INTO THE STARS
———
MALACHI
"I am gonna fucking miss you guys!" Camron announces to Holden, Tyson, and Aidan.
I think he may be talking to me as well, but I ignore him, carrying on with taking off my shin pads and cleats. Dismissing him is easy, but it is obvious everyone else is a tad bit confused. As I would be if I were paying any attention to them.
"You are junior, just like us, dude," Aidan reminds him. "We aren't going anywhere. Not until next year, at least."
"I know!" Camron whines.
"Are you high? Or on something, at the very least?" Holden asks, narrowing his eyes in a confused manner.
"Are you dying?" Tyson questions.
Camron feigns a sniffle as though he is crying, wiping underneath his eyes, ridding any "tears" off his face. "No..."
Silence fills the air as everybody awaits his explanation. He doesn't.
"Care to fucking elaborate?" Tyson presses, staring at him with a perplexed look.
In the blink of an eye, Camron's entire composure changes from slouching and feigning sadness to chipper as though nothing in the past minute happened. "Nope, I am fine. Just wanted to see what you would say. But stay hush-hush about it. I wanna try it on the other guys."
"Complete idiot," Aidan groans beneath his breath.
"Hey, guys!" Tyson announces. "Camron is dy-"
Before Tyson can finish his sentence, Camron runs around the bench, slapping his hand over Tyson's mouth. Tyson squirms, trying to get out of his grip, his voice muffled as he still tries to speak.
Camron's face scrunches up in disgust as he wrenches his hand away as fast as the speed of light. He wipes it on his sweaty shirt, pinning Tyson with a grimace. "Look, I know I have nice hands—the ladies love 'em—but that doesn't mean you can lick them, on your own free will. No offense, but you are not my type."
Tyson claps his hands in front of him with an overly cheerful smile. "Glad we established our types because you aren't mine either! I prefer innocent blondes with big hazel—"
"Dude, shut up! No one asked about your type in girls," Holden interrupts Tyson's rambling.
"Time to hit the showers!" Coach yells, entering the locker room after today's training session. "I might just die if I spend thirty more seconds in here. The stench is that bad."
Coach walks out and most of the team walks into the showers.
I am desperate to feel the scalding hot water against my skin. There is something so soothing about water so hot it causes you pain.
Probably because it is a reminder that I still feel pain.
My muscles are sore and each step feels like a struggle, but I think this is the reason Coach plans training sessions like these during the off-season. It keeps up the physique expected during the season, so when the time comes, we don't completely suck on the field.
This is the first of many, which is why I am sorer than expected. And it doesn't help that Coach knew what little everybody has been doing to stay on schedule, so he worked us ten times harder than usual. He does that often, to be completely honest. Maybe that is the new normal now.
Thankfully, the facilities at USC are top-notch compared to some others that I have seen. Each person in our team has their own cubicle, separated by a wall that reaches about my waist. It isn't tall enough to not see your teammates next to you, but it is enough to not see their dicks while they are showering.
As I am undressing, Tyson sidles into the cubicle next to mine. I lock him with a warning look while he throws his towel across the separation wall.
"Don't you fucking dare," I threaten.
Last time I showered next to Tyson, let's just say I haven't showered next to him since. The asshole thought it was funny to change my water from scalding hot to ice cold when my back was turned as a way of paying me back for the time I did it to him. And then he proceeded to make me chase him, half-naked, with a towel thrown around my waist haphazardly, around the shower room and locker room.
I won, obviously, because the idiot could barely stay balanced and slipped, falling face-first on the tile.
Tyson raises his hands defensively. "I will not try anything. I swear."
I raise an eyebrow, not fully convinced, but I carry on with my shower, flicking on the water. My muscles tense up before finally loosening underneath the hot water. I try to dismiss Tyson's presence next to me, but occasionally I do give him the side-eye to make sure he isn't up to no good.
Good thing he doesn't seem to be, but I still have to monitor him. Just in case.
He is the reason I trust no one.
The shampoo bubbles flow down my back as I scrub my scalp, ridding the bubbles. When they are almost all gone, the water turns cold. That little shithead.
Before I can even spare him an aggravated glance, he is running out of his cubicle, discarding his towel. His hands are stretched out in front, stopping everybody from seeing his dick flailing around as he runs around the shower room in a circle.
