.” I chuckled slightly, but the tension was still high from Monday evening. “Look, I’m sorry if I did something wrong, I just- I don’t know. I’ve never done? I’ve never done something like that?”

I drill down straight to the root of our issues. “No, it’s nothing you did. I just, I didn’t ask and I didn’t want to take advantage of you, and I felt bad. Sorry about that, it was just…really awkward.” His gaze adverts me so attentively. This man looks anywhere but back at my eyes, it’s ridiculous.

“I guess, we’re okay then?”

“I guess we are.” Then, I hear what possibly could be the worst idea I’ve ever heard and miraculously, through my saddened-from-losing state, I agree. “You want to go to a party? I know this place since soccer got cancelled and I was planning to go already, but if you wanted to go too, I could bring you?”

The last thing I needed was a party, but I was so desperate for a pick me up, I agreed. Then, I took Declan around to find Irina and tell someone I’d catch them back at the dorms later, I’m going out with a friend first. Again, possibly the worst idea ever, but hey. At least I have someone with me?

Taking my car that I had driven to the game beforehand, (I previously hadn’t because if someone so much as scratched my baby I’d be pissed) I pulled out from my secluded space, away from every visitor. My friend sat in the passenger seat next to me and I dutifully warned him, “Feet on the ground, no food or drinks in the car.”I mean we didn’t have any beverages or food, but it couldn’t hurt to add the precaution for any possible future endeavours.

While I drove, Declan gave me simple directions to ‘turn left in a mile, straight for two’ as a navigator. He input directions to the place into his phone, so I couldn’t actually tell where we were going. But, I do know that the drive was within 25 miles.

When we got there, Declan disappeared for a moment, then he returned with another guy in tow. He was taller than I was, asian, longer side swept hair, but overall seemed decently cool. He extended a hand for me to shake and introduced himself as Justin.

When I went to introduce myself, I used my real name rather than the name I’d been using instead for the polite convenience of Neil before it caught on. “Nathan, pleasure.” We used our pleasantries as a gateway where I was offered a cup with some deeper coloured liquid.

As soon as I took a sip, I could taste the fruitful flavour, but it didn’t have alcohol. No, I could just taste the medicinal-reliever I frequented so often before. This was a party, who was I trying to kid myself with. I knew there would be substances here and I still came. I made no move to fully acknowledge the spike I’d noticed in the drink. Truly, if I hadn’t known all too well what the taste of drugs was, I’d have thought some of the fruit had changed the taste.

Justin left us off to greet some more newcomers with, “Have some fun, enjoy the party!” and smiled ever so brightly. Then, Declan and I were left to our own devices.

“You gave him a fake name did you? Little liar.” He playfully punched my shoulder as I assume friends do. In all honesty, I told him the most correct, authentic truth rather than a lie.

“Actually, Nathan is my real name. Jesses’ just my middle name.” He co*cked his head in an are-you-serious-or-just-messing-with-me-look.

Proceeding the look, he clasped my shoulder and told me, “Okay Nate. Let’s go have some fun.”

Guiding me off towards the kitchen area, we found a group of people surrounding the centred island. On that marble island, lay white lines, separated by drivers’ licences. As we advanced towards the counter and squeezed in amongst the group, Declan took his turn.

The encouragement from every other body surrounding us was astounding. After Declan absorbed in his line, who was I to deny one that could be reserved for me?

I know I’m weak, and I know that I shouldn’t be falling back to any old habits because of someone else. But, being so weak I just didn’t know how to stop myself properly because I was simply enjoying it too much. The feeling of the high, the enjoyment of just plain life again.

Everything felt like a fantasy, like a dream. My head swam with the rush I had felt like I was in Chicago. The emotions of freedom, homesickness, joy, fought to the forefront of my being. Everything I experienced from that point on amplified tenfold it seemed.

A grin solidified on my face and I wrapped my arm around the shoulder next to me as I too encouraged these other people to snort down their chalky lines. Who was I now but to encourage a little fun like my peers?

I knew of myself being tugged in another direction, toward a pool table in what seemed to be a living room. By now, it was hard to tell which room was which. The table held cups with what I assumed was beer. Ten set up in a triangle formation and whichever team shot a ball in the others’ cup, that team would drink.

A simple game and fun to watch but disastrous to play. The only person I know here is Declan however, and what does Declan do? He calls us in as the next match is about to begin.

We face off against a team of girls, Claire and Gabriella; both of them are really pretty and the look on their face that made them seem like they were going to win made me determined to prove them wrong. With each shot made, each person participating became progressively more chaotic and idiotic.

I know I, myself, have become a spluttering giggling mess. At this point, I was simply enjoying myself and the tolerance I had rewarded myself with through my teenage years of substance abuse. Though, it definitely made moments and party’s like this more fun.

Gabriella had scored the last of our cups on Declans’ turn to drink and we had only gotten in six. This meant that they’d won and we were drunkenly sad and defeated. Not for long we were disappointed because one of the two chimed, “Hey, don’t be sad,” slurred, in their clearly messed up speech, however I found it endearing. “Let’s go find some more fun.”

Our party so to speak doubled and we walked in the garage where the car had been cleared out to a game of truth or dare. I didn’t even know where all these games seemed to spawn out of, it’s like there was a new event in every room. But, I’m sure Declan had known what kind of detail would be there as he heard about it first.

Claire asked if we could sit in and the circle grew to like twelve eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one year olds crowded around, sharing and daring the most obnoxious thing they could think of. Seriously.

“I dare you to take off your pants and swing them around.”

“Name the freakiest thing you’ve ever done.”

“Kiss everybody in this circle right now.”

I mean hey, that last one was like a benefit to everybody because one, who doesn’t like a little girl on girl action? And two, this girl was a damn good kisser, or at least I thought she was.

When my turn in the game came around, I replied cheerily, “Dare!” and then the guy across from me gave me my sentence.

“Let someone sit on your face.”

A surround sound of chants, laughter, and ‘oohing’ chortled into my ears. I shook out my hands and challenged him. Bold as I am, I even asked, “Any volunteers?” and two of the other girls that weren’t Claire or Gabriella stood up. One began to argue with the other for the position in the dare, but to end all fights, I chose the one with the bigger ass and less tit*.

Not very feminist of me, I know, but I was drunk and drugged so that was the least of my worries. I laid down on my back with my knees propped up and the girl I’d chosen lowered herself onto my face.

It was inherently a bit harder to breathe, but ever-so-coincidentally (not) she happened to be wearing the cutest skirt I’d ever seen. Or maybe it wasn’t and the intoxication was only messing with my head as I’m sure it was, but the freedom I could now have for the next unprecedented amount of time was freeing.

Until the girl was coaxed off through the jeers in my direction of, “That’s enough buddy,” and proud commentary, I felt liberated. I was able to enjoy the contentment of her squirming on top of me, though sure enough I could still breathe. I was able to play with the situation to the best of my advantage. I was even able to listen to the sounds of this wonderful girl.

I knew I’d been at least partially fulfilled and enlightened when it became due time to leave the group, though not before blowing a well-deserved kiss to the girl who volunteered to sit on my face. And, the next place we moseyed off to was near the front entryway.

Declan had begun to tell me to, “Wait here.” since he needed to use the restroom for a minute and I obliged, having no complete reason not to. I sat myself on the staircase leading to the second story of the house party. To distract myself, having actually brought my phone since I’d gotten used to carrying it over the past week, I wandered through what little it held.

I carried myself to different conversations from Declan, the music group chat, Nicky, and landed on Irina, whose contact I’d gotten from the fall banquet. It didn’t feel right to text Nicky and he’d probably be elated anyways. So, I began to type simple things in the text box to Irina.

‘Hi :)’
‘How are you?’

She replied back near instantly; she had always been a quick texter.

‘Good’
‘R u having fun wherever u r?’

Now I replied.

‘Mhm’
‘I’m at this really cool party :o)’

‘What’s at the party?’

‘A lot of people, it’s really fun’

I could never give a direct answer because everything about my partially monitored exterior from before, collapsed. Then, I began to wonder where Declan went and I dropped my phone into my pocket, not looking for Irina’s reply.

On my search to find the other man, I wandered into someone who nearly checked me into a wall. The strike was at such a full force that I swear it rattled something inside my bones. I began to feel a chilling shake and I dashed outside the doors to the backyard, being nearest to it.

Off to the side, I vomited my lungs out of all its contents. I had a higher tolerance but I’d certainly downed so much substance I hadn’t taken that much in months. Plus, my sh*ts never rocked while I was under.

Declan must have been searching for me when I wasn’t in the same spot and found me looking as queasy as I was off to the side. “Woahhh there, are you good? You’re like sick.”

Clearly, but either way I shut my eyes tight and reopened them to enhance my vision. Leaning on Declan for support, he wrapped his arm around me, quite literally holding me up and set me down onto a rock.

Making sure I was okay, I pulled out my phone again to Irina’s text.

Zoning out from Declan who eventually gave up and sat next to me, I read what my former date had responded to me.

‘Cool. We’re not doin’ much around the tower. :(‘

Then, after my episode, my tone completely changed.

‘Not fun anymore’
‘I threw up’

‘R u okay?!’

She asked me in her modernised way of typing.

‘Pick me up pretty please. <3’

I watched her typing and then she stopped. Then I saw her typing and send the next text.

‘Where r u?’

I turn to Declan and ask him, “Where are we?” He tries his best to spell it correctly into my phone, but I don’t think he did because even with autocorrect, his spelling was worse than mine. And before Irina was about to make her way to pick me up, I add:

‘Can you get a taxi here?’
‘I’ll pay’
‘I just drove my car here. ;(‘

She agreed to procure an Uber, being cheaper, on the drive over to this house and pick us up. I felt sick and I lost most of the fun and joyride of being at the party in the first place. When the crash happened, I was typically at home, but now I just wanted to go home.

While we waited together for my knight in shining armour to arrive, we got a couple girls to hang out with us and talk to us. I never got either of their names, but they were flirtatious and caring. Both of them were sweet to two completely foolish, one sickly and one lively boys.

They took care of me, I thought until I got a text from Irina that she was almost there nearly forty minutes later. I suppose I felt a little bad when she showed up, but I made sure to venmo the driver for like sixty bucks because that had to be enough and at least a decent tip, right?

When my saving grace came to really collect myself and my partner in crime, my bladder decided I had to go to the bathroom first. It was a good thing I had too because I apparently really needed to go.

When I had exited the bathroom, I found Irina, being insufferably hit on by some much larger guy. Much larger than me too, but who was I to stand around like an idiot when this girl that personally came to assist me and help me back home was being harassed? Anybody with eyes could tell she didn’t want to be there, the way she was shying away from him.

“HEY! Get away from her!” I push the other guy away from her. But, less of a push and more like an aggressive shove. I may be shorter than average but being a backliner, I did have a necessary amount of muscle mass to make this guy stagger back a few feet.

I turn to Irina and ask if she’s okay, then I feel a whip from behind me to the right side of my face. Hard.

I jostled to the side and stumbled when the man I’d pushed hit me back, much harder than I hit him. From there, it only escalated further until Declan jumped in from somewhere and the other guy's friend held us both back.

Quickly, Declan and Irina herded me out the door and I handed my car keys to Irina. Why couldn’t I trust her when she had driven me to and from the court so many times and I genuinely cared a lot for her. I figured she was responsible enough to drive my precious baby. Plus, I was in no state to drive her myself anyway.

I nursed my bleeding nose and some rough spots I was sure would leave nasty bruises in the morning as I got assisted into the backseat of my car. I could’ve probably sat up front, but I was more comfortable with the space in the back anyways as I tried not to bleed all over the leather seats. I didn’t want to have to have any detail done from my own stupidity, plus that would cost a fortune.

Declan took his seat in front of me, on the passenger side and Irina took her position in the drivers’ seat. From where I sit, I still tell Declan, “Feet on the floor,” before I hold all the blood between my fingers and muffle my words.

During the drive, we all stay silent and I’m thankful because my head is starting to hurt. Despite that factor, I dwell heavily on what a great party it had been until I’d thrown up. Things only went downhill from there, and Irina led me safely back to the tower.

When I had been dropped off at my dorm and Irina aided a floppy Declan back to his, I got help from her by washing the blood and lathering bruise cream onto my cheekbone where my flesh seemed to darken unnaturally.

The room, being devoid of my teammates mysteriously, I changed into some old sweats and crawled into bed as Irina wished me a goodnight and no sooner than hitting the mattress did I fall asleep. My dreams were filled with girls and pain, but with the drugs still somewhere in my system, I was bound to have vivid dreams anyway.

Still, nothing could prepare me for the morning where I’d undoubtedly be in for a world of pain, should I not have figured that out already.

Chapter 18: No Bad Deed Goes Unpunished

Chapter Text

Rise and shine, it’s a brand new morning and as I try to turn my body over to prevent the sun from shining at me, I feel the unease and bruising from the previous night. To my luck, of course not a single soul is in my dorm anyway.

Actually stepping out from underneath my covers, I shower all the filth and pest off my body from last nights’ excursion. I really don’t think I can just wash all the putrid stink off though. Only Declan knows all that I did and I’m not even sure he remembers half of it.

When I clean myself off, I go over to the bedroom and put on my bracelets while opening my phone with the opposing hand. The time was much later than I expected, since it had already reached midday. But, I suppose I did come back much later from the party than I expected.

Regardless, I make to text Declan and ask how he is because I’m sure he felt worse than I did; when I do, I see a missed call from Nicky, a few from numbers I hadn’t added to my contacts, and some texts to follow. The timestamp told me that they stopped coming in a couple hours ago and whoever sent them had presumably cooled off.

When I left my dorm, I knocked on 317, the room Nicky was occupying. If he called me, he was right across the hall where I could just ask now that I was awake. Aaron opened the door with the same unamused expression he always did, but this time I couldn’t place how it was an angled look. He nodded me towards the couch where Nicky was too entranced by his video games to look away.

When his character died, he threw his hands up in defeat and set the controller down and spared me a glance, then he looked twice. As he looked twice and rested on me, he stood up and I asked, “You called?”

Walking over but still putting some unusual distance in between us, even after Aaron had walked off was off. Nicky was normally quite the extroverted guy, though I did figure that compensated lightly for his cousins’ and Kevin, along with Neils’ lack of emotion. When he finally spoke up, he said, “Yeah, Renee asked me to, to see if you would pick up. She wants to talk with you.”

I had no idea, though vaguely, what Nicky could be referring to so I only knitted my eyebrows in slight confusion. “She stopped calling me, does she still want to talk?” I didn’t know, maybe she misplaced something and was asking me where it was, though I doubt it. Renee didn’t seem like the type to freak out or misplace things like that anyways. Besides, when could she have?

He nodded and informed me gently, “She’s in her dorm. I think you should talk to her.” I could see he was muttering a small whisper under his breath because his lips were slightly moving, but not enough that I could hear or see coherent words portrayed on his lips. I chose to ignore it as he didn’t seem to be in his average, inquisitive mood.

Waving, I let Nicky return to his own room before walking over to the room next to: The Senior Girls’ room. Knocking on their door, I felt oddly distant. I hadn’t talked to Renee all that much, though she did know some of my internal struggles and had helped me. I didn’t know why she'd want to have a conversation or something along the likes.

When her door slid open, I saw her and her really beautiful platinum blonde hair with rainbow highlights in a cosy outfit, the type you’d wear on a relaxed weekend like today. Though, when she saw me in all my confusion, her face creased with frustration. I didn’t know why, but she’d make me know, I was sure.

She allowed me to step into the room, again similar to my layout, and closed the door. I started to greet her, “Hey, Nicky said you called me?” and I continued but I could slightly hear her say my name, quietly. “I was just there and he said it was important,” she said it again, my name, “To come talk to you-”

“Jesse!” she called, effectively stopping me from continuing to talk. “Jesse, last night, after the game, you went to that party-” her voice seemed somewhat desperate. For what, I didn’t know but at the mention of the party, I knew this wouldn’t be a fun conversation. “You went with your friend, and that’s fine. Most of our team gets screwed up every once in a while, but we never hurt each other!”

Hurt each other, how would- “We all have our bad habits, bad pasts, but you dragged someone else into your bad habits. Irina told me how messed up you were after someone was hitting on her and you decided to fight the guy? You got beat up and drunk and high and you had to get someone else involved. Why do you keep doing this to yourself?”

Renee was driving me speechless. My mouth bubbled for words and I couldn’t think of one that would escape my mouth. When she noticed how pathetic I was to not say anything, she continued, “You always said no to alcohol before, then at the banquet I see now you had glasses and glasses, then the party- You’re loopy and you’re drugged up. What is this?” I try to take a step forward.

When I step closer to Renee, she takes a step back and I reach out my hand, “Renee, I-”

“You what?”

“I’m sorry. I- I tried to stop, I know it’s wrong I just- I can’t stop myself; I can’t help it!”

The expression of disdain glistens into the water that fills her eyes. “If you can’t help yourself, neither can any of us! Neil, last year he was quite literally a target for assassination, but he never led any of us to any trouble! All everyone on this team has gone through individually, bringing other people into our problems has never been something we’ve done.”

Her anger and frustration as well as sadness bubble to the surface and surge through me as I finally understand her words, her point: ‘There’s no way I can help you’. She did it before, but I crossed some imaginary line that severed all our trust because I let my old habits die hard. They didn’t die, my past addictions festered inside me and became a menace until they finally poured loose and created consequences for me.

“Renee…” I say, trailing off feeling helpless. There’s nothing I could do that wouldn’t take time, and I didn’t have the energy to repair some sort of friendship. I was too busy wallowing in my own stupidity and weakness to care.

The words she uttered were strained as if and steadier a voice would let out a train of emotions, no, emotions sealed behind a dam ready to burst. Those words were, “No, you need to go.”

The pain I felt with her voice made me twinge and feel a loathing, gaping hole in my chest, along with guilt because she was right. Dragging someone else into my issues was the wrong thing to do, and I’m simply too weak and cowardly to control myself and my darkest desires. On that note, I turned to the door and went to the roof for fresh air.

Inconveniently, the all-too-indifferent Minyard was perched on the edge of the building, just as I should have expected he would be. Key word: should. I should have expected him to be there, as he always was, but I didn’t expect it this time.

Regardless, I ignored his statue-like build and paced to the edge of the roof before sliding down to my back lying prostrate and my head nearly hanging off the edge had there not been some semblance of a rail. From my seat I stared up at the sky, breathing pure air, and trying to push any emotion I had downwards. I watched the clouds pass overhead in all shapes.

I watched clouds pass until my thoughts just rambled on inside my brain. Knowing he hadn’t moved since I climbed up to the roof, I asked Andrew, “You know too?” implying that if he did he’d understand what I meant.

As he took a puff of his cigarette, he calmly told me, “I know,” then took another pause. He was never quick to say words like anyone else I’d known here. Even the speed he talked differed from the string of feelings Renee experienced. “I may be disappointed, but I know.”

But, he said disappointed. He wasn’t frustrated or mad, he wasn’t upset or anything really. Somehow though, disappointment struck me worse than plain anger did. He’d expected something of me, and I let him down by presumably placing Irina in a place she shouldn’t have been in. Just then, my nose, my face, my bruises ached with remembrance from last night; their colour a deep black and blue shade amongst my paler skin.

I closed my eyes, not wanting to see his expression, or the cloud above me any longer. “You said you were an addict. I knew it. Everyone else may not have, but I did. You knew how bad it was, and you couldn’t stop it.” Did Andrews’ reasoning not have anything to do with Irina and only his disappointment with my psychological weakness? Probably, since he didn’t pay much attention to the majority of our team most of the time.

“I couldn’t stop myself because I knew how bad it was.” It was true, there was a difference between what he’d said and what I’d said. My definition simply came with the fact that I knew I was weak, and I had done nothing to stop myself or tell anyone. Even going to the party, I had known what would be there without Declan even telling me, and I still told no one I knew it wouldn’t end up well.

Here I am now, knee deep in my own mistakes and stupidities. How foolish am I? The answer is very. Nothing more seemed to be said, I thought. Andrew spoke in a more solemn tone, “I believe the whole team knows by now, I’d be weary of everyone. The only people who might want to talk to you are probably my family and Asher.”

We sat for a moment longer in silence as I contemplated the news of ‘You have no friends here anymore,’ and decided it was enough. Enough trying to talk to people when I knew most people would never listen. Andrew might, but I didn’t care to find out if he did or not because I didn’t want to interrupt him any longer. I didn’t want to disappoint him any further. So, I left.

I took my leave back towards the stairs I had originally come up and gone back to my dorm. Still empty, I made myself choose between playing music and going for a drive. The latter won because if either Asher or Paxton came back, I really didn’t need to see them. It’s not like I could confront Irina either.

Matter-of-factly, I felt as if I could barely talk to Declan right now. Though, he wasn’t involved in my team so I’m sure we’ll be alright, but how important is it to have one person on your side when your team didn’t have your back even just a little bit?

I took my Demon out and cruised around as much land as I could until I found myself speeding just around. I didn’t really have a destination, no navigation, nor any clue where I was going. The only thing I had was intuition and that hardly counted, right? It didn’t really matter all the same.

I drove by myself until I had to fill up my tank, but to be fair it may have been a little lower than I’d have liked to begin with. I drove alone until I didn’t want to sit longer in my car and I had racked up everything I had so that I wouldn’t let it go around people I couldn’t consider friends at the moment. My greatest hope was that I could still consider Asher a person worth my trust. Right? That’s two now. And one of those two partially got me into the mess to begin with, though I don’t blame him, it isn’t his fault.

I shouldn’t have been surprised when we had practice later that week that no one cared for me particularly. Though not everyone hated me, no one went out of their way to pass anything to me, stayed away from covering me, and overall didn’t talk to me. It was infuriating.

I was acknowledged, yet I was always being ignored. Look, I know I did something I regret and I- It’s not like I can go back, I’d fix it if I could. I wouldn’t even join the team to begin with, then I wouldn’t bother anybody with my stupid addictions.

I had even told that very same thing to Wymack before he told me, “We need you to take up appointments with Betsy. To keep you on the team, your contract said no recreational drugs and alcohol, and I’ve been doing everything to keep you.”

In the haste of my screwed up, problematic life, I had forgotten the basis for my contract and the fact that I was not allowed to take drugs or do alcohol because in any case it could reset my progress, which it did, it would be non-beneficial for the team. Therefore, I am now a liability.

Being that person, I had begun to feel like everyone was against me. So much so that I tried to avoid the majority of my team by playing as much music as my hands would allow and staying out or waking up and leaving earlier so I didn’t talk to my roommates. I knew Asher couldn’t hate me, but I didn’t like facing him when we were both friends with Irina.

Basically, I was shunned from the majority of the team and they wanted nothing particular to do with me. I even felt like Wymack was incredibly disappointed, which he probably was. I was a trouble, a hassle for these wonderful people to deal with and now I’m just collateral.

That was my perspective of thinking until, unlike the rest of the week of no one talking to me, someones’ shadow appeared in front of my position on the bench during a water break. Upon looking up, I noted that not Aandrew, but Aaron Minyard stood in front of me.

I hadn’t talked much to him, but he always seemed so indifferent in the way that he held himself. He cared little more than Andrew did, though his girlfriend definitely had lightened him up compared to his brother. In separation from Katelyn, Neil was sweet but also normally emotionally closed off. Being lighter did make Aaron slightly easier to hold a conversation with.

When he confronted me, I looked up to him and asked, “What’s up?” because I didn’t know why anyone would be itching to talk to stupid little me.

He examined me and as he did so, I noted the slight difference in the way the Minyards’ wear their hair, and the lack of ear piercings. Other than those slight changes along with their physique, having built their muscles differently, they were physically perfectly identical. Personality wise, they were nothing alike, in my opinion.

Andrew seemed to me protective of what he needed to, though a lot of the team considered him a bit brash. I knew he wasn’t very, but he still loved differently too. Andrew was very cryptic and Aaron was very open and nonchalant. That is another thing I liked about Aaron. Though lightly, he could still actually feel.

When I heard him actually speak, he surprisingly confided, “I don’t hate you. I could, but there’d be no point.”

There are a lot of reasons to hate me now, and though we played the same position and spotted each other in the gym, I never considered the possibility of someone not despising me. Though, I was probably playing it out more and no one hated me, they were just upset with me. People are complicated to a degree I would never understand even with my general grades.
I tried to ask a question, why don’t you hate me, but he shut me down too fast. “I pity the fact you avoid everyone. You may not be able to get it together and some people are stupid, but you’re pathetic because you can’t stand up for yourself. How are you going to get everything back if you’re sulking like a child?”

The words exploding out of his mouth felt like a wake up slap to the face. Then, I had to start asking myself all these questions, was I pathetic? Why could I lay there and let myself not move on. Why did I have to be stuck in this perpetual emotional cycle of everyone hating me? Why did I care what they thought?

Before I could say anything, being trapped inside my own head, he left. Then, Dan blew herded us back in. This time, everyone was no different in the way I was treated on the court, the same as I was treated off the court. However, the only difference was Aaron.

Instead of blatantly ignoring me, he shot every single ball in his possession and chucked them all over my body as hard as I thought he could. He would force me to work for it. As much as I hated it, it got some attention on me and my team was forced to look at me.

I wasn’t attempting to be an attention hog, but if I could just show them. If I could show them all that I’m still somewhat worthy of being on this team, I could just as well attempt to reintegrate myself into the innerworkings. No doubt, it would be hard to forget what I did, but maybe there was a chance at forgiving.

The slight shift of Aarons’ complex over my form directed Paxtons’ frustrated slams in my direction, and though he had worse aim, it benefited me. If only I could rally them into not hating me completely/ Not hating me entirely was key.

Even though all of Aarons’ shots went to me and most of Paxtons’ as well, no one else on the team sent it my way. They didn’t care about acknowledging me. It would be pointless for backliners on the opposing side to hand it off and my own goalie, but everyone else was fair game. No action, no play. It was utterly ridiculous.

By the end time, it was time to reel ourselves back in and hit the showers. I chose to stay behind and pack up the main court as an excuse to stay out of the way. I mean, I have had an idea but it’s not like I wasn’t shy to talk.

Because of that small factor, I was able to be one of the last people to hit the showers and I wallowed in my own thoughts. I derived how pathetic I was and examined all that’d happened over the past week and how simply unlikeable and stupid I was. I could’ve just not gone out last week, but no.

Regardless, I was still able to just calm myself off, running the sticky sweat over with a batch of ice water to catch my awareness and lax my muscles. It should be enough to attempt to adhere to Aarons’ words. What’s the worst that could really happen? Oh right, they could still hate me.

Well, by that point it’d’ve been out of my control and it already was really, but I didn’t know what people thought. And though it would’ve been useful if I did have that information, I didn’t. So, over the next day or so where we went to an away game, I’d have to be on a bus. For hours, alone. With people I didn’t know anymore. Or rather, it’s almost as if I didn’t know them.

I played guitar after practice, inside the campus until my fingers ached me to stop. Only, this time I adhered to the conditions my body presented. Tonight, instead of ignoring my dissolved callouses, I arrived back at my dorm while Asher was lifting the weights he brought as he occasionally did. Paxton, he was over on the floor, in front of the couch, playing Red Dead Redemption 2 as I’d learnt the name was. Something about cowboys in the 1900’s.

It felt awkward to be in the same room, both visibly awake, alone. But, I should have expected that they made no difference to me now than when we were on the court. Except it did. I wanted so desperately to not have at least my own roommates ignore me.

I could take Andrew ignoring me, or Matt and Dan, I could even take Kevin and Neil. I could barely cope with Nicky not even caring to say much to me. But, Asher? The guy who I’d bonded with almost the moment he’d arrived? I couldn’t actually bear having my closest friend on the team ignore me.

