#i think a guy with such a significant history of injuries + surgeries + medical issues isn't in a hurry to voluntarily go under the knife

[varilien]

your one boobie vash is everything to me also thank you for your service soldier

HFKJDHKJFD YOU'RE SO WELCOME! thank YOU <3

he might be joking but knowing him,,

[fortitudina]

                DETAILED CHARACTER BIO QUESTIONS.

Name: Cillian Diarmuid Brockhurst ( Kye-Lan )

Nickname(s): Ci ( Kye ), Brocky, Snipes.

Name significance/meaning: Cillian ~ This name has several known meanings, including “war,” “strife,” and “bright-headed.” The word cille also means “associated with the church,” so the name is often associated with the word “church” or “monastery.”

Gender: Male

Age: 32

Birthday: 11th November

Deathday: ~

Star Sign/Astrology Sign/Zodiac Sign: Scorpio

Location: Los Angeles

Birthplace: Los Angeles

Ethnicity: Irish-American

Nationality: American

Race: Caucasian

Physical Appearance: Clean cut and well presented average height male with brunette hair and blue eyes.

Skin Tone: Sandy-Tan ( https://www.schemecolor.com/skin-pastels.php )

Complexion: fair, smooth & soft.

Eye Color: Old World Blue ( x )

Natural Hair Color: Brunette

Height: 5’10” / 1.78m

Weight: 77kg / 169 lbs / 12st 12lbs

Body Type: Mesomorph

Build: Muscular / Athletic

Posture: Healthy [ x ]

Birthmarks: Strawberry mark on his right hip.

Scars: Gunshot scar on the right side of his chest & left side of the hip region of his abdomen. Stabbing scar to his abdomen and one on the back on the right hip area. One on the back of his neck.

Left Handed/Right Handed/Ambidextrous: Right handed

Age Character Appears to Others: 32

Dyed Hair Color: undyed

Usual Hairstyle: Short

Tattoos: Army tattoo on right bicep

Piercings: none

Makeup Style: ~

Clothing Style: Smart-casual

Clothing Size:  Chest ~ 32inches / Waist ~ 26inches / Hips ~ 32inches

Shoe Style:  Steel-toed boots, sneakers, oxfords.

Shoe Size: 10

Nail Appearance: short, well kept.

Eyebrow Shape: Straight ( x )

Features: Soft features overall; perfectly symmetrical 

Face Shape: Oval

Facial Hair: Light stubble

Voice: Deep

Distinguishing Feature: Smile

Extrovert or Introvert: Ambivert

Personality Traits: Cheeky, Compassionate, Loyal

MBTI Personality: ESFJ-A

Optimist or Pessimist: Optimist

Temperament: Cheeky disposition

Mood: Cheerful

Attitude: Positive

Strengths: Caring, Kind, Giving

Flaws: Blunt, Hero Complex, Brash

Mannerisms: Smirking, quirking of eyebrow, cheeky grins

Habits: fiddling with pens or small objects

Morning Person or Night Owl: Morning person

Pet Peeves: idiots, bad lying, loud eaters, slow people ( walking etc )

Favorite Sin: Gluttony

Favorite Virtue: Patience

Weakness: Loved ones or friends & colleagues getting hurt / involved.

Strengths: Sharp-shooter, Skilled hand-to-hand combat.

Expressiveness: strong use of both facial expressions and hand movements.

Ruled by Heart or Mind: A little bit of both; more heart though.

Mindset: Positive

Philosophy:  “We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit”

Motivated by: Food, Justice, Happiness.

Everyday Speech: “The past is behind, learn from it. The future is ahead, prepare for it. The present is here, live it.”

Life Motto: “Don't count the days, make the days count.”

Energy Level: High

Memory Level: Eidetic (Photographic) Memory

Disabilities: none

Phobias: Incredibly small spaces. 

Addictions: Does pizza and poptarts count?

General aptitude: Fluid Intelligence

Mental Strengths: Problem-Solving, Psychoanalysis, 

Mental Weakness: Not a Genius 

Physical Strengths: Physically fit, keen hand-eye coordination, 

Physical Weakness: weakened cervical vertebrae from an old injury during a tour in Afghanistan

Past Illnesses: Chicken pox twice as a kid

Major Surgeries: Surgery to pin his cervical spine. Surgery to remove various bullets.

Accidents: Had several bumps and scrapes whilst at work.

Stability: Very Stable

Allergies: Pollen, Shellfish

Job Title: Detective

Company: LAPD

Career Type: Police

Education: High School, Military, Police Academy

College: ~

Work Ethic: Hard-working

Job History: Sniper in the Army, Beat Cop, Detective.

Income: $74,000 per anum

Political Party/Organizations: Doesn’t do politics

Volunteer Work: Helps at the Veteran’s housing association.

Dream job: Got it

What job would s/he do poorly at: Doctor

Career satisfaction: Love the job

Diet: Coffee and any food easy to grab on the go

Favorite Foods: Poptarts, Barbecue-based, Chicago stuffed crust pizza.

Favorite Drinks: Coffee, Beer, Cranberry juice.

Favorite Movie: Top Gun

Favorite Music: doesn’t really have a favourite

Favorite Book: doesn’t have time to read

Favorite Place: Does bed count?

Favorite activities: Running, Shooting, Cooking

Favorite time of day: Morning

What makes them happy? Catching the bad guys, seeing friends & family happy.

What makes them sad? Losing someone close to them.

Hobbies: Shooting, Running, Cooking, Singing

Interests: Films, Artwork

Favorite animal: Hyena

Loves to do: Wind people up and be cheeky

Hates to do: Paperwork

Inspired by: Former Army Colleagues

Raised by: (family) Mother and Father

Parent Status: Married ~ alive

Mother’s Name: Siobhan Marie Brockhurst

Mother’s Age: 63

Mother’s Background: Irish

Father’s Name: Patrick James Brockhurst

Father’s Age: 68

Father’s Background: American

Relationship with Mother: Close

Relationship with Father: Okay..

Parenting Type: Strict

Only Child? One of Three

First Born, Middle Child, or Youngest? Middle

# of Siblings: Second of three siblings

Relationship with Siblings: Close to brother; Distant with sister

Extended Family: ~

Family Relations: ~

How has family life shaped the character? Helped to both break him and make him who he is today

What they like most about their family: They will all get together for holidays and birthdays

What they dislike most about their family: The religious side

Children: Nil

Pets: Two Dogs

Best Friend(s): Doesn’t have one.

Worst Enemy: ~

Many acquaintances or few close friends? Few close friends

Sexual Preference: Any

Orientation: Pansexual

Relationship Status: Verse Dependent 

Marital Status: Verse Dependent

First Love: Carlie Anne Vaugn 

Current Love or Aspiring Love: Verse Dependent.

