- Saturday, January 27th –
As always on Saturday, I have a soccer match to play. Today we're facing the current number one in the competition. So far, they won all of their games and the only way for us to become champion, is to win this game.
It would be best to win the game with big numbers, but let's focus on scoring at least one goal to begin with.
While it's been a bit of discussion what to do with those who've been benched a lot during the season, and whether or not they deserve more time in the field, today the coach decided to line up the best possible team.
Which means Oliver is captain, leading us from the defence, sweeping up every ball that managed to get to our side of the field.
It also means that Sam is mid-mid, running around like crazy as the hyperactive guy he is all day, every day.
And it means that I'm in offence, flanked by Felix and Jaimie.
So far, the opponent hasn't done much to show for their current position in the competition. So far, we haven't either.
It's a mess, none of our attacks were remotely close to what we are capable of and it's pretty much clear on both sides, the defenders are overpowering the offence.
It's a boring game. It's muddy, it's cold, and it just started raining to top it off with a cherry. This is a small part of what I hate about soccer. The matches that aren't excited in any way.
Half time passed, and our coach practically shouted at us for 15 minutes straight and sent us back out with a message that we would be running all practice long, both on Tuesday's and Thursday's if we wouldn't start playing the game we are good at.
We're lined up, ready to start the second half, and Felix is with the ball, in the middle of the field. Jaimie and Sam are on both sides of the centre circle, awaiting him to pass the ball towards Oliver.
For this one occurrence, he decided to come forwards, as he has the best kick on our team. I'm at the left side of the field – as the fastest player – supposedly not doing much, awaiting the referee to blow his whistle and tell us we have a go.
I watch him check up if the goalkeepers and assistant referees are ready to go, jumping in my spot to warm up a bit.
The whistle blows, I watch Sam and Jaimie run forwards, instantly being covered by two defenders each. That's when I start off, in the exact same time Felix' passed the ball towards Oliver, who aims, and shoots the ball over nine opponents, right in front of me.
They did not expect it, and there's only two of guys in front of me to prevent me from scoring. Their nasty sweeper, and their goalie.
I trick the defender, allowing him to notice in time that I was tricking him, only to trick him again right away, now passing him on his left, lining up with the goal and goalie, easily passing the ball aside him and into the far corner of the goal.
I don't think much of my teammates moved forwards, knowing this course of action either always results in a goal, or in the sweeper of goalkeeper to kick the ball back to our side as hard as possible, since behind me, both Jaimie and Felix were ready to step if there would be a rebound.
I smirk as Sam, Felix and Jaimie meet me while jogging back to our side of the field.
Oliver and I share a sly smirk, and then we're heading back to regular positions, finally in the lead.
After that, we practically overpowered our opponent, scoring another four goals in similar ways; using our strengths and their weaknesses. They keep covering us with two, which means at least one of us is always able to speed up before they notice another one of us heading forwards.
We win 5 to 1, and even before I reach the locker room, I already get a beer pushed into my hand, a cigarette in my other and hugs and pats in the back from supporters and teammates. I scored a hattrick, before Felix decided three wasn't good enough and scored once, Oliver finishing the deal by using a free kick to curl the ball into the right upper corner of the goal.
I'm called out as man of the match and that's when I think I'm upsetting Oliver. Because there's one rule in our team that he is the only exception to. Whoever is man of the match, has to down a litre of beer.
And we time all attempts to see who is quickest. Jaimie is in the lead, but this is the first time I'm attempting and I'm adamant about kicking him off his throne.
Knowing I might spill some beer, I get rid of my hoodie, tossing it aside and taking place on the table, in a canteen full of cheering people, smirking smugly because I definitely enjoy being man of the match again.
It's just who I am. I like to be best, and I like to be able to brag about things. I'm a jock, and I'll remain one till the day I die.
Oliver just disagrees with me downing a litre of beer, since I already drank a bunch of beer.
"Cristian, you know the rules." Our club-manager Gerald stands next to me, speaking into a mic, while I'm presented with the beer. "The record is set in 13,43 seconds, by Jaimie. Many have tried, all have failed." He pats my shoulder as I chuckle and look towards Jaimie, noticing an annoyed Oliver standing next to him with his arms crossed in front of his chest.
He totally disagrees with this tradition.
I don't, because I believe it's fine to let go every so often.
