I Hate Him. {Gustholomule}

Chapter 23

So, I did a but of a reconstruction of this chapter because I fucking HATED it. The amount of unnecessary angst gets to a point..

(Might go back and redo the whole story because I hate the whole thing now. There's way too much angst, it really does get to a point..)

But, enjoy I guess?

A VERY SMALL AMOUNT OF FLUFF AT THE END YIPPEE!!

~

Matt's P.O.V

I pulled my team jacket over my uniform before exiting my room with a sigh. I heard faint voices coming from downstairs. Of course, because that's all I want to do right now, socialize.

I entered the main hallway, looking into the kitchen for a brief second, spotting Steve and Gus. I noticed that Gus was looking intently back at me.

Everything rushed back all at once.

Brias actions.

My dad.

Willows words.

The Bathtub.

Gus.

The blood on the sink.

Bria.

Gus.

My dad.

Willow.

Gus.

I can't fucking deal with this right now. Just go to practice then you'll talk. You're not in the right headspace right now. Just go. Fuck.

I gave him a slight frown before continuing my way out of the house. I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel bad for leaving him alone right now, but I honestly can't deal with that right now. I'd rather explain the situation later than hurt him now.

~

I entered the change room around 15 minutes before practice started. Jerbo hadn't arrived yet, so I sat on one of the benches and grabbed a orange lollipop from the bottom of my bag before plopping it into my mouth. I grabbed my scroll out of my pocket to check to see if anyone had messaged me.

Steve - 1

Gus - 2

Amity - 2

Huh. Should I open them?

No. It's not worth it, I'll say something stupid.

I closed the scroll before grabbing my water and leaving the room. I entered the field to see Boscha, Amelia and Skara congregating in the middle of the field, with coach sitting in the bleachers. I really don't want to talk to any of them. I started pacing back and fourth across the edge of the field as I waited for the practice to start, glancing around periodically.

My thoughts were bouncing back and fourth in my head as I walked. I just got more pissed off the more I thought. Why do I have to have a brain? Why am I even mad in the first place?

I caught a glimpse of Jerbo in the corner of my eye as he entered the change rooms. I wonder why he's so late.

I shrugged it off and continued pacing the area infront of the bleachers; letting my thoughts dissipate
into thin air.

"Whats good with you today, shortie?" Boscha joked, giving me a elbow to the rib, almost causing me to scream.

"Oh, it's you, fuck off." I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose in annoyance.

I hate this team.

Boscha pulled me out of the group by my wrist. I gasped in surprise from from sudden jolt backwards, and the shooting pain going up my arm.