I still talked to Declan, texting, and occasional passerby’s. That was alright in my book, but the fact that my own roommate didn’t want to speak to me? That hurt. Not just hurt like ‘Ow, mommy I got a boo-boo’. No, it stung with the deeply-felt pain in my chest that someone like my brother had rejected me as a person.

The closest thing I’d ever had to a brother was in Kentucky where we got along like a real family. But, I hadn’t ever known my real family. Now, it seemed like I had chosen Asher as a brother and considered him like I’d done years back. It was painful to know that my family, my own family, thought I wasn’t good enough to be helped.

The only thing I could do was try to speak, “Asher,” but his name fell out of my mouth before I could register and process what I wanted to say. It just felt distant.

He looked at me while he was finishing out his hammer curls. “Jesse.” He sounded passive-aggressive. There wasn’t another way to describe his tone. “You’re back early?” It was a statement, but the words were phrased as a question.

I nodded and tried to talk to him with some kind of familiarity that I had before. “Yeah,” I held up my right hand, “My callouses decided to give out early.” My fingers were rubbed raw and appeared much brighter than they should have.

Asher looked at me and set down his weights to walk over to me. Then, he looked me over quizzically and grabbed my hand in both of his, flipping up the pads and tips of my fingers, tracing his eyes over the damages. His face lined with curiosity, wonder, possibly worry.

I hadn’t realised that my hand ached as bad as it did until part of his skin glazed over a bare patch on my hand. I withdrew the appendage quickly and nurtured it.

“Run it under water. I’ll grab some bandages from the bathroom.” I hissed a small bit as I ran my hands under the sink faucet and Asher walked off to the bathroom. Even Paxton paused his game and turned over to me.

He watched me as I shook my head because my hand was burning, not with a blank face entirely. But one peacefully void of emotion. When Asher came stumbling back into the kitchen with a handful of bandages and some gel to numb it.

I drew back my hand and dried it before Asher wrapped each of my fingers in the bandages carefully around the bare skin. It hurt like someone stuck a blowtorch up my ass and lit it, but at least the two of them are acknowledging my existence for the first time in a week.

Once I was alright, Paxton returned to his video game and Asher gave me a cup of coffee. He didn’t talk much and I didn’t really like coffee but, because he still hadn’t completely forgiven me, the blow had been partially softened. Maybe the type of family we were could be repaired.

It’s not like I’d have known. I’d never had a whole team for a family, though I’m sure we would end up being one. The Foxes would be one loving- but-insufferable-at-the-same time family. One I could joke about hating, but deeply love with the fullest contents of my heart.

Chapter 19: The Feeling of Being Alive

Chapter Text

Well, I’d reached a point of chaotic boredom. What I mean is, the next week passed and we had another away game. I had more classes. I tried to reintegrate myself into the society of my exy team and hang with Declan a bit. But, Asher only checked up on my wellbeing and held dry conversations. Aaron tested me as much as he could. It was endless and repetitive.

As much as I love doing what I do, nothing new and eventful becomes boring. My guitar skills became limited when Asher bandaged my hand so, I was very limited in how much I could play. That was okay except Danielle was the main source holding me together by a thread at this point.

Reading and drawing could suffice, but even I can only stick my head in paper for so long. Plus, It’s not like I entertained much human interaction. I was making a little progress by beginning simple, stupid, conversation starters, but still that only gets me so far.

Today, all I’d done was practise the French Neil had still been teaching me, though more solemnly. We did still teach each other, even if he didn’t care for me at the moment. That was what a deal was, wasn’t it? You make a lot of them with people you can’t stand? Besides adopting a fifth language, I was able to work on my new English paper and story.

We’d begun this ridiculous book with a heavy and complex topic that circled on depression. I knew my professor by now, and she was the type to take miniscule, seemingly unimportant details and make you read as close as you could. It was quite a clever tactic to ensure everyone paid attention, but the task did become doting.

In the midst of my boredom and undesired urge to do something, anything at all really. I had a terribly, adrenaline-warranting idea. Find a race.

I’d raced with the one group before and gotten money, but when I was searching through contacts to find one, I’d been informed these guys only raced on Fridays. Inconvenient, obviously, since it was a Wednesday. However, it was prudent I was down on some track today because my impulses would not let the idea slide.

I found a way to scour around for some hint of a race going on, since it clearly had to be off the books because no one wanted to get arrested. Gratefully, I was able to find a smaller organisation that was holding a small event near one of the smaller towns, near the valley-ish area.

As soon as I tracked the exact location the event would be, I swung into my car, driving out of the Tower lot. I didn’t care if anyone saw me leave. It’s not like anyone except for Asher knew I raced and besides, no one really paid enough attention to me for them to care.

I filled my tank on the way and breathed in the freshly chilled air of late September. The wind whipping through my locks felt freeing. Truth be told, with everything I put myself through, this was the freest I’d been in weeks. Plus, at least I knew how to race without the risk of my addiction.

Racing wasn’t necessarily a quality habit to have, but it certainly was better than addiction. As a testament to this statement, I had never worried about myself getting high or drunk while I was driving. And even if I was, I’m sure I could pull off a mad drift anyway. But, the activity put my mind at ease any given time my subconscious was behind the wheel.

Besides Danielle, my Demon had been a second extension to my hand, the steering wheel always awaiting my grasp. Without having to think of the driving aspect, I was able to feel what I wanted, think what I needed. When I was racing, I never had to worry about what was screwed up in my life, because racing made me feel on top of the world.

This race, there was no prize in winning, but pride. I would be determined to hold myself higher and keep my pride even though I had none left to hold.

All the same, I signed myself up for the race and got placed in the second slot where I’d been left to wait for the first one to finish. I watched the beginning from the side, but after they were off I left and went back to my car. There I stayed until the second racers were directed to pull their vehicles up to the starting line.

The anticipation, the freedom, the adrenaline, all of these pulsed through my veins as I waited for the announcer. I was alone, yet I felt surrounded. I couldn’t describe the simple emotions I was feeling now; the thoughts running through my head. It was as indescribable as I could be.

The blow horn sounded and though I had been informed beforehand of the course of the rack, I disregarded all that information. I let my instincts guide me through every twist and turn that presented itself along the broken and chalky, concrete road that paved my path.

Nobody from this other organisation could match my Demon in any stats or skills. I was comfortably ahead as I blazed through the street. All I could feel was the rush, the power. My head was plastered to my headrest and a comfortable smile was stuck on my stupid face.

I knew whichever home I’d ever been in, after the age of 10 I’d been able to drive. I’d entered where I could and my love for the sport grew exponentially. This was my escape. This was my freedom. This was my way of being able to experience the fullest potential of my life, with only me and my Demon. I didn’t need anyone but myself and my Demon.

I couldn’t risk checking my mirrors because at my speed, I’d probably be thrown off my course of the track and spun off road. But, I wouldn’t do that to myself. I’d let myself just drive. I’d just drive until I would be able to lap the other guy behind me. I was pursuing everything I had wanted.

Right now, I couldn’t ask for a single thing more than I was being handed on a silver platter at this very moment. I was able to take my Dodge Challenger Demon SRT 170 and cross the finish line six whole seconds in front of my competition.

I didn’t have to worry about any point of spin or drawback the course tried to set, but that was because I had no worry in my mind, There was nothing riding on my victory but my will to escape and be free. Anything I could do to leave myself behind, I would. That’s why I won. That’s why I didn’t care there was no prize and that’s why I didn’t concern myself with the people cheering for me when I crossed the finish line.

When I had driven back to the Tower late that night, I could feel a strict rush of prosperity. I found myself content for the first time in weeks. I was happy. I felt high, but I wasn’t. I felt like I was king of the world and that the butterflies of pride I felt in my stomach just wouldn’t go away.

I had known that in the morning, all of those feelings would dissipate into nothingness after having to interact with my teammates, but for now I would just savour what little madness I could. I would savour all the feelings I could while I could still feel. Racing was the only way to get me to feel.

That’s why it never seemed real when nothing was at stake. When nothing was at stake, that was when I was most comfortable and had nothing on my mind. I could rely on my pure instinct and the harmonies in my heart sang like the canary in the wind or the owl in the night: perfectly in sync with its surroundings.

I loved every minute I spent inside my car, and nothing could change that fact. For I, as any person was heavily at peace with the things or people they treasured most. For me, I was not particularly mortally attached to any people. I was only mortally attached to Danielle and my Demon.

How I loved my brother, how I loved my ma, how I loved Declan; I loved Nicky. They would unfortunately never compare for the things I could experience when I was alone, on a late night drive, or at the performance hall, simply strumming Danielles’ strings.

For the reason I could keep content was simply the fact that I was the only one that could make myself feel that way. Supposedly, the only slight push in the right direction that I needed was for me to set out on my own endeavours. Driving was an exploration for me, and as far as I knew, it would continue for the rest of my life. However short or long that span may be in any case. I had too many reckless habits for my own good.

The apt intoxication I adapted from racing faded into the evening when I returned. I was due to teach Neil some more and he’d hand me some more to add on my basis of French. Like I had said, it’s not like he hated me, but you can still make deals with people you’d rather not talk to. That’s why I still showed up, really.

Neil greeted me at the door and allowed me to step inside and set up the floor of the main room how it normally was on days we’d continue our little arrangement. It was quite a quaint difference from my room but all too similar that I found odd. It was as if the surround of my unit had been copied onto his. Though, I suppose that is kind of how apartments or dormitories work, no?

Andrew joined us as Neil retrieved some of the books we’d begun using. They were quite simple, but that was the point in learning at first, simple knowledge of a language.

Regardless, I had been thinking that Neil made quite significant progress in the time he was taking to learn. Once I had taught him the basic forms of words, like please and thank you. I taught him hello and goodbye; Good morning and good night. Though, I could visibly see Andrew cringe when I taught ‘please’. I didn’t know why and he seemed to make the shudder less apparent, so I chose to ignore the action.

Really, now I’d begun to start inflicting grammar upon the lessons. How to conjugate the ‘I’ version and the ‘You’ version were very important, you see. It was sometimes complicated to convey exactly how to do something.

I’m lucky Neil was a quicker learner than most. After spending so much time on a ridiculous subject, teaching so frivolously became a chore. I’d hate for such an educational detail to go astray. It was worth it for both parties and learning new languages always was a fruit for the brain. Something to expand upon and think deeper with. For if you have no other dialect, how will you be able to speak to half the world?
Either way, the conjugations were attaching themselves into the inner workings of Neil. He understood what to do and how. With enough practice, he was set to move away from saying, ‘I’m going, you’re going, he’s going, she’s going.” That point in the learning is essential to learn within the first segment of knowledge, but that was because we never had to conjugate in English.

In English as a whole, you only have different words to represent who’s doing the action. You walk. I walk. The only change is the work put before the verb. But, on the other hand, that fact could be part of why it’s so difficult for people around the world to learn English as a separate language.

To that aspect, I gave Neil some last minute practice before I turned the time over to him. Before I did, I wanted to make sure he’d had a firm grasp on what we were doing.

I checked up on Andrew too, but he seemed to resist help more than Neil did. I mean, I know Neil isn’t the quickest to accept help, but he’ll get there eventually. When Andrew doesn’t understand, he studies himself and those around him. In retrospect, the behaviour is fascinating. But, I would never ask for help either anytime I learned something new. Sometimes, it just panned out that way.

The way I helped Andrew would be guiding him without fully guiding him. I’d give a few words of a tip here and there, but overall, he was quite the independent individual. It worked to my favour that he was though because talking would be a great hassle since I still never cared much for small talk, just like these two.

After a decent amount of time and important information into the Russian lesson, Neil felt he (and Andrew) was comfortable enough to try some individual work next time. That was the point where the group of us decided to switch gears.

We returned the source material for Russian and retrieved the coursings for French. We followed a similar lesson plan for French than we did for Russian and took turns teaching the characters, the dialect, and the simple phrases. I, too, knew how to say hello. I knew just as well to say good night, good morning, and goodbye. The simple phrases were always easy to begin with.

However, much like I’d been doing, this session was the ripe time for me to finally learn French conjugations. I wouldn't say they're too difficult. Same with Russian, with German, with Spanish. They all follow the same rules for the basis of each pronoun which is fairly simple if you know any language.

I don't really understand how people can't learn something fast. What about the difficulty of the subject makes it so dastardly difficult for their puny, pea-sized brains to comprehend, I don't understand. It really isn't difficult to take on and learn a subject. Even if I never wanted to pick up something like Calculus, it wasn't as difficult as people made it out to be if only I paid any attention.

I figured languages were just like that. I mean, I know four and I'm adding a fifth, so what makes it so difficult to just know words and grammar to speak to different cultures? I didn't think I would ever know the answer to that biting question.

Back onto the real course, Neil was a fairly helpful teacher. He was quite a genius as I'd learnt and for that matter, he knew exactly how to help if i'd mispronounced a word or conjugated it incorrectly. Occasionally, I messed up as everyone did. I messed my words up in English too and that was my native language.

I was working along confidently as I transformed my verbs to fit the subject and spelt them all correctly for understanding's sake. It made sense. I figured I could first of all, ace my French class, and second of all, learn near high proficiency within two years. I'd been doing this for a couple months now and I'd already gotten up to this point, but with books and such I could pick up over the course of time… I'd be able to be as proficient in French as I am in Spanish.

Actually, I didn't speak Spanish that much because I simply didn't care enough to put effort into it besides reading. It was helpful to know but the trans-Atlantic dialects intrigued me more so. Those types of languages, they’re more widespread and actually unique. It makes it more interesting, in my opinion.

Enough of a ridiculous tangent detailing my lust for language. Ridiculous, but I find interest in the most ridiculous things, don’t I? Music for expression, racing for adrenaline, language for passion. Everything I did had a reason most of the time.

Thus, the reason for my successes in learning now, I had my previous experiences with learning to thank. Really, it was all serendipitous how it fell into place, the right place, right time sort of deal. Neil was simply presented to me with an inquisition on Russian before me, lying on a silver platter.

He did teach me well. So well, I even suppose Andrew picked up on a decent amount of French in addition to Russian. It’s difficult to learn multiple things at once, but if anyone can handle it, it’s definitely Andrew.

By the end of our little ‘session’ of knowledge trading, we learned an ample amount of our respective languages and I felt somewhat lighter. I knew that regardless of Neils’ disposition to my character, he and Andrew both honoured deals. Whether I liked the pair or not, (I did) they’d both have my respect anyway.

Of course, Friday, I earned myself a new assignment for my Poetry-centred English class. Normally, I would enjoy writing a little and playing around with some words and phrases. I had always thought poetry was like a song, like music. If you can sing it or rap it and the lines can flow, it’s a great poem.

One teensy problem for me with this one. “Write a Ballad on a piece from your childhood.” I had to do something similar when I was in Junior High when my teacher had me write this Snapshot report on a specific memory. Though I didn’t want to reuse material, I didn’t have the desire to write about something Illegal, I didn’t think writing about addiction was a smart move, and I didn’t think that illustrating a whole ballad on the foster system was a genius idea either.

The most ingenious idea that arrived into my thick skull, was my ma. She hadn’t been there all through my childhood of course, just a few worthwhile years, but I loved her just as much as if she had raised me on her own. My ma was a kind, beautiful, reserved woman. Of course she could be batty and all too selfless, but that was part of what I loved about her.

The thing about the assignment as a whole without the topic, was that it was a ballad. Typically, those are filled to the very brim with emotions and feelings. That meant I couldn’t just choose an overall broad statement about my ma. I’d have to choose a personal, feeling-provoking moment that was a I-love-my-ma-and-this-is-why type of scheme.

Normally, I had found writing to be quite easy, but this essence of capturing the right emotions in mere words was perplexing. With music, you could adjust the dynamics or the tempo. You could adjust the pitch or how much force or air you strung through your instrument. With words, you were presented with a pen and paper.

With words, there was not always a way to describe how someone could feel or the thoughts that ran through a mind. Maybe only pictures presented themselves. The pictures I thought of were particularly when I was early into high school.

I had been so sick, I could barely move and ma made me stay home from school. Typically, I hated to miss my favourite teacher or a test that I’d have to make up later, but ma insisted. I half-heartedly attempted to stumble out of bed and leave for school but she forced me back down.

I had thrown up over the side of the bed into a bucket she’d put there, assuming I’d need it. She was right, but all throughout that day, my ma would cater to me in bed and brought me ice packs, soup, and over-the-counter medicine that should help my fever. In all dimensions, she was a godsend to me that time. I loved her for not leaving me, for taking care of me when I physically couldn’t take care of myself.

Speaking of, I had never not been able to care for myself because I’d always found a way to do it. Possibly, I might have been forced to overcome any ill behaviour because some of my other parents wouldn’t tolerate it. But, ma stayed with me, took care of me like a mother would. My ma would dote on me for hours on end, just so I didn’t have to be alone.

My ma was the first person to show me such kindness and provoke such a long-lasting memory. I loved my ma and how I missed her dearly being away from home. I did try to text her occasionally, but I could only text so much, being so busy myself along with whatever I assumed she’d had going on.

I decided to write my ballad for the first time I’d been shown so much love. Though, the words were more along the narrative of how I was bedridden and my ma took care of me, the tone was most certainly a downer but compiled with displays of sonly affection. The ballad hadn’t been too difficult from there.

Except, the fact that I was thinking about ma got me distracted. I jotted down ideas for my ma and the ballad. Then, thinking about the pass forced me to dwell on the topic of my brother. I took a look at my watch and intertwined my emotions with the young boy deep within my body. He was there somewhere.

That little boy had been there when his brother gave him the blank, stainless-steel watch he always wore on his wrist as a reminder that would serve into his memory until he was forced to forget. The little boy had been there when he placed the exact same watch on his wrist after every practice and shower, making sure the memento was still there.

Of course, my brother brought me back to the first thing I’d ever learnt about cars. I didn’t start learning how to drive them until later, but my brother had a knack for detailing cars. Sometimes I could tag along or the sort and he’d teach me exactly where each part was and how to learn it with a sponge, some soap, and some water.

The further I noticed, he was quite excellent at what he did, and that fateful day he even split the profits with me. My brother, Julian, showed me the first insight I had into my developed adoration for cars. I really didn’t know of any way I could thank him enough for being such a dominant factor to my passion for vehicles.

There was now an ensuing tidal wave of memories that rushed into my thoughts, both good and bad. I braved out the bad and celebrated through the especially good. Like how I won my first game or my first race. Then, there was how I’d been beaten at numerous of my homes. Not so good, clearly. But, I made it past that segment of my life.

Even each memory has its place in my heart and soul that shaped my being to what it is today. I am who I am now because of my past. For that specific reason, the ballad about my ma had to be perfect so that everyone who read it understood the concept of love. I wanted them to understand the concept of truth and be able to reflect on the past.

Words individually can have separate meanings like holy and divine. Together, words can form beautiful sentences and pictures: The divinity pronounced in His holiness. Two subjects are brought together to form a picture. There is no doubt someone can read and not have this representative image in their mind.

I needed whoever read into my minds’ eye to see what I saw. I needed every single pair of eyes’ that glanced upon my ballad to understand the meaning of care and the cautious art of loving another. I needed to be both seen and heard in any matter of opinion.

Sentimentality was a great treasure of mine where I could savour the sweet, intangible moments. Sure, you could be tangibly sentimental, but I preferred to have those things I couldn’t touch. I didn’t need a surplus of money or friends. I wanted to be loved, seen, heard, acknowledged.

Through and through, without my ma or Julian, there would have been no one to steer me on the path that had more twists and turns. For every twist built character and every fork in the road presented an opportunity. The lessons other people can teach only allowed the right choice to present itself to this opportunist. I just happened to find myself in front of the most incredible people on earth. There was no denying that fact.

Chapter 20: Putting Stitches on Wounds

Chapter Text

After having a redemption game of sorts up north, I was determined to write. Moreover, I’d seen this movie on the bus ride back because I’d begun to talk to people but not really, so I actually used my phone for something other than the minimal texting I did. The movie I’d decided on: a Disney movie that vaguely seemed interesting called Aladdin.

I’d missed out on a real childhood like the kid-targeted programs and television which meant I’d never seen many of the ever-so-popular movies. The description was very vague and ridiculous but I had vaguely thought over the concept of mythical creatures and genie wishes once in my life; the concept of a genie humoured me.

Otherwise, there was no complete reason to watch the movie. But, I noticed very quickly into the film (which I now realise is phenomenal) how incredible the soundtrack was. Not simply the original songs but all of the instruments behind it. Specifically, I found the drum openings for the overture and the Middle Eastern mood of the entire OST.

The sound fascinated me so much that it inspired me. The sound of the designated region-based instruments added to the mood and the tone of the music which made each piece unique. I only had a guitar at my ready disposal, but this time I felt it was ample time to rejoice myself with the piano.

I had played piano for a sizeable amount of time before I left home, but with set and most prominently, Danielle, I hadn’t practised much piano and with a slight sync with the familiarity of the keys, I wanted to try some unique rhythms out. I wanted to create a worthy song that reminded me heavily of home.

I had already been to this place of learning and exy and music for months and I had felt homesick. The feeling was vague at first, but especially in the time I’d begun to lose my teammates, I started to long again for home.

I yearned for my left-behind brothers and sisters. I yearned for my ma. I yearned for a strong point where I didn’t particularly know the next action I was going to do. Would I race the freeway, would I smoke until I slept, would I study until I could not feel my fingers?

However domestic and foolish my life had been before, my heart yearned for that coarse feeling to pulsate back through me. For this feeling, I needed some memento I could hold without leaving to go home. However I missed what little family I have, I wanted, no, I needed to remain here at Palmetto. I wanted a portable keepsake from my home.

In Chicago, the most intrusive styles are Jazz, Blues, Gospel, but those weren’t genres which represented me and my brand in addition to my home. Something that did represent me, it was a modernised version of the popular genre, rap.

I’d heard of a few artists playing Chicago Rap that I noticed incorporated piano segments into their songs. I knew one man who was straight from the same place I was and his song had such a simple piece for me to play, but the speed, swing, and rhythm made it seem impossibly talent based. It was an art.

I admired music as an art to begin with, but the genre of incorporating one of the least ‘rap’ instruments into the genre could describe me and how I felt with my opinion towards the brilliance of it. I was able to build a synergy that reminded me of another group of 8 measures from the base of that other guy’s song I mentioned.

Plus, the guy I was talking about was a musical genius and though I was decently good, I still admired the brand nonetheless. So, when I sat down in preparation to let my fingers flow and take notes as I normally did, I did what I always did and experimented with the art of sound.

My right hand only needed a direct, catchy track that I could repeat that I could add variations to and wouldn’t get boring. Usually just three or four keys make it quality. But, then there was the matter of variations; should I shift the third finger or the fourth finger, should I shift the second finger or the first finger to add layers?

Most of piano, for me, was decision making to experiment with what motions would feel right and notes would sound the best. Really, how could I make the base, repeated section as brain-scratching as I could? The best method I could use was sampling a selected public’s opinion. So, in this case, I went on to take the public opinion on popular music. I used multiple variations of popular Chicago Rap style songs and stapled my own spin to the other pieces.

Now that I had modestly configured the right hand’s base, there had to be a way to create a crisp melody that combined in perfect harmony with the beat I had already laid down. It was never the base that proved difficult, but where I’d have to jump around with my left to still make out a cut sound.

I had forgotten over time how it felt like to contort my fingers so delicately that it graced over each key and transformed a single pattern into a beautiful string of music. I generally knew what I was doing, but still it felt foreign to my touch even though I generally knew the path I wanted to follow.

I somewhat knew, but ultimately, I didn’t know how to get there. When a little kid has a dream to be rich or be famous, they never know how to get there. I knew little more than those elementary students now. Ironic how someone who was so well versed in one branch of a subject and had a sort of amnesia when it came to another form of the same system.

I pranced my left hand across a weak melody to something that could be manipulated, at my will, to something truly magnificent. It was a process undoubtedly but, I stuck around with the base of my melody and added some flats and sharps; I added some intricately placed notes in between to give depth. Eventually, I stuck in a key change to transform the sound entirely into another variation.

When it was time to see where the piece had risen in proficiency, I tried to put both my hands together. Except, of course no one was ever perfect on the first try and certainly musicians the least of all. I couldn’t attach the base to the melody.

The two hands’ segments sounded fantastical separately, but combining the two together, they didn’t collaborate. Instead, the base fought for dominance over the melody because they were better kept as standalone pieces than assisting each other in what they were both missing.

At this, it was a hasty decision to just play absolutely nothing like a child, and how I played on Danielle to mirror slightly. I felt the rush from my fingertips and transported it into the piano. The ultimate goal to play nothing resulted in me being able to find a tune that actually worked.

I had been working with the same tune style for so long that the freeplay ended up with playing a variation of the same style but with my own touch how I’d wanted before. The rhythm was slightly different and the notes occasionally differed from how it was meant to be originally, but the improvised version fit into my soul a little better.

The greatest ulterior motive to the art of creation was ultimately the freedom to play however the heart desired. Sure, there were times where you had to play specific music, but for the most part, I was past that and had to create my own pieces. Plus, I didn’t mind using my own work anyway.

But, the funny thing about writing my own song the day before class was that I was brain rottingly focused on the tune, the beat, the little jive in my step. It was catchy, and hey I didn’t mind a little earworm to enthral me through the fascinating class that was English.

Professor Shrellis was talking about some of the progress she’d observed on our current and previous assignments to exemplify her expectations for our reports as a whole. The book we’d been reading for class was a difficult one in the sense that the story wasn’t long the same way it was necessarily dense. However I wanted to pick up my own books as they were easy to read in my opinion, I never wanted to pick up this one. It was just so much for my brain to comprehend.

I mean, I can read it of course, it’s just that the subjects were touchy and the formatting was heavily regarded in ways that were typical for the time period the book was written. But, with the current language style of the 21st century, it’s just a gruelling chore waiting to be accomplished.

In my case, the luckiest part about this book was that we were responsible to discuss it with a small group or selection to help narrate the most complicated segments to understand. Really, even I couldn’t comprehend some portions that only seemed like the phrases were included to increase the content despite there being so little to begin with.

The main issue was that my professor liked to advocate for the slightest of details to make sure we paid the book any attention. Of course I could deal with it, though I had this teacher back in Junior High who was moderately similar and cost me many sleepless nights and on one occasion, a fine fever.

The secondary issue was that my group was selected at the beginning of the report. Coincidentally, a week before I had been exiled from my team’s society because that is still a recurring issue I face. Now, since that happened Irina was in my group and I needed one thing from her now: to forgive me.

I didn’t care if she forgot me or not, but now all I could ask is that she forgive me. It’s not just insufferable because she was one of my best friends and that now I only had one, but I needed to speak to her. I missed her dearly. If I could time travel, obviously I would not even go to the party to begin with.

Matter of factly, I would’ve convinced Declan to just hang out with me in the dorms or something because he’s also an idiot. But, since Wymack had placed me into sessions with Betsy, she’d suggested something new from going yesterday. Betsy had given me the new idea, “Why don’t you just focus on the root of your problems and how you feel?”

The ‘how I felt’ actually never mattered to me, but the root of my problems was quite brilliant. Why hadn't I thought about it before? Why hadn’t I directly tried to resolve things with Irina?

Then, I discovered I knew why I had never fixed my problem. I was still a coward and a piece of dogsh*t. If I wanted to talk to her, I wouldn’t be given an opening, except for groups. My thoughts made me construct a new plan.

When the leader of our little group pulled out the syllabus with the questions on it, he asked the first one aloud. “How is the persecution of Montag for his curiosity of books received by others versus how he should understand himself?”

I needed to answer this question and slip in some way to speak to Irina without uttering her name, if only she takes my words to heart. “I think that everyone else thought that he was absurd and should be punished, but he viewed everything with a veil of regret. I think that if he were to hide his curiosity again, he would have gone back in time and sealed it away.” This was truly how I felt.

