Silent Bond || EstWilliam au

Eleven

The sun hung low in the sky as the soccer field buzzed with energy. William was in his element, his legs moving effortlessly as he sprinted across the grass, eyes focused on the ball. He was the main striker, known for his speed and precision, and today was no different. Every touch of the ball felt natural, every pass calculated as he weaved through the opposing team's defense.

His teammates called out to him, urging him forward, and William smirked, his competitive edge kicking in. He dribbled past one defender, then another, the ball sticking close to his feet as if it were an extension of his body. His mind was laser-focused, calculating every step, waiting for the perfect moment to make his move.

"Over here, Will!" one of his teammates shouted, running into position.

William saw him out of the corner of his eye, ready to pass. He quickly shifted his weight, preparing to send the ball across the field. Just as he swung his leg back to kick, he felt it—a sharp, sudden blow to his lower leg.

One of the opponents, in his haste to steal the ball, had mistimed his own kick. Instead of hitting the ball, his cleats connected directly with William's leg, sending a jolt of pain searing through his body.

William gasped, his leg stinging like fire. The pain was immediate and overwhelming, so sharp it nearly took his breath away. He collapsed onto the ground, clutching his lower leg, his face contorting in agony. The world around him blurred as he lay there, trying to breathe through the pain, but it felt like his leg was being drilled through by a machine.

"William!" Hong's voice broke through the fog of pain, and in an instant, his friend was by his side.

Hong dropped to his knees beside William, eyes wide with concern. "Will, are you okay? What happened?" His voice was rushed, tinged with panic.

William wanted to answer, but the pain was too much. His teeth clenched, and he sucked in a breath, trying to fight back the tears that stung at the corners of his eyes. He pressed his hands harder against his leg, hoping to somehow stop the unbearable sting.

By now, a crowd had gathered around them—teammates, opponents, standing near them, their faces full of worry and confusion. The coach, Mr. Tornthap, came jogging over, his expression immediately shifting to one of deep concern when he saw William on the ground.

"Step back, everyone, give him space." Said Hong, his voice uncharacteristically stern. He waved the others away, pushing them back to give William some room to breathe.

The coach knelt down beside him, gently placing a hand on William's shoulder. "William, can you talk? What happened?"

William tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come. His leg hurt like hell—more than anything he had ever felt before. His face was pale, beads of sweat forming along his forehead. He shook his head weakly, unable to articulate just how bad it was.

"Alright, don't worry, we've got you," Mr. Tornthap said, his voice calm but urgent. He turned to the others. "Help me carry him to my car. We need to get him to the hospital."

Hong and two of their teammates quickly moved into action, lifting William carefully from the ground. William winced, biting his lip hard to keep from crying out as they carried him toward the coach's car. Every step felt like a fresh wave of pain, radiating from his lower leg all the way up to his knee.

---

At the hospital, William was quickly wheeled away to be examined, leaving Hong and Mr. Tornthap to wait anxiously in the hallway outside. The sterile white walls seemed to close in on them as they sat in tense silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

Hong's foot tapped nervously on the floor, his mind racing. William was their main striker, the centre of the team. The competition was just around the corner, and they were counting on him. But more than that, Hong was worried about his friend. William had never been the type to get seriously hurt—he was always so agile, so quick on his feet. Seeing him go down like that had shaken him.

Mr. Tornthap sat next to Hong, his expression tight with worry. "If it's serious... this could be a real problem," he muttered, more to himself than to Hong.

Hong just nodded, his eyes glued to the door of the examination room. Time seemed to drag on as they waited, the minutes ticking by agonizingly slow.

Finally, after what felt like forever, the door opened, and the doctor stepped out, a serious look on his face.

"How is he, doctor?" Mr. Tornthap asked, standing up immediately.

The doctor sighed and glanced down at the chart in his hand. "William has a slight fracture in his lower leg. It's not severe, but it will require time to heal. He'll need to wear a cast, and he's going to be out of commission for at least one months."

Hong's stomach dropped. One months? That meant William wouldn't be able to play in the competition. He glanced over at Mr. Tornthap , whose face had gone pale.

"Doctor, William participates in soccer—he's our main striker. Is there any way...?" the coach trailed off, but the doctor shook his head firmly.

"No, I'm afraid not. He cannot put any strain on that leg for a while. It's crucial that he rests and lets the bone heal properly. If he tries to play or do any strenuous activity before he's fully recovered, it could lead to further damage."

The weight of the news hung heavy in the air. Hong looked down at his feet, trying to process what this meant. William would be devastated.

"Can we see him?" Hong asked quietly.

The doctor nodded. "He's resting now, but you can go in. Just don't overwhelm him. He's still in pain."

Hong and the coach exchanged a worried glance before heading into the room. William was lying on the hospital bed, his leg propped up in a temporary cast. His face was pale, and his eyes were half-closed, but he looked up when they entered.

"Hey," Hong said softly, walking over to William's side. "How are you feeling?"

William let out a weak, frustrated sigh. "Like my leg's been run over by a truck," he muttered, wincing as he shifted slightly in the bed.

Hong chuckled, trying to lighten the mood, but the worry never left his eyes. "Well, at least you still have your sense of humor."

The coach stood at the foot of the bed, his arms crossed. "William, the doctor says it's a slight fracture. You're going to need to rest for about a months."

William's face fell, and he stared up at the ceiling, his jaw clenched. "A months? But the competition—"

"I know," Mr. Tornthap said gently. "But your health comes first. We can't risk making it worse."

William closed his eyes, frustration and disappointment washing over him. The room fell into silence, and all Hong could do was stand by his friend, offering what little comfort he could. He witnessed how hard his friend trained for this upcoming competition. He knew how much this would hurt William—not just physically, but emotionally too.