Notable Ex-Lovers: Azrael Mortem

Top 3 Loved Ones: ~

Top 3 Disliked Ones: ~ 

Who knows the character best? Eoghan, his brother or Lupita, his work partner.

Childhood: Cillian had a fairly stable upbringing; his parents in a strong marriage and with an older brother to help teach him the ropes, Cillian did well during his early school years and thrived in all of his subjects.

Adolescence: As he got to high school, he joined the football and soccer teams; being rather sporty as a child meant his fitness was impeccable. When he finished High school, instead of going to college, Cillian got in with the wrong crowd and ended up being arrested for Breaking and Entering and several counts of theft.

Young Adult: Went through Military training then, Cillian’s Regiment was sent to Afghanistan where they served three tours before he was shot in the Line of Duty after going through Hell being tortured with one of his comrades.

Adult: After being medically discharged from the army, Cillian took a year out for convalescence before joining LAPD. Given his history with the army, he soon shot up through the ranks until he became a Detective. He will also play the role of Police Sniper/marksman if they have to go into particularly tough situations that require an overwatch. 

Moments/Experiences that shaped them: Getting into the wrong crowd after High school. Being sent into the Army. Being captured and tortured during his final tour in Afghanistan. 

How have they changed as a person throughout their life? He has matured a considerable amount and become regimented and organised as an adult, with a respect for the law and bringing justice.

Major regrets: Getting involved with who he did as a teenager and ending up getting arrested.

Biggest life lessons learned: Don’t get arrested.

Religious Beliefs: Catholic

Upbringing: Strict & Religious

Core Values: Dependability, Consistency, Loyalty, Reliability, Integrity.

Morals: Always tell the truth, Treat others as you want to be treated, Be dependable, Be forgiving, Have integrity, Take responsibility for your actions, Have patience, Be loyal, Have respect for yourself and others

What does s/he believe is evil? The force in nature that governs and gives rise to wickedness and sin.

What does s/he believe is good? Morally excellent; virtuous; righteous; pious

Risks Worth Taking: Those that keep both the city and loved ones safe.

Important milestones: Making Lieutenant in the army. Reaching Detective in LAPD. NOT DYING whilst in both the Army or LAPD.

Achievements: The Purple Heart as a result of his capture & suffering endured during that time.

Failures: Getting Arrested as a teenager

Lifestyle: Busy

Character Traits: Hard-working, Brave, Compassionate, Honest, Successful, Fighter, Mischievous, Thoughtful, Sassy, Humorous, Helpful, Independent, Loyal, Courageous, Responsible.

Culture: 

Main Goal: Have a long and happy life, full of hard work, fun and family.

Minor Goal: Drive the damn car at work.

Desire: There are several.

Biggest mistakes: Getting in with the wrong crowd.

Life lessons: Not everyone is going to like you.

Dream Life: The one I have now

Worst Nightmare: The Hell I endured whilst on my final tour.

Favorite Memories: Winding my brother up. Making Detective. 

Least favorite memories: Getting Tortured

Things they want in life: Family. Love. Fun.

Things they don’t want in life: Suffering. Pain. Heartache.

What obstacles are currently in their way? Work.

Any secrets: Yes, but if you think he’s going to tell anyone, you’re idiotic.

Worldview: It’s just a little bit fucked.

Personal Hero:  Former Sergeant Major. 

Internal Conflict: Questioning if he’s good enough for his job at times.

External Conflict: Seeing the scars upon his body and being reminded of each event; wishing he could get rid of them all.

What others think of them: Fun and loveable; a genuine and caring guy. 

What they think of themselves: an idiot; not good enough. 

What they wish they could change: What they did in the past.

What they wish they could have: less strict father.

What gets them fired up: Liars. Suspects who think they’re clever. 

Their definition of a good life: A steady job with a family and friends surrounding them.

Risks worth taking: Anything that keeps both family and friends safe.

Things they take for granted: Coffee. Beer. Time at times.

What inspires them: Seeing justice get served. 

What they have doubts about: being good enough.

What makes them feel alive: The thrill of the chase.

What makes them want to do better: Any case they do not solve / Criminal that doesn’t get a guilty charge.

What do they want to be remembered for? Being a good and loyal man.

How will the character change? He might become a husband or a father? Perhaps even Lieutenant or Captain of LAPD some day.

[dothewrite]

I CAN 30000000% IMAGINE YOU WRITING A HANAHAKI DISEASE SCENARIO OKAY CHOOSE ANY HAIKYUU CHARACTER IDEC ITS JUST HANAHAKI GETS TO ME (PREFERABLY FEMALE PRONOUNS AND THE GIRL HAS THE DISEASE BUT THEN AT THE END THE GUY FINDS OUT AND THEY'RE LIKE GOOD FRIENDS OH GOD WHAT HAVE I DONE )

This. I can’t believe I did this. Basically 10k, and apparently I torture myself for fun. I bled for this thing like some Grecian slave about to get whipped by his master, good god, and I’m still not happy with it, but it’s done, and it’s out. I hope you enjoy. I really, really hope you do.

The HanahakiDisease is an illness born from one-sided love, where the patient throws upand coughs of flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. The infectioncan be removed through surgery, but the feelings disappear along with thepetals.

“There have beencases where patients have died, yes.”

You can stillenvision the doctor’s face, drawn and tired as he delivered your diagnosis toyou in an empty room that smelled of man and disinfectant. The first hint you’dreceived was how the doctor had handed you your new medication with the ease ofa thousand-day’s repetition, and you knew you weren’t rare at all.

Looking none theworse for wear, you had made your way out of the flooded hospital feeling nomore important than you were when you had entered.

Having thisdisease- having any disease- madework difficult, certainly. The punctures in your skin were awkward to explainat first, but your co-workers had gotten over their steadfast suicideprevention printouts when they had accidentally opened the door to your officeone afternoon to find you keeled over and suffocating. The injection packetscarefully placed in a drawer at your desk had transformed into a lifesaver inthat instant, from its prior purpose for reminding you how damaged you are. Andafter you had taken the afternoon off to save everyone from the trauma ofhaving to make eye contact with you for the rest of the day, they hadn’tbothered you about it since.

Still, it wasalmost alright again. As long as you took your medicine at the instructedintervals, your life carried on in a delightfully mundane fashion. More thanonce, you’ve had acquaintances of yours exclaiming over their cheap Americanbeer at the tidbit- how fascinating your life must be with such a romanticsounding disease! Could you possibly show them some of your flowers? They mustbe stunning.