I waited for the question to return around the gathering and to no avail, Irina made no comment. So, when another question read, “How could the long-term thirst for real books affect his wife and those at the fire station?”

To syncopate with me, it could not have been any better of a question. To really answer how I know it affected everyone, how I regretted everything involving substance, I felt terrible. “Well, I’m sure he knew it was a dangerous hobby at first, but as time went on he saw it was really bad. When he tried to put the books down he got tempted again and screwed everything up when other people found out. They were upset and disappointed at him even though he regretted every second of his actions.”

By this point, I didn’t even know if my answer fully collaborated with the story. That didn’t matter anyways. All that mattered was that Irina got the memo. And she did.

When she spoke next, Irina countered, “He knew it was bad but Montag kept the books anyway, didn’t he? He stashed them.”

I felt a little hurt at the notion that I kept them because I had given them all up for good. Sort of. I retorted, “He knew it was his fault he got arrested and still felt bad for all the trouble he caused his family.”

“He hurt his family when he kept secrets and got them involved.”

“But, he didn’t want to hurt them again. He was sorry and just wants their forgiveness.”

Of course our group leader had no real clue what was going on and he congratulated us, “That was a very deep dive into… something! Thank you for your insightful input Irina and Jesse. Why don’t we let someone else have a chance? Huh? Yeah.”

He moved on from us and I stayed mostly silent for the rest of the chat since Irina had gotten my message. So, I waited and I waited and I waited for class to be over. All I needed was to catch up with Irina so that she could forgive me. God, how I needed her at least back in my life. If she forgave me, maybe others would too.

I know it’s selfish to think that way, but can you really blame me for thinking that way. I was tired of being alone. Lonely is one thing, but truly alone hurts worse somehow. When the long class was over, I ran to catch up with Irina as she was leaving.

“I just ask that you forgive me! I’m sorry.”

She turned to look at me and stopped a few paces to the right, out of the building, out of the way of others. “I just don’t want to be around someone who does that to themselves. The drugs, how much. You used to be an addict.” Damn Asher for telling her.

No matter, I still couldn’t actually be mad, it was bound to come out at some point. “I don’t anymore! That was- A one time thing and I’m sorry. I didn’t want to drag you or anyone else into it but I did. I’m not proud and I’m sorry. I really want you to forgive me.”

“Why should I forgive you?” The five burning words.

“I miss you. I miss you there, every single day, someone I could talk to. I miss you, Irina.”

She seemed touched at least as she stood for a moment, not moving. Then, before I knew it really, she stepped towards me and buried herself into my chest, leaning down. “I missed you too, I just didn’t want you to be… like that.”

I was ecstatic she forgave me. All I really needed was to take an initiative and help her see that I wasn’t trying to be a bad person. I was trying to heal myself and in turn, I lost the people that meant the most because I hurt myself first. I don’t want to do it again, I really don’t. I don’t want to lose them.

I had decided that I would visit Declan once we both returned to the dorms. I knew Irina needed space to potentially smooth things over and that just because she forgave me didn’t mean we were automatically the best of friends again. Of course, what was my solution?

To hang out with the other carbon copy, mentally slow, insulting, attractive guy I knew was potentially a bad influence but also I would definitely kiss again. Yeah, that guy. He was my solution.

Since I’d mainly talked to him these past few weeks, he had told me he also had earlier classes today and that he was practically wasting the afternoon away doing work. Sometimes, I liked to show up. I don’t think he minded.

This time, I walked up to his door and knocked. Since I'd been through this routine so many times, Declan's roommates just let me in and went back to whatever game they were playing or homework they were doing. It's not like they cared what I was doing here anyway.

The reason for my being here sauntered out from his room looking as if he'd just woken up from a nap. From the fact he had no shirt on and was rubbing his eyes, it was most likely the case unless some monkey slipped in through his window, threw a banana in his eye, and stole his shirt. I'm joking.

We dapped each other up and I greeted him, “You look like someone stuck a blowtorch up your ass and lit it.” That had been one of my more creative insults.

He was still too tired to deal as much as I was so he only spat at me, “Torched your face first.” We walked back to the bedroom area so as not to bother his roommates. Really the only reason he walked out was to greet me and take me to the room out of courtesy.

I told him originally that I drove illegally and throughout the extra time I clearly had, I'd been spending it a lot with my companion. For that, I told him quite a bit about my past and we sat talking until he normally had to go to practice.

His practises normally started before mine did, but when he had to leave, I had to leave too. So, we talked until then. But, since that one accidental thing in my room where we got too close then the not-so-accidental kiss afterwards, we may have found ways not to talk.

Occasionally, we would just end up on the bed, enthralled with each other. It was intriguing since we were such brutish people and it was never entirely “gentle” but the feelings were there. It was more so passion that seeped into our every move.

I took a liking to him and he took a liking to me, simply. But, I had never loved someone like I liked Declan right now. Declan made me feel alive and the eccentric touch of our bodies just sent shockwaves to my brain. I couldn't think of a scenario where I'd want his presence to dissipate on purpose.

If I didn't want to be near him for his words and insults, it could be for his music. If it wasn't for that, it could be for his sport. If it wasn't for that, it could be for his body and his passion. There were unlimited ways that the prospect of this one person could liberate me.

Today was less of that kind of a day and more just talking to each other kind of day. I thoroughly enjoyed the little moments we could have where we could go back and forth insulting each other, but also portraying stories from our lifetime endeavours.

Actually, I distinctly remember this one story high school marching band and sneaking out after halftime to go mess around in the lot next to the school. I thought it was entertaining though it made me wonder how it would've felt to be there in the moment. I didn't have many stories because I was more of a secluded type of kid, bouncing around.

My stories consisted of a lot of racing rather than stories based on other people. The first time I'd raced, first time I'd won, how I won my car, the most disappointing loss I'd ever had. Hey, I wasn't mad about that loss because the guy beat me by a hair, almost literally, and he was a pretty great driver. Good sport about it too.

Even with the recurring theme of my sports-car oriented tales, he seemed occupied and fascinated with each one. It was almost as if he was interested in the subject as a whole but knew nothing about it, kind of similar to my fascination with woodwind instruments.

I had always wanted to pick up trombone or saxophone, but I'd never gotten a real chance. I'd already claimed my education on a variety of instruments I didn't need my mouth to play.

I appreciated Declan's attentiveness to one of my greatest passions and I'm grateful we shared the other. In addition, he may not play Exy, but he still understands the desire for sports as well as the adrenaline and thrill earned from them.

It’s a complex feeling when someone just…makes sense? Almost like you know that one person inside and out, not like family, but connected with a deep admiration for said person. If I were to try and decipher Declan’s thoughts, I could pace him because we seemed to share a wavelength. I was quite fond of that.

Regardless, when the afternoon reached a new hour, Declan had determined it was high time to prepare for his practise and collect what he needed. But, seeing him strut about, searching for his equipment, a strange, newfound idea stuck me.

“Declan, you like when we’re here and not talking right?” I meant to imply that he enjoyed kissing me but I’m sure he’s smart enough to get the message.

I turned and looked at me, “Yes Nate, I do.” I was quite fond of that nickname honestly. No one even called me Nathan anymore, so it felt all the more special.

I had to ask, “Why don’t we just like…date? That’s what people do right?”

He seemed to consider this for a moment before turning back the scavenging about for his shades that he left somewhere. I could still hear him say, “Why don’t we?”

Now I felt an obligation to give him a stupid nickname that wasn’t sh*thead. “You like Lance?”

He found his shades and turned around to look at me, puzzled. “Lance?”

“Yeah, Declan already has the ‘lan’ and ‘c’, ‘e’ are in there too, so I don’t see why not.”

“Sure, Lance is cool. But now, I have to go to practice. I do really like you--I mean, you’re kind of my boyfriend--but I’m still going to call you names like ear breaker and el estupido because you deserve it.”

I chuckle and walk over to him, planting a chaste kiss on his lips and waving goodbye because if he was getting ready, then I probably should too. Our practices weren’t that staggered I mean, I just drove really fast to the stadium.

Not driving with the others in Irina’s car had been a nice change. I still genuinely fought for any chance to take my Demon for a drive because every time I set foot in that beauty, my heart was alive with the fires of speed. She was my pride and joy.

But now, I had a new joy in the anagram of the word lanced, who happened to be slightly taller than me, played trombone, had oceanic, misty blue eyes, dark luscious hair, and the snarkiest attitude known to mankind. I don’t think there will ever be a reason that we connected so well, but I am grateful to call him a part of me now nonetheless.

Chapter 21: Attempted Bravado

Chapter Text

After multiple away games, this one's back on our home turf. Of course, that means we wear our bright orange jerseys since it’s game day as everyone comes up to each member of the team to wish us ‘good luck’. I’m not necessarily against the luck, but it was still very odd to have everyone stare at me. Off Putting even.

On the bright side, I was not the only one being marginalised in an inclusive way. The soccer team had their game today too. Plus, this factor made me so glad I lived in separate athletes' dorms. After class, I could just go to my room and not be stared at for what felt like eternity. I mean, I know no one means me any harm, but it still feels strange.

This week, my team was starting to grow back on me now that Irina had forgiven me. At first some of them were a bit shaky like Dan who was so protective along with Matt, as well as Renee who was more upset with me in the first place. But, since Irina started to initiate conversations, at least all the freshmen and Nicky had mostly gone remotely back to how they were before.

I always knew there’d be something off with my connections with everyone individually, but as long as it’s moved past, I’m okay. It was almost like what I assume dating someone would be like, breaking up, then trying to get back with your ex. If only I’d ever had one. Actually, I’d nearly forgotten Declan was my…what? Boyfriend? Declan was my boyfriend? Probably.

I’m glad we never had serious issues like everyone else. I don’t know what I would’ve done without literally everyone. I probably wouldn’t be playing Exy in a collegiate league, that’s for sure. That sort of reminded me, it was getting to a point in the evening where we had to all head down to the court.

Aaron actually offered to ride with me while I had fallen into the constant habit of driving myself now. I took the offer for the opportunity that it was and agreed to it, waiting in the car while Aaron stepped around to the passenger. While he lowered himself into the car, he gave a simple, “Nice interior.”

When I actually started on the drive, he started speaking. “Jesse, I told you I pitied you. That you were pathetic and a coward. Do you still think you’re a coward?”

I didn’t understand completely, I thought. “I never said I was a coward.”

“No, but you thought it. I know that look.”

He wasn’t far off. I never said it aloud, but I think I definitely was. “Maybe, I’ve done some pretty cowardly things.”

“Yes, but are you still?”

I didn’t know the angle he was peering at me from. How so? “How could I have not become a coward?” I asked him because I didn’t think I would arrive at the answer myself.

“You fixed yourself. That does not deserve pity. Or being a coward.”

“You’re saying I grew as a person because I was isolated from everyone?”

“I’m saying that you need to be aware of yourself and the people around you. Don’t let people pity you.”

I had arrived at the stadium and turned off the car. The twin stepped out of the car, grabbing his items out of the trunk before me, and left to the gates.

I locked the car and grabbed my own necessities. But, before going inside, I had noted the other teams’ bus parked to the side along with Andrews’ Mas. It was still almost as beautiful of a sight as my beauty. Then, I walked up to the gate and punched in its respective code before wandering to the lounge room where Aaron, Andrew, Neil, Kevin, Nicky, Robin, Paxton, Irina, and Asher were waiting. The only people that hadn’t arrived yet were the seniors because I had heard that Matt misplaced his car keys.

We waited until the entire team was there and from all of our seats, Wymack began a speech with us. It started with encouragement or something along the lines and ended with positions, who to look out for, and a preview of our starting lineup.

I was on in the second half or as a sub in the first. That was until Aaron spoke up and asked coach to put me on with him in the first half. Then, he traded me out with Matt. Why? Matt was more experienced than I, bigger than I, and more competent than I overall. He only told me, “I need you to work with me.”

The word need was enough of an ask as I had to hear. I put up no protest and prepared myself while we did our warm-ups. When we had to switch out with the other team to take possession of the field, pre-game, I could see the stands filled with spectators even though I didn’t think I saw a single familiar face.

The Vixens were always kind to see. I even saw Katelyn wave at Aaron from where she had just finished stretching. I found that quite endearing and even Aaron waved back. Regardless, endorphins were running at an all time high on every end of the spectrum. If I were to try and tell anyone what I was even feeling I don’t think I could have. This game just felt…special?

Either way, the buzzer rang for everyone to get ready and take their starting positions. At this point, it was my duty to play as best I could and follow Aaron. What he was saying about teamwork, I had no clue. But, I would need to trust him, no doubt.

I took a mark, a big guy, Levine. This guy had to be nearly double my bodyweight which would make it difficult to just defend; I’d have to use insightful evasive tactics even though I was a backliner and not a striker. I wasn’t the best thinker under pressure though because I relied on instincts.

This was the moment I decided to trust Aaron. When the ball was hurtling towards Levine, who could have easily bodied me, Aaron left his mark and rolled his hand so that we switched. Aaron was in front of Levine and I was behind, I couldn’t have much of an upper hand to begin with.

My new mark, Aarons’ old mark, was average sized but faster on his feet. Still, nothing compared to the speed of Neil running from the devils. I had to find out what they wanted from him that desperately that made him sprint at that speed. Regardless, it was someone I could keep tabs on and watch as Aaron used his own skills to prevent the size difference from hindering his performance. Hell, he was smaller than I was by over half a foot.

Aaron tossed it to Irina, who threw it to Paxton, who was open, who ran it down. All I needed to do was depend on where all my teammates I had. Aaron made me realise that I didn’t need to do everything myself and that sometimes I could let the other people I worked with take some of the load off my shoulders.

As soon as I stopped thinking entirely for the whole team, I watched the goal light up red and the timer stop to reset. When it rang again, I put myself in front of my striker and intercepted the oncoming pass to throw to Dan. This time, she ran it down and passed back and forth with Kevin as it seemed people were attacking them from every angle.

Of course the other team pushed back, but to my point of view we were strong until I had to get subbed out. I wasn’t upset at getting pulled, but I got shoved into the wall and my nose started bleeding. Since there was blood, I got pulled, but I could still sub in the second. Then, on to halftime.

I decided to take my helmet off and disappear to the locker room for as much time as it could take me to check my phone about the current soccer standings. I knew that I was still playing, but I had developed this habit of keeping tabs on Declans’ games to see how it was going.

Upon opening my phone, I saw a couple new texts from said man. When I took a look at the messages, one was a picture of me on the court, playing, and the other simply stated, “Other teams’ bus broke down, got delayed” without telling me anything else.

I decided to type back, “When do you gotta go?” but it hadn’t mattered since I shut the device off and stuffed it back to its original position in my locker. Returning to the box with the remainder of my team, most everyone was speaking to each other. I didn’t have much of a problem with the situation anyway. If someone wanted to talk to me they would.

Instead, I resorted to leaning against the bench, peering around the stadium through the plexiglass, trying to find Declan. The picture didn’t seem too high up but I couldn’t tell which set of bleachers he sat on. I could only assume he sat on the side that rooted for Palmetto.

As I was scouring the stands, Renee approached me from the side. “You cleaned yourself up?” she asked me, not in a condescending tone, but in a I-want-you-to-take-care-of-yourself-tone. Even after I was a terrible person, she’s still concerned for me. Renee could not be more of a saviour.

I nodded without looking at her and reassured her, “Yeah, I fixed myself up.” In all honesty, Betsy was helping a little bit, getting me to talk about my dependency as a kid and now. But, in reality I didn’t fix much. I just… slipped.

My eyes continued to scan across the stands until my eyes landed on a particular brunette with what I thought was in his closet. It could have been just anyone, but the way he watched me told me that I knew him. I waved to the figure.

It was hard to see because even with contacts, my vision wasn’t perfect, but I could definitely be assured that the random person was Declan. I started making obnoxious hand gestures in his direction like a ridiculous game of charades.

My words were ‘look at your phone’, but it had taken what I assumed were somewhere near four tries of veiled signs. Not until then did he look down and hold a number out to me. I could hardly tell what I was looking at, but from this distance I thought it said nine.

That would give me time because it was seven some now. Adding a safe amount of time, I could still finish my game and talk with him until he had to rush to his. That benefitted me anyway. I was glad he was finally able to see one of my games anyway.

My eye contact broke when the buzzer sounded for both teams to get ready for the new half to begin. I wasn’t complaining, I was just slightly startled by the sound because I hadn’t been bothered to look at the timer or at Renee who stepped away at some point.

My team all huddled together with the game plan of ‘whatever is deemed necessary’ before the rotated players appeared for the new half. In other words, I sat on the bench with Aaron and watched the game with slight commentary. It wasn’t real commentary though. It was very minimal talking with a lot of reactions from watching the ball fly to every person possible on the court.

I genuinely appreciated being able to watch the sport; to appreciate the art that was players sprinting up and down a court, or to throw a ball into the net and bash each other into the walls. I still didn’t see much often because I never sat down and paid much attention since I would either being playing, or I just couldn’t find myself to care,

I have no clue why I didn’t care about my teammates. Some of them (Kevin and Neil especially) put their heart and soul into this game. Watching everyone was like creating a piece and finally being able to play it perfectly, to play it publicly. The perfect way to play a piece was in front of a crowd, always.

Regardless, my eyes followed not only the players, but the ball. On the court, I only got to see one person at times, trying to swing them into dropping the ball for a turnover. Here, I could see each play individually from where I stood; The ball passed from each of my teammates to another.

Something about the way everyone moved seemed like an automaton. Mechanic, yet graceful. All space and time meshed together seamlessly when I got involved with my life that was called Exy. Without Exy, I would not run. If I did not run, I could not thrive. I needed to thrive.

Someone else that needed to thrive was Matt. When I glanced back over to my team instead of to the ball, I noticed that one of the larger guys was heading on Matt for a check. He was able to counter the brute force of it, but his counter-check went out of whack a bit since he hadn’t been looking in that direction to begin with.

Due to his slight lack in attention, I looked at him and his stick that he held in front of him now, broken and battered. The shaft on his composite had snapped close to the head. The next thing I heard was the abrupt sound of a whistle as Wymack called a timeout for our side.

Since Matt was clearly no longer able to play, Wymack approached me. “You’re on, kid.” I picked up my helmet that sat next to me and slipped it on my head before he gave me a pat. After the pat, he set up a brief gameplan and called it back in.

Amidst the shuffle, I realised that I was now on with Nicky. We hadn’t formally talked anything over for multiple weeks and my sense of teamwork could be a tad shot, but I hoped there was some sense of friendship that used to be there. The buzzer rang into my ears and the ball that was handed to the opposing team was being jostled around.

It would be my move along with Nicky, to stop it before the other team could make it to Andrew. He was only the last line of defence. Us backliners needed to be dependable by ourselves.

The resolve in my head gave me a sense of belonging; a purpose I had on this team that came into play at this very moment. I’d gotten subbed out in the first half, and I absolutely needed to save the ball now. It felt as if I needed to contribute, to do something for this team. If I had been useless and a let down before, I would not be still.

I took my closest opportunity on my mark, and stayed keen on the position of my surroundings. I knew the dealer had the ball, but I had to cover my mark; I had to look disinterested or unaware, but I would not be. I would very much be aware of the pass she was about to make down my side.

As soon as I saw her arm lift to throw, I dashed away from my mark and into the line of fire to make a play at the very last moment. When I touched it, the ball flicked into the air and missed my net narrowly, then I had to double back. After the tip, I caught it from the air. I had fumbled the interception but it was still in play; I had not failed.

I heard the crowd cheer and I could see my teammates from the box. They were not looking at me with sullen eyes like they had before. They peered at me, alight with the vision that I finally did something right. I had not failed my team this time.

Though, there was no time to dwell on that fact as I was eager to turn the tides of the game. Dan was subbed on as a striker while Kevin was our second, but neither of them were open. The only player on the court I could find open was Asher.

I trusted him with all my heart as I made the pass directly to his heart. I was afraid to look, but as I glanced at the position everyone turned, it was to chase after that very same man.

Not two seconds later, had the other team's goal lit up red. Thank the lord for quick recovery on our end, but I was content. I was also content with our momentum as we finished off the game in victory.

Thus, when it came time to throw our hands up and cheer, the crowd engulfing us erupted in joyous cheers. In fact, I could still either hear them cheering or thundering to the stadiums’ exit when our entire team had disappeared to the showers.

I was lucky not to be put on press duty this go around as I rushed to cleanse myself of the sweat that ran through my body. The cool water felt heavenly against the scorching heat of my skin. I was lucky not to be burnt alive nearly, I felt. Now, it wasn’t abnormal for me to be a little heated up, body temperature-wise, but it was always rewarding to cool myself off in the showers.

Once I had bathed enough, I stepped out and dressed plainly so that I could settle my belongings, congratulate my team, and leave the stadium as well. I may have won the game, but I did want to make it in time to see Declans’.

Darting through the crowds of people on the outside, I pulled out my phone and texted Declan to come meet me around the athletes cars. Normally, security would be situated near the lot, but I’d be down so fast, there’d be no way he could cause trouble, should he be there before me.

Actually, when I had reached the lot, I arrived at a very familiar head of hair wandering, searching. Of course, I had never actually told him where I parked it and just let him wander, searching up and down the rows for the right car he’d ridden in before, just once.

When I caught up to him, I greeted him like I would normally. “Hey, scumbag.”

“Turd face.” Ridiculous, but creative. I had to give him props for that.

From there he told me what was to be expected after you watch someone in a sports game. The classic, “You did great out there.” It was fine enough, and I understood. That was until he began expanding on his thoughts.

“It was sick how you recovered that one pass and the nosebleed wasn’t pretty, but you did well in the second half too.”

I was slightly baffled he’d paid attention as much as I did because I didn’t think most people attentively watched sports games all that often. But, Declan was observant. I appreciated that about him.

Before he could truly add more to his testament, I asked him an important question. “When do you have to be at your game?”

He looked at me, then he whipped his phone out and checked the clock on that device. “Holy… I gotta go! You were-”

I cut him off so that I could make a brief point. “I’ll drive you,” I said. Even with the entirety of an Exy game under my belt, I still found it within myself to visit the game and cheer on Declan.

No matter who he was, he was important to me. To see him play Soccer as I did Exy would be a kind sight to see. We could further harbour our deep affections for our respective sports and I’d be able to understand him more.

He could understand me already and I wanted to see him in a standpoint that represented him as an athlete. I thought that having musical talent, as well as being an athlete were incredible traits or sides of people. I thought he would prove quite fundamental.

He took me up on my offer to drive him and upon entering my car, I once again reminded him not to lay his feet on the seats or touch anything to run it ragged and out of shape, not that he needed such a reminder. It just made me feel better to know my baby was in good hands.

The man beside me fed directions to the court into my ear. He also told me that he dropped his bag off before coming to my game because he had only been informed the bus would be delayed just barely before the suggested time. Though, it did make it convenient that there was no cargo to carry.

In fact, upon arrival at the Soccer arena, I dropped Declan off at the gate. Though, before he got out of the car, he unbuckled his seatbelt and snuck in a sudden, deep kiss. The kind of kiss I could taste for minutes after he left for the interior warmth. The kind of kiss I could feel, even after I caught my ticket and sat down in the stands with the rest of the onlookers.

Particularly though, I was only eager to view from a true spectator's perspective. Normally, I couldn’t care less about the viewing pleasures of sporting events, but I couldn’t help but feel a sense of importance watching my b-; Watching my boyfriend perform in one of his passions. It nearly enlightened me.

Though, on the downside, I hardly understood soccer one bit. I didn’t know the difference between positions or the basis for penalties and how their system worked. I only knew that my eyes would follow the white and black hexagonal ball, that Declan was the only player I cared about searching for, and that all understanding of the game came in due time.

As the sky was not completely enclosed like it was inside the Exy stadium, I felt the true windchill of the October night flood through my veins. It had been a decent amount of time since I last willingly sat outside in the cold for an event. Though, Chicago of course did have its fair share of freezing winters and sometimes snowy springs.

Oh, how I missed home. I’d most definitely have to tell my man about life here. I’d have to tell her about Declan. I’d tell her about racing again. But, it was no big deal when winter break rolled around and I could visit her again. I missed my ma.

The buzzer that signalled the beginning of the match interrupted my homesick thoughts. From here, I steadily carried my body to get a better gaze at the one player that mattered to me.

Just like I thought I’d seen people on my team, Declan was fast. I’d say nearly fast enough to rival Neil Josten. People hadn’t really been kidding when they said soccer was one of the most difficult sports to play.

I mean, Exy sure has a sizable amount of running, but between not being able to use your arms, keeping up and ahead, as well as simply just sprinting back and forth for what seemed endless? I could not wish in a million years to accomplish the skill of one soccer player, unless I had been playing since I was tiny, of course.

Really, from this point, I could see the ball deflect through everyone and off each other, but I could only describe the footwork I saw that dawned new ideas onto me. Actually, if I were to categorise these movements, it would be a broadway dancing style, but to make notes would be able to create patterns that would possibly give me an edge on the next game.

Always thinking about the next one-up we could have on the next hand was how I just was. I mean, every footwork Kevin had us do was inspired from himself and another team that had disbanded last year, but was any of it derived from soccer?

Sure, in retrospect the two sports had nothing to do with each other, except the moves from this sport could be used against real people in my sport rather than a simple ball. How fascinating being an observer could be.

Chapter 22: Revitalising

Chapter Text

From my perspective, I could see everything I. needed to and wanted to. Thus, I could see our team in possession and passing back and forth between one of the midfielders and the left wing. (I only knew it was them because I'd actually met the left wing, his name was Bixrem, and I categorised each player by their numbers)

Still I haven't a clue in the world what I was supposed to be watching anymore, but as they shot it back and forth, swiftly dodging the ‘away’, I became aware of the offhand to fly it at Declan.

It was hardly off trajectory, but I saw Declan lean for it and spin it out of another player's possession before he dribbled upfield toward the opposing team's goal.

I couldn't tear my eyes away from him and his stupidly luscious hair. He ripped through everyone else, squeezing through a tight space made by the players. It was incredible. However, it could be wild because I couldn't look away.

Either way, he was about to shoot, snapping his leg back, locking his eyes on the goal. Out of nowhere, he faked the entire field and made a shot to the left wing again who put it into goal.

Since the goalie had already dived for Declan's shot, he hadn't seen the alternative move coming and could only scramble to save the team.

The team did a short celebration before heading for their positions on the court again. I found it quite fascinating the way his team worked.

Usually, tactics could be universal in multiple sports if implicated correctly, but this team was genuinely something else.

My team may have been at the bottom of Class I last year, but this year we had redeeming energy and the players to back it up. Now, I was looking at our school team who was never at the bottom of the league.

The teamwork was incredible and even more so the players that came with it. I stored that same mental note in the back of my mind as I gazed at the rest of the game, all the while providing myself quality internal commentary.

The score had landed up with a close match and Palmetto scraping by with one extra point. Both teams were truly formidable, but I was intrigued to see the whole of a game that wasn't mine.

As every fan exited the stands, I walked down alongside them, but I stopped near enough I could find Declan. He thought I was good, he was filled with grandeur.

In what other way could I talk to him than to tell him he was one hell of a player. So much, it made me incredibly proud to have even attended, watching.

When I found him, or rather when he found and greeted me, I nodded at him briefly until he stood in front of me and set his gear down. The empty space was calm and quiet; in other words very easy to talk in.

I started off with the words, “You’re clearly dog.” Compared to the stark controversy I actually meant, it was entertaining to see his face twist and contort until he looked as offended as he felt.

“No I’m not! You saw me!”

