Back in the Saddle

Achieving the Unachievable

Nick's POV:

My foot taps impatiently on the ground as my eyes scan the crowd in search of a certain brunet. They find nothing, and with every passing second I feel a spark of dread and fear that he isn't gonna show up. I know he doesn't have to work today, but I still thought that he would come to see me perform.

Unless he's truly that mad at me and he won't forgive me for competing, like he said. I at least figured that he'd come watch to see if I got hurt so that he could say I told you so. But, when there's only fifteen minutes until it's time for me to go get ready and he has yet to show, my hope dwindles.

Suddenly, I hear a certain giggle, one that is very familiar to me. I spin around, hoping that the face I would see would be Karl, but instead I'm met with Toby. He's walking with Tommy, Ranboo, Wil, and George, so I decide to go over to them.

"Hey, George, can I talk to you for a minute?" I ask. He nods so we separate from the group, heading over to a few benches. "Is he not coming?"

"No," George sighs. "He was pretty upset. I'm not sure exactly what happened, but I know the gist, and Wilbur told me that he accidentally told you about the accident so I know you knew about that going into that conversation with him. Of course you don't have to not do something just because he says so, but why would you be so mean about it? Especially when all he had was your best interest at heart."

"I know, I know. Trust me, I've been slapping myself over and over because I can't believe I got so defensive. I guess I forgot about the accident at that moment? That's a dumb answer, I know, but it's the truth. Could I go see him after the show? Will he be home?"

"He doesn't have anywhere else to go, so I suppose so."

"Alright, thanks George." I glance over to the speakers, which are projecting a message from the announcer telling everyone competing that it's time to get ready. "I gotta go. Thanks again!"

"Sure. Oh, and good luck! I hear you're gonna need it."

===

I sit in the booth they set up for the riders competing today, struggling to get my boots on. My riding boots are different from my normal ones because they're a size smaller and the heel is a bit different, more suited for digging into the stirrups of a saddle. That being said, they are an absolute nightmare to try to pull on when you're in a rush.

Finally, I get them all the way over my heel, and I'm ready. I look down, making sure the buttons on my flannel are done up all the way and that my belt is secure. It also doesn't hurt to check my fly, because you never know.

"Good luck out there," a monotone voice says from behind me.

I sigh and turn around, coming face-to-face with Techno. "Are you actually trying to be nice for once in your life, or is there an underlying message in that sentence."

"Nope, I am simply wishing good fortune upon a fellow competitor. After all, I'm certain that you will need it, since you are going up against me. You'll need all the luck you can get to even come close to my time."

"There it is. Never a humble one, are you Techno?" I say, rolling my eyes. He actually lets out a laugh, and a real one at that. He seems to be in a decent mood for some reason; it's odd. "When are you going? I think I'm last, as long as Sam didn't make any last minute changes."

"I'm up next, after this cocky dude from Tennessee. I can't wait to see him get thrown off in three seconds."

"Oh yeah, I met him. Seemed overly confident for someone who has barely won any competitions in his several years of doing this. I love seeing people like that get humbled: makes my day."