The only properresponse is to smile, and join in their merrymaking. It didn’t feel veryromantic at all that night when you had been forcibly woken up mid-dream to afit that had left you sore and aching until morning. Your injections kept theinjuries, and therefore blood, away with its material-softening properties, andthat was the single thing you could feel thankful for. Perhaps if it were anyperson other than yourself, you’d think it a beautiful sight too.

There are morningswhere the nights have been particularly painful, and in compensation, you waketo a floor of beautiful cherry blossoms basking in the early rays of sunlightat your feet.

The unearthlyeffect lasted until the clock hit eight, and your trusty alarm reminded youwith its gentle bubbling to take your next injection within the next fifteenminutes.

You’ve gotten usedto sudden pinch in your skin whenever the needle pricks your arm, but there’snever anything pleasant about the strange burn that would course through yourblood like liquid metal until it fades away. There isn’t a green light lettingyou know if it’d worked. You’d simply have to take the bet, and if you’relucky, the petals in your lungs would have softened enough for it not to hurtthe next time your coughing started.

Lately it’s becomea habit of yours to stare emptily at your bank account online. You wonder whyit suffocates you so to consider removing the affliction altogether with thesurgery funds you’ve managed to save up. Yet, the evenings always end with youclosing the webpage, reaching for your next injection and waiting for spring toarrive again in your lungs.

“How’ve you beenfeeling lately?”

Akaashi’s taken toasking you this question each time the two of you come within reasonabledistances of each other, despite your weekly phone calls. You don’t think thathe’s ever quite gotten over the scare when he’d discovered, along with you,that you’d suddenly been bestowed the magical, life-threatening ability tocough flowers. He looks every bit as serious about it now as he did on thatbefore-and-after night.

“I’m doingalright,” you answer truthfully. “Nothing more stressful than bosses withincompetent PAs, but life’s going on just about the same as it had last week,if you must know.”

“Okay, but youtold me about the PA two nights ago, drunk. I meant your body. Have you takenyour injection before coming out tonight?”

“Yes, mom,” youroll your eyes, but you’re smiling, “I have it timed and everything. I’m goingto have to start on the next arm today, I think.”

Akaashi shakes hishead, ever exasperated with the ease with which you discuss relatively seriousmedical issues, and takes your left arm in a gentle grip. He runs two fingersover the light markings that pepper your indoor skin, and although the scarsfaded quickly, they don’t fast enough to escape Akaashi’s firm scrutiny. Hisface falls ever so slightly when he roams over your arm and finds no spare skinleft.

“It’s getting easier,”you add, but your gut twists, “I generally move my schedule so I’m comfortableand alone when it comes around.”

“Alright,” he saysreluctantly, “remember to let me know if you need any help. Any whatsoever.”

“I will,” youpromise. “So cheer up, Keiji, it’s a clear night, and we’re here to party.”

“Party, pffft.” He’s tiptoeing the lineto laughter, so you consider that a victory.

The walk to themassive gymnasium is a quick one. This early in the evening, the sun barelybeginning to dye itself orange, there are scarce people not occupied with workto loiter. The two of you pause at the polished gates, giving a quick wave tothe security guard you’ve rather become friends with, and he unlocks the doorfor the two of you with a cheery wave in reply.

The evening issupposed to be a quiet one, with Akaashi’s upcoming promotion (which means morework) and Bokuto’s upcoming qualifiers next week, there’s not much chance forthe three of you to go gallivanting off somewhere like in the days of yourlong-lost youth, a mere five years ago. Sometimes you find that you miss thosedays when you’re sat at your desk, ploughing your way through paperwork thatseems no more significant in the grand scheme of things than ice cream inwinter. But you’ve got a picture of the two of them sitting by your tired oldwork computer, cheering you with rather impersonal gazes. You feel pride whenyou see the excited gleam in Akaashi’s eyes when he successfully finishes acase, and you lose your voice cheering when you watch Bokuto’s matches and hetoo is roaring in victory; they’re your anchors, and it’s a possessive joy.

Today’s a goodday, and you feel inspired enough to venture that you might have a similar partin their lives too.

Bokuto catchessight of the two of you almost immediately when Akaashi pokes his head aroundthe broad gym doors. He starts to wave, almost dislocating a joint doing so,and you hear Akaashi’s laughter accompanying your own. Although you can’t saythat you aren’t thrilled to see Bokuto each time, what kind of normal personwould be so unreasonably excited to see their friends?

“Guys!!” He hollers at the top of his lungs, possibly afraid that Africa mightnot catch his voice. Bokuto the prospective opera singer instantly gets toldoff by his traumatized looking coach, and you note that he’s looking none toosorry at all.

“Come on,” Akaashitugs at your elbow, “if we stand here, he’s never going to actually make it outof the gym.”

You gesture atBokuto, trying to tell him that you’ll be waiting for him outside the gym asusual, and he nods vigorously. You see Akaashi’s point.

Plus, waitingisn’t so bad, not with Akaashi’s quiet commentary about his office woes, youroffice woes, and the collective woes of the unfortunately born middle class,against a purpling autumn sky. Bokuto’s a quick changer, you have faith.

A happy roarechoes through the empty field all of a sudden, and several birds dart away atthe sound. Noticing Bokuto’s entrance is a poor test of spatial awareness,thanks to his gift at announcing his presence. The two of you turn around justin time to see him skid to a stop behind your bench, not a drop of sweatbreaking on his temple, and his characteristic beam is exactly where it belongson his face.

“Good practice?”Akaashi asks.

“Nah.” Bokutogestures hurriedly, and you and Akaashi get to your feet upon his summoning. “Igot told off a lot today. Couldn’t focus, I think, but can you blame me? I’m super excited for our dinner!”

“Let’s not getahead of ourselves here, you’d be excited even if we went to get Burger King,”you grin.

Bokuto beams somemore at the truth of the statement, and you suspect you’re at risk of goingblind. “Yeah! But this is special, for Akaashi.”

Akaashi stares himdown. “And I’m certainly not having my dinner at Burger King.”

“You’ve changed,man, you’ve changed!”

“It’s calledaging.” Akaashi sighs emphatically. The giggles start to spill over between thethree of you because Akaashi sighing is always a beautiful scene, and it feelslike almost no time had passed at all.

You all pile intoAkaashi’s car, of course. It’s a no brainer, with Bokuto holding the worldrecord for the most indecisive car purchase in history, and you with your wreckof a car sulking in a garage somewhere for repairs. It’s a united decision;besides, there isn’t an excuse good enough in the world not to lounge in apolished Audi when the opportunity arises.