“I’m joking.” Relief painted his expression and as soon as his shoulders slouched, he shot back up again and nearly tried to put me in a headlock.

“You ass!” He pushed his knuckles into my head and grinded it down until I could worm myself away, hair hazardously ruffled.

I took a step back and smiled slightly without much of my eyes, lackadaisically, “You did great, I did see.”

“Glad not to disappoint,” he sarcastically commented, all-the-while swinging his arm around my shoulder and steering me to the exit with his bag in the other hand.

I kept talking as he guided me towards our destination, “Actually, might have to steal some of your moves.”

He scoffed at me, naturally, “And how are you going to do that? Little racquetball.”

“Simple, I’ll just trip up some of the strikers or make openings for my team.” I stated my case so simply; it never could be. That type of footwork took practice and perfection, and I haven't a clue what I was actually talking about. The key was to make it sound like I did.

He stopped at the door, let go of me, and shoved the door open with the entire left side of his body. “Mhm, and how are you going to do that?”

Truthfully, I could drill until I know what I’m even talking about. Was I going to suggest that right off the bat, no. “You.”

It was his work anyway. “Why would I show you, hmm?

Here comes the excuses, “We both play for the same school and you like me?”

It was quite the weak attempt, but he seemed to take it into slight consideration. I could judge by the finger he put to his chin and head tilted slightly towards the late-night sky. Even so, it was more sarcastic than anything as if he had already made up his mind.

“Maybe.”

That was as many words as I could get out of him until we reached my car that we had driven over here. Thanks to my entire life, I could just drive us back to the same dorm and not have to send him another way while I went my own.

Igniting the car let on the familiar roar of the v8 that resided under the hood or my pride. I smiled gently at the familiarity I was surrounded with before I turned to Declan.

I opened my mouth, but hadn’t let out a word before Declan chortled, “No feet on the seats, no dirt in the car, I know. You love her more than anything else.”

I made a slight face and nodded because I’d say that Danielle and my Demon were nearly tied but Declan did fall somewhere close behind. Then, I felt nearly guilty that a guitar and a car came before my boyfriend on the ‘Things I Love’ list.

Regardless, when I shifted my Dodge into gear, I slipped the quiet background of the radio into the silence. It sparked a few seconds of satisfaction, but then again, when were the two of us exactly known for our direct silence?

I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel to the melody of ‘Are You Gonna Be My Girl’ by The Jets. Before I knew it, the man in the passenger seat next to me began to hum the tune of the lyrics. It was fun. Fun bopping my head slightly and getting louder, then laughing. This was all the high I ever needed.

Even when the song switched, Declan gazed at me and I glanced at him, trying not to take my eyes off the shorter road. For the new song, we definitely went at it harder, me practically drumming against the wheel as safely as I could and Declan moderately singing with a voice that could definitely yell.

I liked it. I liked this. I liked us. It felt so real just rocking out to bangers from years ago, not caring about any important matters. My team didn’t matter, his team didn’t, the game didn’t. All that really mattered right now was my car, him, and I. I was okay with that.

I had decided that until we were approaching the tower and arriving back towards our tower. It seemed that after my team had won, they’d broken out booze and thrown a party. Then when the soccer team had arrived back with their news of close victory, the party grew in size.

The scene almost wanted to make me stay inside the safe confines of my car, but I’d have to get out at some point. Declan even said so as he ushered me out of the car and guided me towards the entrance to the tower. “You’re okay, your whole team, and I, are right here.”

With his words, I shoved my body inside the glass doors and arrived on that very scene I had only been an onlooker to moments before. Upon my entry I was greeted with familiar faces, those I plainly recognised, and some I had never seen before. The area was alive with athletes from all different divisions.

The Vixens were supplying a healthy amount of booze just the same as I saw a generous amount supplied with very similar bottles I’d seen within Kevin’s supply before. This was a celebration party, of course it’d have a wild amount of alcohol.

I turned my head to glance at Declan who walked in right behind me. He looked as if he were floating on clouds, almost like a kid in a candy store; I saw the way he gazed at the table spread of drinks. Perhaps it wouldn’t kill anyone to just acknowledge it and move on, but could I?

Declan bounced past me and up to the liquor, stealing a bottle for himself, while I only followed. I knew the pit I fell into with myself last time I’d ‘sampled’ a sip. How could I live with myself, nonetheless under the same roof as my entire team, who some now knew I had issues with the substance?

Maybe the best solution was to hide away and abstain from all this madness. But, who was I to walk away from a perfectly reasonable and controlled party? I can handle myself. I’m an adult. Is nineteen really an adult?

My closest contact began to turn away from the table where I was and prance off to another corner. Before he could really leave, I caught up and followed him around like a lost puppy. I mean, I was somewhat lost. There had been a reason I didn’t like going to these ‘parties’ or hanging out with Renee instead.

The effortlessness of sticking by someone who drank the same alcohol concentration as you was refreshing. In which case that percentage lies at 0. Now, as much as I love Declan, he was most definitely not the best person to stand next to if I hadn’t wanted to partake in certain activities he definitely would.

I’m not really amazing at taking care of myself though, so I let myself enjoy his presence a bit longer. I tailed him as he walked up to one of his teammates, Sean I’d learned his name was, and introduced us.

“Sean, Nathan. Nathan, Sean.”

I was particularly glad he called me Nathan more so than Jesse. I had always preferred Nathan, but the comfortability of Jesse never sat in regardless.

My new acquaintance and I shook hands and we greeted each other before Declan began to talk about one of the plays he’d made from the game. Sean had been one of the Backs. I believe he played Left Centre Back, but I could have heard wrong anyways.

The two were talking in expressive detail with excitement and passion. I had seen the game, but the fact I wasn’t directly involved made the interaction slightly awkward to be standing there. I only stayed silent while I listened somewhat and watched the bottle in Declans hand drain every time Sean took a turn to speak.

Quite frankly, I felt it was pointless for me to be standing here, doing absolutely nothing. Actually, I was about to head off somewhere else. Then, Declan brought me into the conversation.

“Nathan’s on the Exy team. Yeah, he won his game right before ours, didn’t you Nate?”

I turned my attention back to Declan and nodded first. “Yeah, it was an alright game.” I felt myself running out of real words to say even though I hadn’t said much. The thought crossed my mind that I didn’t really want to say much.

“What position?” Sean asked me.

“Backliner. It’s defense except we only have like six on court at a time.” Sean nodded at me with a satisfied look.

“Sick.”

After that two second interaction, the conversation veered back in a direction that I had no contribution to. This would definitely cross the point where it could have been deemed fit to make my leave.

I put my hand on Declans shoulder to grab his attention for a second, “I’m gonna go find someone else alright?”

He looked slightly disappointed that I was leaving. But, when he said ‘Bye’, it seemed more like when that one person left a party, but no one else was going to try and stop them or leave alongside them. Not quite a mock goodbye, but a distant, emotionally disconnected goodbye that wasn’t said with their expression but only their words.

I dropped my hand from his shoulder and told him, “I’ll find you later.” I then walked off into another direction where I could find literally anyone from my team and join their conversation. It hadn’t really mattered though because Sean and Declan picked their conversation back up right after I left anyways.

The first person I laid eyes on was Nicky. I’m glad it was him though because I felt that we hadn’t talked in a decent amount of time, kindly, and I internally missed the sweetness he showed me when I was just barely new and when he could be like a mentor. He really made me comfortable with the team I thought.

When I marched on over to him talking to someone I hadn’t seen before, I greeted the pair, hoping I wasn’t interrupting anything. “Hey, Nicky! I hope I’m not interrupting something, am I?”

He chuckled and said, “No, not at all. Hey, great job at the game.” He was drunk and smiling even more than he normally did with that infectious smile of his. Did he always smile this bright?

Quickly, he introduced me to Ben. They both invited me in on the conversation of Halloween, an upcoming topic since the holiday was so near. I hadn’t celebrated much, or nearly at all when I was back in Chicago. But, apparently it was a much larger holiday here among the team.

Last year, the team had all gone to that bar Nicky had brought me to over the summer, Eden’s Twilight, and they’d all gone in costumes. It was apparently a deal of Neil uniting the team and it was a great time at that.

Since I was hardly made aware of this subject, the two of them started talking me up to getting a costume. Honestly, I considered the idea laughable. They spat ideas at me, “Batman, Cop, Zombie, Skeleton, Cowboy…” They all seemed so ridiculous and there was no chance ever I’d be caught wearing an outfit like that.

That’s when my ironic idea struck me. Formula 1 driver. I already street raced so it wasn’t as much of a stretch, ridiculous as it was. I put up the suggestion and they rejoiced in pride, thinking they forced me to partake in the event. Really, I still didn’t care too much. But, it satisfied them to a point and I suppose that was all that mattered.

On an off note of me choosing a ridiculous Halloween costume, I decided to go find someone else to talk to that wasn’t through-the-roof drunk from hours of downing liquor already under his or her belt. Unfortunately, it was slightly difficult to find a person like that because my team had been here for some time already and supplied only as much as they hadn’t consumed before.

Taking off to find someone else, I decided to just sit on the stairs, not bothering to actually go search for anyone else. I didn’t see Renee from my vantage point and at this point in time, she was probably the only person that wasn’t drowning in alcohol.

It was kind on my perch. Lonely, but quieter that I didn’t have anyone buzzing in my ear. No one was loud. No one was making me wish I could join in the extracurricular fun that I most certainly had to abstain from, unfortunately.

I jinxed myself because as soon as I whispered those statements to myself, someone decided to stumble into my shoulder, hard.

“Ow, watch it man.” I rubbed my shoulder as it was getting sore-er by the moment.

The one who hit me just told me to, and I quote, “Loosen up.” I don’t know how I could, I mean. This party, it’s uncomfortable. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I can’t juice myself up on anything. I feel awkward.

After a brief silence of me simply collecting my thoughts, I decided it felt the best to stand up. To walk straight out of the building and catch a whiff of real fresh air without the scent of liquor as an undertone. Once I could finally smell the scent or lack thereof when the wind whipped against my face, I felt slightly cooler.

Glancing down, I noticed my feet couldn’t bear to stand still. My resolution to that problem was to step off to the side of the building where no one was or could look. Leaning back against the concrete wall, I freely slid my back down the side and rested myself on the ground.

When I bounced my leg and tapped my foot, I had the impulsive urge to flip myself over onto my stomach and begin push-ups. I needed something to clear my mind and what better way than a little physical complication to do so?

I lowered myself onto my hands and let myself fall controlled, then I pushed up rhythmically on the ground until my arms were extended. I counted hushed, “One…two…three…” I made it all the way to fifty-one before my body forced me to stop.

I sat back up against the wall and attempted to avoid the despairingly lonely thoughts clouding my head. I hummed a tune. I distracted myself from the fact I wasn’t next to anyone, nor did I want to be.

The tune was catchy, like a melodic jazz that could've been from older decades. The kind of tune where you could just tell the singer would have a gravelly voice and sing it exactly how it’s supposed to be. It could calm me. Could.

As I could’ve guessed, someone was about to round the corner around the building to where I sat and disturb my peace. I could see the shadow stretch longer and longer in the light of the front lights. The only fact that instant was tolerable was because it was Declan who rounded the corner.

“Nate. Thought you might’ve left.” He walked right over next to me and slid down, the same as me.

“Not yet. Kind of.” I never looked at him. I didn’t need to.

Declan left the conversation in an awkward silence and I didn’t feel like anything at all. The so-called party had sucked all the life-sustaining battery right out of me.

“You got anything on you?” I asked him, hoping to at least scratch off something. I wanted something or anything to pump my senses back into me.

He sat there thinking for a moment and then nodded. Fishing a small bag out of his pocket, Declan hoisted a single white-coloured pill into the air.

I snatched the substance out of his grip and he shouted, “Hey! You ain’t even supposed to have that stuff.” After he told me that, he tried to grab it back just before I dropped it into my mouth.

As I leaned my head back and swallowed the same tablet, I heard him say, “Ohhh, no. You didn’t.” When I looked back at him, he was shaking his head, eyes slightly crazed and eyebrows a tad furrowed. He wasn’t necessarily upset.

“Just don’t tell anyone. They don’t need to know,” I retort like it was the obvious and sane answer.

I don’t think he ever cared about the fact I was a possibly-former-or- not-major-addict. Instead, he spouted, “I was going to save that for later!”

Very funny. “As if you needed it anyway. Aren’t you drunk, idiot?”

“No!” I lull my head to the right and slightly raise my eyebrows, looking at him through the top field of my vision. “A little.”

I rolled my head back to its original position. “Parties kind of suck when you have nothing buzzing inside you.” It’s honest. I hardly knew what I was still doing there anyway.

Declan spoke after a few seconds of silence, sans the sound of our breathing. “I never go to parties without something buzzing.” In any case, I hadn’t seen him at many parties, but the few I did, he was extremely quick to find the booze, wherever it was.

The two of us sat quietly on the side of the Fox Tower, him slightly drunk and I with a single instance of drugs. There was nothing that ultimately needed to be said as it was a comfortable silence. We let the wind blow past our faces and bite our noses, though he shielded me from the brute force of the wind.

There was no one else outside and even then, the sounds began to quiet as some people began to leave the gathering of sorts that may just happen to have alcohol and drugs. It was a celebration party for some of the teams; why can’t everyone go all out?

Regardless, I got sick of sitting in the same spot doing absolutely nothing when it was beginning to become so cold outside. At the first shudder I let out, I asked with the stupid nickname, “Lance…” slurring the soft ‘c’, “You want to go back up to one of the rooms and hang out more?”

There hadn’t entirely been a reason for the invite; we could just leave each other and go back alone. But, I didn’t really feel like sitting around Asher and Paxton alone just now. Or any of the team. Declan really got it. Or me, whichever one resonated more. Did he understand me or the issue that was my life?

He turned to me, “Cool if it’s yours?”

“Yeah.”

We both struggled to stand up while I tried to slide up on the coarse wall and Declan pushed up off the ground like a somewhat sane individual. I wasn’t the one to almost trip though when he took his first step. I caught him around the shoulders before he could fall and we walked back inside.

Arriving back at the ‘party’, if you could even call it that anymore, was a lot more baran than it had been an hour ago. But, I suppose time slipping away from me was not lost on me. The two of us pushed through the people still there and slipped onto the stairs, climbing two flights.

On the third floor, we turned in and I retrieved the key to my dorm. I realised now that my mind felt a million times calmer than it had when I first left the building. Though now, I was also flying somewhat high. Whatever was in that pill was dosed up high, for sure.

As I opened the door, I saw Paxton playing one of his many games as he always did and Asher on the chair watching him, dazed. He never was the best at holding his alcohol was he? Asher seemed to always cross the threshold of buzzed to drunk somehow.

He perked up a little as he sat a bit straighter in his chair. Then, he motioned to Declan behind me, “Who?”

It hit me like a truck, the fact that none of my team had actually formally met Declan. I unintentionally kept a hundred percent of my worlds apart without even realising it. “Holy… you guys have never met before?”

Asher shook his head in front of me. “Well then. This is Declan, Declan meet Asher,” I point to my favourite roommate with the pin-straight, ash-blonde hair wearing some sweats and a simple tee shirt that looked so similar to what I wear, it could’ve been mine. Following Asher, “And Paxton,” I motion to him, smashing some buttons on his controller, not pulling his focus.

The guy behind me steps properly into the scene and walks straight through Paxtons setup to give Asher a handshake. “We were just gonna hang out in the bedroom for a bit. Cool?” I ask Asher more specifically.

He looked at me and nodded passively, still a bit dazed, “Sure. Still drunk anyway.” The guy sitting on the armchair started chuckling, near giggling incessantly.

Pulling back across Paxton’s game, Declan retreated back next to me as I kicked off my shoes urging Declan to do the same. Then, I gave a wave and shoved him in the direction of the bedroom. Once there, I ripped off all that I didn’t need on me and plopped myself onto the moderately comfortable bottom bunk.

While somewhat awkwardly, Declan followed me and sat down next to me and leaned back on top of the mattress. I followed suit in the same fashion he did. Though, I had to adjust myself and actually sit in the real bed because I felt I’d stay like that forever if I didn’t.

While I was scrambling around so much, Declan moved and just crammed into the side of the mattress next to me so that I was between the wall and him. Since the bed wasn’t really huge there wasn’t much extra space, but it was still comfortable enough for the both of us to sit side-by-side on.

Once we were, we faced each other and I laughed at how much effort it took just to sit on a mattress that isn’t actually built for two people. When I started laughing, he started laughing. Laughing turned into breathy gasps. It was wondrous to be under the effects of some mysterious drug.

This moment kind of reminded me of when I won one of my first races and the friends I had all went around and smoked some pot in celebration. That gave me a grand idea.

“I got something we can do one time.”

“What do you got?”

“Racing. You’ve been in my car, but you’ve never been racing in my car. We should.”

He chuckled next to me, “You sure it won’t kill me?” He does know how fast I have driven and that the car can go double what I’ve already shown him.

“I’m a great driver, thank you very much.”

“You sure?”

“Only the best in the midwest.” I suppose I wasn’t in the midwest any longer, but I was definitely raised in that area, so it wasn’t really that far off.

“I’m down then.”

“Cool,” I replied, thinking of when it could be a possibility.

“Cool,” he echoed back to me.

Upon setting loose plans, we had turtle-speed-like conversations given our state of mind, a couple sloppy kisses, and terrible casual insults like we always had. It was easy to be with him. I didn’t really have to think. Except for the fact we can both be idiots and that fact requires me to think.

When Asher had grown tired, he wandered into the bedroom and we decided it was time for him to leave. It was incredibly late by this point in the night, but I insisted he take another shower before he left because I didn’t think he would if he just left for his dorm.

I stuck him with some of the clothes from my shared wardrobe and let him leave. Once he was gone, I took my own shower even though I didn’t need it nearly as much as I didn’t have a lot of alcohol scent on me. I walked in and hit the bed as Asher was already sleeping as I could tell by his snores. Somehow, I still fell asleep before Paxton even swaggered inside, though I did fall asleep rather quickly.

Chapter 23: From the Soul

Chapter Text

Over time, I had moderately fixed the largely blank period of time I left myself in the mornings. My professors had been so kind as to continually stack new assignments on my coursework. Now, French was simple because Neil helped me quite a bit since it was mostly basics.

However, for the vast majority of my assignments they took up nearly all of my morning hours ranging from essays to compositions to stanzas. I had made myself rethink the effect of even taking five classes when I only needed four. I needed to ensure that the matter was nothing I couldn’t manage.

Normally, I’d be just fine, but then the coursework became more difficult, and my professors didn’t care if you didn’t attend class or caused some sort of commotion. They loved each of their classes they taught and it was each person's decision if they wanted to pay attention.

Fortunately, I opted to pay attention in my classes, but still the work took almost an unprecedented amount of my time. I still needed lots of time for exy, for music. Racing was clearly a second-hand priority at the moment but I made time for all my hobbies and people.

The only way I could make time was writing all of my papers and assignments in the early morning, when only I was awake. Right after my egg-guacamole-hot-sauce-sandwich and shower, I’d sit at the desk I had, set up all that I needed, and I worked. Today I opted for the couch because I was playing guitar though.

Coincidentally, I had my performance class in what I determine is just over an hour after glancing at my watch. I still needed to place the finishing touches on the pitches for the piece I was going to play today. We didn’t play in class all the time because we normally had a few weeks, but this was only supposed to be a very short piece. Therefore, Prof. Fiefer, he only gave us a week.

Yippee for me. I was trying to tamper with a couple measures because the sound was off and I couldn’t get it right. Generally, I found music relaxing to me when it flowed out of my fingertips like the ocean wave flowed onto a beach. Only, it seemed I was in some sort of a block that I’d heard people can get sometimes when they run out of ideas.

For the life of me, I could figure out how to change a couple notes to make the entire composition come alive. It stumped me for the first time in my life. I set Danielle on the ground and flipped on the couch so that my legs were on the end and my head hung off the end. I turned so that I was completely laying on my back and my feet were dangling off the edge.

I was completely unable to get comfortable in my seat and every time I was greeted with a new idea, I scraped it and became restless again. I was completely useless for a whole of forty-five minutes. At that point, when Paxton began to wake up, I knew I had only burnt off time doing nothing.

Resolving not to worry about it and just fix the measures as the time came, I packed up all that I needed. I put Danielle in her case and sealed her so that she wouldn’t be banging around pretentiously on my back. I took my sheet music and stuck it back in the folder I kept it all in. I took up the pick I had and slipped it into my back pocket. I even grabbed an extra for precaution, though I never lost my lucky one.

Almost prematurely, I slipped out the door with all my essentials for class. Namely, I left before Paxton left the shower. He’s not a bad person per say, I just never clicked with him and I didn’t intend to any time soon.

Now, I was headed off to the hall where my class was. It wasn’t difficult to reach or take long to walk anymore, so I took a detour around the courtyard just because I had the time. Sometimes I just could do things like take detours now. I was independent, and it’s not like I cared if I were early for class as long as I got there before Fiefer.

I had no reason to take any detour. I didn’t know anyone in the courtyard at this hour, nor did I care to. Yet, I walked the sidewalk because I could. The scenery was genuinely peaceful since the leaves started fading to the prettier shades of iridescent red and fiery oranges.

Back home, it would be getting colder now and sometimes we even had first snow within the week; it happened when I was a kid. But, in South Carolina, it stayed a lot warmer year-round. I didn’t have to worry much about freezing in the middle of November. In a way, it was more peaceful.

The leaves still changed and shed, the festivities of Autumn still rang forth, only without the unpleasantries that were accompanied with the chilling weather. I vowed to take in the nature and scenery that surrounded me at least a few times. Chicago hadn’t had much scenery to begin with as the cloud-high glass buildings blocked out all the space for greenery anyway.

When I felt like it had reached time enough to actually make my way to class, I stopped circling the space of the courtyard and cut through the centre to reach the hall I needed to be in. I was there so often, it felt almost natural like I could appear there even if I weren’t moving or with my eyes closed.

It was that kind of idiotic dependency which I had attached to that carried me through the first fleeting months of my freshman year of college. It was a ‘scary’ time for a lot of people, but the fact I could just go anywhere and play music as much as I wanted and let everything I needed out in the open. That and Exy kept me sane.

Among the things that kept me sane, I pondered what my ma was doing back in Chicago. Was she worried about me, alone again? Was she excited I was faced with the opportunity of a literal lifetime? Was she waiting patiently to see when I would return home? A secret. I don’t think I would.

My thoughts only cut off as I stepped into the same room I did every Monday morning. I took a familiar seat next to Max, whom I’d made steady friends with at the beginning of term and ultimately stayed acquaintances with. She was good for me, I determined, and that I wanted her to stick around.

Next to her, I sat down. Declan walked in a few minutes later and intruded in on the conversation I was having with Max. He’s always so disrespectful, I swear.

“You know, man, if people are having a conversation, you normally wait.”

“Why would I do that? I know both of you.”

“Usually, out of politeness. But, you normally aren’t polite, are you? You don’t really care, hmm?”

Then, Max chimed in how she usually did when Declan and I started ‘fighting’ with each other, while that’s just how we were. “Jesse,” That name still felt foreign to me, especially when I had a few people actually calling me Nathan. “You know he’s not trying to be rude.”

“Yes, I do,” I chortled. Then, I turned to him and looked him in the eyes, “I’m just giving him a hard time.”

As soon as I said that, our professor walked in and gave a short explanation of what the class would look like. Alphabetically, he’d call us up to the front and we’d play for the class. Our piece was to be no longer than a single minute so that we could perform, he could critique and give his opinion, and he’d still be able to run through everyone within the time.

It was efficient and it kept fifty college kids in a single room quiet because we had to be quiet for ‘respect’ and so he could listen properly and whatnot. Personally, I didn’t mind the chatting as I preferred to have a little bit of an audience. But, I clearly wasn’t the decision caster.

Really, it wasn’t absolutely terrible sitting silently because I did find it interesting to listen to everyone else and what they’d created. The only general guideline was the minute rule. Other than that, Professor Fiefer was normally very loose on the requirements so that we could create whatever we wanted.

Honestly, it could be fair to say that I respected him because he let all of us be so free with what we created. I liked to add my own layers to what I released. Usually, it felt just right.

Now that he had finished with the last piece, he called my name as the fifth person to present. Walking down to the front of the hall, I carried Danielle and the one sheet with all the notes. For once, I felt some type of nervousness that I didn’t normally feel. My gut almost twisted. Probably because I never had a piece unfinished like I did now.

I sat down on the stool in the front and unpacked Danielle. Slipping the pick out of my back pocket, I set up and gave a thumbs up to my professor. I strummed the first note and everything in perspective fell together.

The content I’d played over and over melted together and intertwined into real song at the mercy of my fingers. The pitch and the switch of the layers combined in perfect symphony. The two measures I couldn’t get right, all I needed to do was stop racking my brain about it.

As soon as I let my heart actually slip through, somehow the chords just came to me like the words in a catchy song. It just happened to connect perfectly in a way I couldn’t describe.

After I swiped down the last note on Danielle, I slacked my grip on my pick and replaced it back into my back pocket. I stayed seated until Fiefer told me to go and let on a brief nod before I stood. I felt lighter like I was floating on clouds. The emotion overtaking me was pride.

As I sat back down and let him run through the rest of the people in the class, I sat back and revelled in myself; I stewed in my victory. It’s not a moment I had to tell anyone I prepared inadequately and played to my heart's content.

That was part of the deal. Only my heart had to know and that was the thought that kept me satisfied and happy that I never had to tell anyone else to make the sensation valid. I could validate my own small victory even if no one else saw the fact because I saw it.

My ma always used to tell me, ‘Oh, it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. It only matters what you think.’ In a way, she’s sort of right even though it seemed so corny at the time.

Ergo, I let myself relax with Danielle and wait for everyone else to finish their presentation. I rather enjoyed when Declan played his energetic trombone piece and Max let a symphony run through her. Honestly, piano was so versatile because you could play two different melodies or harmonies at the same time in a way that just worked. Max made it work. I admired her work.

I felt that class went well in the sense it was a relatively laid back class and a calm morning leading up to. That day was rather enjoyable and I’d hoped to continue it. I had Exy practice later anyway and something great always came to me when I ran up and down the court with my racquet.

I spent the afternoon cracked open with one of my German books. It’s been a little while since I spoke the language and I needed to make sure I wasn’t getting rusty, but sometimes reading provided a kind break.

I felt it was a productive day and so much so that I felt the need to stretch when I stood up. In a way, I felt almost like a newborn baby with how well and dandy I could just function. It was easy to set the book down and prepare myself for practice. Somehow it felt like it was going to be one of the more fun ones. Possibly a scrimmage could come out of it?

Grabbing my gear, I drove myself to the court out of habit. It’s not that I minded driving alone much anymore either. I would still pick my demon any day over anyone else’s cars here. Even the Mas. Don’t get me wrong, I love a great Mas. But, it’s not like I was driving and the car wasn’t mine to begin with, so I didn’t care much.

The ride to the stadium was smooth as I let myself just think with the radio. I hadn’t needed to talk to anyone and the absence of people let me get into the zone for practice. Lately, I felt like I needed to start performing better to match up with the rest of my team. It’s like when they stopped talking to me, I fell behind them and I couldn’t have that for the remainder of my residency here, now could I?

When I got to the real thing though, I felt like this was going to be it somehow; like I had an idea and it would be a really grand one. The feeling got me thinking about Declans’ soccer game and observing some of the movements and footwork from the other sport.

It hit me like a brick at the thought of mixing some of Kevin’s footwork with the juking or blocking of soccer. I racked my brain for a way to combine it all the way to the locker rooms where I put my gear down and waited in the lounge with the team for directions.

Upon Dan and Neil organising practice, we all headed to the locker rooms and strapped on our gear respectively before heading out onto the actual court. But, when I saw the ball we used, it dawned on me.