Hastily, I throw a towel around my waist because, unlike Tyson; I prefer my privacy and would rather not have my entire team see my dick flying all around the place as I teach him a lesson.
Tyson spares me a glance with a cocky smile, noticing that I am getting ready to chase after him.
Just as he runs out of the shower room, I yell, "Get back here, you fuckwit!" and then I am off, chasing after him.
He weaves through the walls of lockers and benches. Following every single one of his steps, I attempt to catch up to him. And soon enough, I do, knocking him onto the ground.
All the air is knocked out of me despite Tyson taking the brunt of the fall and most of the damage.
"Jesus!" Tyson breathes in a shallow voice. "Are you trying—"
"What the fuck is happening?" Coach bellows, surprising me enough for both Tyson and me to separate immediately. I stand up and Tyson does the same, feigning innocence, so we get in lesser trouble.
Coach stares at me, gaze traveling down my frame before doing the same to Tyson. His stare lingers on him longer and I look at Tyson, studying him.
I let out a chuckle as I realise what had just happened. I tighten my towel on instinct.
"Tyson... why is your dick hanging out?" Coach questions warily. Tyson looks down at his dick before raising his gaze to look at Coach again, completely unapologetic. "What is- actually, I don't wanna know."
"Good idea," I murmur, patting Coach against the back as I make my way back to the shower rooms.
I wash the rest of the shampoo out of my hair and scrub my body clean. When I leave the shower, my limbs still feel tired but run on adrenaline from our training session.
Today I am in an oddly good mood. I do not know what it is, but... today feels different. I am sure something will happen that will come and ruin whatever I am feeling, so I may as well relish this good mood while I still can. Because if I have learned anything, something bad always impedes on something good.
Finding my locker, I stuff the few belongings that have any value to me into a duffle bag. Once I have my things, I rest against the lockers behind me, waiting for my roommates to get their things so we can leave this place and go home.
Aidan sits on the bench, pulling out his cleats from underneath where he is sitting. When he lifts them, I notice something on the bottom of his shoes. Well, one shoe.
"What's on the bottom of your cleats?" I ask, narrowing my eyes to gather a better image of what it might be.
Aidan freezes, staring up at me through hooded lids. "Nothing."
I don't press him any further. Though Tyson, apparently paying attention to our little interaction, snatches the shoe from Aidan's hand. Before Aidan can do anything to protest or stop him, Tyson barks out a laugh.
"This is adorable!" Tyson says, struggling to contain his laughter.
"Shut up," Aidan says in a grouchy tone.
Feels weird listening to my friends speak the same way I usually do.
"What is it?" Holden says, our conversation catching his attention.
Aidan's hand flies out to grab the shoe out of Tyson's hand, but Tyson moves away almost immediately.
"Why is this on the bottom of your cleats, Aidan?" Tyson teases with a satisfied smirk. Probably because the rest of us have no idea what Tyson has found.
Aidan shrugs. "I play better when she is there. And this way, she's there in spirit when she can't actually be," Aidan says unashamedly, completely
"Oh, isn't that sweet?" Tyson asks rhetorically, handing the shoe back to Aidan. "I love Aidan in love," he says sarcastically, turning back to his locker to grab his remaining things.
"What is it?" Holden repeats, still oblivious to what is happening right now.
Truthfully, I would like to know as well.
Aidan rolls his eyes at our nosiness, lifting his shoe begrudgingly. He shows us the bottom of the shoe and I smirk.
Right on the bottom of his shoe, in a messy scrawl, Brooklynn's name is written.
Holden goes up to Aidan, patting him on the back slowly. "Good for you, man. Tyson is just jealous. I think he is missing sex a bit too much."
"Am not!" Tyson argues immediately.
"You are," Holden says, and we all know it's true—even Tyson, which is why he stays suspiciously silent.
"Alright. Let's hit the road and head home," Aidan tells the four of us, walking out of the locker room, clearly expecting us to follow him.
Soon enough, we have all left the locker room and I pile into the back of Aidan's car with Tyson to the left of me, Holden and Aidan sitting up in the front seats. The short drive passes by in a blur, with not much chatter amongst the four of us. And even when there is some amount of talking, it is minor and I block it out, focusing on the trees passing by.
Our familiar two-story home comes into view and the car slows to a stop. I get out of the car first, striding up to the front door and unlocking it with a minor struggle.
