CARNIVORE [MxM+]

Chapter 13 Part 1 [REVISED]

Tycho Black.

IT WAS WEEK FOUR OF THE FOOTBALL SEASON. The Greshur Panthers were finally home, having played every game in other teams' stadiums so far. They were living up to their name, completely wiping out every team they encountered. Their record was three wins, zero losses, and hopefully that second number won't change.

My fingernails dug into my palms. 

Hopefully, that second number won't change.

The crowd roared to life, with chants on either side. Ours were louder.

I looked up for a split second, silently observing the countless opposing players on the field. They stared right back. I smirked. 

Yeah, it won't change. Not in this game, at least. 

We won't lose because today was different. 

 The air still stung from the biting cold, and my skin was still sticky with sweat. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, doing its best to distract me from the task at hand. Physically, I felt terrible. 

But something was different. 

My hands still shook like they did every day. My breathing was still uneven as I stared down at those around me, my face as stoic as ever. But this time, I wasn't afraid. I was confident. The score was fourteen to zero, with us in the lead.

We were huddled on the twenty-yard line, my body bent, ready to spring into action. The lower half of Louis comes into view. My helmet blocks his face. 

"Grey twenty-nine fade on-" I knew the play and heard my role. Shit, I knew everything. 

This sport was all I had, so why not be the fucking best at it? 

We clap ourselves out of the huddle and make our way to our positions. Louis is four feet in front of me and slightly to my left. He's crouched behind our wall of linemen, and I can see his hands and head twitch. He wants so badly to turn around and make sure I know what the hell I'm doing because we can't afford to lose.

"Set Hut!" Louis's voice rings out as their defense twitches, but we don't move. They were ready; none were penalized. 

"Hut!" Nothing changes.

"Hut!" 

Then everything explodes. 

Like a shockwave, our play hits them with enough force to tear open their defense and make a hole for me, who just collected the ball from our quarterback's hands. I keep my head low as I run with all my might through the flurry of people and into the open field. My mind tells me to shift to the right-- so I do-- just in time for our right guard to fly past me and throw all his weight into the defender in front of me so I can keep doing. The wind fills my eardrums, and I go faster and faster toward the end zone, ignoring my still-healing ribs begging for a break. I get there. I turn around and take in the lights, and the crowds, and the cheering, and the announcer, and the scoreboard. I breathe deep because I feel like I finally can. For a moment, I am free. 

We win, twenty-eight to zero. 

A locker slams shut behind me, making me jump. 

"Hey!" An arm wraps around my shoulders, and I try my hardest not to swing around and hit whoever touched me, because I'm different today. It's Louis. 

"Great fuckin' work today, man." He's got an easy smile on his face, his large curls plastered to his head and face. I look down, realizing all he's got on is a towel.