Blues and Yellows

Perihelion

"..."

"..."

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Scorching sunlight didn't hit my skin right. Applying sunscreen saved me from the damage, but never the heat. I shouldn't have tagged along. My arms ached as did my feet after running around for so long, and for what? Playing basketball in a court of taunting strangers I knew too well would've been the last thing I'd have done, but it was the boy in the tan shirt that led me to such a decision. As I tried focusing, Silas took five and sat with Milo by the shaded bleachers.

Nothing had to be proven, but I still made myself shoot and score so I wouldn't be a 'liability'. I'd close my eyes to find slices of colors I couldn't pinpoint, all thanks to the sun slashing my sight. That was how long it had been since I stepped into the court. To wear shirts and shorts this revealing and insulating felt free yet funny. I'd have been eaten alive by the humidity if I'd worn another layer, but being this open didn't feel good for my psyche, with all the eyes around me.

His friends' coarse, hoarse voices were all but muddled in my head at that point. I thought sports was all about camaraderie? Admiration hit whenever I'd watch Angel and his friends play basketball, but seeing it played in this context made me roll my eyes. Silas' friends would scold my name knowing full well I had barely learned the sport through Silas. Cicadas seldom chirped in mid-January, so what I thought were dronings turned out to be what was there all along. 

Air resistance flooded my ears, not wind nor draft. God forbid giving me breeze when I could run fast to fabricate some myself instead. I was simply thankful I didn't play such a match in the summer. Shaking off every scratch and scrape I sustained proved hard, especially when my team was one player short and my teammates were calling me names like they were still in middle school. Silas. Silas. Silas. Eyeing him with deadly intensity seemed to get him back on the field.

Rules seemed very loose when we played a match, and the least I could do was not wrongly scoring on my own team's hoop. When Silas finally returned, I instantly tuned out every other word my other teammates roared at me in favor of focusing on him. What was our next move? Silas almost never spoke during matches, nor did he have to to prove he could win them. Facial expressions were all he needed. Even with my deadweight, Silas kept the score quite even.

Silas made it look so simple. Catch. Dribble. Throw. Score. He somehow even made breathing steady seem easy. It relieved some of the pressure as I watched him take charge. Did I even need to move anymore? AJ and Jacob tried capitalizing off my idleness by chastising me for it, but a single glance at Silas' athletic prowess was enough to soothe myself from their comments. Saying the match was intense for me is somewhat true, but it was for all the wrong reasons. 

Adrenaline hit me when Silas shot his eyes at me. He'd slick back his sweat into his hair when the ball wasn't in his hands. I wish I could hit slow-motion for even a moment, but the match had to go on. Why couldn't I help myself? I shouldn't be falling again, but I was the one with the moth brain now. No matter where he was in the court, the gold he basked in flattered his fair skin. It must've been my lashes, but the lens flares I saw around him made it feel all the more euphoric.

Suddenly, Silas threw the ball to me. Was he playing with me? Panic initially struck. When he nodded in belief of me though, I realized; Silas would be smart enough to know where and when there was a better opportunity to score. I was at the right place at the right time. Focus. Focus. Focus. Thank god it was as simple as I hoped it'd be. Our opponents raced to stop me, but by the time they reached me, it was too late. I stayed alert, but it turned out; we had already won.