"Are you ready?" Gerald puts a hand on my shoulder. "In three, two, one..."
I start downing the beer, knowing how to do this because Jaimie and I had face-offs to see who was fastest so many times before. I don't even taste the beer, I just throw it back, ignoring all sounds surrounding me, ignoring the need to breath.
But panicking, because I should breath.
I finish the beer within no time, but not without slightly panicking because I got a flashback to the night Jeffrey tried to drown me and fluids kept flushing over me and inside my throat.
"That's a really close one!" Gerald calls out as I catch my breath, trying to stay up right, focussing on Oliver with slightly wider then normal eyes.
He pushes himself of the wall, with a knowing look on his face. There's worry in his eyes.
"managed to drink a litre of beer in... do you want to know his time!?" Gerald calls out next to me, but it's passing me, in one ear, out the other, without registering what he's blabbering because I simply focus on breathing steadily, feeling lightheaded, weak. The shaking worsens every second, and I think I'm starting to sweat.
"13,37 seconds!"
I black out and the last I remember is how everybody started screaming enthusiastically because I did beat Jaimie's record, and how somebody's arms caught me in my downfall.
- Sunday, January 28th –
I have a massive headache as I wake up the next morning. I vaguely remember how Oliver and Stan carried me outside, towards an empty locker room, to lay me down.
I remember how the club's doctor came to check on me and how Nathan was nervously pacing up and down the locker room.
Oliver kept caressing my hair, staring down in worry.
Him and Stan supported me towards the car and took me home and to bed.
I haven't been awake ever since and waking up with a major hangover is the least of my problems.
Since when do I have panic attacks?
I never had one before.
And I know it wasn't the alcohol that caused me to black out.
It was the lack of oxygen, it was the flashback to the near-drowning back in November.
It was the fact Jeffrey attempted to kill me and he's still out there and all of it just hit me in those 13.37 seconds of downing that beer.
I groan as I roll over, finding Oliver seated at the edge of the bed, with his back against the wall, like he always does when he's watching me.
"Morning, fool." He smiles, but I can tell it's forced. It doesn't meet his eyes. "You scared everybody to hell."
"I did?"
"You just blacked out. Most people think you drank too much. But that wasn't it, right?" He closes the laptop and puts it aside, before he crawls over the bed towards me, hugging me through the covers. "What happened?"
"I panicked... The drowning. He nearly killed me, Oliver." I whisper, full of fear. "He wanted to kill me."
"Oh dear..." Oliver sighs, moving around until he's able to get under the cover with me. "Reality hit?" He pulls me in his arms and I bury my face in the croak of his neck, trying to keep in the tears. "It's okay to be afraid, Cristian. You're not alone. You're not the only one who's afraid. But if you don't talk about it, you will end up like Alex."
"I know, I just..." A sob escapes and it prevents me from talking because soon all of it comes out in the form of tears, sobs.
Oliver remains silent, simply caressing my back in a loving way, schussing me and whispering it's okay, to let it all out.
I do hear the door open, and footsteps. I feel the bed sink in behind me, and then a pair of familiar arms hug me too.
"Hey baby. We're here." Stan whispers into my ear. "Just let it go, let it out for once."
"Stop the tough act." Oliver agrees, and I can tell his smiling, probably thankful for Stan to come in and help out.
Because, let's face it, Oliver doesn't really know how to comfort crying people. He's terrible with comforting crying people.
So, the fact he leaves me in Stan's arms, is no surprise to me. He stays in the room, seated on the bed, but he's no longer hugging me and that makes me even sadder.
"I didn't realise, or I refused to realise he wanted to kill me." I whisper, staring towards Oliver, wanting him to come back and hold me.
I feel safe when Stan is around, and it's one of the reasons he sleeps here a lot, while in the beginning Nathan would every so often go to him.
Liam went back to living with Stan's father so there's nobody there to keep company anyway.
But in all honesty, every since he started dating Nathan, our contact changed. I no longer seek his company when I'm scared or restless or feel alone.
Nowadays, Oliver is my go-to guy, and the fact he just moved away hurts me a bit.
"Are you ready to talk to a professional, maybe?" Oliver tips his head slightly, staring me back in the eye. "Just throw it out for once, and have someone tell you how to deal with the panic-attacks? Because so far, they happened in your sleep. But this is getting worse."
"I know, I think I should. I don't know how to stop those attacks from happening and I think my fear is growing every day."