It’s only a shortride, but it’s a happy, lush one that has you humming and sighing insatisfaction as the soft leather rumbles around you. Bokuto in the front seatis valiantly attempting to hold in his delighted howls each time Akaashi spurshis ride on, and alone in the back seat, you watch the life around you pass by.You press the heel of your palm against your mouth to keep in the laughter.

When Akaashi pullsup in front of the entrance of an extravagantlyexpensive hotel, both you and Bokuto share in a collective prayer for yourwallets. Akaashi takes his time unbuckling the seatbelt and hands his keyspolitely to the valet, but Bokuto is the one who scrambles out of his seatfirst. It takes him no time at all, despite being tied and wrapped up in a suitand tie and the whole package, for him to walk over briskly and open your doorfor you. You’re far too occupied with not staring at his let-down hair todecline, and the arches of your feet groan in pain from your pointed heels asyou step out of the car.

“Those are prettyhigh,” he comments, not meeting your eyes either.

You rub your neckawkwardly. “Yeah. I probably shouldn’t wear them the next time we do somethinglike this.”

“No-“ he cuts in,and you’re surprised by how insistent he sounds, “-they look nice on you.”

“Oh… Thank you.”

Bokuto looksmildly conflicted. “I mean, if it hurts, then of course you shouldn’t wearthem. Doesn’t seem too great to be in pain just to look pretty- I’ll carry youhome if it hurts too much!”

The laugh you’reholding in between tightly pressed lips starts to push at your cheeks, and toyour relief, Akaashi steps in looking amused.

“Koutarou, you’rejust digging yourself in deeper.” Bokuto nods in full agreement, equallyrelieved, but looks pleased when you snort with laughter. “Let’s get going,shall we?”

You slip betweenthe two of them, and proffer your elbows to them as gentlemanly as possible.They slip their hands into the crook without hesitation, and the three of youmake your way towards your table like children without a care in the world.

“You look verynice today, Koutarou,” Akaashi murmurs later over his wine.

“Since you told meoff last time for not having anything nice,” Bokuto says, “I had this made.”

You look up from yourfood. “Don’t you have suits for your press conferences?”

“Yeah, I do, but‘Kaashi says they don’t fit me well.”

“You’re twice thesize of a normal human being,” answers Akaashi, nonplussed, “you can’t walkinto a store and expect their suits to fit you without getting them tailored.”

“You have changed, Keiji,” you grin. Bokutocheers when you manage to dodge a well-aimed flick from Akaashi’s wine glass.

“And I’m not twiceyour size. You play volley too!”

“I hadn’t noticed,Mister Wing Spiker. How you manage to fit into your shirts is beyond me.”

“I’ve heard ofsome elastic sports bras for men or something,” you add, “you think we shouldget him some?”

“I don’t need a bra!” cries Bokuto as heburies himself into his napkin.

Akaashi begins tochuckle, and you follow with a poorly hidden snigger. It’s not long untilBokuto’s dragged into the maelstrom of contagious laughter by the ankles, andhis is the loudest of all. It’s a chain reaction, and you laugh so hard thatwine sprays out of your nose (the waiter comes by with a napkin looking veryunimpressed), and although you’ve instantly become their new target, there’s nostopping the ridiculously elated burn that begins to hurt your chest.

Saying no todesserts turns out to be a wise choice. Wine, is a much more acceptablealternative to sugar, and you’re all thankful for the space left in yourstomachs for more alcohol. After dinner activities include some tired, oldscenic view rather than any raucous activity; it’s a well-known place, awaterfront hideaway a couple of streets away from the car. The three of youlook a little out of place with your immaculate do-ups next to the couples andgroups of teenagers in the late evening, but that’s what the Pinot Noir is for.

A small enclosureis all you need, and at nine in the evening with minimal, environmentallyfriendly lighting, the steps leading down towards to where the water breaksagainst bare concrete seems to stretch on for miles on either side of yoursmall group. Akaashi settles in behind you, handing you your drink, and Bokutoshifts to make himself comfortable beside you both.

You’re tempted tolean back just an inch more to dump all your weight on Akaashi’s legs, but youknow how he’d respond: he’d talked your ear off for half an hour about creasinghis clothes the first time you’d done it.

Still, you do itanyway. Bokuto grins at you conspiratorially, almost egging you on, and youstick your tongue out at him and way just to act your age.

“Alcohol certainlymakes us mature, doesn’t it?” says Akaashi dryly.

You’re the firstto laugh, and Bokuto joins shortly after. Your wine swirls dangerously in yourglass as you shake, balanced precariously between tipsy fingers.

“It’s a goodnight,’ you shrug. It’s a shite excuse, but nobody cares.

“It is,” agreesBokuto.

It’s its owncertainty of the universe tonight that Bokuto Koutarou looks beautiful againstthe shimmering lights of high rise buildings. It’s too dark, they’re too happyand you’re too drunk to police your urges in the heat of the moment, and yourquiet defeat takes the chance to transform itself once in a blue moon, back intothe longing that it was born as. Bokuto’s hair is down, a good enough reason initself to stare, and the gigantic billboards, worth only in the colour thatthey exude, paints itself on the slivers of white that dash against Bokuto’sblack hair.

You hope you’restill looking in the general direction of ‘forwards’, because this imperfect,sideways image would be enough to haunt you for several evenings to come. Hispristine sleeves are rolled up on his forearms, almost a sacrament to how muchit probably costs, and Bokuto leans back in a way so casual that it can onlybelong to him. His wine dances on imperceptibly gentle fingers as ink does on acrystal dish, and he looks like a king, admiring his drink.

He brings it tohis lips to take a sip, and you force yourself to avert your eyes.

You can guess thatyour room will look like a florist’s dream tomorrow morning, yet somehow, youcan’t bring yourself to regret looking.

“What do you thinklove is?” Akaashi asks, all of a sudden.

“What?”

He looks asmysterious as ever when you turn around with a frown. Bokuto’s eyes remainfixed right ahead, brows furrowed. You choose not to answer this trickquestion.

“Are you in love,Akaashi?” Muses Bokuto, and he grins at the idea.

“No.”

You sigh into yourglass. Bokuto glances at you, but you miss it with your eyes downcast.

You venture asmall daydream of getting on a boat, and sailing far, far away from yourtroubles, so far that your lungs forget that you were ever in love at all.

Despite your longefforts, there has always been something wild and untamable about the mattersof the heart. You can no more keep what beats in you silent, for love is not aquiet affair, not even unrequited love, and its jail takes your days tomaintain.

“I’d better getgoing.” Akaashi gently pushes you off his legs, and gets to his feet.

“Already?” Youblurt out, but he only presses his empty glass into your hand. Now you havetwo.

“I had funtonight,” he nods, “but it’s my cue to leave. You two enjoy the night a littlelonger.”

