Bad Luck [Brallon]

Ive Never Been Hit By A Car But I Hope/Think This Is Pretty Accurate

The week of Saturday's quote on quote, "big game", Brendon was pissed. More pissed than usual whenever I was in his general vicinity. Maybe it was the stress finally getting to him - everyone expected him to get back out on the field and make the game winning point like usual. It might've been the fact that Ryan was realizing what an ass he'd been lately. Both did a number on his performances during practice. All the players on the team could see it, and they were terrified of what it might lead to. I was kinda excited to see him fuck up for once - it only took like 17 years, give or take a few.

Granted, it was only Thursday which meant we still had that last half of the day and then all of Friday to shape up, but if anybody took a tumble we'd be fucked, the laughing stock of the district instead of 4 time national champions.

Well, at least that's what Ryan was relaying to Tyler while we changed to our usual clothes after practice. Tyler and I had our lockers conveniently right next to each other, and Ryan had switched his shirts out with us at our back to back lockers because he wanted to give Brendon some space to cool down after messing up the throw to their signature play, not once, not twice, but 6 times consecutively. Granted he was still trying to fully get back on his feet, and he'd been a lot better since tryouts. But Mostro had even dared to begin to think she'd made a mistake handing him the quarterback position on a silver platter.

"I'm a little worried, y'know? After he got rammed, it's almost like he's a bad luck magnet. Did you know he barely passed his history quiz? He got a 72 back instead of the usual 94 and above."

Tyler frowned at the locker, twisting his shirt in his hands. "I got less than half the questions right on that test? How did he get a 72 when I got 63?"

"That's not the point, Tyler. He was not happy - he hasn't scored that low since freshman year on the biology test nobody had any knowledge of." Ryan huffed and toyed with the loose strings dangling from his shirt collar. I was pretty sure the shirt was Brendon's. It looked familiar. Maybe it was mine; Brendon had been known to steal my shirts whenever he stayed over unexpectedly. I either got them back with dried tear stains, or not at all. Fucker.

Tyler frowned and slammed his locker door shut, snatching my red bag off the floor along with his green one and followed Ryan out to meet Brendon outside. "Do you think the fall did something?"

I turned to glare at him out of the corner of my eye. That was, first of all, bullshit. You can't get a concussion and fracture your good luck. Second of all... actually the first reason was it.

"I have no idea, but I'm terrified for him, if I'm gonna be honest. It's senior year, colleges are going to be watching us like hawks, especially him. He's got a solid career going in football and academics if he keeps improving and what not, but if either get screwed at this point, he's dead. Not even almost 12 years of perfect grades and flawless attendance could save him if anything were to happen now."

The worst part was that he was right. People were harsh. The 4 time national championships could mean big things, for all of us. If he wasn't back on his feet and doing backflips by Saturday we'd all be dead and buried 6 feet under.

He was glaring as we came around the corner, eyes burning with something much different than hate past the flames. Brendon didn't even crack a smile as Ryan pressed his lips to his cheek, not even as their hands linked together.

Tyler bumped my side, glancing up and pulling me a few steps behind the near 3 year strong power couple. "Were we walking to your house?"

"Yeah. My car ran out of gas last night when I got back home after I went to get some fries. And I didn't want to go out and fill up the tank because it was too late and I didn't want to risk getting stabbed for drugs I don't have."