Count The Stars

thirty-two

        Stressed was an understatement.

        I was stressed when I was studying. I was stressed when I was practicing for football. I was stressed when I was talking to my father.

        But laying sprawled out on the shag carpet of my living room while blasting tunes from my playlist, I was beyond stressed. I was confused and sad and guilty all at once. A million thoughts were pushing their way to the front of my head, all coming together like gibberish. I felt like screaming. I felt like crying. I felt like running around until I passed out from exhaustion.

        So, I decided I would motivate. I didn't have much anymore, but the rusty goal post and slightly deflated football were always there for me in the park whenever I needed it. I managed to peel myself off the floor, dust the crisp crumbs off my chest, and jog all the way down to a remote field buried in the park. The snow was beginning to melt and left the grass frozen and swampy, but I still laced up my cleats and found the ball which was stuck in a thin layer of ice on a puddle.

        I kicked it around, practicing every move I could think of. I dribbled up and down the field, splashing through muddy bits that sprayed into the air and stuck to my face. I didn't mind getting dirty if it was for football. In fact, I enjoyed it. The sticky green residue from grass swiped across my kit or a clump of muck stuck between my curls was a sign that I was playing hard. I wasn't satisfied if there weren't beads of sweat dripping down my face.

        About an hour in, I realised I was smiling. I hadn't smiled in a while— not a real genuine one at least. And when I realised that, my smile grew wider and brighter. I kicked the ball right into the net, cheering for myself and jumping up and down while pumping my fists. "Eli Rosen, famous footballer, has just kicked another one in! That is a big fat GOAL for England! The crowd is going absolutely mad for him!" I screamed out into the trees.

        "ROSEN! ROSEN! ROSEN!" I chanted, dancing around the giant empty field and juggling the ball on the knee of my sopping wet trousers. I didn't really care if anyone saw, although I'm sure I would later on. But right then, it was just me and the football. I bounced it off my knee and onto the end of my cleat before kicking it in again, this time nearly missing. Still, it landed in the goal with a satisfying whoosh as I started clapping again.

        "This young lad is on fire tonight. Look at all the people watching him play in the big leagues!" I yelled, my announcer voice getting louder and more obnoxious by the minute. I thrusted my finger at a bunch of trees, pretending like they're actual human beings. "There's his father, who looks so proud of his boy! And next to him is his boyfriend Adam, his mate Blake, and all the twats who doubted him on his old football team! They're all here to see the one and only Elijah Jospeh Rosen in action!"

        I whooped for myself once again and wound up to give the ball another good blow, but it all came to a sudden halt when I went over my chant again in my head. My ego popped almost as quickly as it inflated, leaving me standing out in the middle of the field, realising there are no football announcers around me. I said that. Without even thinking, I bloody cheered that.

        his boyfriend Adam

        "Motherfucker," I mumbled as I punted the ball somewhere in the trees, telling myself I'd find it when summer rolled around.

        "I really have to tell Grace."

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Surprise! Double update! I forgot I had this one edited and ready and since it's a bit tiny, I thought eh, why not? So... enjoy!

~Teddy