What if I could use a tactic that was almost like a false step right in front of the other person with a turn of my body. It couldn’t be considered a foul because there’s no personal instigating. If I implicate it correctly, it’s like the other player stepped wrong and simply crashed. That could work!

Without speaking to a soul, I prepared myself for practice with the other backliners to cover some basic drills until we combined with the goalkeepers. We were supposed to improve our communication, but some of the team was nearly on the same exact wavelength anyway that it was scary. I suppose that made us such an impeccable team in a way. Our teamwork was built well in some areas.

Aside from the upperclassmen, our freshmen, including myself, worked strikingly well together since we each had to adjust to the entire team at the same time. Even Paxton began to warm up to the whole idea of teamwork during the month or so that they stopped using that feature of exy with me. Something good came out of it, I suppose.

The backliner I felt most confident with could have been any of the three because Nicky was spot on me from the get-go and helped me from day one. Or, I could have played the best with Matt who was generally dependable and had the most overall muscle out of us. But, I felt I played best with Aaron.

His style had been to tie me into a lot more moves that worked with communication even though we didn’t normally speak much. The way we worked was if we needed a specific move from the other, we’d be forced to clue in and carry it out. It was the dependency that made me confident in being a player.

Amongst the goalkeepers, Renee was the most competent for me because she was predictable and still strong enough that she was a great defender if we managed to let something slip through. Andrew was more of a wild card that I couldn’t track yet because he said he didn’t care much for the game. Odd. Robin, she was kind, but she was shy and I never got to a communication point that worked well with her.

Out of our dealers, I worked with Asher the best. Our teamwork mattered the most when it came to our playstyles because we could communicate well and that simple fact boded well for the both of us. As for strikers, Neil actually didn’t mind if I had a crazy shot to throw him and being quick as he was, he was the best shot I had with the strikers. I liked the team.

Clearly, we all had our strengths and weaknesses, but we brought out the general best in each other that helped exponentially. Especially, that fact helped me along, fitting in with the team and whatnot.

By the time that we converged altogether as an entire team, each of us were adequately warmed up for the fated scrimmage that Dan announced. I knew we were going to scrimmage! Honestly, that’s half the reason to even go to practice in the first place.

As Neil and Dan separated as captain and vice captain, they each selected the players they wanted on their teams. Since Dan picked first, she took Irina, trying not to take all the veterans who clearly knew what they were doing. Likewise, Neil's first option was Robin. Both captains picked players they wanted to really work with first.

Next, Dan took Matt and Neil stole Kevin. Andrew was sent to Dan’s side and their defensive lineup was looking solid, then Neil countered Dan’s picks with myself and Aaron when Dan took Paxton. After myself, Allison joined us and Renee slipped in with Dan while Asher waded with us and Nicky joined Matt and Andrew.

Overall, the teams were created so that some newer duos could enhance their skills together and others could improve what they already had going, like Aaron and I for example. Besides, I knew Neil wanted to work with Robin specifically and though I hadn’t really known why, I assumed at least a few plays would be semi-dependant on her.

The Foxes were extremely adamant on non-verbal communication. It wasn’t a largely identified trait of the team, but I learned over a few months of joining that many of the players who’d been here longer than I were close.
The dynamic of the whole team was part of what made the team so undefeatable last season. I had done my dutiful research at some point of the events of last year at some point.

In fact, I learned more about Neil’s past through the media and for that matter, more of the whole team’s than they’d ever told me personally. The sentiment made me a tad disappointed that all of the bad stuff that ever happened to them was just on media platforms for anybody to see.

But, then again everything is bound to come out at some point. This whole team is just a band of misfits who happen to be great at a smaller sport that emerged in America throughout more recent years. It’s just a commodity that somewhat happens to be tragic.

Actually, the news made me wonder if all of my past would ever make it there. I somewhat doubted it, but some part of me believed every word that someone would find it and spread it. I could only pray that I’d never have to see it personally.

Regardless, when the whistle blew, we were all off, just the same as average athletes. Dan’s team won the toss up which meant I was quite literally battling Kevins tactics from the start. Aaron charged on Paxton since he was actually in possession, but my duty was to make sure Kevin and Paxton couldn’t pass between themselves.

Thinking much more than I normally did, basing my game less on instinct, I wanted to implement my original move somewhere and figuring out just where was the toughest part. Though, when Paxton threw it at Kevin just like almost everyone on the court could’ve predicted he would, trying to integrate teamwork and all, I was there to feign a false step right in front of Kevin so that he stepped off to avoid it.

But, since I had never stepped in the first place and was ready, I took a sort of leap in front of Kevin and intercepted the ball. It was unexpected enough that I was able to trip Kevin up for long enough to send it flying at Asher. I hadn’t had much of a choice because I distinctly remember Matt fully blocking Neil because Neil was so fast, but Matt was so much taller and more built, he at least had a shot at guarding him. Dan took Allison for herself, but Asher. Asher was still barely open.

When I made a move, Kevin seemed surprised that I might have somehow gotten better even though I hadn’t been improving as I should’ve been if I were to make heavy progress. Simply, I had to analyse what I was about to do and actually put it to use, but I had the soccer team to thank for any celebration as I combined one of the moves I saw from them with Raven footwork that Kevin spoke so highly of.

What I did actually kept my team in high spirits for the beginning of the match as we began with a lead. Asher had definitely been trained correctly by Dan and Allison for whatever he was doing right because he’d been much better from even a few months. I could tell they were starting to actually teach him skills and strategies after the basics.

During the course of the scrimmage, both teams adjusted to each other and let a few slide. I saw a few of the more ‘special’ moves that people wanted to take out since practice was the ultimate time for said training, but adrenaline, I believe, led my ‘team’ to a singular point lead in the first half.

Our halves were broken up by a water break and obviously much shorter than a real game, but I enjoyed it all the same. Plus, I greatly revelled in being able to play against my own team since I’d never be able to in another situation. We had a lot of formidable players of whom I’d be honoured to play against.

During the break, Kevin walked up to me while I was drinking water and asked me, “What did you do? Against me?”

I finished swallowing my sip and dropped the bottle to my side, “I don’t know. I thought of it.”

“Thought of it? You just faked me out because you thought of it?”

“I saw the soccer team do something like that. So, I just tried it.”

He nearly glared at me, though something told me he wasn’t mad. “I’ll have to see that again.” Kevin flashed a small smile at me to make sure I took it as a friendly comment. Then, he left me to finish my water in pieces.

The rest of the scrimmage resumed after a few minutes and my team's adrenaline and momentum had been interrupted and we began to slip. The defence on our team hadn’t given up point after point, but Kevin came at us stronger as we began to wane. Slowly, points were given up by us more than they were being stolen.

Then the end of the match resulted in Dan’s team pulling ahead of us with two more points than we had on them. Fortunately, none of my team was genuinely pressed about the loss, but the sheer force we were barraged with was too much for us to combat.

Practice ended and I stayed for a moment longer with Kevin to demonstrate what I’d used a few times more as I further familiarised myself with the method as well as showed Kevin the mechanism. From my perspective, he was as interested in the tactic as I thought he would be; I was proud I could invent a move to a degree and that Kevin held my ideas in regards.

Even though he wasn’t meant to be a captain, his skill was clearly not ignored, and while he did cooperate with the team, he also brought us drills and skills to improve on. He wanted what was overall best for each player on the team, and I respect that. I’m just glad he observes all that he finds interesting too.

Chapter 24: Individual Niceties

Chapter Text

As Halloween drew nearer, I became forced to shop for a costume. Supposedly, it was supposed to be a tradition for my team, but I was going to be participating in a race anyway. In other words, I wouldn’t even be celebrating with my team. Still, they didn’t know that fact and Nicky specifically, he demanded I buy a costume.

Roaming the isles of one of the nearest department stores, I looked at all the clothing and couldn’t find anything to my liking. Of course, Declan had wanted to tag along and brought his roommate with him.

His roommate, Tyler, was taller than both of us were, possibly capping six feet, and hispanic. He almost reminded me of Nicky actually, only not as energetic and with shorter, curlier hair. Either way, the two of them were searching for Halloween costumes, the same as me.

They’d been telling me on the ride there, “Yeah, the both of us celebrated it a lot back home. Every year. We need a costume for it, you know?”

Then Tyler gave the excuse, “Soccer keeps us busy,” leaving it at that until we arrived in the shop.

Amongst the isles, they at least had some sort of an idea, the kind of costume they wanted. Tyler actually just wanted one of the ridiculous latex masks and to pull out some clothes from his closet and call it a day.

Declan on the other hand found a fedora that he just wanted and rolled with it. Before I knew it, he’d found a stupid pocket watch and I knew he was going to crack jokes about businessmen for the entirety of the holliday.

For myself, I was forced to venture into the actual costume section when I could find nothing to suit my fancy. When I expressed, “There’s nothing here that’s good,” Declan was still toying around with his ridiculous pocket watch.

He spoke without looking at anyone in particular but speaking nonetheless. “How about an F1 driver? You already have the car for it.” I chuckled at the notion, but I stopped because sometimes he could land on a good idea. Not particularly ideal, but much wiser of an option than one of the childish ghost-sheet costume ideas.

Wandering through shelves of costumes, I stumbled upon a racecar driver getup with the whole shabang and all. Picking it up, I weighed the package in my hands and showed it to the other two behind me. “Whaddya guys think?” I asked.

After receiving their nods and words of approval, I sent a picture of the costume to the first contact I’d ever received upon moving here, the one and only Nicky Hemmick. He required that I show him proof-of-costume- to-buy because he wasn’t shopping with me like he had for Neil. I am definitely grateful he doesn’t have to tag along just to find me a costume anyway.

Regardless of his opinion or not, I didn’t bother to check. Instead, I purchased the outfit for myself. Besides me, the other two decided to pay for their own since we hadn’t just done a group purchase and split the payment.

At the end of the day, we walked away with three horrendously different costumes. On the bright side, it took all of an hour to make our way through the department store. Since it was only a Wednesday, we still had to return to campus for practice later.

The afternoon sun beat down our backs on the way back to my car at the end of the lot, where I parked originally. Clambering back into my vehicle, we trapped Tyler in the back with the clothing and I may have stepped a little on the gas going back.

Could they blame me for wanting to add a little fun to the ride? I could confidently say I was a pretty bang up driver and showing a small portion of my car’s real speed was fun for me too. Who doesn’t like a little fun?

Anyway, I decided to drop the two of them off at the dorms and I told them I was going to run an errand. Once in a grand while, I need new toothpaste or shampoo anyway. Though it didn't occur to me that those matters were of the utmost importance.

As I left the dorm again, this time alone, I drove out to the side of town I'd heard a rumour of race on. Scouring for a race that took place on Halloween should have been more challenging than it proved to be. Apparently one of the organisations in South Carolina was going to host a tournament on the last evening of this month.

Precautionary measures in my mind forced me to check out the location in advance since I knew it'd be an actual event. While I drove on, I didn't find anyone there since it was two days before the race was even taking place. It genuinely would have been an odder commodity if there had been someone at the track.

I really only wanted to see the way to the track anyway so I didn't get lost when it would be dark and absolutely insane on the roads, no doubt. Usually I didn't take a preemptive run to a track before it was going to take place, but something felt almost off. It could be the fact I'd never driven alongside a gang-type in a competition.

Sure I'd taken on competitions and challenges before; how else could I have won my Demon in the first place? In addition, the first face I'd done here was next to an organisation. There shouldn't be anything off about this one in particular, but I couldn't keep the premonition I held in the back of my mind.

The sensation kept me on edge as I stepped out of my car and noted the beginning of a rockier path. Even though the track began under a bridge and all, it could kick up some serious dust here, but further ahead they've got turns and concrete barricades. I could see where the elevation changes from where I stood and it could be simple trimming until I reached one sharp corner. Even then, all I'd need to do was downshift.

Either way, I could only tell the direction the track was moving from the walls and terrain that swapped from concrete, to metal wire, to plain dirt. It didn't matter from where I stood. The road I stood on may be nothing to laugh at from where I was, but it'd definitely have a whole new feel when I took it out for a real spin.

Actually, I wanted to have Declan with me so he could see what it was really like to fly on these tracks even though he wouldn't be driving. It could've been a learning experience, I told myself every time, even though I just wanted him to feel the same rush I did. That's why he was brain dead; he'd never felt the rush of my Dodge at full capacity. The monster had the power to change any man's ambition, I thought.

When I finished surveying the course of the race, I took one last glance in its direction and hopped back in my driver's seat. Going back home, I decided to make a real stop at a gas station and buy a fresh toothbrush. Maybe the one I had was getting a little old. I thought it may have begun to fray a tad anyway.

Returning to the dorms, I entered the room to find no one there. Usually I'd see Paxton on the couch or occasionally doing something productive, or I'd see Asher working out. But, now I saw nothing, nada, diddly-squat. Sometimes I did things alone, sure. But, stepping into my living space to find no people was a weird experience now, somehow.

Now that no one was around to hear me, I felt a sudden urge to pull out everything I’d written for guitar and just play. That happens sometimes. But, I hadn't been truly alone to obtain the sparking urge recently.

As soon as my impulsive brain began to function again, I slipped off my shoes and waded off to the bedroom, collecting the bulk of sheet music I possessed with guitar tabs written on the thin lines.

Slapping the folder on my bunk, I peeled back the front cover, careful not to let everything spill out from the volume inside. I dug out a moderate sized pinch of paper and laid it out along the bed, so I could organise the different songs I'd put together over the years.

Kind to myself, I managed to title every new piece so that it was easier to keep track of. When I had sorted the fragment of work that I pulled out for myself, I compiled it into a single stack and turned for Danielle.

She'd been sitting in the same position I left her in from the last time I'd picked her up: Monday. When I properly hoisted her next to my music, I unpacked the contents of her case gently and with care.

After I'd set up to play her properly, I made sure to tune each string to reset from all the playing I'd done recently. Besides, I had to admit, sometimes I wasn't the most proficient person at tuning her every time I took her out of her coffin.

In spite of myself, I did just that now and laid the first full song out in a row of three sheets after replacing Danielle's case to the floor to provide myself more room. Today was just the type of day to return to everything I'd ever compiled anyway. What more reason not to place another piece of that same puzzle at my feet instead of in my face?

Playing a couple of the warm-up riffs as normal, I began with 0, 3, 5, and then I pulled out the Seven Nation Army chorus just to warm up my fingers. Consecutively to those two, I grinded out my take to the famous AC/DC riff to engage my speed and switching chords.

Once I'd fully finished the blind routine, I took a deep, engaging breath, and I glanced down at the sheets. After writing a piece and creating a song that takes time and practice and concentration, I felt like I already knew what my fingers were releasing. Suppose I already knew the entire song by heart.

If I did, that didn't stop me from keeping a steady gaze on the sheets and double checking that my heart's ears weren't incorrect. Some people needed sheets of music and to directly translate note for note what the piece was asking, but for me, music was mostly an action that was controlled by the pumping organ in the centre of my chest that sent blood to my entire body.

Music as a whole was as essential to my mind as breathing was to my lungs. I didn't necessarily need the sheets unless I was second guessing myself or toying with my brain on the off chance I slipped up and the wrong sound came out. My preferred method of playing was that of my ears. It was more difficult to see what was supposed to be than to hear what sounded incredible versus a mistake.

Sometimes I couldn't read my old writing anyway so the tune I played was only a rendition of something I already wrote. How ironic that something I could've created by myself lay at the bottom of my heart only to be discovered again and played like a cover because my ears adjusted with my mind.

Occasionally, I heard myself differently as time progressed and felt that the E chord would perhaps sound better in E Minor. It's not a sound that could be adjusted with the mind itself, but with a mind over time. The progression and growth of sound could be akin to being aged like fine wine or replacing taste buds. Perhaps, change just happened and it occasionally happened to sound better than it did before.

That’s where the beauty in the sound of music is. The tweaks or minor affixes that change the tone or the definition of the sound, it creates a new gate of possibilities. Possibilities need to be endless, for what can anyone create with no opportunity of possibility. It seems like the relativity of music is philosophical almost, in my eyes, but it’s an art to be both heard and played.

I grazed through page after page, even altering a few of the notes and tunes as I went. I added a character to some of my older pieces that might not necessarily have been there before. The ultimate goal of music is to tell a story through sound; I was destined to be a storyteller through music.

The pitches weren’t just pitches, they were heartstrings to be plucked by my calloused hands, meant to make people feel. When I was younger, I heard classic songs on the radio from some of the different families I’d stayed with. But, there was this one specific moment I can remember vividly from when I was nine years old, in Denver, Colorado.

It was mid-July and I was with a lower income family. They lived in one of the worst areas in Denver. There was no air-conditioning and the air was unbearably humid and sticky.

The family had an older son, six years older than I was, named Owen. He was rough with me, but in a way an older sibling typically is with the latter. Owen possessed an old radio, a gift from his father. That day in July, he decided to show me the radio, trying to distract both of us from the relishing heat.

The first song that played was “Welcome to the Jungle” by Guns N’ Roses. I fell almost instantly in love with the guitar track and the individuality of the coarse vocals. The song was unique and sparked a passion in my soul somewhere.

I asked Owen, “What song is this?” with a grin on my face and a certain fire within my eyes. He told me what it was, and from that moment, I wanted to be able to do that. I wanted to be what Guns N’ Roses was for me as a kid.

After they lit something inside of me, I played them over and over until I had nearly memorised their discography from CD’s that Owen owned. Only, when I was transferred to the next family because the one I was with could no longer handle me, I had to leave the CD’s and the lust for rock behind.

My temporary brother gave me a copy of one disc for my birthday, but I used that thing every day until it scratched too much to play. All in all, Owen indirectly introduced me into the land of music. He’s the backstory on why I picked up my first guitar and saved money to buy it from racing.

The only one of my siblings I loved even more than Owen, was Julian. Funny thing about him, he’d always get grounded any time he did anything. I distinctly remember a number of times Serena took our door off of its hinges because of him. But to us, it was a running joke eventually.

Sometimes I felt the internal nudge to talk to him; he always answered whenever I called, but I had so much going on. I knew he went off to college a year before I did so I just assumed he was swamped, the same as me. Actually, the song I was rediscovering just made me think of Julian.

After that piece, I found a copy of one of the old pieces I played for band. Only, this exact one was rewritten for the guitar. Supposedly, this song was meant to be about kayaking down rapids, yet it never seemed like that from my perspective.

In fact, I remember a whole instruction manual for the clarinets in the band, how to play the trills correctly and the keychange. But, there was never that sort of material for any of the other instruments.

Regardless, I felt like it sounded like Indiana Jones on an adventure into the Aztec Temples in an Ancient Mayan civilization. So, when I dubbed my rendition for my guitar, I made it truly feel like I was Indiana Jones. I was dodging boulders and wrestling alligators. At least, I thought that was what ‘Indiana Jones’ sounded like.

There’s not only just a story to tell, but a perspective to place people in. When I really got in the zone, I felt like I was almost inside the story itself. That’s what magic is, and music is that magic itself.

Just when I had the ideals of magic inside music with me, I was interrupted by the sound of the lock on my dorm’s door clicking open. In padded the footfalls which belonged to Asher, my best friend.

I didn't mind him being there, but I stopped playing because once interrupted is enough to put a stop to my creative ‘flow’. When he walked into the doorway for the bedroom, he saw my music and guitar sprawled out in front of me.

“Oh, sh*t. Am I interrupting something for class or…” He looked slightly sheepish for interrupting my playing, but in truth, as soon as he opened the door I'd practically finished.

I waved him off saying, “Nah man. I was just finishing up, it's all good.”

As I said that statement, I began to compile all my papers flown astray and shove them all back together into my folder of miscellaneous music. Following the folder, I gently laid Danielle back up into her resting place in front of my bookshelf.

Asher sidestepped my mess and threw some of his belongings onto the desk claimed as his. Then, he decided to make small talk. Though I wasn't very fond of small talk, I entertained the idea and continued the conversation.

“I got homework. One of the required classes,” though he added the last part in a mock tone. Clearly, he was not a large fan of academics, which is understandable. Really, the only factor that makes it bearable for me is that so many of my classes are up to interpretation and realistically limitless. Those are the only classes I'd ever take anyway.

All the same, I chortled back, “I did mine this morning.”

“No fair, you always wake up too early.”

“That's when I get my work done, man.”

“Some of us are still sleeping.”

“I don't sleep,” I joke with wide eyes and a squirrel-like grin, chubby cheeks and all even though it really isn't a joke.

“Occasionally, people do need it. Unless you're a machine?!” he gasped elatedly whilst scribbling down on whatever sheet he had at the ready.

“I'm actually an automaton, preprogrammed.”

“And I'm the Wizard of Oz.” We both chuckled that last part off.

Typically, when I spoke with Asher, the conversation could flow so much easier because we were comfortable around each other. After ‘The Debacle’, we'd repaired the original friendship we had. The pre-state let us have extremely easy going conversations that had no debris to fight around. Asher was easy, and I liked the fact he was simple.

We kept a simple back and forth going between us until the clock struck a decent time to head over to the court for afternoon practice. Collecting his belongings, Asher chucked them onto his top bunk while we each grabbed our individual gear.

Just as we were exiting, Paxton was entering to collect his equipment and ride with Irina. While I was looking for a calm, secluded car ride, Asher asked on the way down if he could tag along in my car instead.

He told me, “Robin got a passenger since you stopped riding with us, so then Paxton and I sat in the back and it still sucks man.”

I retorted, “What if I said you had to ride in the back?”

I thought the joke was funny, but Asher stopped walking and looked at me. “You're joking right?”

“Yes. I'm joking,” I tell him before he catches up to me and we both ride off to the stadium together. It is a little nice to have a passenger every once in a while even if it's only a five minute drive.

At practice, Kevin had genuinely taken me somewhat seriously from the bit on Monday. During the beginning of practice, Kevin wanted to only work with me just to get a final grasp on the offensive tactic I used.

Telling me, “Again?” was getting old, quick. But on the last try, he began to feel confident in the structure of my move well enough that he wanted to try and implement it into practice himself.

Of course, what better way to test his skill than having a back lined try to defend him, one that wasn't me, and him take a false step and slip his opponent up. Pulling out Aaron, he had me pass while running down to Kevin and Aaron tried to block him.

I knew Kevin thought methodically, but when he nearly made Aaron fall flat on his face, I could tell that he'd definitely been watching me closely for the past couple days. To be fair, I did think up the move on the fly, right before practice, but Kevin was still a mastermind of his craft for adapting to a completely new move.

On the other hand, I suppose I did combine it with some of his original Raven footwork which meant he already had half of it down. Oh well, all great ideas have to be inspired from somewhere else anyway. Besides, an ample way to cross check my progress was to note that Kevin wanted something I had to offer.

Again, he wasn't the captain or even vice captain for that matter, but his respect on the team based off of his sheer skill was nothing to laugh at either. I respected him especially, and I had absolutely no background knowledge of anyone here going into the season. The charisma within my team was positively uplifting.

That being said, when Kevin decided to show the rest of the team some old footwork drills in addition to adding in mine, everyone took turns attempting said skills. Today was said to be a 'drill in the basics day’.

Truthfully, we needed formidable teamwork and individual talent and skill, but we had those features. They were aspects of each player that couldn't necessarily be controlled within the confines of team practice as they were individual strengths. Sure, each practice could be utilised to enhance a few people's abilities, but there have been far too many slip ups in basic ability recently.

The better half of our week had been devoted to basics, which Kevin kindly enhanced, and taking up scrimmages to note real change in performance. Inherently, the goalkeepers today had a gruelling time because it was insisted that every other position at least learn the concept of my invention.

However, it was unlikely that goalkeepers would be needed to go head to head and trip someone up to make an offensive play, seeing as they were considered the defensive specialists. Therefore, they were left to become the go-getters.

All of our go-getters were where everyone would toss it after they received the toss. For the rest of the players, they cycled through turns to make sure they could play both sides of the system, blocking from the other team, and receiving the throw from their own team.

While it was most certainly repetitive, everyone began to see changes in their playing and footwork from the beginning. That sentiment made it all the more enticing when we were able to host our daily scrimmage. My team lost and as disappointing as that was, I was proud of my team as a whole.

When we were all finished for the day, I felt proud that I was able to create an individual drill because no one else had had the grand idea to create something derivative from soccer. Retiring to the showers all sweaty, ready for my ice-cold wash felt far more rewarding now than it did most days. Sometimes, a more productive day provoked a higher sense of happiness. I would say I ought to be more productive, but I don’t know how I could.

Chapter 25: The Small Things

Chapter Text

My morning begins with my daily routine and a fresh shower to wake me up. This is the morning of Halloween, the most unruly night of the year supposedly. From what I heard from others, it was just going to be a mess around campus with kids in costumes or pranks perhaps, but I vaguely felt like it was all an exaggeration. Perhaps, it could be.

I swapped out my earrings for tight cuffs and studs to keep it simple while I strapped up my bracelets like I did every single day. Clasping my chain onto my neck, I yanked on a clean shirt that I was particularly fond of. Excited as I was for tonight, I was heavily anticipating legitimately the entire night.

My schedule for the day read class, game, racing. It wasn’t too significant to begin my day with poetry, but it’s not a real problem because I was positively hyper for racing. And Exy. But, mostly racing. Finally, today was the day I could show Declan where my love for the sport was founded from; the authenticity of it all.

Once I was fully clad in my outfit for the day, I moved to make myself the same breakfast I always did. No better way to start the day than with the familiarity of the same, delectable sandwich. Why mess with it when I got a great thing going? The average recipe had satisfied my taste and I continued the same routine with the same enthusiasm I had every other day.
Just the same, I cleaned up my impending essay for my class on Wednesday that regarded the literary world of yet another classic, Crime and Punishment, written by Fyodor Dostoevsky. To be honest, I did sort of enjoy the novel for its inside look at the mental state of the main character. It was fairly simple to stay in the realm of fiction and analysation when I sat down with it.

Since we’d been working on the task for weeks already, it felt comfortable to look over my essay just one last time to check for mistakes or better take on word usage. Have I dotted my I’s and crossed my T’s? I needed to be doubly sure I had because I never wanted to submit a single piece of work that could have been more adequate than it was. The knowledge I could have amounted to greater only eats at my insides.

As I clicked the last button on my keyboard, I concluded to myself that the writing would suffice and made an advised decision to pack myself up and catch myself at a point where I could leave. Checking my watch, I noticed that I had nearly twenty minutes to arrive at the lecture hall. I had scrambled away so much of my time from being the human similarity to a thesaurus.

Carrying all that I took with me on Friday’s, I slipped on my shoes and stepped out of my dorm’s door, dutifully locking it the same as it had been before I left. Since I was further from campus than most other people, I noted early on that I had to spend more time walking to class than many other students. Upon this realisation, I made adjustments to take only shortcuts when I was running later, like that of today.

I just lost myself in my writing so quickly and forgot how time passed through clocks. It’s quite important I took the time to find shortcuts through the green for myself because I pranced into class with just a single minute to spare. I was reminded vaguely of the time I would spend dilly-dallying before I arrived in class back in high school. Only, this time I wasn’t meandering through halls and I was rushing to class.

Upon taking a seat, I brushed my hair back with my hand before shoving it forwards so the style I’d been wearing didn’t slickback on itself from the minor sweat I was sporting. I sometimes fiddled with my hair when I was stressed or needed to catch my breath and this scenario was the latter. I could be pictured pulling the hair I possessed to the front of my head and seeing how far down my face it would stretch.

I only stopped when my professor walked in because then I could sit back and listen to her speak for the first period of class before we did any serious work. Just as I had predicted, we used the first block of time merely discussing the symbolism and ideas of a poem that detailed the impressive mountains of some unnamed land. The location most likely did have a name, but since it was never specifically stated, my professor deemed it irrelevant.

