Hearts of Azure (boyxboy)

Part One

The headphones covering my ears were so tight it was almost painful. I had my rock music blasted on high. Even with that, though, it felt like I could barely hear it over the rushing and pounding of blood through my ears.

I couldn’t see anything, just darkness. I had my eyes squeezed tightly shut. I was trying to block out any and all noise in the huge room. I knew that once I opened my eyes, everyone would be watching me. And once I took my headphones off, I’d just hear a hundred people screaming.

But I had to do both of those things. I counted down to ten and slowly opened my eyes. There was a row of guys standing in front of me. Each one of them shirtless and wearing just their swim trunks that clung tightly to their bodies--exactly like mine did underneath my baggy shorts. I couldn’t look anywhere near the stands. The pressure was too much. It was practically suffocating.

I stood and removed the headphones, shutting my ipod off. I was right. The noise was at a maximum volume. People were screaming, cheering, whistling, clapping. None of it was for me yet. The event before mine was still in progress. I slipped up, cutting my eyes to the bleachers for the tiniest fraction of a second. I saw him watching. It rattled me. I returned my focus back onto myself as quickly as I could. I slowly bent down and pulled my shorts off. I set them on the bench before slowly peeling my shirt off over my head, stretching just a bit as I did so.

I left my things rolled up neatly in a pile and stepped forwards towards the block. There was just one lap left before it was my turn. I stretched forward, trying to loosen up the muscles in my back. I shook my arms and legs out one at a time. I pulled my arms up and behind my head, stretching even more. I tried to put myself back into that zone I’d created when I was sitting in the silent darkness on that bench. I slapped at my biceps, counting down the seconds before the last swimmer finished.

As the announcer called out our names, each boy next to me and I stepped up onto the block. I stretched out once more. Then the announcer spoke again.

“Get set.”

I took a deep breath, stifling my nerves.

Beep.

I dove into the warm water of the pool with my usual grace. I kicked my legs at what felt like a million miles a minute. Then I surfaced again, throwing my arms over my head, performing the forward crawl to the best of my abilities. I knew it was great. It was perfect. It always ways. I couldn’t afford to be anything less. My breathing was under control. My arms worked effortlessly and I kicked like mad, a true champ as I shot down my lane.

It was perfect, right on course. Down and back, down and back. I knew I was in the lead. I just barely caught sight of the guys at my sides falling behind me. I was pulling ahead and I kept at it, pushing harder and harder. Twenty lengths. That’s how long the 500 free was. It was my most difficult event. I spent hours on end training for this one and I still had some slip-ups. But I couldn’t afford them at a meet. This was sections. I had to do my best and then better. That’s just how it was. It didn’t even matter that I was only a Sophomore. I was still expected to be the best.

I did yet another turn. Four more lengths. I kept breathing as best I could, waiting until I brought each arm over twice before I sucked in a new breath. I had this, I knew I did. I swam expertly down the length of the pool, 25 meters. Then I missed the wall. The turn was fucked up. I felt it slip away from me and I couldn’t kick off of it properly. I didn’t get enough momentum and the guy now to my right was catching up.

My mind was reeling. I tried to focus on what was ahead of me. Three lengths left. I could do this. I just needed to try harder. I was still ahead. I kicked faster. I held my breath perfectly when I needed to. It didn’t matter, I missed another fucking wall. I saw the kid at my side pull ahead of me by just a foot. I tried so hard to keep up with him. I lost sight of it, though. I couldn’t keep up, I got so tired. Luckily, I got the last turn down perfectly. My usual perfection. How could I get it now, but not before?

I sped forward as fast as I could and slammed my hand down on the touch pad. I tore my goggles off and spun around in the water. My breathing was labored, I felt like my lungs were on the verge of exploding. My face paled as soon as I caught sight of the scoreboard. I’d come in third. Fucking third. How was this possible? It had been ages since I’d come in third, I wasn’t allowed to do that. I had to win.

I bit back the screams, the tears, the sheer panicky feelings that were going on inside of me. I bit my tongue harshly, almost drawing blood. I forced myself to pretend like I was okay and swam over to shake the hands of the boys who had beaten me. I didn’t know them and yet I hated them. I was upset. It was pure agony trying to pretend otherwise, but somehow I managed it.

The last person finished the race and we were allowed to exit the pool. I pulled myself out as fast as my sore and tired arms would allow. I didn’t look at a single person. The crowd wasn’t as loud as it usually was when I finished an event. The cheering for the other seven teams was audible, but the familiar voices from the parents of my team were absent. I wanted to kick myself. How had I lost that one?

I grabbed my things in a hurry. I felt like I was going to collapse. This wasn’t okay. I wasn’t going to be okay. I’d let people down--so many people. Feeling miserable and wanting to hurt myself further, I forced myself to look up at the crowd. I saw him. The boy I had never spoken a single word to my entire life. He’d gone to every single swim meet of mine for the last three years--since I’d joined the team in eighth grade.

I knew his name but I didn’t know him. He was some random kid on my team’s cousin. He always watched me. Always cheered for me when I won. I knew he liked me, he probably had for the last two years at least. After all, that was about how long I had been crazy about him. Hell, I was probably in love and didn’t even understand it yet. He always smiled broadly and pretended not to look at me when he cheered next to his aunt and my parents in the stands.

Not today, though. Today, I’d lost. Came in third fucking place. And he couldn’t even look at me. The expression on his face said it all. He was disappointed in me. He thought I was a total fuck-up. I’d ruined it. The one thing I had to be perfect at and I couldn’t get it right. Everybody was disappointed in me, I could tell. But I cared the most about his reaction. And it hurt like hell.

My eyes stung and I clutched tightly to the pile of my things in my arms. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t stand here, under all these judging eyes, and pretend I was okay. Not when I’d let him down. Not when he couldn’t even bring himself to look at me after I’d screwed up that race. I was a failure.

I beelined for the door. I was so relieved when I saw my brother already standing there. He was waiting for me, smiling comfortingly. He touched my shoulder and ushered me out into the empty hall. It was cold out there and I shivered, my bare feet stinging at the frozen tiles on the ground. I stared at my older brother, feeling lost and angry and frustrated.

“Ascah,” I choked out, meeting his eyes.

He pulled me into a hug. “Stop it. You were amazing.” He already knew what I was thinking.

“I let them all down,” I muttered, disbelief flooding into my every word. “I don’t know what happened.”

“Shhh,” he soothed. “You were brilliant. Everyone is proud, stop beating yourself up, Elliot.”

I bit my lip hard. This time I actually tasted blood. I welcomed the pain. Anything to escape what had just happened inside that pool. Anything to drown out the unhappy look on his face up on those bleachers. He wasn’t proud, no matter how much Ascah tried to assure me that everyone was. I knew he probably thought I was a pathetic loser now. I clutched tighter to my brother’s shirt, trying not to cry. It was all ruined and there was nothing I could change about it.