Breaking Free

Part 1

The sun beats down on the football field, and sweat drips down the back of my neck as I adjust my helmet. The air smells like freshly cut grass and anticipation. This is my domain. The place where everything is supposed to make sense. The crowds roars in the distance, but I barely hear it. My focus is on the ball in the center of the field, waiting for the snap.

"Tyler! Heads up!" Coach's voice cuts through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present.

I shake my head, trying to clear it. I glance at the sideline where Coach stands, hands on his hips, giving me that look—half frustration, half concern. I nod at him, signaling that i'm ready, even though my mind is still miles away.

"C'mon, Thompson!" Mark yells from behind me, his voice dripping with impatience. "Let's get this play moving before we all grow old out here!"

I give him a quick nod, trying to shove everything else aside. Focus. That's what I need right now. I call the play, my voice loud and steady, even though my heart is pounding.

"Set! Hike!"

The ball is in my hands, and everything around me turns into a blur of motion. My body moves on autopilot, muscle memory guiding me as I scan the field for an opening. Ryan's there, just like we practiced. He's wide open, waiting for the perfect pass.

I throw the ball with all the precision i've trained for, and it spirals through the air, cutting a path straightforward to him. The crowd erupts as he catches it, sprinting toward the end zone. Touchdown. The scoreboard lights up, and my teammates are shouting, slapping me on the back as they rush past.

"Nice throw, Tyler!" Ryan calls as he jogs back toward me, grinning from ear to ear.

I force a smile, nodding as if everything's perfect. As if the weight pressing on my chest isn't making it harder to breathe. "Thanks, man. You made it look easy."

"Yeah, well, you made it easy." Ryan laughs, slinging an arm around my shoulders as we walk off the field together. "Man, Coach is gonna be all over us with praise after that one."

"Yeah...probably," I mumble, trying to keep the smile plastered on my face.

Coach blows his whistle, calling us in for a huddle. "Alright, boys! That's what i'm talking about!" His voice is filled with pride. "If we keep this up, State is ours this year."

The team erupts into cheers, but I just nod along, keeping my eyes focused on the ground. Soon after, I make my way to the locker room.

The locker room is buzzing with energy. The win was solid, and everyone's riding the high. My teammates are loud, laughing and shouting over each other as they relive the best moments from the field.

I sit on the bench, my back to the door, still sweaty and sore from the game. Ryan's recounting his touchdown pass for the hundredth time, and Mark's chiming in about how his block "sealed the deal."

"Tyler, man," Ryan calls out, his voice cutting through the noise. "That pass was golden. Coach couldn't stop talking about it."

I smile and nod, but it feels like i'm watching everything from the outside, like i'm here but not really. The praise, the noise—it all washes over me, but none of it sticks. I'm supposed to be feeling proud, pumped even, but all I feel is... off. Like i'm missing something, like i'm playing a part in someone else's life.

"Earth to Tyler!" Ryan snaps his fingers in front of my face, breaking my trance. "You good, man?"

I blink, trying to shake off the weirdness. "Yeah, just thinking."

"About the next game?" He asks with a grin. "State's gonna be wild."

"Something like that," I mumble, pulling off my cleats and stuffing them into my bag. The idea of State should excite me. It's what we've been working toward all season, but right now, the thought of it just adds to the pressure already sitting on my chest.

As the locker room starts to empty out, I grab my stuff and head for the lockers. The sound of water hitting tile drowns out the leftover chatter, and for a moment, I let myself just exist in the quiet. No noise, no expectations, just me. But even here, I can't escape the thoughts swirling in my head.

Who am I really?

The question hangs there, unanswered, as I finish up, I put the same sweaty clothes back on, yuck. Outside, the night air is cool against my skin, and I can finally breathe again. But the relief is temporary. Tomorrow will come, and I'll have to do it all over again—put on the mask, play the part.

As I walk through the parking lot toward my car, I hear footsteps behind me. I turn to see Coach heading my way, his usual confident stride replaced with something softer, more concerned.

"Tyler, wait up," he calls out, jogging to catch up. I stop and turn, forcing another smile as he approaches.

"Coach," I say, trying to sound casual. "What's up?"

He stops in front of me, hands on his hips, studying me for a moment before speaking. "You were off today."

I open my mouth to protest, but he holds up a hand. "I'm not talking about your performance. You played great, as always. But... you seemed distracted."

I swallow, trying to keep my expression neutral. "Just tired, Coach. Didn't sleep much last night."

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "You know, you can talk to me if something's  going on. You're a leader on this team, Tyler, but that doesn't mean you have to carry everything by yourself."

I nod, but the words feel heavy in my throat. "Thanks, Coach. I'm good, really. Just a lot on my mind."

He watches me for another long second before clapping me on the shoulder. "Alright. Just... take care of yourself, okay? We need you at your best."

"Yeah, I will," I reply, even though i'm not sure I believe it.

As Coach walks away, I stand there for a moment, staring out in the empty field. The lights are off now, and everything's quiet. Peaceful, almost. But that peace doesn't reach me. Not really.

With a sigh, I turn and head to my car, already dreading the next day. Because I know, deep down, that this feeling—this restlessness, this uncertainty—it's not going away. Not until I figure out who I really am. And that... that terrifies me.

As I reach my car, I fumble with the keys in my pocket, my thoughts still a mess from Coach's words. I'm about to unlock the door when something—someone—catches my attention. There's a boy standing by the edge of the parking lot, right under one of the streetlights.

He's not like anyone I usually see around here. He's wearing a bright red jacket, bold against the dark backdrop of the night, paired with skinny jeans and bright red sneakers to match the jacket. Even from a distance, he stands out—confident, like he knows who he is and doesn't care what anyone else thinks.

I can't place him. He's not on the team, and he doesn't run in my circle. But there's something about him that makes me pause, my hand frozen on the car door. Maybe it's the way he carries himself—completely at ease, like the world around him is his for the taking.

The boy glances up, and our eyes meet. My breath catches in my throat, and for a split second, everything else falls away. He doesn't look away, doesn't shy away from my gaze. If anything, there's a flicker of curiosity in his eyes, like he's sizing me up, figuring me out in a way that makes me feel exposed.

Then, just as quickly as it happened, he looks away, adjusts his jacket, and walks to towards his bike, completely unfazed. He swings his leg over and rides off, disappearing into the night.

I'm left standing there, still gripping my car door, wondering why that moment felt so significant. He's just a guy. Someone I've probably passed before without noticing. But tonight, it feels different. He feels different. Like he's someone, I'm supposed to notice.

With a sigh, I shake my head and get into the car, but that brief encounter sticks with me, like a song I can't get out of my head. As I drive home, I keep replaying it in my mind—the way he looked at me, so sure of himself, like he had nothing to hide.

When I finally pull into my driveway, I don't get out right away. I just sit there, gripping the steering wheel, staring at the darkened house in front of me. My mind is still buzzing with everything from the night—the game, Coach's talk, and that boy under the streetlight.

I don't know why he's stuck in my head, but he is. And I can't shake the feeling that this isn't the last time I'll see him.