Following symbolism came how the words made us feel or describe what we saw in our minds eye. I thought of the open, cerulean-blue sky with puffy, cumulus clouds of different shapes and sizes. Below the sea of blue, I could picture impressive mountains that were skyscraper-tall and so many different shades of gray from the rock formation changing over time.

I saw trees and greenery surrounding the set, not unlike the picture perfect drawings that children make or the type someone could see on the label of a plastic water bottle. The way they were worded was elegant and sharp, in a way that you could smell the scent of nature around you, even from the elevated view.

Scratching bullet points as such, they invited me to open my visualisation ‘port’ within my mind. In hindsight, this was meant to warm up our creativity and imagination with pictures. The full assignment we were given just then, was to create a quatrain with a real voice of any type of landform. The ocean was an option, the same as a marsh or a highland.

I chose to observe the habitat and living style of a coral reef biome. There wasn’t much of a particular reason I decided to go forth with that topic besides the statement that I thought coral reefs were pretty. I couldn’t necessarily be wrong anyhow. With that in mind, we were given the remainder of the class to create our quatrains.

Since we had so much time, they were not meant to be left for completion outside of class and the professor wanted to collect them before everyone left. Though, after we were done we were allowed to leave the building if we pleased; it was very much a free country.

During my thought process, I had to determine what a coral reef actually was. I could take the obvious and place relevance upon the pretty colours, but would that delve into all there was about a coral reef? I already had such a few words to use within a poem with only four lines. But, within that set of four, I could say that coral reefs are lively.

Definition and character could be given to the phenomenon. Charismatic; charming. Words that still describe lay in character, for character provides a shelter for personality. If my quatrain needs character, so be it. The rules of such poems are simple.

Quatrains are composed in simple compositions of letters. Most commonly, the more widely used formats are ABAB, ABCB, and ABAC. There isn’t any specific rule to the sequence other than the fact some alternate lines have to match, adequately checking for why there are duplicate letters at least one time per sequence.

I opted for the easiest ABAB because I wanted to include a more profound word choice that was a surefire shot to make mine in particular stand out. To become individual and separate from your peers is the definition of producing music or writing because you want to create something new that no one has ever made before.

As I continued to create new ideas, I placed the pen to paper, figuratively, and made it with the first item slot that bounced into my puny brain. The only thing that held me back from plain thinking and making no concurrent progress was that music is like poetry because lyrics are like lines in a poem. I’ve written lyrics before and if I could create something as complicated as a song, a poem should be simple.

Once my very first idea amongst my complex thoughts was onto the source and not stuck, swimming inside the fortress of ideas I held, it was relatively easy to continue. I was experiencing what I liked to call creative flow much like I did when I got started on a music piece or an essay and the words just began to enter my mind like I was speaking them aloud. Once I got the gist of the task, I kept creating what I felt fit.

After all four lines had miraculously oozed out of my soul, I gleaned back over what I had produced and found that the seconds pairing of AB didn’t flow properly and connect in a way it should. The necessary ideal was that the rhyme scheme matches, but just like any other piece, the non-direct connections still need to flow together like water running through a river.

To mend my mistake, I rearranged some of the words and swapped one of the powerhouse words for another that was more beneficiary to my poem. I made it make more sense and sound like me.

Every writer has a style or type of content they adhere to, and I wanted to stay true to that mantra and inflict a style of writing that was still uniquely mine even within four lines. The task is not one of great difficulty, but to add your own wording is like a unique signature.

Similarly, I began to reminisce on a specific essay from when I was in high school. It was no secret that I had a highly qualified GPA and that I was somehow a ‘gifted’ individual, but I had always, always been best at writing and putting words to the papers. Of course, when some of my classmates who didn’t enjoy doing their work found me, I’d been asked many times to just do their homework or essay for them.

I’d blatantly refused, telling them to do it themselves. I made jokes out of the situation often. But, the real reason I never complied even with generous amounts of cash placed upon the chore as a reward, I told myself that every sentence structure is akin to a handwriting.

There is an individual style to how everyone writes as unique to that same person as the handwriting produced from a pencil. I didn’t copy anyone’s style or try to because I simply never cared, but if the teacher had any shred of brain, they’d know it wasn’t that student, and they’d probably deduce it had been my doing.

The thought only had to graze my brain enough to make me smile at the memory. Sometimes, since I grew up so ridiculously scattered, I forgot the kind of kid I was. Still, I was an overachiever with a real zeal for anything I could accomplish individually. Discovering the idea of creativity was only my outlet for my overachieving, passionate self.

The very moment I collected myself enough to finish the assignment, simple as it was for me, I padded to the front of the hall. I wasn’t the first to finish due to my daydreaming, but I certainly wasn’t the last. Handing the quatrain to my professor, she looked it over and smiled ever-so-slightly, then nodded.

Watching her observation, I returned to my belongings and carried myself and my items up the stairs leading to the doors. Heaving open the oak doors, I let the cool breeze and even cooler air overtake me as I left the hall. I was now free to frolic and finish whatever I felt like doing. At that moment in particular, I felt like eating because I was hungry; starving even. My next stop would have to be the athletes cafeteria.

Treading across campus, I carried on to the cafeteria where I got my usual with chicken and a side serving of salad. Holding my tray, I searched around the room for any sign of someone I knew which presented me with the visual of Asher.

Occasionally, Nicky ate here on Fridays after his first class like I was doing and to be perfectly real, I prefer eating with Nicky than a large chunk of my teammates since we don't speak as often anymore. Being in separate cliques, if you will, barred us from speaking as freely than last summer or the beginning of the year.

Besides, I was completely happy with still having the opportunity to speak with someone like him. Nicky was the kind of positive that unintentionally made me smile without realising it; he was definitely contagious. But, sometimes I felt that he could be compensating for how little his cousins spoke.

Lending my ear to him when he spoke, I had earned the privilege of hearing about the famed Erik, his boyfriend from Germany. Also, it was refreshing to hear about news without having to goad someone for a piece of information or pry and search for the piece myself. This man spoke as freely as his heart desired, which made conversation with him relaxing.

One time we’d begun to discuss the aspects of the foxes and the fact that every single one of us was dysfunctional in some way shape or form. This dawned on the spectrum that I was a former raging drug addict and slight alcoholic to the fact it may or may not have been common knowledge by this point in time.

However, for him, he’d gone through a foreign exchange program to get away from his parents and spend some time abroad. Upon the new lighting, he also told me that was how he’d met his boyfriend and how his parents reacted when they’d found out. How his parents made me internally chuckle in my free time.

Not that his situation or relationship could be viewed from a commercial standpoint, heavens no, but almost opposite to my parents. Mine left when they decided they didn’t want me, while Nicky openly didn’t acknowledge him and hadn’t disposed of him like vermin when he was a baby. Though, babies aren’t typically gay as that’s usually something that develops as said kid gets older. So, only somewhat opposite I suppose.

Notwithstanding, I traded some take on my past for what he’d told me. For example, everyone knew that I owned a monster of a car, but I opted to inform him of why I had my precious monster and even delved a little further into the topic. I never could help myself whenever I was given an opportunity to rant about cars or racing in general.

Today, the idle conversation was kept light as we discussed the plans for after our game since it was this famed holiday. Speaking of, it seems everyone had lied to me because sure, there were some kids with fun makeup or some that yelled boo in a space behind me, but it had been relatively the same as always beyond that fact.

After the game, Nicky made plans with his cousins, Neil, and Kevin to go to Eden’s Twilight like they had the year before. Actually, they had even invited the seniors to mark the same thing they’d done last year when there had been some goal to unite the team. Though, the freshmen now weren’t as in on it.

Sure, we’d all been invited I assume because I hadn’t necessarily remembered an invitation, but I was busy anyway. In steady talk, I told him about my plan to go racing later and that I’d found a real good competition to go by with a nice track. I knew he didn’t really understand half of what I was saying, but the fact he tried said a lot of kind things about him.

Right when we were in the middle of discussing our costume adequacy for the night, I felt my pocket buzz. Now, I didn’t normally have a reason to use my phone so I never really did and often let it die, I still elected to carry it with me in case of an emergency situation.

It could be hard to believe an emergency I’d care about, but in the event that it could very well happen, I’d actually like to keep contact with the few I did have and/or care about. However, when I paused speaking and reached my hand into my pocket, Nicky slowly cut off because he knew I never used the device and if I was now, it was most likely important. Truth be told, I had no idea what this was about.

Though, when I let the screen light itself, the name of the notification I received read the same name as my brother that I actually acknowledged as one, Julian. Why perchance might my foster brother be texting me after I hadn’t received a single word in a hot minute, I haven't a clue. But, when I read the message, all it said was, ‘I’m coming to see your game’ without any type of punctuation at all.

My comprehension slowed down to turtle pace as I ran ideas in my mind before I remembered that each of my games was broadcasted and he’d known I played in high school, at least when I had been with him, I had. If he’d had that fact and heard news of my Class I team, he’d most likely have heard about a Cirrel playing on the team eventually, which led to my answer.

Without a second glance, I decided to tuck the device back into its original pocket and give Nicky a small smile. Picking up the conversation, I said in an upbeat tone with a slight of relief, “Actually, it was nothing.”

Commenting back, he told me, “I’m glad,” before we continued the rest of our lunchtime conversation.

Soon enough, we were forced to depart from the space to both finish tasks we wanted to get done and attend an afternoon class. Thankfully, the latter option wasn’t what I needed to do myself. I could spend the afternoon curled up with Danielle and anyone else who may or may not be in the dorm. I didn’t care if anyone was around to hear at this point, I just wanted to play.

Sequential to parting with Nicky, I headed back around to the dormitory complex, Fox Tower, that I called my home. Awaiting for me inside my dorm was Asher in the living room and Danielle in the bedroom. In the living room however, Asher sat on his phone, extremely relaxed and smiling just a hint.

I greeted him with a quick, “Hey,” to show him that I was back. As I spoke, he looked up from his phone to meet my face.
He echoed the same word back to me, “Hey,” before placing the phone in his hand on the sofa cushion next to him with no intention to stand up.

Telling him, “I’m gonna go play some guitar for a bit,” he nodded and glanced back at his phone again, waving while I did the same. Before I left the room, I caught him slipping in earbuds which was definitely fine by me before I trekked into the bedroom and laid my eyes upon Danielle.

Lifting her black-strung neck and wine-red body, I laid her on my bed and selected a pick from the shelf with my music. Today, I chose not to select specific music to play, and it felt like a good moment to play from the heart. When is it not a quality moment to play in a style that was geared towards adaption and improvisation?

At least, I tell myself that my preferences can improve my improvisation so I can play on the fly better. But, I don’t think there are many exercises or activities I can still manipulate to improve that quality since I’d almost rather perform improv than a formal song at this rate. However, I didn’t really object to playing a strictly written song every once in a while.

Tuning Danielle took a few minutes of my time, but I’d gotten significantly more proficient over the years and it was hardly difficult to tune the instrument by ear anymore. Before playing, I strummed all the strings up, down, together, and separately to make sure they were correct.

When I knew it sounded right, I played with my exercises to warm up my fingers before I played like I was going to break them. Actually though, the calluses on my hand had deepened, especially recently, because I had been playing longer and nearly every day.

Sometimes I needed or wanted a small break from music, but clearly it wasn’t one of those times. Just the same, I finished my warmups to get the blood flowing in my fingers and messed around with a few chords. First, I kept it simple and kept switching the strumming and chords, then I added in the transfer between different frets.

As I got more into the work, I felt the ease of my hands as they slid across all the strings on Danielle’s neck. Each movement had ceased to become a laboured movement long ago as I felt the freedom of the strings vibrate under my pick as I dragged it down, across every string.

There was always a strong feeling that music liberated me from the trials of everyday life. But, I didn't so much need that liberation as a key to all of life's secrets. Instead, I might have yearned for the tune that used to hold all of life's answers.

The way in which I played seemed somewhat ironic even to myself, how it was represented now. I could admit I did know which chord was which or how to play all the altercations of said fingerings.

Being quite the proficient musician as I was, I knew two instruments to mastery, one to high proficiency, and a variety to a basic understanding. The fact that I had begun to ignore the correct concepts and associate hand movements with images can speak volumes.

The unique notion that I could play and didn't absolutely need the proper knowledge of the how mechanism was certainly a pleasantry I acquired. I felt that the ultimate technique lay in the what mechanism of music. Even if someone knows how to complete a task or play an instrument does not mean it’s done well.

My fingers continued to dance along the strings as I distantly began to remember a song I’d heard a little while back. Typically, I wasn’t a big country fan, but this song was one I could stand. Plus, the chords were simple enough to be able to listen and play without formally learning it.

I began to play the country song at the highest proficiency I could muster, trying to accurately remember how it sounded. Though, when I slid down the string to a higher fret, I felt a pinch in my finger and a tinge of red on the string.

Withdrawing my hand, I noticed that my callus had split open from my rigorous playing schedule and I was forced to set Danielle down. Placing her standing up, I wiped my blood off and walked into the bathroom to wash my hand. Sure, it stung quite a bit, but I needed to sterilise it so I didn’t infect it from rugged usage.

It was time enough to stop playing anyways, I argued to myself while I wrapped my finger in a skin-toned band aid. After I was finished, I walked back into the living room where Asher still sat, and I sat on the chair next to the sofa because why would I sit on the couch when someone was already sitting there?

When he noticed me again, he removed his earbuds, seemingly having enough of the tiny devices, and returned them to his pocket where they belonged. Besides tucking away the earbuds, he set down his phone and stretched out like he’d been sitting stiff in the same spot for hours.

“Good session?” he asked me.

I replied, “Yeah,” then I held up my finger, “Callus wore out, ha.” The last part was a tiny laugh like it was a comical experience.

Asher nodded as he was used to me overplaying and rupturing my calluses by now; it’s happened so many times.

Then, I decided to ask him a question, “You ready for the game?”

He grinned and nodded as we kept idle conversation that I cared so little for until it was remotely time to get ready for said game later.

Chapter 26: Competition and Compensation

Chapter Text

Until it had been ample time to leave for the stadium for yet another home game, I sat beside my best friend on the sofa and effortlessly conversed like there was nothing better in the world to do. On the short hand, there might not have been a higher qualified activity. I had already busted up my fingers playing guitar, and as much as I loved to write, I’d had enough for today in class.

Books, I could read them, but they’re also wordy and to concentrate on words is a nagging issue I didn’t want to care for at that point in time. Ultimately, as much as I disliked chit-chatting, it wasn’t torture with Asher. We spoke of meaningless segments of our day and ‘how it was going’, but that’s a part of idleness. Pointless words to fill silence.

Thankfully, the universe did happen upon time, eventually, to push the clocks to a generous timestamp to collect myself for the game. Facing off against the USC Trojans, they were quality competitors and a team of which mine spoke highly of.

Apparently, one of the players had been a work-in from our team to theirs from the Ravens because he wouldn’t want to ever be with us, which was understandable. Also, Kevin was extremely fond of the captain, Jeremy Knox. Realistically, he was quite a fan of the entire team. Plus, since they were another team from the same state, we were sort of like rivals.

Overall, the team match-up for the hallowed night had the team morale and energy. Besides, from what I’d heard, they decided to run the same rotation of players during last season's semi finals to match us. Last season, we only had nine players and not enough for subs so some of us would be playing full games or our dealers rotated through positions.

Lucky for the backliners, there were three of them before and with me, I can now make four. So, we have enough of us to cycle through without repeats unless subs are called in. In my opinion however, I do enjoy a smaller team because that presents more playing time for me.

Inside the stadium, I brought Asher, so he sat with myself and only the seniors to accompany us so far. Glancing at them, I gave a small smile and looked away, avoiding their direct eye contact. I had patched things up with Irina herself, but I still hadn’t talked much to Renee in quite some time now. I even wondered how she thought of me, if she even thought of me at all. That was one relationship I’d definitely wrecked at the core.

Meanwhile, while we waited, I was content to twiddle my thumbs and internally bet upon who would arrive next. My personal bias was that Nicky’s family would show up first because if they were kidding anyone, Andrew, I thought, was uncannily the type to be punctual. It could be possible he saw it as a hindrance to be late, and since he drove the car, he made the rules. The rules of the driver; I would know, I had the same rules.

As my correct prediction moseyed into the room, I told myself that I owed myself five dollars as a joke because it’s still my money. But, I had bet on myself so it didn't matter. But, as everyone filtered into the room, slowly taking their usual seats, Wymack gave his speech as always. Still poorly crafted, still motivational with a bribe of alcohol, still convincing enough to boost morale.

Regardless of his methods, Wymack was an extremely incredible coach. I couldn’t think of a single other person who would take the same amount of trouble, mishaps, and overall B.S. from young adults as he did. But, Wymack could take it, deal with it, and mould us into incredible teammates and players somehow. He had my respect from the beginning. I see that now.

When Wymack finished speaking, we rallied onto the court and began our pregame warmups. From where we stood, I could see a fair portion of the Trojans and they were a much larger team than we were, which was most definitely intimidating at first. However, the maroon and gold colours they were sporting along with the inviting air around them eased that first hand impression.

Following warmups, we jogged laps around the court to get our blood flowing well before the game started. With only a few minutes left on the clock until the game began, I felt the excited nervousness that came as a package with each game. Always, I was determined to play as hard as I practised recently, but the Trojans were not one of the Big 3 for giggles. These guys were serious business, the real deal, no jokes compadres.

Completing our laps, we converged into the box and took a last drink of water before the buzzer went off to signal the end of warmups and the beginning of the game, walking out onto the court and such. My position wasn’t called for until the second half, but I was the primary sub in case Aaron or Matt needed a sub. In which case, I was currently sitting with Nicky who I’d be playing alongside during the second half.

As the game set off in its purposeful, full-force, I paid close attention to the movement of my teammates, watching. I was able to really watch from where I stood, not just the ball, but every player on the court and how they moved. After observing the soccer team and their footwork, it was quite interesting attempting to view the footwork of my own sport from mine and another team. The variations in technique had slight differences, but also similarities that could only be defined if sought out in the first place.

My fresh, dawned on perspective was cleansing. I could view the activity with a new set of eyes and vision, allowing me to follow what I hadn’t before. I could see the finer detail of technique and skill rather than watching the small ball, literally soaring through the air constantly, tracking every player whose net it landed inside.

Our formation was looking incredibly strong when we won the toss up and started with the ball. Actually, Allison had handed it off to Paxton who ran straight and jerked right to avoid his backliner. Then, he passed back and forth between Kevin and himself. From what I’d seen, his teamwork had significantly improved from the beginning of the season and I couldn’t help but feel slightly proud even though I had nothing to do with it.

Sprinting towards the opposing goal, the Trojans were true to their name and desperately hard to shake. My roommate had been nearly pummelled into the wall from one of the backliners on the other side backing him into the wall. Sure, the play made for quality entertainment, but it was only a matter of time before he tripped over his own two feet and lost possession.

I could see him struggling to keep possession by pivoting back and trying to transfer around his mark. Before he could become free to run, he was tripped by his mark which put a halt into the game. The woman guarding him had tripped him with her racquet which had resulted in a penalty shot to our team.

Typically, cards were scarce this early into the game, but it was such a tight space, I’m not surprised the occurrence happened. For all I knew, it could have been an accident. Even so, that penalty shot by Paxton was guarded by an equally as fierce goalkeeper who did not let the point slip past.

Since we had initially taken our shot, the ball landed in our possession but quickly turned into a turnover. Our skills were truly neck and neck for the time being, them being an extremely strong team to compete against. The competition was tough, for sure. But, that just meant we’d have to play all that much harder.

Paxton hadn’t been taken out after being tripped, deeming the ‘injury’ not severe enough to need a sub. Since there was no sub needed, yet, Nicky and I waited on the sidelines and observed each play scrupulously. I watched him fight for every opening to take up the ball back into our possession and followed Kevin attempting the same as Aaron, Matt, and Allison fought tooth and nail to prevent all that they could.

Regardless of their efforts, we drained minutes off the clock just toying back and forth with one another, bouncing it around the court, trying to procure it from the Trojans. We could only continue the game of cat and mouse until the other team called a time-out to disrupt whatever was going on.

Before calling the game back in, however, they subbed out their dealer and one of their strikers to switch up their lineup. Unfortunately, this meant we’d have to be extremely cautious of new techniques from these different players rather than the ones we’d already been familiar with. I’ve said we as in team, not I.

Luckily, the Trojans slipped in one of their freshmen, and I had to admit that we were collectively shoddy compared to some of the seniors. But, the skillset of this player was enough to be disrupted by Allison in a wide pass to their own dealer which resulted in a turnover. Finally, the ball was back with us in our hands and my team could play it right. Fast.

So far, the score had kept exceedingly consistent at a pretty, fat 0-0 where neither team was winning. Hopefully, the turnover resulted in momentum and my team got into themselves. With at least a partial-win in the books, the full win shouldn’t be that hard, should it? False, the advertisem*nt was an exaggeration.

Even with the turnover and us covering ourselves like madmen, the Trojans were real adaptors and caught up on Matt who had the ball and was making a futile attempt to send it right at Kevin. Of course, the man was prepared to receive it, but out of my peripheral vision, I could see a racquet stretching outwards towards him and someone on the other end of it with the intention of stopping him.

To my enormous delight, when the athlete became too close to Kevin, he aimed to move forward but took a step back instead so that the chaser fell over himself, just like we’d practised. This was the first time using the tactic at serious stakes and it had worked just like it had the first time. Suddenly, I felt like cheering.

At that same moment, Nicky clasped my shoulder from behind and told me, “Great job.”

I chuckled and asked, “What for?” just to make sure we were thinking of the same thing.

“Kevin used the thing you invented didn’t he? Great job, it worked.”

I could now see Kevin's attacker on the floor and the same man sprinting down court to the opposing goal before taking a shot. Just after the shot went off, the halftime buzzer sounded, but was cut off by the sound of the goal’s point buzzer. The only reason the point had been viable was that he shot it a millisecond before the buzzer was off.

Like magic, heading into halftime, the game seemed uneventful. Being the first team to dispel the tie placed upon us, we were now with a steady lead of 1-0 going into the second half. Though, the second half rotation included myself, Nicky, Irina, Kevin, Neil, and Andrew as he was always the popular choice for the second half when we had to shut the most intense shots down.

As the team filtered back into the box where the rest of us were, they all took off their helmets and fished for water, attempting to recuperate quickly. Some of us that hadn’t been playing, were waiting and patiently at that. But, of course, I could resist my favourite halftime-pastime.

Scanning the crowd of spectators in our stadium, looking out for anyone I knew, perhaps my brother, I found a few of my classmates. I found not many that I recognised. Though, when I laid my eyes upon an olive-skinned boy about my age with dark hair, I knew I had found my brother in the crowd. Even if he had told me he was going to be there, it was still a bit uncanny to find him amongst this sea of fans.

I shouldn’t be surprised that I saw him at my game like I should’ve known he would if he knew I was still playing. If Julian were any type of brother to me that I thought he was, I didn’t know why it was so peculiar to have him in the presence of my new life. This is my life as I now know, completely different from when I last interacted with him.

Suppose it could be the fact that I had given up drugs and alcohol. Perhaps it was the fact that I had made friends with likenesses and similarities in hobbies to me. Possibly it was the fact that I was actually dating someone for the first time in my life and I genuinely cared for him. It could even be the fact that I had completely changed in the year since he left and mixing my two worlds now felt surreal. This world was my life; the one with Julian was a distant memory now.

Forgetting those worldly divides may not be an easy task, but is a necessary one I would have to utilise if I wanted to start strong, going into the second half. With the clock running nearly to zero, we had to retake our places on the court with our new half-time team composed of a reasonably strong group of our own players, plus myself.

But, since our team had shifted our players, that meant USC had done the same and we’d have a new rotation to play through. Though, the bright side represented the one and only Jeremy Knox. The ever so bright and cheery captain was joined with Moreau from the former-Ravens-now-turned- current-Trojan. In addition to them, there were a scattered array of players I’d never met before.

One the second half began, it was a mad frenzy, scattering for the right play, the right move. But, again, both of us being the teams that we were, the game seemed nearly boring from an outsider's perspective. Neither team could score a point, like before, because our strikers were beasts, but Jean had the knowledge and assistance to halt them both in their tracks.

We had impeccable backliners, we were made to stop Knox and company from stepping near Andrew, and when we couldn’t save it, he blocked every attempted shot-on-goal. For us players, it was pure torture playing such a tedious game and getting absolutely nowhere. At least, it was boring until Nicky, Irina, and I weren’t quick enough to prevent number sixteen from scoring.

Making his way past us, winding through our ranks, shooting on goal. This guy finally did it; he shoved past Andrew and tied our score up from the first half. Now, the only thing we could do was take the lead again and push until the end of the game. It was an insanely rough feat since both of our teams were well built and matched for each other, but the entire game was just that.

We were playing both a game of exy and useless cat and mouse like so many times before. Only, now we were like dogs chasing their tables, unable to catch it. In circles we travelled, trying to obtain possession and score it in the goal before the turnover resulted in new opportunities.

The second half may even have been more horrible than the first however, because the cusp of the second half was dependent on who had made the next shot. I saw the clock out of the corner of my eye run down the final seconds and I ran wherevent my mind told me to. I ran and I saw the numbers change, growing smaller and smaller with every tick.

In fact, I was so distracted as we drew near to the end, that I had almost not seen Kevin slam the ball into the Trojans net, once again right before the timer went off. This beautiful man was the only being saving us from a dreadful halftime against an impossible team. Seriously, playing such an incredible team was a dastardly hard word and I didn’t intend to do it that often.

As I zoned back into the sound of the buzzer, another sound overlapped that, and soon every fan from our side in the crowd was cheering. I was sure most people had stopped watching entirely, but the applause we heard in the stands was not forced. They appreciated our close-knit, gruelling game. Still, we cleared off the court soon enough for Wymack to stick Kevin on press duty, then decided to drag me along as well for the second time I’ve had to cover press duty. Joy.

Making our way collectively to the side room meant for reporters, I told Kevin, “Good job today, man.” Receiving a thanks, we turned into the room and greeted the bout of newscasters with their microphones and various questions on our performance.

Almost immediately, the two of us were confronted with a barrage of questions from absolutely everyone. The wall of sound pushing straight into our faces nearly blew me back for a second until I could actually pick up individual words that were being said. All I could hear were various questions:

“How were you prepared for the game?”

“Was it weird to play against Moreau now that he’s with the Trojans?”

“What was the atmosphere like to be so close the whole game?”

The garden-variety, expected questions confronted us and as I was choosing what to answer, one reporter threw out, “Kevin, how did you score that first goal in the second half?”

Of course, now I was curious to see how he would answer the question meant specifically for him because I had seen that goal scored with my own two eyes. When he opened his mouth, he spoke the truth.

“Well, it was a real tight-end situation. Someone was coming at me from the side and if I hadn’t used a new move we’d been practising, he would’ve rammed right into me.” Then Kevin looked at me and clasped his hand onto my shoulder, “But, if this guy right here hadn’t thought of it, we’d still be playing right now.”

He patted my shoulder and released his hand which got me all embarrassed as the very same one asked me, “Is this true?” Apparently, it was my turn to speak.

Preparing myself, I say, “Yeah, I mean I got this idea to combine soccer footwork with our own from watching a game and it's kind of just…happened? Kevin was interested when I did it in practice and got the whole team to try and learn it to see if we’d have a one up on any team.” I was able to smile for due credit for my own ideas.

Generally, performances made me feel giddy whether it was music or a race that I was putting a show on for. But, now my ideas had made their way into sports, and how difficult it was to be creative while playing sports. There’s never much freedom in the activity because the rulebook has it set out or the captains and coaches use a technique. Sometimes however, there can be a such thing as individual technique.

