The Degradation

Two months (1)

Song: Lynyrd Skynyrd - Sweet Home Alabama

***

Two months. We've been together for two months now. Two months, during which we got to know each other, felt each other. I never thought a relationship could be like this. I guess I just spent too much time with my parents, who don't have a very good marriage. Or maybe just seen enough of those University couples where the guy is literally a prisoner, and he asks for permission to even take a yogurt. The girl reads his messages and throws tantrums every five minutes, goes to the same lectures with him, constantly sticks. Relationships have always seemed to me like a high-security prison with free, bonus sex and the obligation to buy chocolate with flowers every Friday. I don't know if Harry doesn't like chocolate, or if he doesn't know how to put a password on an iPhone, but it's completely different with him. We're good together. Yes, we stick to each other worse than others, but this okay. I mean, we don't strangle each other. We no longer pretend we don't know each other when we meet each other in the hallway. At first, many people whispered, but I honestly expected something worse. There was nothing but a couple of gay jokes and sidelong glances that disappeared a few weeks later. I thought I was going to react badly, but... I didn't really care. I looked at Harry, the guy who's been ill since he was a kid, hates his father, and whose ex-girlfriend jumped off a bridge, and the rumors seemed tiny by comparison. People have a habit of calling the most insignificant events the end of the world and falling into depression because of them, without even trying to imagine that they are still lucky. He taught me to be strong. Pay attention only to important things. Was I called a faggot? Well... cool. And then what? Has the sky fallen? Are the oceans dry? My story with Harry is too important to let some assholes mess it up. I just need to touch him, just feel his eyes on me, to know that he loves me.

Okay, one day I couldn't help but react. But it was fun.

The coach was yelling at us like that, saying we are far from ready for the game that awaits us in two weeks, so we were still on the field. It's 10 pm, he's long gone home, and we're re-work the techniques and put new strategies. I'm really tired, but I like it. The atmosphere is relaxed, and it's nice to know that after all this, we are still a close-knit team. My relationship with Harry was the cause of some tense situations, but not for long. The guys noticed that I was still the same Louis, only preferring not to fuck everything that moves, including Eleanor. Even between Liam and Josh, everything seems quiet. They are not friends, no, but during the game, all quarrels fade into the background. I've loved football since I was a kid, so I'm really glad that nothing has changed. It's already dark outside, the big street lights illuminate the stadium, and we practice penalty kicks. I'm getting ready to hit the ball when I hear someone else laughing behind me.

"So, you faggots, are still here?"

Everyone turns almost simultaneously. The guys from the University of Manchester come up to us with their hands in the pockets of their football jackets. How ironic. It is against them that we play in two weeks. They won all the matches of the season, and in the category of "We-Think-We-Are-The-Kings-Of-The-Planet-We-Are-The-Coolest", they have no equal. I snort, heading for their team captain. The guys are coming for me. I cross my arms.

"What do you want, Lucas?"

I look at him cursorily and notice that we are all standing opposite each other and measuring our eyes. They often provoke us, and it has already come to blows many times. He stared at me for a long time, without lowering his gaze. He shrugs indifferently. This does not promise anything good.

"We just came to see the gay team that we're going to smear on the wall in two weeks."

Guess what word he emphasized? Before I can say anything, someone behind me starts laughing heartily.