Bokuto looksconfused, startled by the sudden announcement, but he doesn’t protest. Althoughit would make it easier on your nerves to follow up with your own departure,you know that there’s no way you’d be able to leave Bokuto alone here. Not evento make it easier on your own nerves.

All the while,Akaashi’s eyes bore into you.

“Goodnight!” Hecalls when he’s almost out of view. You wave weakly, and consider abandoningthe wine glasses altogether for the bottle itself.

He’d expect aphone call when you get home safely, of course. More often than not, you’vewondered how you’ve managed to land as good a surrogate mother as AkaashiKeiji.

“Is everythingalright with him?” Bokuto wonders, “that was strange.”

“He’s fine,” youmumble, “he’s probably just scheming, as usual.”

Bokuto doesn’t askmore.

You carefullyplace Akaashi’s glass to one side, and trace your fingers along the edges ofyour own. Now mostly empty, the little flashes of colour from the skylineparade themselves on the colourless canvas. Your chest is aching all the while,as Bokuto waits for you to feel comfortable enough to speak again.

Always with manyoptions, they tap at your mind. You could talk about the evening, dinner, orhis clothes- even work, or volleyball or anything at all, just to fall intowhat would be a companionable lull. But it would be a discourtesy to fill agift with white noise.

“It’s gettingworse lately,” you begin. Liquid courage can only help so much. “My coughing. Ithink Akaashi wanted me to tell you more about it, rather than sit around andkeep things from my friends.”

“And?” Bokuto askssoftly.

Your head is stilllowered, but you shift to face him a little more with your body. Bokuto,however, is already miles ahead. He already has; attention only on you.

“I… also I decidednot to get the operation,” you say. “You know I’ve been on the fence about itsince I found out. I’m… pretty terrible when it comes to things like these.”

“Operations areserious things,” Bokuto reassures.

Perhaps. Bokutodoesn’t push further than this, giving you some breathing space. He’s beenthere for you whenever he can, you come to a slow realization as you count themoments uncountable, and it makes you lack. The nights, the quick afternoons ofexistentialism and Bokuto’s worried expressions are not easily forgotten, andyou feel apologetic for putting him in such positions constantly.

He’s waiting now,for you to decide that it’s okay to be vulnerable for him.

Little does heknow.

“I’ve been savingup for it since it’s not really a part of my projected expenses, and therearen’t many specialists. I’ve got enough now, and more, but there’s somethingthat holds me back.”

Bokuto fills inyour blanks for you kindly, and without impatience.

“What is it?”

You open yourmouth, and you close it again. “It’s… not something I can say just like this, Ithink.” You gesture vaguely at the sky. “Maybe another drink.”

“If you drink somuch, you’re gonna need to pee pretty soon,” Bokuto says, but his hands arealready reaching for the bottle on the concrete step behind you. You both watchin silence as the stream of burgundy slowly fills the wineglass in unevensplashes.

“Koutarou,” yousay slowly, “if I make it to the bathrooms this drunk, in this outfit, Ideserve a reward.”

“I think that notpissing your pants is a pretty good reward,” supplies Bokuto with a wide grin.

“I’ll ask you tocarry me then,” you answer easily, and Bokuto laughs and agrees like itwouldn’t be any trouble for your struggling little heart.

It’s always Bokutowho’s larger than life, larger than possibility, and his laughter is enough tobrighten several days’ worth of mist, rain, and whatever storms that decide tosettle themselves into your day.

“You’ll be thedeath of me,” you admit, tone fond and warm despite the crisp evening chill.

“There are worseways to go.” Bokuto grins, and all of a sudden you think of the number in yoursavings account, and the photograph of the pulmonologist on your laptop eachevening. The website had been polished and clean, and you imagine your lifeafter surgery to be quite similar in semantics to whatever you’re living now.

Pristine,sanitized, and a weary announcement of the time of death.

“Speaking ofgoing.” You allow yourself a second attempt when Bokuto makes no move to sayanything more. “I think that’s the closest reason why. Why I wouldn’t want thesurgery.”

Bokuto frowns atyour vague suggestion of ‘going’. “Are you worried about the success rate? Ithought that it was a minimally invasive surgery. You won’t be at much risk ofuh, dying, not unless there’s someone who majorly screws up.”

“You’ve done yourresearch,” you say, surprised.

It surprises youwhen instead of the enthusiastic ‘of course!’, or the bashful ‘yeah’, Bokutotugs the wine glass out of your tight grip (unfinished, you note) and frownssome more.

“I’ve doneresearch, and more. It’s a serious thing for you, and you’re a serious thing tome. Of course I’m gonna do all theresearch; I’m worried for you, even if I’m not around all the time like Akaashiis. So don’t you think that I’m okay with you coughing your lungs out all thetime.”

“Technically, it’s not my lungs I’mcoughing out-“

“Aw, shut up,” Bokutohuffs, but you’ve managed to pry a small smile out from him. “Your beautifulflowers, then.”

“You think they’rebeautiful?”

“Not when they’rehurting you. But I guess this whole thing- it’s like one of those things out ofa story, those super old ones with dragons and virgins. It’s romantic in apretty shitty way.”

Bokuto’s neverstruck you as particularly romantic, nor nostalgic for lost tales, but thismust simply be another way life decides to remind you that even you, someonewho thinks they know everything there is to know, miss things in cracks.

Yet, youunderstand his feeling. Sometimes in the mornings, or dusk, in the safety ofyour own room where your injections are always a comfortable distance away, thepetals fall from your mouth without pain and seem to change shades as the sunshifts across the sky.

“I like the purpleones the best,” says Bokuto.

You blink. “Oh,the bellflowers?”

“No, aren’t thebellflowers the really light coloured ones? I mean the velvet looking ones; thereally dark purple petals. Do you know what I’m talking about?”

“Oh,” you breathe,because Bokuto’s shifted closer and his earnestness glows in his amber eyes.“You’re talking about the gladioli.”

“Yeah!” He snapshis fingers. “Those! I’ve always liked their name, but I keep forgetting it.”

“It’s okay, nobodyreally mentions them.”

“I don’t see themmuch in flower shops though,” muses Bokuto.

“You’ve looked?”This time he does look slightly embarrassed, and you find it endearing in waysthat conjure up a whole new myriad of floral species in your body. “I couldprobably have brought you some if they came up again. You should have told me!”

“No, no,” Bokutoshakes his head firmly. “I’ll keep looking for them. I don’t want anything thathurts you.”