The rest of the interview was sprinkled with remarks about how close the game was and the difficulty presented by both teams. Answering really only most of what was directed at me was simple because they really wanted Kevin. He was Mr. Day, the star of the team, up and coming for court when he graduates.

Me, I was an assistant with some brains, but this game I hadn’t done anything that special that would warrant a crazy story. So, I was extremely content to sit back and let Kevin handle the vast majority of the talking. In fact, he spoke until he’d had enough and ushered us out, protectively, into the showers where we could get away from the voices enveloping us.

Into the showers, we were amongst the last of our teammates, so I finished my business relatively quickly in the hopes I could leave easier now. For some reason, I wanted to find my brother and thank him for coming in person. Plus, if I was correct, Declan’s game should’ve be ending soon enough and the race wasn’t for another couple hours.

Dressing quickly as possible, I escaped the locker room and showers to find my brother. Texting him a quick, ‘Where are you?’ I was able to get a reply almost just as fast. Informing me that he was still trapped by the concessions, I made my way around to that location and stumbled upon my dear brother standing there like I’d last seen him. He appeared the exact same as he had been before he went north.

Greeting him with a dap, we brought it in and released our grip. Stepping back again, he congratulated me on the win and asked how I was. Falling into a simple flow of everyday conversation, he then asked how I was doing my first year of college and what I was taking; the normal jazz, the works. I told him, “This, cars, and music still, am I right?”

He chuckled at my reply even though I wasn’t particularly trying to be funny. But, now something was slightly missing; I’d changed. We’d both changed. He asked me, “You still doped up all the time?”

This time I had to shake my head and answer the question. “Nah man, contracts. No drugs, drinks, or smokes.” He tsked with a slight hint of disappointment and changed the subject.

Now beginning to talk about his new girlfriend that he was insistent he was going to marry this time despite having like a million exes. Who knows? Maybe, this time she was the one, I wouldn’t know. I had a morally gray, soccer-playing, idiot with me and I personally intended to keep it that way.

Once we finished catching up, I checked my watch and was forced to make an excuse to exit. It’s not that I didn’t really want to speak to Julian right now, but it felt weird talking to him that I really didn’t want to speak to Julian right now. In that case, I told him I had to go pick someone up from another game to head out and he let me go. Plus, I wasn’t actually lying; I needed to collect Declan for later and head to the race.

Parting our separate ways, I let Julian go and went back to tell Asher to get a ride from Irina because I was heading somewhere else. After doing so, I grabbed my belongings again and stuffed them into my car so I could drive to the soccer fields to pick up Declan. It was late enough that even if he had overtime, he should be ready to go.

To my non-surprise, when I arrived in front of the stadium, he was ready to leave. Pulling around in front of him, I unlocked the car as he walked around and stepped inside himself. Obviously, I took the liberty of asking how his game went and having a conversation about it. In turn, he did the same to me and I told him about Kevin and my move and the reporters and gave me credit for it.

Somewhere deep inside, I thought he found it endearing that I did something because of him. Truthfully, I never would have thought of a single thing if I hadn’t been associated with Declan, because if I hadn’t known him, I wouldn’t have gone to one of his games, then I would’ve never had an idea. The domino effect of events made me rethink all of life for just a brief millisecond.

Before I could think further, I brought us into a separate parking lot to collect a very important item. Since the Halloween costume shopping, Declan and I had left our costumes in the car since they were apparently ‘mandatory to wear on such an evening’ so we needed to put them on before racing. Once we finally dressed ourselves as a racecar driver and 1950’s gentleman, I was allowed to drop back into the car.

Once I had, Declan followed after me and kissed me. Or rather, he pecked me on the lips because he was so cheery, insisting he had to just once before we left. Apparently, he was a completely different person from the one I once knew at the moments where he was genuinely happy in a kind way and not a I’m-going-to-absolutely-beat-you way.

With that fact over with, I shifted the gear again and placed my foot on the accelerator, bringing us onto the open road and into the night. As per Nicky’s request, I even gave Declan permission to open my phone with my password and send Nicky a picture of myself driving my car in my ridiculous costume. It was most definitely worth it though because tonight was going to be incredible. Showing Declan how to race was already a beauty in itself.

Chapter 27

Chapter Text

Once we were actually off and ready to go, the drive was extremely high energy and fun. Attempting to prepare Declan for what a race was really like, I created a scenario of how I typically felt while I was trying to form an example of what he might experience.

I explained at the beginning of the race, there was a jolt when the car initially took off, and he’d probably be able to feel his body being pressed back into the seat from the sudden increase in speed, especially from my Demon. Following the starting positions, he’d see the world and bourgeois in the other car jet by like a rocket. I had the fastest car I could and I was most definitely the best driver I knew, so I knew how to stay ahead of the other cars.

Speaking only about the speed though, it’s nothing ever compared to the real thing; the real feeling of being on that track. In just a bit, we’d be on that track. We’d be racing. We’d be speeding through the night like Batman in the batmobile. The real question about Batman: Which car was faster, mine or Batman’s? Probably the latter car-wise, but Batman never had me for a driver, did he?

Continuously hyping him up, I turned up the radio higher than it’s normal volume and started messing around with the channel until I could find one with lyrics to start goofily yelling to. When I did, I didn’t only yell at it, I started messing with Declan in the hopes that my annoying lyricsm would catch on him.

Just as I predicted, they had when he begrudgingly joined in the chaos I created in the environment of my own car. Not only was my voice the sole voice serenading us, but he joined me in filling the car with the volume of our voices. Successfully raising the full extent of the energy in the space, we decided to roll down the windows and have the much cooler night air envelop us and blow in our faces.

Declan had even taken up my words so much that after the songs were enough, he started asking me questions about the event itself.

I heard things like, “How do you feel when you’re driving?”

“Have you ever lost a bunch, or are you just as good as you’re telling me?”

“Goddamn Nate, how fast does this thing even go?”

Being myself, I had to answer any and all questions he threw in my face. Plus, I hadn’t lost a match in ages, since I was getting taught how to drive properly actually. Plus, if I wasn’t mistaken, my car could cap off average around a solid 212, but with mods in the future, I could potentially buff it out to reach subtlety higher numbers. That factor depends on the figures I have in the future though because such modifications can be cash vacuums.

Aside from all the general talk, we drove down about three-quarters to the track before I wanted to refuel. I hadn’t stopped to take a break much off all day and if Declan wanted to hop out now, he could. I would not have let him leave the car when we were at the track unless it was necessary.

Sometimes, the people running the races could be sketchy and he wasn’t one to be involved in that sort of activity, so I wanted to keep him close to me and safe. Plus, since this was such a high-stakes race and a competition, I knew there’d be more hood characters than normal. My man was about the person I’d be least invigorated in meeting some of the more serious racers. Some of those people could be scary in a sense if you didn’t grow up knowing these types of guys.

I’ve learned before that Declan grew up in a more average childhood, so I didn’t need, nor want, for him to even be exposed to these types of people. I only wanted to bring him along to show him insight on one of my favourite activities and connections to my dear, dear Dodge Demon. I thought it was a brilliant idea to expose him to the things I loved so very much.

While I arrived at the station and let Lance stretch his legs, I reminisced on the time he showed me how to do various callisthenics-type poses even as simple as handstands. Apparently, it was one of his favourite types of exercise, excluding his sport. But, to no avail, I basically failed to do everything he tried to show me.

The way I trained was built for fast-twitch muscle movements and strength and performance bodybuilding. Us backliner and goalkeepers didn’t typically work with things like bodyweight exercises when we were supposed to be geared with the muscles for the position. Sometimes the strikers used bodyweight exercises, but still none were as intricate as handstands or L-sits and that sort of variety.

Even so, in Declans generosity, I was smiling and laughing about the endeavour to try out the activity. Most of the reason I had decided to in the first place was that we wanted to show some of our favourite hobbies or activities to each other or matters we thought were cool. Then, Declan actually listened to all that I said on cars and the entire subject of racing as a whole, so I wanted to utilise that and show him my integration of the subject.

Once my tank had fuelled the remainder of the way, I was sentenced to pay for the gasoline and herd Declan back inside my Demon. He didn’t mind in the slightest, being shoved back in so that we could arrive in a timely fashion for the event I’d been planning for quite some time. He only sat inside as I waited for him to strap himself in a lean back before doing exactly that.

As soon as he finished the proper safety requirements for my driving, I took us back off to the location I had pre-scouted a few days earlier much quicker than it had been to get to the gas station. Though, that was only appropriate considering that we only had a third of the first drive to persevere through. Totality showed that it was relatively quick on either spectrum though.

When I was sure I’d made it to the right location, I knew because I could see many, many people that seemed about my age lined up against a various selection of cars that were definitely in my style, or, geared for racing. Arriving on the scene gave us little time to spare however. Upon a few glances, I was able to observe what other kinds of rides would be presented as possible challenges to me on this dirt-ridden path.

Just barely on a slightly more intimate search, I found a roster area with a board of slots and a couple intimidating fellows standing beside it with a jar of cash. Now, this time I had actually taken the time and gotten in contact with an organiser before tonight and I had already been signed up to participate in the competition.

Gazing at the names on the board, I saw that the fake name I had given them, so as not to be hunted down for no reason, was already etched into the dark background of the board. Driving back past the board, I made my way into a waiting area and told Declan to wait inside the car while I checked my vehicle into the race to signify I was there.

After I returned, I had Declan step out against my will because we were told to leave our cars and stick them in manual so that someone else could bring them into the track as needed. As much as I most definitely hated to part with my baby, I forced myself to cooperate and told Declan to piss if he needed to before I would stop letting him out of my sight.

Taking this chance, he heeded my warning and slipped out of my direct line of sight to go. Since there were no bathrooms, I could assume he’d just find some other area of the spectators’ ring that went unoccupied. I also assumed that I’d have a couple minutes or so to scope out the general vicinity and competitors.

On my own, I reviewed the board formally to check my race number, three, and the street name of whom I;’d be up against. The line read out Gallaway, which was presumably only a last name rather than an alternate name. Occasionally, I saw people use real names or surnames rather than a fake one. Galloway seemed like a respectable enough name, but with my luck he’d race like he wanted to see my skull, personally, on a spike.

Hurdling on my curiosity further, I checked out the roster of guys signed up to participate. On a very large chunk of the names, they’d been fashioned similarly. Majority of the letters were filled out in fives, with names that would hardly be akin to names, yet sounded so very serious on my tongue.

Just as I was taking a final glance over the selection of names, one taller, darker man stood right next to me and searched for a particular name on the board. Instead of just leaving me alone, he talked to me, next to me. “What’s your race? Any good?”

The way it was said and spoken was casual. The calm and collected tone oozing out of him was nonchalant and laid back like he wasn’t at a majorly threatening race. Now that I had a moment to consider that fact, I fixated on the fact I shouldn’t even be here on account that I was not trying to get arrested if events went sideways. But, my contract consisted of substances, not sick rides and racing.

By now, Declan had to be trying to find me and make his way back, but I stayed put for a few more moments, interested in this new person. I responded coolly, “Three. Won the last many I’ve done.”

He spoke to me again, “John or Galloway?”

I replied, “John,” keeping the sentence short and sweet. There was not a single need to engage in chit-chat, and most certainly less of a reason to speak to anyone here.

Regardless of my opinions, I nodded off to him, about to leave before he interjected again. This time he asked, “What car?” accompanied by the excuse, “So I know who to root for, huh?”

I gave him the answer he wanted, “Dodge Demon.” Then, I chose to salute him with two fingers and head off back to find Declan and make sure he wasn’t going to get mobbed by some uncanny group here. When I finally did, after he told me he was only wandering around a small area looking for me, I dragged him off to the sidelines where the first race would take place.

Just because he was accompanying me, didn’t mean I wanted him to miss out on actually watching the sport. Part of the activity was watching competitors before you go up and compete first. So, I talked to him and kept his attention with casual banter until the revving sounds of what I thought was a Mustang against a Camaro; a GT against a newer-model-Chevy was bound to be a great view.

The only downside about street races was that if you were watching from the sidelines, once the cars were out of sight, you wouldn’t find them again until they were rounding the finish because we never did have cameras. Especially not the high tech types that could allow the onlookers to perceive all of the drivers moves. Somehow while I was driving, I’d rather not have everyone see what I was doing because it gave me more freedom.

Regardless, we both saw the initial takeoff that marked the start of the competition. Off the bat, the Mustang had a slightly more proficient 0-60 that placed itself into the lead earlier, but the driver in the Camaro had a steadier hand at the wheel, standing to be less reckless. Once it rounded the corner, the last we saw was the tail-end of the Mustang that raced to catch up.

Returning again to the finish, both cars were relatively close together since they were so collectively similarly-matched against each other. Though, just touching first, the Mustang barely rolled ahead and kicked the Camaro out of the first round. The Mustang would move on, but if he made it past the second, I wouldn’t have to see him until the third match.

When the ordeal had been mapped onto the board and cars alongside drivers had been cleared out of the centre of the track, they brought in two new cars to commence the next match. Since we were already to the second, I was up next and some feeling in my gut felt like nervous butterflies for some strange reason. There wasn’t any particular reason for the feeling, I just did.

On the other hand, beside me, Declan seemed to be having a substantial amount of fun. Though, I sort of realised that this was one of the only adrenaline-inducing situations he’d been in without a course of substance running through his system.

Just as I was contemplating the meaning of Declan’s presence, the same man I’d met when I was sizing up the competition appeared beside me. Again, he spoke to me without looking at me or the same nonchalant tone he’d adopted earlier. “You have to forfeit the race, I got buddies in on a bet and I ain’t losin’ my money to them.”

I’d pretended like I hadn’t heard what the guy said and kept watching, but he leaned down a smidge and asked me if I understood him. Being so much bigger than I, I complied with his questions but there wasn’t a way I’d sit out of match. Especially not one that I’d actually brought someone to intentionally. I informed the guy, “No, I can’t do that for you.”

A twinge of anger appeared on his face, “You can, but you won’t.”

I explained to him, “You should’ve made a better bet, I ain’t taking threats, man.”

The stranger backed off and skulked back into the mass of people from where he’d come from. After I was sure he’d disappeared, I slid back next to Declan and got him to fill me in on what he thought was happening in the front for prep. Of course, he knew no proper terminology and such, but it was amusing to hear him describe the ‘screwy thingy’ as the driver stepped in and began to become comfortable again in the ride.

To my delight, Declan was absolutely hooked on the subject now that he was here, and he was engaged when any car would create a loud purr or fly past him, down the road. He was even learning to ‘bet’ on which car would win, by telling me his guess for the second one and seeing if it’d come out on top. No money was involved, but it was still a step into the territory.

Concluding that second race, he cheered slightly, which told me that his bet had been the correct choice. But, now from a slight distance away, I could see my Demon being dragged into position and ready for my hands to take the wheel and my body to be sat right behind. Pointing the sight out to Declan, I instructed him to follow me to the front of the crowd and place himself into the passenger seat.

Standing outside my vehicle while the other one was being pulled up simultaneously, I stood to take a shot at the competition. My opponent was a younger adult, but older than me. He was definitely white and the stereotypical for what you’d expect, but he had an air to him that told me he knew what he was doing.

As I finished what I had been doing, I clambered into the car and took a breath of the air trapped inside my car. It smelled of moderately cheap cologne from I-don’t-even-remember and old paper. Reaching for my keys, I held them out carefully and clutched them, sticking them back inside my pocket. Unnecessary, but I wanted to examine the logo on my keys, the demon head engraved in the object.

When I was ready enough, I stowed the keys back inside my pocket and strapped in my seatbelt and suggested kindly to my passenger that he do the same. Only then did I finally lay my hands on my car and shift from neutral into drive. Only then could I check my driving precautions like my front, left, and right mirrors.

Even if I didn’t entirely need to take a look at anything since it’d only be me and Declan inside my car, plus Galloway dusted behind me on the track. No sweat, this can be easy. The model next to me was a BMW i8 which topped out more than 50 miles per hour less than my demon. Plus, the acceleration couldn’t nearly reach mine.

Of course the kit was highly dependent on how competent the driver was to place it in an ingenious usage style, but I was just as, if not more competent with my own vehicle. This should be an easy advancement. Somehow, I felt the butterflies take off in my gut and the nerves in my body churn in a way I couldn’t ascertain the reason for. There was no way to tell myself if I felt nervous or excited, or even perhaps I felt both nervous and excited?

Same is the outcome regardless of the answer, because the facts were that I was going to race, I’d win, and I’d show Declan why I loved what I did. By this point, I had almost forgotten that bets were even riding on me, almost. The competitive level of this particular tournament warranted sizable bets on anyone driving a car, and for newcomers, the better car you had, the more money placed on your head.

Unfortunately or not, I most definitely had one of the best cars and therefore the bets on my head were actually pretty hefty in comparison to someone like Galloway. I took a moment to ponder informing Declan how much money was on the line, but I decided not to because there was no reason to place actual consideration in his mind rather than enjoying the breeze; even though there’d be no breeze because there’d be no chance I’d keep the windows down.

Speaking of rolling up the windows, I checked on all my interior and exterior along with sliding the seat back slightly because that was most likely safer than sitting closer especially when the accelerations come into mind. I double and triple checked everything a proper driver should do before taking off. I even revved up the car and switched it back to ready while my nerves kicked in.

The moment to begin was faced to me and the blow horn that signified the cars to take off sat in the hand of one of the organisers because I could recognise the type of clothing that they all wore. Only now, the blow horn was thrusted into the air and a short countdown began.

“3...2…1!” The horn sounded and my instincts pounded the gas to get a quicker start than my opponent.

My car warmed up and sped up much faster than my opponent so I was simply cruising right off the bat. The gap between myself and Galloway inched further and further away by the second, even as I eased up on the acceleration because such speed wasn’t necessary before we had really begun the race.

Feeling like a cooler night drive, I adjusted myself to watch the road closely, but I felt comfortable enough to ease up my grip on the wheel and laxed my solidified grip on the wheel. Stealing the quickest glance I could at Declan, I saw him smiling before he began to speak to me. He simply commented, “You were right. I feel great and everything is flying by.”

I scoffed and replied, trying to keep my utmost cool and maintain much of my focus on the road and driving because it was still a high-stakes- type-of-deal. “Can’t believe you doubted me in the first place.”

He sputtered trying to defend himself, “Nate! I didn’t doubt you… I just didn’t know for myself.”

This time, I decided it would be fine if I chuckled, but I let my ease get the better of me. From the left-hand mirror, I caught a glimpse of the shiny, jet black exterior skulking up behind me like a thief in the night. Actually, it could’ve been exactly like that, stealing my first position from me like a robber in a bank, if it hadn’t been for the glint of my tales and remnants of his headlights behind me.

Attempting to close the gap, I was left no choice but to physically hold him back from overtaking me rather than speeding up. Swerving back and forth, I had the task at hand to keep Galloway directly behind me so he wouldn’t be able to snake up beside me. God knows, if he slithered his way next to me, my car would suffer some type of damage in a way I couldn’t explain; that was the last thing I wanted, to damage my baby.

The track began to curve again as the BMW behind me began to close up on my tail, speeding up slightly, trying to push me faster and reach ever-closer to my limit. Eventually, I was cogently shoved into holding the accelerator with more pressure as my speed increased. My heart beat increased because of the thorough intensity that Galloway brought to the table, genuinely forcing me to make moves on the track rather than take it easy like I thought it would be.

Just because my stats outranked him, the car really didn’t matter in the hands of this guy. Like exy, I ran my tactics highly on instinct and the natural ability I’ve obtained over years of driving. To no surprise, nor avail, my slots remaining for the intelligence I most definitely had in collected situations, those same skills didn’t apply to the situations of high pressure. Evidently, Galloway was extremely skilled in the strategic portion of forcing me into small spaces with few options.

Out of necessity to try and take back some control, I decided to speed up and rush ahead of Galloway so that he couldn’t force me into corners or trap me in the essence of his mind. There wasn’t a way to control me if he couldn’t see me right?

Regardless, I pumped the accel until my speed was nearing well over what the i8 could hit on a good day. In a few seconds, I’d have to be a large chunk away from Galloway, and enough that it would be quite the chore to play a nice game of catch up. I was going to make winning for Galloway a real chore, the way I couldn’t possibly lose, and it’d be a humiliating loss.

As I was contemplating my surefire victory, I took into account my passenger and adapted to the new layout of track within my visibility. In the slight distance that would take no time at all to reach, I caught a sharp right in my vision. From what I could tell, it was the only sharp corner in the race, or at least from what I could see.

My body told me that I was going much too fast to be able to clear the corner at all with the space-wide that the track was, so I had to shift the gear down as I began to approach the junction. Only, when I tried to gently ease the break into a slower gear, I couldn’t feel movement under my foot. When I pushed down harder on the pedal, it barely nudged, but otherwise it wouldn’t budge.

“Declan…” I began, beginning to panic.

“Slow down.”

“Declan, I can’t.” My mind was syncing into hyperdrive.

“You’re not going to clear this corner!”

“Declan, I know! My brake, it won’t-” The wall to the track, marking out the pathway drew ever-so-nearer.

“What else makes you go slower?!” Declan asked me in a massive hysteria.

Now, the both of us were screaming and exclaiming, but I actually heard his words. The clutch was on my wheel that could adjust the gear, but my nerves were fighting.

My hands began to shake, and so too did my arms. My legs jolted and my palms began to sweat. I groped for the slick clutch, but my body kept jolting my fingers with their shaking and I kept missing, just barely missing the transmission essential as I turned the wheel anyway. My eyes were glued to the road and now the wall as it blew up into my eyes as it drew nearer and nearer until-

The sudden impact to my side blew out what I knew would be a magnificent chunk of my car and my head began to feel fuzzy. The world felt warm, but I felt weak. I felt frail and dizzy as liquid dripped down my head; I could feel sweat and the much lighter night air blew a breeze across it, making me cold. Except, it couldn’t be sweat, it was far thicker than sweat. Also, it shouldn’t have been cold, my windows had been up.

I couldn’t feel my bones or my body before I began to feel sleepier than I should be. Suddenly, the acute realisation struck me that I wasn’t speeding down the road anymore, but I was more so laying atop something soft and cushiony. Eventually, I couldn’t feel what was below me, or surrounded me for that matter, and I succumbed to the darkness that overtook me.

Chapter 28: No Pain

Chapter Text

The irritatingly luminescent fluorescent lights on the ceiling glared up at me. The sinking feeling of a plushness underneath me engulfed me and tricked me into never wanting to leave. Then, I felt a sharp pain flaring up through my legs and the feeling of fire burning through my skin like it was trying to eat me alive.

I could hardly tell that my vision had been shielded by the white cloth material littering my face. I could partially see the edges of the pieces from the top of my cheek and nose. When I looked around at my surroundings with my eyes, I was greeted with the bare-white walls of a hospital.

Occasionally, I had been to the hospital because I tended to be reckless sometimes, but I hadn’t been in years. I had hardly been to the doctor in years to tell the truth. Now, there was a remote with a ‘call nurse’ button that I was evidently supposed to click when I was here, and here I was. There was an adjustable bed with scratchy blankets that were patterned with indented squares across the material.

I could hear an incessant beeping that kept a steady beat in my brain that pounded with a dull pain. I hadn’t taken much notice yet, but I felt a little fuzzy, like I was misplacing one of my thoughts buried in the bottom of a sock drawer, beneath the rest. I could feel it was missing, but I couldn’t tell what it was that I was missing or where it resided.

Because I had pressed the apparent button next to me, a kind woman, with blue and and blonde hair that was pulled back, but with one of the politest smiles I’d ever been greeted with. She began to speak to me, “How do you feel?” and “Do you have any pain on a scale of one to ten, one being the least, and ten being the worst?”

I could hear this woman but there wasn’t a word she could say that would filter through my thick skull. It almost felt as if she were trying to penetrate my mind with advanced calculus even though I most definitely had the mental capacity of a four-year-old. Nothing would translate into my brain, and I couldn’t speak remotely similar to what I should have been.

The only thing I could catch from this woman were the words haemorrhaging, brain, and sedatives. Since I couldn’t think properly, I could only assume that haemorrhaging could be applied to me, and that brain also applied to me. Haemorrhaging…in my brain? That could’ve possibly been what I was experiencing, though I didn’t know what that meant.

Everything lay forgotten, like a distant memory trapped in my head of all the past knowledge I had. But, now that secret capsule was on lockdown and my own body wouldn’t let me access the information. Even so, I could assume that the term could only be of bad news from the hot take that I was sitting, fully idle, inside a hospital bed.

If I was facing some ridiculous terminal illness or injury, I assume sedatives were to keep the pain down and the reason I only felt a dull pain in my head was the drugs themselves. The minor pain was nothing compared to what I could be feeling, and for that reason the drugs kept me happy and high. This time, the drugs were even prescribed so it couldn’t be an unhealthy habit.

Just when I thought the nurse was finished with me after checking a few of my vital points and making sure that I was most definitely still a person, she told me that my friend in the crash was better than I was and he’d been taken care of even while we spoke. For a moment, I had no idea what she was even talking about, that was until all my thoughts began rushing back to me simultaneously.

I thought of the car and the imminent fear when I couldn’t find the clutch, I saw Declan getting the wind knocked out of him and injured from a crash. I imagined myself lying like a dead figure on the floor of a car I somehow couldn’t control even with years and years of practice.

Come to think of it, I couldn’t think of a time when I ever lost the wheel like I did, much less that I would end up in the hospital for that same reason. Still, I felt guilty that someone else got hurt for my fault. But, Declan wasn’t just somebody, he was my friend, but greater. He was… he was my boyfriend and I wouldn’t let him leave without at least apologising.

Beginning to stand up, rambling on nonsense, the nurse pushed me back down into the bed and informed me that I was not to stand. To her, I whined, "But, I wanna talk to Declan…” in the same voice accompanied by the same face that kids use when they beg their parents for something they desperately want. It could’ve worked, if only she would let me out of the bed I wasn’t supposed to stand from.

As a compromise, she surmised that it would be better if Declan was brought into my room, and that I could begin to accept visitors. Upon the nurses exit to fetch Declan, I took a glance at who I truly was. The truth was, I was bandaged up heavily on my legs and their limbs felt like jelly. My arms had minor scratches and damages, but my left hand was numb to a lot of feeling until I could play with each finger until they were responsive. I was a mess. My quite literal downfall was one of the things I pride most.

My feelings had to be amplified tenfold with the drugs because some of them did that to me. But, now I was left by myself to wallow in despair and self pity that my ego had been too high and how I ended up here. Though, while I was pouting to myself, the nurse had returned with a familiar boy who wore his loose-curly hair messily and cerulean blue eyes with a gleam that made my heart glow.

I felt moderately warm that he walked into the room and I couldn't help but feel happier that he was near me though I could hardly see who it was with my whacked vision. It was this moment that I realised that someone had removed my contacts for me, but my vision wasn’t horrible enough that it was an intolerable hindrance in the first place.

The kind brunette waking up next to me stood directly to the side of my bed and peered directly at me with a hint of fondness. From somewhere behind him, I heard a sweeter, higher voice tell him, “Not too much, he needs a great amount of rest,” before closing the door and leaving us alone.

When he spoke, he told me, “Someone wedged a rock in your brake. I heard someone talking about it when the nurse was having a conversation with some cops. You gave me the literal time of my life though, ya know?” I thought I could discern some fragments of what was sabotaging my race intentionally. Here, I couldn’t even find myself to be angry. I almost died. I could still be dying though and I wouldn’t know.

Still, the other attribution that I had showed him how to properly race despite not even finishing the event was fulfilling. I wanted to show him my passion, and I did at a great cost, but I still showed him how incredible it was for at least a little while. There was something inside me that shot put pride into my soul and joy of sharing my experiences with him.

