falling for 13 || Johnny Kavanagh

What's Wrong?

J O H N N Y

Every step down the corridor felt like my adductor was being torn apart. It wasn't new. I'd been pushing through it for months now, trying to ignore the stabbing ache that flared up every time I pushed too hard on the field. Rest wasn't an option. Not now, with scouts watching and the Under-18s summer tour around the corner. This was my shot, and there was no way I was sitting out just because my leg wasn't cooperating. Just a few more weeks, I told myself, keeping my face as neutral as I could. A few more weeks, and maybe then I could slow down a bit.

I was almost at the end of the corridor, ready to zone out and get to class, when I saw Grace coming toward me, her eyes flicking down to my leg before she even reached me. Damn. I tried to straighten up, force my steps to look normal, but she had already noticed.

"You're limping." she stated.

I tried to laugh it off. "No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are," she shot back, hands on her hips. "What's going on? Are you hurt?"

I shrugged, doing my best to keep it casual. "Just a tight muscle. No big deal."

She gave me a look that made it clear she wasn't buying it. "A 'tight muscle' that makes you limp all the time?" She tilted her head, concern filling her eyes. "Johnny, if you're hurt, you need to rest. You can't just keep pushing through like this."

Her tone, the way she was looking at me, it was all a little too much. She didn't understand what was on the line here. Rest? That would mean missing out on matches, on my shot at getting noticed. "Grace, I'm fine," I said, trying to keep my voice light but firm. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing," she insisted, her voice rising just a little. "You keep saying you're fine, but I see you on the pitch, barely able to walk sometimes. What are you even trying to prove?"

The question stung more than it should have. What did she think? That I was doing this for fun? "I'm not trying to prove anything. I'm just... doing what I have to do."

She sighed, clearly frustrated. "Johnny, there's a difference between dedication and stupidity. You're risking making it worse by not giving yourself a break."

"Easy for you to say," I muttered, not even bothering to hide the irritation in my voice. "You don't get it, Grace. This isn't just some game. I need this. It's my shot at something big."

She looked at me like I'd slapped her, a flicker of hurt in her eyes. "And you think I don't get that?"

I let out a bitter laugh. "No, I don't. You don't have the same pressure. You're not the one trying to get on a squad that could make or break everything, it's just you and your track."

She took a step back, folding her arms, her face setting into that stubborn expression I knew all too well. "Fine. But don't expect me to just sit back and watch you wreck yourself."

"Maybe I don't need your bleeding opinion on everything," I snapped, the words slipping out before I could stop myself. The look in her eyes hit me like a punch to the gut, but I couldn't back down now. I was too wound up, too frustrated to stop.

"Okay," she said, her voice clipped. "If that's how you feel, then... fine, no problem."

We stood there, staring at each other, neither of us willing to back down. Finally, she turned on her heel and walked away without another word, leaving me standing there, my jaw clenched and my chest tight with something I couldn't quite name. I knew I'd messed up, and yet I couldn't shake the feeling that she just didn't understand.

With a frustrated huff, I turned and walked off in the opposite direction, ignoring the twinge in my leg and the twisting feeling in my gut. Right after I walked away, I could feel the lads eyes on me as I made my way down the corridor. Feely, Gibsie, and Hughie, were all waiting by the lockers. As soon as I got close enough, Gibsie cocked an eyebrow at me, smirking.