You suppose not.He’s a better man than you are, and although there’s rarely a day that passeswhere you consider your illness ‘pretty’ and nothing else, Bokuto’sencouragement on nights like these somehow imbue you with the miraculousability to talk about it as if it’s nothing more than nature. It would be toomuch, to ask Bokuto to simply continue his fondness for your purple flowers,and forget about the rest that comes with.

“You’ll have towait then,” you tell him softly, “gladioli are summer flowers.”

You don’t evenlike flowers, which is the true irony of all this. You’ve only ever researchedevery different type of flower that you’ve ever coughed up to find anacceptable reason to despite them, but you can hardly do that now. Not whenBokuto wants to find them in flower shops.

“Will you tell mewhat you really meant by ‘going’?” He asks, finally.

“What I meant bygoing…” you murmur. It’s as if the longer you sit in silence, the further timewill stay still. “You… you know I don’t keep the feelings, right? Once I getthe operation.”

“Mhm.”

You can’t deciphera single thing from Bokuto’s pinched expression, and your fingers itch forsomething to crush.

“It’s a shame,”you say, “to have suffered this long and for everything to disappear. Does thatmake sense?”

“Not yet,” Bokutosays. “Like, I kinda get where you’re coming from, but you’re usually reallylogical and rational. I don’t get how you’re not gonna do a surgery that takesaway what could kill you, just because you don’t want to waste your efforts.That just doesn’t make sense to me. Wouldn’t you get a surgery to cut out atumour you’ve had for two years if you got the chance to?”

“That’s the thing.” The back of your eyes burn.“This- my feelings aren’t a tumour.Koutarou-“

“Yeah?”

“I’ve never hatedmy feelings. Never regretted them. Not once. And I never will.”

“Doesn’t it hurt,though?” He asks. His voice is aching, as if it’s his heart that’s blisteredand battered from an unrequited love. For a moment, you forget your ownstruggle and careens into the tumultuous sea that is Bokuto; he wears heartachethat isn’t his own, and it is just so.

You smile, becauseit’s a question asked from kindness, and it’s Koutarou. “Yeah, it does, but I’mused to it. Have you never had a one-sided love before?”

“Not really,”Bokuto admits, “I just tell them when I like them. If they don’t like me back,then I get rejected.”

“Then they clearlydon’t know what they’re about,” you shake your head. “Nobody would ever loseout on a chance with you if they knew how you really are.”

“Right?” Bokuto’s beam is back. “That’swhat I tell them all the time, but nobody seems to believe me. I’m awesome.”

“You are,” youwholeheartedly agree.

He calms down alittle, and looks at you. “And so are you, y’know that? I’m starting to getwhat you’re trying to say now.”

Your smile beginsto hurt on your face. “And what’s that?”

“You wanna keepyour feelings for this person because you still like them.” He pauses. “Okay,wait, that sounds really dumb and obviously, you do, but I mean it like, you want to keep liking them.”

And nothing haschanged. Not the fact that you’re still not getting the surgery, you’re stillsick, and you’re still in love, but your heart doesn’t give a shit about allthat. It incites its own riot against your ribcage, pounding against its ownimprisonment; it wants to be free,like it was born to be, like all love is free and to experience everything foritself in the big wide everywhere.

Now, you knowyou’re no longer insane on your lonesome. You’re not just making any ridiculouschoice and losing yourself to one-sided passions that dictate your life anddeath, because Bokuto gets it.

And is that notwhat we all want in life? To suffer, and to be understood for it?

“Yeah,” you reply.“That’s it.”

Bokuto doesn’t sayanything for a while.

For a man with somany words to say, his silence is more damning than any of the endless hoursyou spend in front of your desk, head empty and soul evacuated from thepremises. When he finally opens his mouth hesitantly, you can’t help but leanforwards on the edge of your seat to catch it.

“I guess I getthis whole thing from both sides now. Of course I still want you to get theoperation and everything, because I���m always worried about your health, but Iget it. Even if I’ve never been hurting like you have before.”

“Thank you,” yousay, and your breath steals a position in your throat when Bokuto takes bothyour hands in his.

“I’m happy ifyou’re happy,” Bokuto tells you. “I’ll support you, no matter what you choose,and I want you to tell me if you’re ever lonely, or really sad, okay? ‘Cuspeople make such a big deal about being brave and letting go and stuff, butthey don’t know what you know. It’s not like I do, like, all of it, but I believe in you. You’re not being acoward and running away from doing the brave thing, ‘cus for you it’s probablyscarier to hold on than to stop feeling, am I right? So I think you’re brave.Really brave.”

Are you? All thetimes where you’d pulled up the webpage, or tapped your clinic’s number intoyour phone, only to let your fingers slip from their place. Those moments leaveyou miserable, knowing that you’re so close, and the only thing that stop youis you, and you can’t take that. Isthis bravery?

Bokuto doesn’tlook so stern anymore. Although your eyes aren’t meeting, he’s watching youflip your emotions through your fingers like a worn card deck, and he takesyour silence as acceptance. After all, you hadn’t said no. If it were anyoneelse, they would have been able to tell that you’d believe him even if he toldyou that the sun sets in the east.

It’s instantlycolder when Bokuto’s fingers fall away from yours.

“I’ll go get ussomething warm to drink. Something that isn’t alcohol.” He grins, but it’sgentle. A nursing smile, soothing an injured deer. “Maybe a cake too, if theysell those by the snack cart.”

“Kou, you’re an athlete,” you remind him, but it’s fartoo late and he’s walking away with a small skip in his step at the idea ofactual dessert.

Still, it’sprobably not too bad of an idea to stop drinking your problems away. At thisrate, it’s not impossible that you’ll end up passed out with your skirt aboutyour neck.

It’s stilldifficult, arguably even more difficult now, to tear your eyes away from hisloosely set hair and the way he walks with the confidence of a man who knowsexactly where he’s headed in life. It’s still a fact that everything’s notquite alright yet, but you feel redeemed enough. The bulk of your burden hasbeen scrubbed away.

A tickle forms inyour throat, and you worry for a brief second that Bokuto might catch youcrying.

However, youdidn’t need to worry about the tears. You’re too distracted by the entireemotional fanfare of yours to notice the familiar sensation of flowers creepingup on you, utterly unaware.

Your first feelingis a damning, fucking, hatred forthis godforsaken disease, unwilling to leave you with a single night’s peace.The second, is a mind-numbing panic that sets into the corners of your visionwhen, after fumbling through your meagre excuse of a handbag, you realize thatyou’ve brought no spares.

You know that you’ve timed it carefullytonight, especially tonight, and Akaashi’s even asked. Calculated to within amargin of error of half an hour, and yet, you feel the petals multiplying inthe dips of your lungs, and you know that it’s only seconds until you’recoughing fully blossomed flowers up your windpipe.

