Open [boyxboy] ✓

forty-two:: when you hold your future in your hands.

"That would be pretty dumb, we're playing against each other, Jason." I'd joked, pushing his arm lightly before trying to take it back his way. What I didn't understand was the grass was still wet with dew and I'd kicked too hard, catching myself before I fell on the ground. He laughed when I'd slipped up and, before I knew it, he'd stolen the ball from me. Dashing back to my 'net,' he'd kicked the ball in, with a little too much force, before cheering.

And the smile on my face felt less fake when he was jumping around and pointing to the ball as if he'd done something great. That was... cool.

"Jason Douglas, newest drafted soccer player in the league."

Stomach hurting with the amount of laughter that was leaving my body, I tried not to double over and settled with playing along. He was still smiling. "Oh, really, what team?"

Rolling his eyes as if that were irrelevant, he kicked the ball back to me before including an "All of them." And heading towards me, stealing the ball again as I couldn't hold in my laughter.

That was how the next hour went, my dad and I just outside kicking a ball around and being goofy.

When I'd had enough breathlessness, I'd headed into the garage to grab water out of the mini fridge. Tossing it to my dad, he caught it before placing it on his forehead. With summer coming in quickly, it was getting so hot and a two hour game of soccer in the blazing sun was surely enough to give my dad a tan and nearly a heatstroke. Laying down on the ground, he tried to slow his heavy breathing and I couldn't help but silently thank Coach for keeping us in shape.

We'd stayed like that, my dad throwing water at me whenever I made and old joke and this was turning into one of the best days I'd had in a while. The morning was forgotten.

Wiping the side of my face when he turned to me with a false glare, I raised an eyebrow. "Asswipe."

And I rolled my eyes again, fighting back the smile, this was how we were. We were going back in time, getting closer again and that made me happy even if that was an insult. "Yes, Father?"

He reciprocated the eye roll before snatching my water from my hand and taking a sip. Throwing a hand over his face, he shielded himself from the sun and gestured towards the street. "Go check the mail."

As if on cue, I'd looked up to see the mailman driving down the street and I'd huffed, "Why?"

"Because I'm the dad and you're the son." He simply retorted before leaning his head up to give me a pointed look before falling back onto his back. I was sure his shirt was wet and held grass stains but I chose not to comment on that. "Also, I'm not getting up, my legs are killing me, I don't know how you do this everyday."

Lifting myself up from kneeling beside my dad, I kicked lightly at the ball beside me and pushed it towards him. When it had slightly come in contact with his skin, he clutched his side dramatically. "Exercise, not a foreign subject." And with that, I jogged to the mailbox, tugging it open and ignoring the names printed onto the envelopes. I knew I'd see my mother's name and really, I didn't even think my dad could handle that.

But when I'd gotten to him and he'd grabbed the mail out of my hands, he'd paused before staring shortly at his empty ring finger before running his thumb over it and looking back at the envelope. With a clear of his throat, he spoke. "Bills, bills, bills..." after each word, he placed the envelope down before looking at the next before stopping completely.

With a breath, his eyes flickered to mine and he smiled small. "Santa Barbra." It felt as if time had stopped, my heartbeat slowing before it sped and it felt as if my air was trying to catch up. My dad was holding the letter out towards me and I'd grabbed at it with shaking hands.