Roofers.

46. For war and glory.

Scarlett POV.

The crowd roared. The field lights blared down onto the green grass and lit it with flames. The air buzzed with excitement. The wind stopped with scepticism; the sky held her breath with anticipation. Hundreds if not thousands of people watched, treating the game like an arena. The game of the gods. A great battle of gladiators. They were so loud that I forgot what my thoughts sounded like. I couldn't think of anything but this very moment — the moment that defined everything.

I didn't have to try hard to view the ocean of black and white — the sea of Astonville High's Panthers. We were an ocean of painted faces, pom-poms and streamers. Our school's war cries challenged the red enemy. Our rivals — The Riverton High Devils — were known to be ferocious. Some even questioned if beating them was possible, there'd been rumour's that they lived up to their name. Possessing the field like blood thirsty demons. They'd beaten us before, but that was before Jules - our secret weapon; before we'd become undefeated champions.

Candy shrieked with excitement as she grabbed hold of my arm and jumped around like a sugar-filled toddler. She beamed at me, smiling brightly, her face covered in black, glittering makeup almost seemed to glow.

She wasn't the only one excited. A goofy grin wouldn't leave my face. My stomach was filled with raccoons and my hands felt like they'd been drenched in vinegar. There was a trail of gunpowder in my veins and when I saw Jules run out onto the field, I exploded. In fact, we all did. The crowd screamed and thrashed around like wild animals. And I found myself screaming too.

Luka seemed to be enjoying himself too. With streaks of black face paint on his cheeks, he looked like a baby trying to act tough. It was adorable. He kept trying to roar with the crowd but his voice almost seemed too squeaky for that and despite it, he never once let that stop him.

The teams ran onto the field, clad in armour like gear. Helmets with iron teeth bared out at the enemy like apex predators. You could feel the tension radiating out into the cold air. The determination from both sides was palpable.

Jules held his helmet in one arm as the other aided him in an over-dramatic, theatrical bow. That cocky grin slid onto his face, charming the girls and even some boys in the crowd. I held my breath because this time I knew better. This time, I knew he was freaking out behind that soul trapping smile. This time I knew it was all an act. But he made the audience believe it was real. In their eyes, he was never afraid. His confidence lacked any trace of faltering or weakness. In another life, he'd be a world famous actor. His award-winning smile carried more weight than it ever had before, and his confident glare seemed a whole lot less arrogant now. I knew he was clouded in uncertainty. The only thing that hadn't changed was my faith that he'd win.

This was a war I knew we'd win — Jules didn't come all this way for nothing. The sound of war-cries revived something that seemed primal in us all, engraved in our bones as if it were something carved into the stars or embedded into our DNA. This was football, after all. And in this city, football was all we ever really had. It was the one time when where you lived didn't mean shit. Here, you could see a Valley hoodlum sitting right next to an Uptown Acres Aristocrat without so much as the blink of an eye. It was the only time when people didn't care who you were — as long as you were on the right side of the fence then you were family.

Ronan's eyes wandered over the arena. I shrieked as if he could hear me cheering for him even though I knew he was too far away. He gave one final smirk as he put his helmet on. He was still a fucking show-off that hadn't changed — not one bit.

The team prepared a scrimmage, crouching as they stared the red enemy in the face. Our enemy was built of big, ravenous, snarling beasts behind helmets like muzzles to keep them from bitting. They had the devil in their eye's and a soft spot for fresh blood. But now so did we; they had no idea was coming for them. The crowd held their breath. Jule's yelled something to his team, his team grunted in return. Tension hung thick in the air, enough to wrap itself around my throat and tug until I was light-headed. The game ignited like a forest fire and before I could think the crowd had gone ballistic.

Jules ran like Hermes, as if his shoes had been blessed with speed giving wings, they refused to let the enemy do so much as graze his shirt. But he played the game like Hades, with some sort of almost demented fervency that was enough to strike fear in us. You could see it in the way his body became rigid with muscle, every move he made seemed calculated, as if he had done this one hundred times over. He was like a god. Born to destroy his opponent's like dust in the palm of his hand. It was sickening — watching him dodge all those players as if they moved in slow motion. The buzz of a touchdown had become our drug and Jules was now the dealer — he kept giving us hits until I feared we'd overdosed, but we never did. The crowd was addicted. We could almost feel the victory running through our veins. My heart swelled with pride as I watched him. He scored point after point, touchdown after touchdown after touchdown. He made it look so easy. My boy was playing with everything he had.

It was as if the field was set ablaze with his tracks and the other team couldn't handle that kind of heat. He left them in the dust. Sprinting with everything in him, as if he was death himself. 

He deserved this more than anyone. Upon watching him practise everyday I'd seen him be the first to arrive and the last to leave. He was always the one to help his teammates, always the one to help with the cleanup afterwards. He pushed himself harder than anyone I'd ever met. Woke up every morning at 4 am to workout — tried his best to eat like a decent human being. And to win — well, he deserved at least that much. Life had dealt him one poor fuckery of a hand, but here he was, killing it despite that. That was one of the many things I loved about him.

This would be the last game of the season. After this it wouldn't be long 'til we graduated. And the more I thought about it, I wanted Jules to be with me long after that. I wanted to collar him. Make things a little more concrete. I knew I'd follow him wherever football took him, get my business degree there, then start working on Holloway Inc. That was my plan, at least for now.

Before we'd realised it, we had won. The panthers had smoked our Rivals because of our star — the centre of our universe, the pillar of this city. The crowd erupted like fireworks. The people were all shrieking and grinning. Both hoodlum and aristocrat hugged as if they were long lost family, with tears in their eyes and answered prayers tattoo'd to their lips. My heart was beating faster than I could make out.

From up here, I watched as Jules dropped to his knees as he tiredly he pulled off the helmet in the blaze of glory. His hair was wet with sweat as he looked up into the sky. His lips moved, and it was as if he was speaking to someone a hundred miles away with a whisper — perhaps to his mother or perhaps to someone else he'd loved once before. His hair stuck to his forehead, his clothes had been dampened by bucket loads of sweat too. His beautiful face shined like diamond glittering under the field lights. He panted for air as if he had returned from war — a battle that had lasted his whole life. The look of bliss on his face made me want to run onto the grass, wrap in him in my arms; have him wrap me in his and spin me around like nothing mattered. I wanted to kiss him. I really just wanted to kiss him. But I couldn't. This feeling would never get familiar, it would always hurt like an open wound buried in salt. It would always make me wither with sadness. I liked to believe it would go away eventually, but it never did.

His team mates came hurtling towards him, lifting him up into the air and chanting his name in praise.

"Ronan! Ronan! Ronan!" They yelled his name at the top of their lungs, like it was the name of the forgotten god who'd delivered them from their enemies.

The arena joined in; the crowds yelled his name until it echoed into the heavens.

Candy yelled something to Luka and I as she grabbed our hands and dragged us out onto the field, towards the team as they put Ronan down. Candy ran into Dante's arms and congratulated him with a kiss. And I waited on the sidelines, like I had to.

When I looked over to where Jules had been and caught him grinning at me. His face was still red from playing. His eyes glittered with joy and relief, holding the kind of innocence only he would ever have. I smiled back at him and ignored the urge to kiss him. He was my universe.

"I did it," he mouthed.

"You did," I returned.

"I love you," he mouthed.

"I love you too," I returned.