Cupidity-Joelay

Everybody wants to be loved.

Everybody wants to be in love. But we don't always know what form love will come in.

Take Ray. He believed in the idea of love, just didn't know what love looked like. Until the moment he saw Joel.

He'd seen the poster while riding a bus home from work and realized it must have been new because there was no way he could have missed that stunning face before. "Holy shit." He had murmured, blinking owlishly at the dark, intense eyes that seemed so full of life, even for the paper.

Joel Heyman was a rising tennis star respected for his talent, but famous for his beauty.

And no sooner had Ray found him that he felt his chances slipping away.

-

He was amazed at his luck, honestly.

When they'd told him he'd be a line judge for none other than Joel Heyman, he was certain that some sort of higher being was on his side, coaxing him towards his true love. He'd taken extra time to groom his hair and set off, a wide grin on his face and a pep in his step.

When Joel had walked his way onto the court, his tight polo accentuating the soft curves of his figure and disheveled hair sticking out every direction from his sweatband, Ray was even more certain they were meant to be. Joel passed by him, smiling idly, and Ray blushed when their gazes connected, an awkward laugh escaping his lips. If the Titanic could be personified into eyes, they were Joel's: sunken and hauntingly beautiful, yet shimmering with the life hidden within.

At the beginning of the match, Joel had been doing fantastically. Ray loved watching the way his arms moved with such force, body swaying and pumping to meet each return of the neon green ball. The real trouble, however, started when a particularly powerful drive had the ball zooming over the net, over his opponent, and....

Ray gulped when he saw it hit just over the white line, and his voice was hesitant as he yelled the call. "Out!"

"What? That was in!" Joel barked angrily, gesturing to where the ball was rolling carelessly towards the wall with his racket. Ray said nothing, hoping his look could somehow show how sorry he was, though he knew the distance was too far. "That was in!" Joel demanded one last time, those sunken eyes narrowing as he glared at the young line caller.

Far later down the road, Ray would look back and realize that love stories always have a beginning; they just don't always begin the way you imagine. At that moment, however, he merely watched as Joel prepared to serve, his movements much jerkier now that he'd been made angry. He saw the ball make contact with the racket and had barely had time to register it was zooming directly at him before a sickening crunch of his glasses (or possibly his face) filled his ears and he was knocked out cold.

-

Sometimes, love just hits you right between the eyes.

Ray was sitting in the doctor's office and he would have laughed at the handlebar mustache the physician sported were he not being blinded by the light shining at his pupils to check for damage. He resisted the urge to blink as the doctor finished, flashing him a sympathetic look, and took the time to look around the room. What stood out most was a full-sized cardboard cutout of a Mexican-looking man with an incredibly grumpy face, the words "Foot injuries... you can't just walk it off!" attached to it in a speech bubble.

"You do have a minor concussion, so you should physical activity and please," The emphasis on the last word brought back Ray's attention and he dazedly looked over at the doctor. "Put some ice on that head of yours?" Ray nodded weakly and the doctor turned away before pausing with a coy smirk. "Oh! And, I think, they've got ice packs over by the practice courts." He winked, or maybe Ray only saw the wink in his concussed mind, before leaving him there.