Inhaling, to noneof your surprise whatsoever, is becoming more of a struggle, and you slap ashaking hand over your mouth to muffle the ragged gasps, struggling for oxygenand trying your best not to make a scene.

Your coughing isnever quiet. It’s always a filthy, deathly sound that accompanies thesupposedly elegant petals, and you can feel your capillaries beginning to burstin your cheeks. Your eyes begin to swell when the first fits arrive, and yousee that they’re bellflowers, covered with threads of your own spit.

You disgustyourself.

“Holy shit-“ you hadn’t noticed him returning at all, andBokuto’s audibly short circuiting behind you. Did he manage to find cake? Youhope he doesn’t spill the drinks. “Where’s your shot? Is it in your bag?! Fuck, fuck, fuck-“

You shake yourfree hand at him. Your right is far too occupied with covering your own mouth,although it’s helping with absolutely nothing except for the outpour of yourown saliva, and you gesture at Bokuto to sit down next to you.

Bokuto doesn’t, ofcourse. He almost kicks over the wine as he breaks out into a stressed littledance behind you. “Phone, I need myphone, where the hell is Akaashi when you need him?!”

It’s anexceptionally brutal night, as if the disease had simply lost its temper withyour emotional progress and decided to give you something to choke about.You’re not quite sure what’s burst in you when a sudden coppery tang hits yourmouth, and the smell starts to sink into the back of your nasal cavity untilit’s the only thing you can smell in the air. Your elbows are on your knees,the only thing propping you up and your head is cradled in-between your kneesin an excellent example of in-flight safety.

“He’s not pickingup,” Bokuto gasps, “he’s not picking up.Shit, no shot, no car, oh my god, I’mcalling 911-“

Immediately, youuse your first breath of air to rasp as loudly as you can at him.

“Sit down!”

He does, he does, and that combined with yourimpending doom is enough of a kick up the arse for you. Who doesn’t want to diewithout regrets? And maybe you will, maybe you won’t, but it most certainlyfeels like death, and this is going to be the best excuse you’re ever going toget.

“It’s you,” youtell an absolutely terrified Bokuto. “The one-sided thing.”

“Huh?”

Bokuto’s obviouslychosen a fantastic time to slip into a moronic version of himself.

“Love. You.” You grit. The flowers are slowing,but their size is growing, and the watery liquid pooling around the back ofyour tongue is definitely blood. Without your injection, the petals have becomefirmer, more solid, and it’s enough to scrape a great deal of skin off youresophagus, making the urge to cough stronger. “Idiot!”

And that might bethe last word you ever say, because fully fledged flowers are spilling out ofyour mouth, forcing your jaws wide apart for them to fit through, whole. Youcan feel a stem forming in the back of your throat that scrapes like nailsagainst your flesh, and the horrific image of you pulling and pulling at itlike some fucked up magic trick terrifies you into sobs you can’t properlysound.

Bokuto- he’s the worst person to see you in this state- a slobbering, bleedingmess and there’s nothing you can do to stop everything splattering onto the hemof his slacks.

You can hardlyfeel it yourself when he throws himself into your radius, and crushes his lipsagainst yours desperately.

It doesn’t lastfor long. You’re gagging, and he’s shaking, and you shove him away instantly.Bokuto reels backwards in abject terror as one does, watching a train wreckitself against a sheer rock face, and his hands stretch out towards you, stuckin the middle as he tries to make his mind up as to whether or not to drag youcloser.

“I’m calling anambulance,” he whimpers, and points his phone threateningly in your face,daring you to stop him. “You’re gonna die!”

It’s the stem,it’s the stem! Ignoring his hand, yousteel yourself and shove as many fingers as you can fit into your mouth, andscramble for the end of the remaining flower. It’s the size of your palm, andyour jaw feels like someone poured gasoline onto your neck and set you on fire,but you grip onto whatever you can and pull.

Squeezing youreyes shut makes the feeling ten times worse, but you’re not going to look likea damned freak show, tugging and tugging on what feels like roots that have grafted themselves alongyour lungs.

It lasts minutes,maybe forever, but all you know is that it’s slime, and blood, and a fuck loadof pain when it all comes out of your throat. You can breathe, but with the pain of a thousand needles, andphlegm makes your breaths choppy.

You glance once atBokuto’s traumatized face with red-rimmed eyes, and promptly empty your stomachall over his shoes.

“Oh my god.” Youwipe your face with your ruined sleeve and take a generous gulp of the nearestglass of wine. “I really thought I was going to die.”

Bokuto looks as ifyou really did. You’ve never seen him so pale in his life.

“Ambulance,” Bokuto says weakly, “Ididn’t manage to call one.”

“It’s stopped,”you insist, “please, I really don’t want to end up in another hospital.”

“You could have died! I just- I just sat there anddidn’t do anything-“

“That’s not true!”You fall to the irresistible urge to look away. There was one thing about theentire catastrophe that wasn’t on you, and your embarrassment leaves youfeeling shattered enough to almost forget that the contents of your stomach arestill marinating Bokuto’s loafers. “You stopped my cough. It would have gone onfor a lot longer if you hadn’t.”

“You mean-“ Hiseyes grow to the size of lanterns. “You mean if I hadn’t kissed you, you wouldhave actually died?”

“Er, I… can’t saythat’s not a possibility,” you say into your wine.

“Oh my god.”

“I’m alright now,I promise!” You promise, because there are a dozen other things running throughyour mind that are infinitely more worrying to you than your health. “Wait-Kou, did… did you kiss me because you were… scared?”

It takes severalstunned moments, but Bokuto looks absolutely furious.

You can count onone hand the number of times you’d seen him genuinely angry, and none of thosetimes had been at you.

“We’re goinghome.”

He stands up,blood, mucus, vomit and all, and turns on his heel towards the main roadwithout once looking back.

And what can youdo but follow? Your feet no longer drag but sting, and as you leave your messbehind on the pavement, you wonder if this would’ve all been better if you’dsimply suffocated instead.

The taxi rideserves to be some very awkward twenty minutes.

The driver hadmade no comment when two customers, in the dead of night, asked for a liftsmelling like curdled milk. Bokuto had still held the door open for you, insilence, but his thunderous expression had kept your lips sealed shut and bodyleaned away for the entire ride.

Even now, you onlyfeel as if you’d been wrung through an out of body experience, surreal, andfrom a third person perspective. You remember little more than the first fewseconds and the last, everything in-between a sort of blur of lots of differentfluids mingling on your face. Your worn throat still scratches at you with eachbreath you take as quietly as possible, and along with your ruined clothes andyour furious companion, they slide together into a puzzle piece of utterdissociation between you and your disease.