Whatever I had been doing, I knew that Declan deserved everything wonderful I’d tried to give him. Even though I only caught bits and pieces of words, the man began to tell me about his day. He was even at liberty to speak whatever and I could find myself agreeing with him. Declan seemed like the type to insult you if you ever confronted him, but he was oddly kind and endearing to me.

Eventually, as all things do, he had to leave me alone so I could obtain ‘proper rest’ according to the doctor’s staff. But, over however much time had passed, though it felt like none at all, all I felt like I had been doing was resting. Granted, I was also majorly numb in most of my body, but I could feel the aching weight of myself seeping into the crevices of the bed.

As if I’d grown infinitely heavier, I succumbed to my body and drifted off to sleep in the middle of the day with the sun shining infinitely bright, though covered by the curtains to my left. I knew I slept, but I hadn’t remembered a single portion of content from the slumber. I hadn’t dreamed at all, I had only dreamt of blankness. Or, perhaps my mind was too exhausted from how damaged my body apparently was.

When I awoke later, the nurse attending to me kindly informed me that I had visitors if I wanted to see them. I was personally curious about who she was talking about so I nodded my head like a silent child. With my permission, she slid out of the room for a few minutes to presumably allow my ‘guests’ in to visit me.

As three people entered, one rushed over to my side and asked me how I was. I thought it was Nicky, but I told him I felt fine because I still felt numb and couldn’t tell the difference between what I was feeling and what pain was to begin with. The second person to step into my space was Matt, checking up on me like the older brother figure he tended to present to all the younger teammates, including myself occasionally.

After Nicky let off a little bit but remained by my side, Matt slipped away slightly for the third person to make her way to my bed where I lay. It was Irina. I’d almost forgotten how pretty she was and the upset expression on her face morphed her eyes and brows into a face that injured my heart as I gazed at it with wandering eyes. She looked at me like she wanted to tell me something, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell me what it was. Why?

When Irina finally did speak, she was more lighthearted than she appeared to be. She had a slight tear welled up in her eyes and laughed a bit, trying to make the situation a little more lighthearted. I could tell I was in the hospital, but I couldn’t feel any pain on a type of richter scale or anything to realistically size up my situation properly. Irina remarked, “Why didn’t you tell us you had a friend- er-,” she paused, smiling slightly more, “Boyfriend on the soccer team.”

My eyes lit up with curiosity because I may have forgotten that detail for a moment before my brain recalled that very fact and all that encompassed it. With a toothy grin, I replied, “Oh, yeah. I mean, I told Asher and maybe P- Paxton!” I told her, as I nearly forgot my roommate's name. “He just never met you guys, so I didn’t feel the need to bring it up.” My tone escaped from my body extremely light and giggly from what it normally was which caused everyone to soften their expressions slightly.

But, before anyone else could say another word, Nicky began to gush about how much he would’ve been excited for me either way. Then he asked for how long and how he was like while I tried to recall every answer and until Matt told him to lay off me because I was fragile. I didn’t feel very fragile though; actually, I felt sort of on top of the world.

As Matt concluded with Nicky’s telling off for overcompensation and flamboyancy, he asked me if there was anything that I needed or anyone I had wanted to see specifically. That sparked an idea about coach and how worried everyone should be that I wasn’t at school and I was here, and I was in the hospital. When I addressed my concerns about coach, he told me that Wymack had been checking up on me every few hours with the nurses to check on my conditions. I’d have to thank him, definitely.

After the question about coach came a question about Asher, Irina had seen me, and Nicky too, even Matt had visited me. But, why hadn’t my best friend since I arrived at this school volunteered to visit me yet? The answer was that when these three in front of me volunteered, Asher said he’d wait because he hadn’t wanted to surround me with so many people. He always looked out for me, even when I didn’t know I suppose.

From that point, the three of them told me what had been happening at practice and attempted to keep the conversation as light as possible; they tried to hide that fact, but somehow I can tell. Aside from that, they continually looked at me like there was some pain or sadness in their eyes when any of them looked at me. But, when I looked at them and made eye contact, they all veiled their expressions as if they were never there. They all were trying to convince me I was hallucinating their reactions, but I wouldn’t buy into it.

Still, I had to let the matter drop when the nurse pointed out how much time had passed and it was time for them to leave so she could administer me new medication. As they all left, they departed with the promise to return and the nurse took their place.

When we were alone, she began to place a new syringe into the IV tube on my left and squeeze out every last drop of fluid, whatever it was. The moment she finished, she disposed of the chemical and I could feel even more than I was if that was even possible.

Once I’d settled into that feeling once again, she brought me food that I would actually be able to stomach and had to feed me herself since I couldn’t move. Honestly, it was irritating not being able to take care of myself, but part of me appreciated her help nonetheless. At least she was kind to me. She could’ve been a monster of a person for all I knew, but she wasn’t.

Eventually, my meal had been consumed and my attending nurse left so that I could be alone once again. The day was growing dark once more and I was beginning to feel drowsy yet again, despite having a nap just a little bit ago.

Now that I was by myself again, I tried to forget the goofy grin that became plastered on my face and recall fragments of my memory that were shaded or blocked by a thick fog, unable to be penetrated. It was frustrating how I could hardly remember some of the most important details of my life. But, talking to people today helped slightly because I had recovered some substance.

Still, none of what I could think of was satisfying to me because I had to know; I had to remember everything, but I just couldn’t. Why had someone shoved a rock in my car break? What classes was I taking again? What kind of person was I? I couldn’t even figure out the most important puzzle piece which was who I really was. What if I could never know?

Just when I thought about the sentiment and it’s final totality of it, my heart began to hurt like it was clenching. There was a sharp pain in my chest and it radiated through my entire body, but that was the only feeling I could feel against my ever-so-numb body. I was hurting. But, how bad was I hurt?

I didn’t really care to know just what I was feeling or why I was in such a significant amount of pain. I could tell my vital signs had spiked slightly, but it wasn’t a significant enough change to provoke a nurse or doctor barging into the room. For that reason, I had kept quiet about the ache that resided with me.

The sharp pain in my body had begun to ride itself out and dissipate from each of my cells ever so slowly until it felt like a slight, dull ache. That same sensation kept me on edge enough to prevent me from sleeping even though my mind and body so demanded it. Therefore, when my body had finally mysteriously calmed down, I drifted off almost immediately, not wanting to take another blasted sight in.

Though, the morning after my slight pain, I had awoken to the nurse bombarding me in my bed. Surprisingly, I had slept the whole night, not having been awoken by any ache or pain. But, now that I was awake and she knew that I was alive and breathing, she began to ask me questions about my state of being and whatnot.

My current pain level, as I was flying high as a kite, was genuinely zero, and she continued to problems with my bowels or bladder from food, which I would say I had none; no issues, I meant. The follow up to that was how much I was actually able to sense inside my limbs. Answering honestly, I had told her that they were still completely numb and I couldn’t feel a single thing. That was a complete truth.

But, once she had run her routine tests and questionnaire once again, she handed me an item that I gazed upon. The very object she was handing to me was my phone which I didn’t use all that much. But, with this device, I could actually talk to the people I wanted without having to wait for them to come visit me.

That being said, I let the nurse take her leave and opened the screen on my phone. I knew I wasn’t addicted, but I was getting slightly antsy to talk to people again since the one I had spoken to the most in this facility was my bang-up nurse. Through the texting app, I slid open on the conversation with the top number on my list and the most recent, Declan.

Typing out my first silly message, which was just his name with exclamations, I hit the send button and patiently waited until he would respond. Except, I wasn’t that much of a patient person at times like I had been in the hospital, so I opened a conversation with Asher.

Texting him the question, ‘Can you visit me today?’I stared at it a few seconds before I got a miniscule ping. Checking back on Declan’s messages, he had given me a greeting. I continued to speak with my usual back and forth whenever he had been around before I was here because it’s the second thing that flowed into my fingers, and the action felt like the most natural occurrence in the world, to insult each other back and forth and banter.

But, if I had to be brutally honest, even if we appeared mean to anyone who wasn’t us, internally I knew that he meant no harm and I had the same intentions as he. It was just how we rolled I supposed, even if we were boyfriends or whatever. There wasn’t a single reason we could have semi-intelligent conversations, hate each other, and love each other at the same time, right?

Even though those statements are contradictory, evidently they aren’t also mutually exclusive, because I said it myself. But, when he finally agreed to visit me later, I set down my phone and let him have a break from me, even if he didn’t need one. Instead, I took the opportunity and waited for Asher to reply with an answer to my question.

After less than an hour after I had ceased my banter with Declan, I got a reply from Asher saying yes. He wouldn’t forfeit visiting me like he had the day prior just because he was too kind to me for his own good at times. But, I knew him; I remembered him, and I wanted to tell him I’d be alright.

Later in the morning, my nurse returned with some food and fed it to me gently before sticking more chemicals into my IV drip. I hadn’t even cared to ask her what was in it anymore than made me feel so numb, but it was starting to become a sustaining force. Regardless of how long I’d continued to have the drug in my system, I began to thirst for the numbness that entranced my body.

Any bodily injury, it had faded away into the abyss of pain. And since the same substance kept me in the clouds, any emotional turmoil I might have held only drifted off into the abyss of pain all the same. For the abyss of pain held both physical and emotional aspects. Since everything I carried fell trapped to that void, I told the nurse I was perfectly fine when she asked me.

Letting me off, she exited the room and the next person to appear by my bedside was Asher. He was kind and considerate of me being there rather than being his level-headed, normal self. But, I thought I could tell he was also disappointed.

As I’d begun to refresh all that my mind stored, I recalled informing Asher of my hobby. Now, I hadn’t known if anyone at Palmetto fully knew the complete story of how I’d ended up here, but since there were cops around I assumed that people on my team had heard how I’d ended up strapped into that bed for the rest of eternity.

Attempting to be lighthearted, I tried to start a small conversation, but Asher didn’t seem keen on participating in my speaking. He cut to the chase and waltzed directly past all the sugar coating that should have laid within his words. My roommate asked me, “Why? What happened at the race? Why’d you tell me how dangerous it was?”

I tried to tell him, and I tried without sputtering as much as I could, trying to remember what exactly went down. I had revisited the thoughts of that since the cops had swung by, and by that point I couldn’t recall a single thing. But, now my brain was much clearer and I could somewhat depict how I experienced it.

Beginning my story with, “Declan and I got there, then… Then I told him to piss and I checked the bracket.” I stopped for a moment, trying to remember what happened after that. “Then, this scary guy started talking to me and got information or something from me? After that I left and found Declan…” The gears to my brain were clicking by ever-so-slowly, it was irritating.

Asher let me continue as I tried to remember more, “Then we watched a couple races and the same guy from before told me I should lose on purpose and I told him no. I told him no and then he said I bet on me and he’d make sure his bets went through or something.” As I started reciting, the gears began to rotate faster and show me more of what I’d forgotten.

“After that was my race! But, someone else towed it up and before the race I never checked my brakes, because why should I, and everything was great and I wasn’t going too fast. When I did speed up though, I couldn’t get around the corner because I couldn’t shift the gears!” The moment of clarity I needed shone brightly, but then everything came crashing down as fast as it had appeared in the first place.

Chapter 29: Mistakes; Truth

Chapter Text

The memories flashed in my head of the car and the guy who went up to me. Stars had aligned and I could somewhat think clearly. I had been able to provide myself a reason why I couldn’t place my pain or accident. Why had something been clogging my brake if not for someone else to place it there?

It was heavily apparent that Asher had seen my thoughts ignite within me because when I tried to sit up straight, there was a force that held me steady, lying back.

Important that I tell him I figured it out, I said, “I remember what happened! Kind of…” but he wouldn’t let me get ahead of myself. My eyes began to glisten with hope as I felt my connection to the events I’d experienced divulged after days.

My body began to jitter and jive with excitement that I could formally recognise something serious regarding my memories. Almost feeling sick from the sudden overtake of emotions, Asher began to try and talk me down, keeping me steady so that I wouldn’t get overwhelmed. Even with Asher speaking to me, my heart rate rose and fell like beats per minute in an upbeat song. In other words, much too fast for what it should be.

Resounding echoes of the monitor attached to me, feeding me fluids, beat faster and faster. As my brain began to process this sound, it took into what was associated with it. Hence, my adrenaline skyrocketed and I began to grow slightly anxious that it was beeping quicker with ever smaller intervals in between each. Would it be too much for me? Would I die?

My attending nurse, of whom I’d obviously grown exasperatingly close to from my stay at the hospital where she changed my fluids, fed me, kept me stable, she’d strode into the room and ushered Asher out. The both of us projected speedy goodbye’s until he was out the door and I could no longer see him.

Beating like a jackrabbit, my heart began to pound in my chest like I had just run seven miles, only much more painfully; painful like it had been the night before. Only now, there was a person around looking at my every vital sign from the sound of my lungs to the rate of my pulse. If she noted anything irregular, I was kept unaware of my general situation.

Hell, I’d been kept unaware of the general condition my body was even in. The only residual pain I could feel at all was that trapped inside my heart when I felt sharp palpitations within the muscle. Though, I’d still never tell anyone I felt that way in the first place, for it might keep me in this wretched white room forever.

Once the nurse concluded with running her diagnostics and I was all fine and dandy to be left alone after being administered another dose of whatever mind boggling drug they kept supplying me with. Therefore, once again I had been left alone in the room, by myself, in the middle of the day.

Of course, people, friends, family, they were all still allowed to drop by, but they’d keep me alone for a little while until the new medicine cycle had taken proper effect and they made sure I was calmed down. But, how could I properly calm down when I could really remember what happened? No one else could recount my story but me, and in fact, not even Declan was there to witness those particular events.

At that same instant, the notion came to me that I could ask Declan to be on his way even right now. Picking up my phone from my side once again, I tapped on the button with all my messages contained within it. Once I was there, I pressed the same button with Declans name written on it and opened our messages that last left off his agreement to visit me. I typed up a response that very simply read, ‘How soon are you coming over?’ and shut the device off again.

Moments later, the electronic box next to me buzzed and the screen lit up with a notification from Declan. Upon opening it, I read, ‘How soon did you want me to be there?’ which of course is a classic question to answer a question.

Texting back, I replied, ‘As soon as you can?’ to provide a similar effect, but with a proper answer or something that can be interpreted as one.

The last thing he told me was, ‘You got it.’ After that, I turned off the screen and waited in the heavily cushioned, freshly sanitised bed that I have now laid in for days.

At the thought that all I could smell was foul, I had to dismiss that idea just as quickly because if a hospital really was sanitary, their patients wouldn’t smell like dookie, even if they couldn’t move. All the same, I had to try and speak to myself and debate other crazy notions. Debates like what my teammates were doing today, how was the team, were they sad I was gone, how was Danielle after I hadn’t even seen her, how was my baby holding up?

Okay, the last one was a long shot because my demon had probably been decimated if I couldn’t feel a single thing. Sure, Declan is out and walking, but he does have a few bandages scattered around his body. Still, the fact that he’s functioning is an indicator that the crash could’ve been much worse.

Now, even as my head thought about ‘The Crash’, my entire body began to feel the pangs that resonated within my chest. Even though time had hardly passed since the last shockwave, the feeling of crushing needles invading my heart returned like it had never left. At this point, it was now the third time that this had happened, and I neglected to speak to a single soul about it. Nor did I ever intend to.

Completely unrelated however, Declan arrived at the hospital in what-could-have-been-no-more-than-twenty-to-thirty-minutes later. Even so, the first activity he partakes in is greeting me like he didn’t disperse to my aid at the drop of a hat; on my call and beckon. Though, as I was thinking, I didn’t know how because he didn’t even own a car.

Before he sits in any spot within the room, I ask him, “How’d you get here?”

To answer, he told me, “Tyler. Though I was a bit hesitant at first,” he uttered the last part and chuckled sheepishly as if he were being self aware. I ignored his social cues on his last sentiment because I didn’t really know why. Like, I know we got in a car crash, but it wasn’t that serious; he’s up and walking, isn’t he?

The arrival of Declan had me momentarily forgetting why I had even wanted him to be here in the first place. So, once he sat down I jumped into a conversation. Blurting out, “I remember the crash…what happened,” could’ve been a smarter move, but it wasn’t.

Declan searched my face inquisitively before interrogating me, “You’re sure?”

I speak until I reach the mark in the story where I meet the guys at the bracket-booth and Declan wasn’t there. He hadn’t heard this direct cap of the story so I explained briefly to him. Listening attentively, he takes in my every word as I indulge him about the pre-course-survey he’d given me before I could back off.

A sight surprise was that his face never twitched a muscle as if he had heard this all before, but he hadn’t. This man watched me, listening for my next words. Fortunately, my next words spoke about the bout before the second race where that same man told me about bets and told me he’d win. But, still, Declan showed little to no emotion at my wild tale.

Instead, he’d asked how much I remembered right before the crash. Again, I told him the truth, the full truth, and nothing but the truth. I told him, “I couldn’t slam the brake, my fingers wouldn’t grip the clutch, I mean… I thought I was going to die.”

The man in front of me sighed and put his head down, taking a breath before glancing back at me. Now it was time for him to tell me the stories.

Opening with, “In your brake, there was a pebble or a rock jamming the pedal to not let it go down. But, you hadn’t checked beforehand. It’s like the one thing you didn’t check. The guy you were talking about, he put it there. To stop you from winning.”

My ears could hear him, but my brain had only half-listened because he said someone had sabotaged my car? How? When did that guy have the time?

But, Declan only continued his story, “The race started fine and you weren’t going too fast, but when the other guy forced you to speed up, hey, even you said it’s easy to get out of control. But, with the rock clogging the brake, it was just meant to slow you down, I guess.”

The eyes that portrayed his expression began to glisten with sadness and tears that welled up in the ducts of his eyes. Still, he kept going for my sake anyway. “See, when you crashed, everyone thought you died. It didn’t look good, and I stayed up a little longer than you did. I still passed out, but I was up long enough to see people’s shock from your Demon basically blowing up.”

Tension could be felt festering, putrid in my chest from the amount of suspense Declan was projecting, it was killing me. Then, he had said that my car basically blew up in the crash, but if I was hit on the driver’s… why couldn’t I feel how my baby looked? She probably looked like hell and back. That was the moment I made the swift connection between my ever-so-numb body and the absence of news I’d obtained about myself.

The last thing I let him tell in that story was, “When he thought you were dead, that guy, he turned himself in… To everyone it looked like you were dead,” which begged my own questions.

Brutal curiosity pounding at my chest, I asked the man in front of me, “How bad are my injuries?”

Truly, I had no idea the full extent of what I was preparing myself for until that man told me, “Bad. That’s why you- you can’t move.” By this point, his eyes were filled like a valley during a flood and a couple stray tears overflowed, expressing his sadness.

Where he truly held all his emotion were his eyes, but Declan seemed to look like he’d personally been stabbed as he surveyed me up and down. Since I could read him without a hindrance, I found it wise to consult the medical professional who has told me nothing of my condition.

I made a fist for the remote with the nurse button with what little strength (that I could now feel was slipping away) and whatever I could muster. Even so, the effort was quite meak and it only took a few attempts to get the button to beep and ring the nurse.

Very few moments later, that familiar woman whom I’d now seen many times had returned to quite the unruly sight. She’d walked in upon her patient, overtly nervous, and another man, silently crying with tears nearly streaming down his face. Slightly hesitant, she walked nearer to us and stood at the foot of my bed to ask what was wrong.

The calm facade of this average nurse nearly crumbled when I asked her the question I’d found no reason to ask before. The question: “How bad is it, Doc?” with the last bit added for juvenile jokes before the real serious answer that could very well wreck my life, the way Declan spun it. From the corner of my eye, I could actually see Declan shaking his head no as if to tell her not to inform me, but the expression she wore was no joke. It almost spoke as if to say ‘he’s-gonna-have-to-know-one-way-or-another’ and left it at that.

Declan put up no more fight that existed within his soul and she opened up to speak clearly. The worse I’d been slightly dreading since she returned were upon me. The exact saying: “The machines are keeping you alive.”

Surely, that could’ve been one of the nicest ways she could’ve put it. But, it took none to soften the blow at all. Sure, I was definitely breathing and whatever a body did to function. But, she then said there were complications with my heart that meant it had to be given continuous shocks should it show any sign of failure. According to her, at this stage, it was constantly failing, and I most certainly needed those shocks.

After that fact, she even told me there was hardly anything to do but pay to keep me alive. There was no heart transplant that could save me from what it was and that’s why I might’ve felt minor to major pain as I’d discovered she’d know all alone. But, it appeared someone else in the room might have known all this without my asking.

Was I too ignorant to notice and it was that obvious or had that nurse told everyone what kind of state I was in? Was that the reason some of my friends couldn’t visit me? Had that been the reason Irina and Asher couldn’t properly look at me straight without hearing the monitors and glancing at the walls around us? Was whatever this was all inevitable? Was there much time left for anything?

Addressing my open concern for the last question as the reality of everything sunk in, I was addressed with the answer, “As long as you want.” But, did I really want to? I was hooked up to freaking machines, completely and undeniably numb. The only people I saw were those who visited me and I couldn’t participate in literally any of my favourite activities. In light of my real situation, I shook my head and my eyes filled to the brim with tears themselves.

I felt a bit like a dead dog, awaiting being put down by its family. Except, I was the family and the dog simultaneously. There I would be, choosing my own fate whether I live or die. But, was I even ready to make that decision?

My hopes, my everything that had been sky high plummeted. Besides, I could only take one look at Declan before I had to shake my head and hold unspeakable conversations with our eyes. Gazing at him, I knew there was only one choice, and I knew he knew it too. God, it really was like I was a dog now.

There would never be a situation where I could take into account my team minus Asher, Irina, and Nicky, because not many of them had truly been family, but I’d be useless to them if I were defective. At the present moment, I had nothing to live for. Forced to make the call, I presented myself with a formal solution to cut off the machines and take them down. There wasn’t a point wasting money on a lost cause anyway.

Though, I did have a silly request before the entire ordeal could take place. What a wondrous thing since I was a legal adult that there was no absolute need for a legal guardian anymore, not that I had anyone really anyway. Notwithstanding, I ask the nurse to give me a few minutes as I scrawl out a will with my words to Declan.

The words I tell him are to take me down with all the love in my heart and that it goes out to him, to Asher, to my ma back in Chicago, to Kevin, to Irina, to Nicky, and to Aaron. Some smaller, some larger, none less meaningful.

Beginning with my ma, I wanted to hand her all my journals and a photocopy of my music so she could see what I’ve made and be proud of the sober-ish man I’d become. For Aaron for picking me up when no one else trusted me and putting me back into place, simply my gratitude because I had no clue what item of mine could suit him. To Kevin, to coin my move and hopefully really use it because I was really, genuinely proud of it.

Onto the larger, more personal affairs. I wanted Irina to have my jewellery and whatnot, accompanied by my everyday watch, to wear or to have. The stuff I owned could suit her and I loved her like a little sister, so it was only fitting that I show what I did. But, to Asher, I would send his way all my clothes, including the stupid spongebob pants, and books that clogged up small portions of the room and hope he could get a good use out of them, even if he most definitely couldn’t read some of them.

Even larger still, a fund to either repair my Demon and hand it off to him because I’m sure it was wrecked, or for an entirely new one. If he didn’t want a car, I suppose he could stick it into Germany where he’d undoubtedly go after graduation to where he could follow Erik out because he loved him so. He was the first person to really show me around and care for me out here and there would always be a place to treasure ‘firsts’ here, and Nicky was definitely one of them.

But, the most sentimental of all went to the man I was speaking to, Declan Tarelleo. This man, I wanted him to have my original copy of everything I’d ever composed or written myself because it meant that much to me. Music was my whole life and Declan was heavily a part of it. Even if it were written for instruments he didn’t play, I wanted it that way. Secondly, perhaps the most sentimental of it all, I wanted to place Danielle in proper care, and I was sure it would receive such treatment in his possession.

Aside from music, Declan could very well have been the best thing to ever happen to me. I never stated explicitly to his face, but Declan was the first guy I ever liked, or dated, my first kiss, and so many more things that I could barely scratch the surface with. This guy, Mr. Tarelleo, he meant literally everything to me and he would be the only right fit to obtain what meant most to me in the entire world. Plus, I know that he could maintain her and keep her safe, because it’s what I would’ve wanted.

As I finally concluded telling Declan my sob story of a spoken will, I asked him to call for the nurse to return. Grabbing my phone off the side, I realised I forgot to mention this gem that I cared so little about. But, I suppose what I had on it was important, so I’d just give it to Wymack to give to the team with the password or something. I mean, I didn’t care anymore. It hardly aided me in keeping contact with people.

Once I had stopped pondering over what to do with the device, the nurse had returned in through the door with a sombre look on her face and a doctor behind her. Normally, the doctor had stopped attending to me much since I realised they knew there wasn’t much hope from the beginning. Then, I began to feel pain blaze through the only organ that could still feel and I waited; waited for the aching to be over.

In doing so, I waited silently and listened to their words as each person in the room spoke, explaining to either myself or Declan what was happening. I heard as the doctors began to place one last chemical into my IV until it made me so drowsy I hadn’t wanted to open my eyes, though I was still conscious. I could probably move, but I didn’t feel the need to.

I felt like I was about to finally be at peace, whatever that was, and I had no desire to wreck that feeling either. But, I could feel pain and suffering all around me too from my family, my friends, the people standing right over me. So too did I really feel some type of tear fall on my face which made me believe it was Declan’s.

Little by little, the beeping surrounding me slowed to paces that were much too slow for humans to experience. When the beepings slowed, I felt myself grow fundamentally limp and pliable for whatever needed to be done. I could hardly think, but I needed to get at least one or two final words out before there would be a point in speaking anymore. There was a need to speak directly from my heart and what I needed.

The last thing I was verbally allowed to utter was, “Declan… I- love you. You… sh*thead.” It was as feeble last message as anyone could give, but he needed to hear it because even if I’ve said it, I haven’t said it enough. Clearly, even if I was quite literally on my last line, someone needed to stick him in his place, right alongside myself and my stupidity for getting myself killed racing.

Soon after my words could even filter through my brain like a wet noodle, sloshing around uselessly, I ceased being able to really think. For nothing could I speak by now as I felt myself grow weaker by the seconds which dragged on and felt like hours. I could hardly use my senses that had begun to dissipate from my body as a whole. Soon, there would be nothing left within my body at all but matter.

In totality, the only sense that minorly remained trapped within my body was hearing, but even that was becoming shot with a coarse ringing that would fail imminently. Nothing mattered anymore but the final clutches of voices that I couldn’t even place, huddled around myself as I succumbed to my own body for the last time in my entire life.

In all my almost-nineteen years of living, I was never supposed to die this young. But, the universe of course has ways of picking who would really live or die. And, of course, an unlucky kid in the universe, such as myself, of course I would never make it that long. All I could hope was that all the kids like me were going to make it longer just because I was going out first. They deserved that, to not die or live in pain.

If I could still feel a thing at this point, I would be sad for the people who’d miss me, but I couldn’t. There was nearly nothing left but a faint ringing in my ear that took very little time to cease entirely. Then, there was nothing. There was silence. The only reason I was ‘alive’ was that my brain kept living barely after my heart stopped functioning because the oxygen had never been cut from my brain until my heart stopped beating.

My consciousness faded to black and my body was a shell, virtually nonexistent. I no longer existed, only that which was a memory of me. The only reason I could recount at all the last few months of my life was because I became a person. They were so significant, everything that flashed by was a millisecond of memory that flashed by my eyes before I completely died. The real story started with Wymack and ended with me. Me and my car, me and my crash. Me and my ending.