See? It is a good day when the door opens with little to no fight.
I can hear the rest of my roommates close their car doors and come inside but by the time they make it inside, I am already hiding out in my room.
Despite my good mood, I feel slightly drained. There are some times when I just need to take a moment to myself before I go back and start socializing again. It is only midday and I have spent the entire day with people already. Sometimes I just need to get away before I return again.
I lay sprawled across my comforter, staring at the ceiling, thinking of something to keep my mind occupied. I enjoy spending time in my room. It is the only place where I feel entirely comfortable and I spend a lot of time here.
Sitting up, I cross my room, grab the acoustic guitar, and wrack my brain for a song I know how to play. Landing on a song, I get comfortable in the chair in the corner of my room; I strum the first cord.
The melody of "Wonderwall" by Oasis fills the silence. There is something about this song that I love so much. Something that captivates me, that reminds me of myself.
I remember when I first learned this song. My mother and I sat in the living room while she played it. I was entranced and couldn't look away as the sound of her voice and the notes melded together. She sought the opportunity, ushering me over to sit beside her once the song had ended, and began teaching me. At first, I struggled, never having played an instrument before, but with her guidance, I felt I could do anything. I have had the song memorized ever since.
That is one of the few pleasant memories I have left of her.
I think music has been a constant in my life since then, though. It is something I always went back to and associated with wonderful memories of my mother, even when things were so hard.
The peak of difficult things was when I didn't have music to rely on for an escape. I lost my escape, my outlet, in the time I needed it most.
Keith hated me playing any form of music, and he made sure I knew. I knew the consequences of what happened if I played any form of music when he was near. So I stopped altogether, hating my punishment.
Not that anything stopped Keith. He found little nitpicky things and showed me the consequences of everything I did. It was like everything I did, he would find a reason to punish me for it.
God, I hate that man with every bruised and broken bone in my body.
"Malachi!" someone's voice echos from the stairwell just as I complete the song, bringing me back to reality. "Tyson needs to talk to us."
Rubbing a hand across my face, I stand up slowly, resting my guitar back in its normal place. I wander down the stairs, finding everybody-including Brooklynn-sitting in the living room, with Tyson standing in front of everyone, awaiting my arrival.
"Hey Malachi," Brooklynn says when she notices my appearance in the room.
"Hey," I return, finding an empty spot in an armchair just beside everyone else.
Tyson clears his throat as though he is giving some sort of professional speech right now. "Right, I know you all think I am crazy. I can assure you, I am not. Well... only a- y'know what? Never mind. I have done some more research on the possibility of the trip away to the mountains."
Aidan groans and I witness Brooklynn elbowing his side to let Tyson continue speaking.
"My mother's new boyfriend is loaded and lucky for us, he is also trying to get in my good books. Turns out, he has a log cabin right where I was planning on going and offered to let us stay there for a week, free of cost since it is such late notice. So... looks like fate is on our side with this one. Don't you think we should go together?"
I stare at him, bewildered for a moment, considering his offer. I really am not sold on it.
"I think it is a good idea," Brooklynn finally says after the silence lasts a moment too long.
Holden threads his hands through his hair, clearly thinking about this, too. "You have a lot of stupid ideas—and I mean, really fucking stupid—but... I don't think this is one of them. It will be good to have a chance to get away for the week."
"Are you guys being serious right now?" Aidan asks incredulously.
"I am not too sure about this either," I say, speaking up for the first time this entire conversation, seeing as I am not the only one not sold on this.
"C'mon." Holden turns to me. "The season has just ended and we—or at least I am—desperately need some time away from reality. What better time to do it than when we have an entire week off of school?"
Aidan and I exchange a glance. I don't believe either of us is convinced of this proposition.
After a few moments of silence, I roll my eyes. Fuck it. "Fine. Only because I don't think there is much chance of Aidan and I convincing you guys otherwise."
A giant smile takes over Tyson's face-one full of elation. "Get packing! We leave on Saturday."
I groan, bending downwards and resting my forearms on my thighs.
Two fucking days until we leave.
Two days.
I have a feeling I am going to thoroughly regret agreeing to this.
———
AUTHORS NOTE
i have written this authors note three fucking times and it has disappeared every time because of the stupid end of chapter banner so i am just gonna leave this right here.
hope everyone is well and enjoyed this chapter :)