Behind Closed Doors

25

“You know, if I had the choice, I’d definitely choose to live in Manchester.” Antony tells me as we walk towards college. Even though it’s dark and college is definitely closed, it’s not hard to break in. We don’t have security cameras as the area is not built up or rich enough for that kind of thing. 

“Why, though?” I asked from beside him, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his oversized jacket and a beanie covering his hair once more. “That place isn’t any better than London.” I tells him, and he chuckles, shaking his head. 

“Everything’s so expensive here.” He sighed. “I mean, thank God we have free healthcare, because we’d all be homeless if not.” Antony laughs, and he bumps his shoulder into mine just as we reach the gate.

“We’re here.” I tell him, and he sniffs, looking up. 

“We’re gonna fucking climb over that.” He says, almost like he can’t believe it. I nod my head, and he hums. “Right, then. Safe.” He slaps my back. “Let’s go.” Then, he grips the green gate and climbs up, heaving himself over and landing on his feet on the other side. “Come on, pipsqueak.” He wiggles his eyebrows, and I laugh before holding onto the gate and climbing up. 

Instead of landing on my feet, I jump and fall on my back, groaning in pain. “You fucking idiot.” Antony laughs, reaching his hand out to help me up. I take it and he pulls me to my feet. I wipe off the dust from my sweatpants and straighten out my jacket before we both begin our walk to the football field. 

“Fucking hell, I haven’t been here in three years.” Antony scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m kinda regretting dropping out, right now. College looks fucking fun.” He chuckles, looking around. 

“It’s not.” I scoff, opening the gate to the field and entering it. Antony slumps onto the grass, leaning on a goal post, stretching his legs out in front of him. I lick my lips and clear my throat before laying next to him, staring up at the white netting. There were a few footballs next to my head, but I ignored them. 

I hear Antony chuckle, and I look to the side, seeing him pick at blades of grass with his fingers. “I used to fucking love playing football.” He murmurs, licking his bottom lip, and I find myself smiling lightly at his confession. “I got pretty good at it, too. Probably coz I’m Brazilian, I don’t know.” He shrugged his shoulders. 

“Why’d you stop?” I asked him softly, wringing my fingers together, mostly out of nervousness. 

“It wasn’t gonna fucking go anywhere, was it?” He scoffed, pulling the beanie off his head and resting it on the grass. “It’s not like I have a huge future ahead of me, right?” He shook his head, his eyes blazing holes into the grass as his fingers plucked more aggressively at the blades. “We’re fucked for life, man, living here.” 

“You don’t have to be.” I tell him, sitting up. Antony only shakes his head more, his jaw clenching. “College is still an option for you, you know that.” 

“Yeah, and what after that?” He snaps. “Uni? I wouldn’t get in, I can’t fucking afford it. Get a job? No one’ll hire the fucking thiefing son of a migrant.” He scoffed, and I swallowed the lump in my throat. Looking to my side, I spot the football next to me, and I pick it up into my hands, heaving myself off of the ground. 

“Come on.” I tell Antony, but he only stares up at me. I notice the unlit cigarette in his hand. Then, I throw the ball at him, and he catches it with both hands, the cigarette falling onto the ground. Antony rolls his eyes, a hint of a smile on his face as he gets to his feet and drops the football, kicking it to me. “Show me some of your skills, then, magic feet.” I laugh, and Antony dribbles the ball further up the pitch, flicking it up and around at the same time. 

I follow after him, slightly mesmerised. It’s like his face lights up when he’s on the field, surrounded by the lights with a ball at his feet. It brings him to life in a way I’ve never seen before. It awakens something in Antony that has been asleep for a long-ass time, and he’s welcoming it back with a grin on his face. The widest I’ve ever seen him smile. The lightest and boyish I’ve ever seen his face. It’s almost too good to be true. A nightmarish dream. A daydream at night. 

Antony turns around and faces me, his eyes wide, and I barely have time to move out of the way as he shoots the ball into the net behind us. I feel it wizz past my face, and it’s almost like a ton of bricks falling onto you, the amount of shock that cursed through my body. He laughs aloud, the sound running down my spine like electricity. 

“Fucking hell.” I mutter under my breath, and Antony is out of breath as he slowly walks towards me, cupping my face in his large hands. 

“You’re alright.” He laughs, and I playfully push him away from me. He takes a few steps back, his hands on my shoulders. Antony’s eyes flicker all over my face before resting on my lips. I see the way his throat bobs and his lips part and he’s a lot closer to me. Then, he pulls my coat off of my body, letting it drop onto the grass. 

I cup the back of his head and kiss him desperately, running my fingers through his hair. I feel Antony’s fingers softly caress my neck as his hands drag down my body and slightly under my shirt. My breath hitches and every part of me is alive. I feel fucking estatic and the cold tips of his fingers run across my stomach gently. I’m gasping and shuddering and Antony is smiling against my lips and if this is what Hell feels like, I’d gladly stay here for the rest of my damn life.