Verboten [lashton]

Chapter 1

"Um, you can go on ahead, I'll catch up," Luke called from the inner closet of his bedroom, staring at himself in the full length mirror with a very worried expression adorning his face. He had tight black footy shorts on, covering not very much of his legs (he'd found them in the back of his drawers, and were the only shorts he had that were even slightly suitable for playing any form of sport) and a loose white shirt that made him feel very exposed in all the wrong places. It had been years since he'd worn any sort of working out clothes, so this all felt very unnatural and vaguely uncomfortable (very, very uncomfortable).

"No way, Hemmings. Get your ass out of that closet, we're leaving," Calum demanded, banging his fists against the walk-in-closet doors. Luke jumped slightly, sighing as he took one last disgusted look in the mirror and pried open the doors shyly, stepping out with a nervous step and blushing furiously.

"I feel like I have that looking going on about me that says, 'This guy has never done an ounce of exercise in the entirety of his very existence'," Luke announced thoughtfully, wrapping his arms around his torso as Calum held in a laugh.

"Couldn't have said it better myself. You look like you have no idea what the fuck you're doing. Now let's go, otherwise we're gonna be late," Calum added, grabbing Luke by the wrist and forcibly pulling him out the door. Luke whined in protest, trying to stop them from going any further by gripping onto tables and chairs and other moveable things that simply dragged along the floor as Calum yanked harder.

"Do I really, really, have to? I probably won't even make the team, I'm useless," Luke said, causing Calum to stop in his tracks right in front of the front door. He turned to glare at Luke, pushing his chest lightly.

"Don't you dare say you're useless. You're one of the best soccer players I've ever seen, which is pretty damn great considering the fact that you've never been on a competitive team before," Calum praised, opening the door and walking out, expecting Luke to follow. Luke hesitated for a second before closing the door behind him, jogging to catch up to Calum walking down the street with a soccer ball in hand, which had been sitting on the front lawn.

"Hey, that's mine," Luke pouted, snatching the ball out of Calum's hands playfully and tossing it into the air, skilfully catching it again. "What if I don't make the A-team like you? You're an amazing player, I'll probably end up with the Cs," Luke said when Calum was quiet, and he threw the ball in the air again.

Calum rolled his eyes. "You're just as good a player as I am. Thus, you'll make the A-team. I guarantee it," he convinced, patting Luke on the back, although his mind was still clouded with doubt.

"What if the other players don't like me? What if the coaches hate me? What if they kick me out of the club? What if--,"

"Luke! Shut the fuck up! The players will like you, the coaches won't hate you, and you won't get kicked out of the club. Stop being so insecure," Calum interrupted, fed up with Luke's bullshit. He was so blind to how great a player he really was and it frustrated Calum to no end.

"Fine," Luke mumbled, suddenly feeling very small. He got offended extremely easily, which Calum knew, and he sighed loudly and deliberately, wrapping an arm around Luke's shoulders.

"Hey, it's all gonna be okay," he comforted, in a quiet, soft voice. "You're gonna do great. Don't worry."

Luke shrugged him off. Calum sighed again. They both walked in silence.

By the time they'd reached the soccer fields, both of them had cooled down and were back on speaking terms. There were already boys dribbling around and chatting to each other, fist bumping all their mates that they hadn't seen for the entire off season. It was like a giant reunion, and Luke felt like he was intruding. They had probably been playing together since they were kids, and now at the under eighteen level, they were all best friends and were completely comfortable with one another. Luke was just an outsider. He could already see this failing miserably.