:: 11 ::
For the first time in his life, Michael was nervous before a game. He's been trying for the last half-hour to calm himself down, but knowing that the one person who could open up countless doors for him is standing in the crowd tonight is, unfortunately, throwing off his focus.
He's been off track a lot lately, it seems. Ever since Luke arrived in his life, that's all it ever is. But, there's a game to win and a hockey player to impress, so if Michael isn't in his best mind tonight, he doesn't know what he'd do.
"Hey, Bald Eagle," Luke approaches, just as Michael is preparing for warm-ups.
"Hi, Luke," he replied. Lacing up his skates, he doesn't make eye contact.
Incredulously, Luke says with a teasing tone, "Not comparing me to a food today? Something is wrong here."
"You hate it, anyway," Michael shrugged. He lifted himself back up, pulling his helmet over his head, and nodding to Luke. "I'm going to warm up."
A puzzled Luke mirrored the gesture with a watchful eye as the boy left in a strangely quiet mood. Usually, he was playing along in the banter that he and Luke had on a near day-to-day basis now.
Instead of thinking about it more, Luke shook his head and headed back over to the seats he and his father chose, in the corner of the first row of seats. It helped with not getting noticed and disturbed, since Andrew wanted all of his attention on the game.
When he arrived, he saw his father waiting for him. "What position does Michael play?" he asked as Luke sat down.
"Center," Luke informed, sitting down next to him. "He said he's been the same position since he started playing, but does pretty well in the others."
"Talented kid," Andrew nods.
Luke smiles and says, "Yeah, he is, actually," before hearing a voice next to him and turning to it.
A girl stood above him, looking shyly at the seat beside him. "Uh, Luke...is it alright if I sit here? Is anyone already--"
"You're fine," Luke chuckled. He motioned to the seat and smiled. "It's all yours."
A look of gratitude was sent his way before she sat down with a quiet thank you. "You've been to other games, right?"
"Yeah, the last two, for Michael Clifford."
"I just, like, noticed you come to games -- is that weird? I hope it's not weird." And, if this isn't the most adorable human Luke has ever interacted with then he must not know what adorable is.
"No, it's not," he reassured. "What's your name? I'm sorry, I don't know it."
"Penelope," the girl tucked a piece of ginger hair behind her ear and glanced at the rink nervously.
"How do you know mine?"
"Oh, my brother is on the hockey team and always talks about Hemmings, Hemmings, Hemmings," she laughed. "He found out you went here and freaked out."
Luke frowned, "Oh." He was beginning to get so comfortable with the fact that he had someone around that wasn't only aware of him because of his last name, that he forgot that most people really only paid attention to that part of him. And, now, it's affected him more than it used to.
Seemingly aware of the sudden drop in Luke's mood, Penelope reassured him by saying, "Not that I didn't notice you before, I just never knew your name."
"You never asked me?"
"I'm a nervous mess," she said with a giggle. "Going up to a cute guy when I can't look him in the eye to talk isn't exactly how I wanted to first speak to you."
"Understandable," he nodded. "Who did you say your brother was?"
"Peter, he's number twelve." The game bell rang, warning the teams and spectators that the game started in five minutes.
Everyone cheered when the teams were introduced and the puck was dropped, Michael being the quicker of the two centers.
Only, Luke watched as Michael seemed focused yet simultaneously distracted. He could tell by seeing how intensely Michael was playing that he was trying, but that's what was off: Michael never has to try hard. It made Luke nervous.
It made him so nervous he was sweating and he was sure even the ice in the rink would melt from how hot he felt.
There he was, the beginning of second period, and Luke could tell he was stuck in his own head. The coach would look at anyone on the team when they got close enough to the glass he was behind, and that must've gotten to some of them, because Calum scored once.
That was the only point they scored.
+ + +
It was supposed to be easy. Everything was easy for Michael. He's never screwed up so horribly in his life, especially playing hockey. And, of all nights, tonight's game had to be the one Michael begged Luke to let his father attend. The fact that Luke might've found that selfish and might've caught onto his ulterior motive in the grand scheme of things, but that whole situation was least of his worries.
The team collectively took blame for all of their faults during the game, but Michael knew it was his fault they had lost. The thing is, no one is harder on Michael than the boy himself and no one understood exactly why he seemed so distraught--even more than usual.
"Michael--"
"Leave me alone."
"You did everything just as perfect as usual, Mikey," Calum said softly. "Stop beating yourself up."
"You don't get it, Calum! Andrew Hemmings was out there watching and I screwed up!"
"We all did! Don't you think the whole team is a bit upset, too? You're not the only one on the team who wants to get somewhere."
"But--but I'm..." Michael sighed. "I fucking hate myself."
"Mike, don't say that."
"But I do, Cal! I hate everything about myself," he yelled. "The only thing I have in life is sports."
"You--"
"And I can't even get that right anymore. My own father seems to favor Luke over me and they've only spoken five times," he laughs bitterly.
His anger turned into heaving breaths and snapping at Calum, leaving the boy feeling even more useless than before.
Calum looks hopelessly around the empty locker room, the echoing of Michael's previous shouting sure to attract attention from anyone outside. Michael hasn't ever broken down like this; no one knows how to deal with him. Not even his own best friend.
Being praised so often puts an extensive pressure on a person, and the microscope Michael has put himself under causes one single mistake--even the smallest flaw--to become the thing he thinks everyone is talking about. When, in reality, the spectators only notice the greatest moments of the game and think of the low ones as the players having an off day.
Even Andrew Hemmings.
"They're a great team," he told his son. "Fit together well."
"Yeah," Luke agrees. Quietly, though.
There's a nagging in his mind that Michael needed to hear what Andrew was saying, because he had a feeling that the hockey player was stuck inside of his own head right now. The Easton Valley Hawks had lost, the school still cheering for them as they always had. No one cared if they lost--sure, it was upsetting but their sports record could handle it. Michael couldn't.
"Who were you talking to earlier? Seemed to know a lot about the team," Andrew asked. This changed Luke's mood slightly, a grin sneaking it's way onto his worry-ridden face.
"Penelope," he beamed. "Her brother is on the team, I think he's one of the defensemen."
"New lady?"
With a shy chuckle, Luke replied, "Maybe. Just met her today, but apparently she's seen me around." A glance to the side reveals Calum walking toward him quickly, a worried look on his face.
Luke couldn't find Michael behind him, growing just as worried for the boy as he was before Andrew took his mind off of the topic. "Where's--"
"How good are you at handling panic attacks?"
• • •
we've hit 4k lets have a party
i didn't know how to end this chapter and i'll edit later