moving day | Heeseung x Jay

twenty-seven

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There hasn't been time to think, not with the Sounders' size and popularity. The airport is loud and crowded, and Jay is herding soccer players like they're sheep as they check in their bags, go through security, and navigate through the flight gates to find their own.

Despite the distraction of getting a whole soccer team past onlookers and anyone who wants photos, when Jay finally sits at the flight gate in one of those black leather airport chairs to wait, all he can think of is how he'd rather be in his room and on his bed with Heeseung, helping Heeseung study for tests or cracking up over youtube compilation videos.

Kei, who had picked up on his mood midway through the commotion, asks Jay if he's alright, and Jay tells him that he's tired. Kei doesn't catch the lie, and Jay swallows the lump in his throat when he thinks of the way Heeseung's nose scrunches up when he's being untruthful.

When everyone is on the plane and settled, with the Sounders players and staff scattered like raisins throughout the cabin, Jay sinks into his seat and reaches for his phone to switch it to airplane mode.

He opens his messages to see if there's anything waiting for him. He's not sure whether to be disappointed or not when there's nothing there, so he turns off his phone and sleeps, thinking that in times like these, he is unworthy of the joy that comes from looking out the window as a plane rises into the sky.

He can only hope for no turbulence during the flight since he has already got plenty of his own.

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When the plane lands, everything is a blur once again as players are escorted and buses are piled into and given instructions to the hotel the Sounders are staying at. It's hectic and loud, and everyone is excited for the so-called City of Angels.

Jay just wants to sleep some more. Normally, he wakes up from naps feeling rejuvenated, and the flight was only about two hours long, but he feels exhausted and flimsy like his knees will give out and someone would have to keep him from smashing his face on the concrete of the sidewalk.

The luggage is taken care of by the hotel, so his suitcase is in his room by the time he arrives. It's around two in the morning by the time everyone gets settled into their rooms, and Jay says goodnight to the rest of the staff as he closes the door to his room shut.

This hotel is fancy since the Sounders are famous and have privileges; the result is that Jay's room has a small balcony that he can step out onto. The air is a little cooler than he expected but pleasant, nonetheless. The breeze bites at his ankles and nips at his heels as he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants and looks out at Los Angeles.

His mind races but feels blank at the same time. It's a strange push and pull; an ebb and flow that shifts from melodrama to acceptance.

Today was insane, but a day is only twenty-four hours, even if it feels longer. Tomorrow is coming—hold up: It is tomorrow.

Goddamn.

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The next day is even worse than the day before. The Sounders have a day to review game tactics and get a small glimpse of the field they'll be playing on. It's a huge stadium, and Jay thinks it'll swallow him whole, the stands climbing high and the ceiling welding together like a giant set of claws, trapping energy inside like gas particles that constantly collide with each other.

The seats will be packed, the fans will cheer, and soccer will be played. It's the MLS Cup on the line, and Jay has wanted to win it since he joined the Sounders' team in January, but it's as if he can't focus. He runs on autopilot the first half of the day until noon, but with his body's refusal to sleep until four a.m. and his need to wake up two hours later at six for work, Jay basically feels half-alive.