"But what causes your fear to grow? Did something happen?" Stan asks as I roll over to my back, enabling me to face both of them.
"Nothing happened, but if we're realistic, the day something will happen is getting closer by the day. Jeffrey is out there, and he wants revenge."
"But you have your panic button and all of us grew accustom to never go out alone. We're professionals at scanning our surroundings and we know that we can't take any risks." Stan lectures me. "He won't be able to hurt you again."
"But he might be hurting Finn as we speak." I mutter sadly, pushing myself up to a seating position.
"He sold Finn and I don't think he knows where they took him." Oliver answers with a sigh. "For what I know and heard about The Phantom right now, is that he never keeps contact with the people he buys people from."
"But we don't even know for sure he bought Finn." I answer, wiping away the tears that keep rolling down. "Maybe it's someone else. Maybe it's Sidney who did and Finn is somewhere close by..."
Oliver and Stan share a look and I know Oliver finds it hard to talk about Sidney, knowing that he is probably the instigator of Finnley's destructive behaviour that lead up to the abduction two years ago.
He blames Sidney for all of it, since he thinks Finnley didn't think his body was worth much because it was already abused at a young age, making it easier for Finnley to pay for XTC Jeffrey offered him in a sexual way.
Which, thinking about it, is a reasonable explanation for all that Finnley did in the year before he went missing.
"Maybe, but this isn't about Finn. This is about you, getting increasingly more panic-attacks." Stan cups my face. "If they find Finn, he needs you. You have to get it together and keep going."
- Saturday, February 1st, –
Oliver's been avoiding me, and I don't understand why. I asked, but he denies. I sought contact, physical or mental, but got no response.
Tomorrow it'll be my twentieth birthday and I feel more alone then ever. It'll be the third birthday I will celebrate without Finnley present.
And now I'm getting the feeling Oliver won't be there too, and I can't for the life of me figure out why.
I don't know what changed, other then the fact I had a panic attack on Saturday and cried the entire day on Sunday, unable to get out of bed because I simply lacked energy.
Does he think I'm weak? Is that why he's avoiding me in a way?
We drove to soccer practise together, but he was dressed before I was and went outside instead of waiting for me like he normally does.
He's been silent most of the week and I'm starting to get worried. I've had it with his silence, that started right after him and Stan told me to talk about what's bothering me.
"You're being unfair," I tell him as soon as we're in the car after practise.
"How am I being unfair?"
"You told me to talk about what's bothering me, but you're silent in any way. What's bothering you?"
"Nothing."
"Don't lie," I deadpan, feeling highly annoyed. "We just promised to never leave each other, and you told me to talk and you're worried about me but then you keep me in the dark and it only freaks me out even worse!"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Sucks, I don't want to talk about my nightmares either. Or tell you how I'm scared shitless half the time, or feel like drowning – sometimes literally, mostly figuratively..."
"I'm scared too, Cris." He sighs in defeat, knowing it isn't fair not to talk what's bothering him. "Not so much because I think I'm in danger, but because you guys are. And I miss Finn, I worry about him and I'm scared we will never find him again."
"Don't say that," I grumble angry. "We will find him, no matter what."
"I really hope you're right. But we have no idea where to start looking."
"I know, but last time I didn't know where to start either, and I found him."
"Mainly by sheer luck because Stan found him hanging around town." Oliver again looks at me. "What if we don't find him, Cris? When will you let him go?"
"Never." I cross my arms, pouting a bit. "I won't let him go. He's not just the guy I love to death, he's my best friend too and I can't imagine living without him.
Oliver nods and breaths in sharply. "Right, okay. I know how much you care about him and I promise you I won't give up trying to find him either."
"Good. I need you."
"And I need you." Oliver smiles a small smile.
"Then cut the avoiding because it's upsetting me."
"I'm just a bit moody because you're not doing great and I don't know how to help."
"I don't know how to feel better either, but I know you distancing yourself from me ain't going to solve it."
He chuckles and nods. "I'm sorry. I care about you and it hurts me to see you like this. Please, if you ever feel like giving up, call me, okay? Anytime."
"You're practically glued to my side 24/7 so I guess I won't need to call. But I promise I will if you're not around.
We drive in silence and I keep observing him and every move he makes, feeling eternally grateful to have him as my friend.
I really don't know what I would do without him.