Fortuitous || Jack Steele [1]

thirty six

I just knew that when the boys returned from the 2 point loss against Brisbane they would be flatter than ever. You could see it in their faces after the siren went.

Due to my current physical state I didn't take the bus down with them. I was advised against going out and taking photos straight away, especially considering that surgery wasn't even that long ago. I needed to let my leg heal before I could photograph the boys again.

So instead I endured the game in my apartment room. Unfortunately a first quarter blunder ended up contributing to the loss which ultimately sucked. We were slipping a little now. Our season had lost some momentum which was becoming worrying.

Despite that there was still a lot of belief, not that I'd see very much of it when the boys return. Everyone will be out of it, no doubt. It's disheartening how one loss can overthrow all that has been achieved this year.

I lug my way downstairs—still trying to adjust to the crutches under my arms—so I can see the boys arrive.

As per usual the Queensland night has a comfortable coolness about it. It's neither too hot or too cold. The pitch black sky is stretched across my view, the stars scattered around the darkness.

The minutes pass by until finally the bus pulls up and the first of the guys step out. Their heads are dipped low as they soundlessly grab their bags from under the coach. No words are exchanged.

I sigh sadly, hating to see the boys like this. To see them so destroyed from a game that should've been theirs.

Some losses just hit you worse than others and right now is certainly the case with the playing group. Having come so close but to lose just the same stings. When you know you should've won but you didn't makes it all the lot harder.

My brother offers me a down smile before silently grabbing his bag and departing to his room. Bytes gives me a quick and silent hug before doing the same to sleep off the disappointment of tonight. I watch them leave, dropping my own head a little in dejection.

Jack makes his way down the bus steps and is one of the last to do so. Maybe he wanted to delay coming to the real world by not exiting the bus straight away.

He doesn't make eye contact with me but I know he knows I'm there. I can tell by the way his expression plummets further and how he does everything not to look at me. It's like he's ashamed for the loss and carries the pure weight of it. He did have a good game himself but I guess that makes him feel guilty. Is he embarrassed to speak to me because he let the team down, even though he didn't at all?

He walks right past me without a word, bag slung over his shoulder lazily. My eyes follow him as I frown.

To say this is unlike him is an understatement. He doesn't appear angry, just dejected and shameful. It's like he wants to disappear from the earth as we know it, so he wouldn't have to face the humiliation that now follows him around like a shadow, linked with and contributed by the constant reminder of failure.

I don't want him to feel like he failed. To bear that entire weight on his shoulders isn't fair, especially considering this is a team sport he plays.

Now I'm left with a choice: go after him or leave him to his own accord.

Yet through one glimpse of his eyes I quickly knew that he wanted and needed consolation despite how much he tried to hide it. It was clear that although he ignored me, he wanted some kind of comfort that he knew I would be willing to give. Because of course I would give it in a heartbeat as that's what friends do... right?

Friends...

I shake myself from my sudden unsure thoughts and go after him.

It's easy to spot the brunette when I dip my head inside and see him helping himself to something at the buffet. Everyone has pretty much retreated to their rooms so it's only him and I in the dining area. That's good because it means it'll be private. I approach him, stopping a few metres away.