(Hockey BxB) Whistle In The Wind

-𝐈𝐗-

╔══《"I'll feel like throwing up,》══╗
you'll sit and stare like a goddamn machine."

       The first time Váli was shoved, he was three. He was playing in the sandbox at the local park. He was alone, and minding his business. Suddenly, a boy--around his age--with a shaved head, a red t-shirt, basketball shorts, and light up sketchers, came over.

       Váli was smiling and laughing as he waved his arm around while holding a toy airplane. "Crash landing!" he cheered as he steered the plane into a pile of sand. The pile exploded, launching sand all over Váli. It was stuck to his face, caught in his hair, and caked on his clothes.

       Váli paid no mind to the mess, instead reaching for a bulldozer toy once he had gotten bored of the airplane. "Is this yours?" the boy with the shaved blonde hair spoke up. He held up the toy airplane. It was bright red, with blue wings.

       "Yes!" Váli replied, reaching to grab it out of the boy's hand. As he reached though, the older boy dodged. Váli came tumbling to the sand, losing balance. When he looked up at the boy again, Váli saw the smirk on his face. 

       He held the toy over the smaller boy's head, taunting him. Every time Váli reached for it, the boy in the red t-shirt would avoid his grasp.

       "I was just asking because it's a pretty cool toy." Váli paused, nodding slowly, unsure of what to do. "I was just thinking, since it's such a cool toy, that I could just have it!" he thrilled.

       Immediately, Váli paled. Shaking his head no rapidly, Váli rose on his feet. His legs trembled on the uneven ground. "Come on, just give it to me. It'll be easier if you do." Standing his ground, Váli faced the scary boy.

       However, at his full height, it was obvious that Váli stood no chance. Not only was the shaven headed kid obviously older, but he was larger too. Váli had yet to respond, as if his voice had been stolen right out of his throat.

       Every time he opened his mouth to speak, his throat turned dry, not letting a single word pass through. "Cat got your tongue?" the boy taunted once more. At that moment, when he had let his guard down, Váli grabbed for the toy.

       In the blink of an eye, Váli was holding the plastic plane again. Yay! He thought, looking at the toy with a smile. Suddenly, a heavy force shoved him to the ground. Sharp pain cpursed through his hands, his eyes closing shut and the toy being ripped from his prying fingers.

       It wasn't until he opened his eyes, the boy in the light up sketchers long gone, that Váli realized he landed on the bulldozer toy he was previously playing with. The sharp plastic edges had broken the skin on his hands.

       In a daze, Váli stared at the wound. Not once did he make a sound. He didn't cry, didn't scream out. He didn't yell for help. Instead, he stood up, brushed the sand off his pants, and walked out of the pit.

       He walked, and walked. No supervising parents seemed to notice him walking. He continued to walk. He walked for what felt like miles to him, but in reality wasn't more than the distance across the park with his short legs. After he had grown tired from the marathon he imagined he walked, Váli laid down by a secluded tree.

       The wispy willow branches swung in the wind, and he watched with wide eyes in mesmerization. Here, he sat, awe-struck under the swaying branches, that filtered the sunlight to speckles of gold, for the rest of the afternoon. When he awoke much later, he was back in his room, snuggled under the covers.

...

       By the time Aksel had gotten home, the sun had long set. It was well into the night, so he quietly walked up stairs to avoid waking anybody up. Luckily for him, Váli knew he would get little sleep regardless of whether Aksel tip-toed or stomped up the stairs.