Armageddon

XIV

*So, this is a bit of a steamy chapter. Please feel free to skip it if you feel like you don't want to be faced with that:)*

Every time he scores a goal, I imagine it's for me. He's looked up at me at least twice now, which I'm content with - I didn't expect him to acknowledge me once, so I felt a little giddy and, surprisingly, embarrassed when he looked up at me the first time.

This is what love looks like.

The food in the VIP booths tastes better than the food in the general seats. I wish I had someone here with me to share in the excitement with, but Edward is busy finalising the last few details of his trip, and I'm still not sure where Raven and I stand - besides, Alejandro and I aren't public yet. I don't think he'd have been happy with me bringing an entourage with me.

I like to think that he's playing for me - the knowledge that I'm up here, watching him, makes him play twice as hard so he doesn't disappoint me. I like to think I have that effect on him. Every time he looks up at me with a huge grin on his face, I think I may be right.

I hope he knows I'm proud of him whatever the outcome - I just came to support him, and I would hate to find that my presence here makes him feel the need to push himself more than he should. I want him to just be happy, and he looks happy to be on that field right now.

It's sad that very few people get to be as happy with their work as he is. It's insane to me that most people go to their workplace and spend eight hours trying not to kill themselves, and then go back home to eat stale noodles they got from Chinatown last Thursday just because they are so drained that they couldn't possibly manage to fry eggs on their own. We never clean our house because we always think we'll get to it tomorrow or during the weekend, but when the weekend comes, we've got a side hustle that needs to be tended to, or we just don't feel like it. And slowly, we simply get tired of living, and we start to ask ourselves: 'What's the point if I could die tomorrow.'

I think side hustles should be called out for what they really are: second jobs.

I sometimes wonder if I will ever, truly be happy. Edward says I've come a long way. Sometimes, he reminds me of the time that I went almost three weeks without a shower or a bath and tells me that he's proud of the progress I've made from that point in my life. When he says that, I feel good - like I've accomplished something. For those brief seconds, I find myself believing that happiness is real. I wish I could feel like that every day.

'Goooooaaal!'

I look up to see that Chelsea have scored another goal. 4-1. I always thought football was easy. 'If I was playing, I would kick the ball so hard that their keeper couldn't catch it,' I once told my father. He laughed and said he believed I could. I realise that it isn't so simple. I realise that you're playing up against people that want to win just as much as you, and they're all praying to catch you on your worst day. Everyone has their own, unique skill - how do you make up for your own lack, when hard work never seems to get you anywhere? The rules don't change, and the fields are all built the same; so, why do all teams want to play in their stadium? Why do visiting teams have to play harder than the home teams? Why is it so unfathomable that a team could lose in its home stadium?

'Well, Manchester are getting completely humiliated by Chelsea F.C. tonight - what's happening? They have the home advantage - why are they losing?'

'Whatever the answer is, we'll get it in two minutes as this match is almost over. I must say, Manchester's performance has been underwhelming tonight and this is surprising because they've been on a hot streak for the better part of this tournament; they've beat teams stronger than Chelsea; I hope we get the answers backstage.'