When you canbarely wrap your head around the entire wreck that was this evening, your fearof Bokuto’s reaction buzzes around in your mind in pulses of static.

It isn’t hisrejection you’re afraid of. You’ve been living with your feelings for so long,and his kind and pained ‘I’m sorry’ is something you’ve taken to envisioningmultiple times a day for practice, its only impact on you now is the gentlecoldness of someone pressing ice against your skin, nothing more. However, youmost certainly hadn’t expected him to be angry.

The car finallystops, and the car seems to rumble even more when it parks itself poorly alonga silent pavement. The very marrow of metropolitan Tokyo fills the gapingsilence of a tuneless ride, and Bokuto’s apartment complex looms ominouslyahead of you.

He turns sideways tostare at you, and gestures with a hand for you to follow. It’s late, and thefoyer is empty of its rich, city-dwelling inhabitants, either already asleep,or not returning home for the night. With each flicker of the lift climbinghigher and higher and its infernal elevator music, Bokuto unwinds his hardedges with each trill of the violin in slow, smooth movements. The loose knotsof his unraveling anger drapes over what remains of the tension between youtwo, and when the elevator dings, Bokuto presses a hand to the small of yourback and quietly guides you forwards.

“Wait here,” hetells you. You stay where you are on his pristine sofa in quilted leather,amazed at how much an apartment can fall so far from its inhabitants. It’suntouched, polished with his superstar salary, and its tidiness is telling ofexactly how much time Bokuto has to spare to spend relaxing in his house.

He reappearsquickly from around a corner, carrying a small plastic case and several wettowels with him. He places the box in your upturned palms.

“I’ve thesespare,” he says, turning the box over with his fingers, “but I don’t know howto do it properly.” It clicks open with a twist of a lever, and you pull out afamiliar looking needle. Bokuto reaches out, tempted to feel the point, butpulls back just before he makes contact. “Can you teach me?” He asks.

“Kou… you havethese?”

“Yeah,” and hesays it like you’ve just landed moons away from the point, “what if you cameover without your shots? I gotta be prepared.”

“Kou.”

“Why- should I nothave? Why are you crying?”

“These are prescription only,” you warblemiserably, “oh, you make things so hard for me. Always.”

Bokuto reaches outwith his sleeve to wipe away the snot trickling down your nose. “Are you madthat I got mad at you? ‘Cus I’m not mad anymore. But I was really pissed off when you didn’t let me call an ambulance, andwas like ‘oh, look I could have died butthat’s okay’ because it’s not okay for me if you did! I’m still supertraumatized, so you’d better not be such a piece of crap for the rest of thenight, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” yousay. And you really are. “I should have thought about your position more. I wasselfish.”

“You were,” henods.

Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. Bokuto Koutarou kissed you.

“But…” you ask becauseit’s driving you insane, “what did you mean by kissing me?”

Bokuto frowns atyour question. “I was mad at that too. Asking me things like that as if I goaround kissing people for experiments. Do you think I’d do that to you?”

“I… uh… no?”

“Good.” He narrowshis eyes. “’Cus I wouldn’t. C’mon man, what do you think it means? It wasn’t a super great one ‘cus you were busydying and I was busy trying not to piss myself and all that, but a kiss is akiss, isn’t it?”

“So you… you likeme? Just like that?”

This time Bokutolooks a bit perplexed. “Why not?”

You huff at him.“It’s not called an unrequited love for nothing, Kou. There’s a whole point tothis disease.”

“Are youdisappointed that I ruined your mojo by liking you back? Really?”

“I-“ fumbling dreadfully,you can feel the tell-tale creep of heat crawling up your spine like a monsterfrom the depths bringing with it the plagues of mortification and disbelief.Now that he’s put it like that, you do sound pretty ludicrous. “I’m not…disappointed. It’s just that… well, people really have, died, from hanahaki.”

Bokuto clicks histongue. “And you’re still alive. It’s a win-win?”

“Yeah, but Inever- you’re reciprocating, likesome shoujo manga, and this feels like something from The Notebook and not realat all! How am I supposed to know what to do if you like me back?!”

“Dude, dude,”Bokuto presses a cool hand against your forehead worriedly, “you’re blowingup.” He hands you a towel, and you press it to your cheeks. “It’s notunbelievable,” he continues, “not all of it. Don’t you think this is all real,at least? The towel? My sexy sofa?”

You laugh, a weaklittle hiccup, but Bokuto looks infinitely pleased with your reaction. “See? Myvolleyball biceps are always real. Besides,” he lets his hand drop down to yourlap, and pushes away the box of needles to make space for his own callousedfingers, “we’ve always been right here next to each other. I know I’m notreally good with feelings and things-“

“-yeah you’rereally freaking dense-“

“-thanks. But what I’m trying to say is-there’s different types of love, right? They taught us that in Lit back inschool, and maybe the line between them isn’t as big as we thought. I’vealways, always, loved you as one ofmy best friends,” Bokuto peers firmly at you then because he’s told you thisbefore, but you’ve brushed him off every single time, “you know that, I tell you all the time. But that’s like, the basis ofeverything to me. I mean, falling in love with someone- it’s never been thatbig of a thing for me. No explosions or background music or anything, just-kinda a push off what’s already there. Do you see?”

Although Bokuto’snot really the most organized orator, he speaks with the conviction of a King.His thought process is absolute, the conclusion certain, and Bokuto’s voicewasn’t designed to wax poetry with his gravelly, scorching sound. It’s a timbrecrafted to ignite embers, come hell or high water. You could have shoved a sockin his mouth and he would have powered through his confession all the same.

“That’s… that’s soprofound.”

“I’m Bokuto,” Bokuto grins. Somewhere abovehis head, there’s a flashing neon sign begging to be framed, announcing hisexistence. “Also I’m not suffocating, so it helps. You’re not too shabbyyourself.”

You roll your eyes,and he sees right through you.

“When did youstart?” You mumble. “Feeling… things. I’ve no context for this.”

“I didn’t sufferor anything,” he confesses, “not like you did.” His face presses closer toyours. “It hasn’t been that long. But I’m not saying that it’s a reaction thingthat just happened tonight. I just… don’t think you noticed. Akaashi did,though. That’s probably why he left early tonight.” He starts to trail off, butsomething catches him just in time. His gaze refocuses, and he grips your shoulderstightly. “But I wouldn’t have done anything to you if I didn’t mean it. I mighthave freaked the fuck out and called the police, but I wouldn’t play with youlike that.”

And you get itnow. It never meant much to him that you didn’t notice. He liked you too, andthat was it.

When the worldhumbles a man, it isn’t up to them to refuse. Bokuto has always been on anotherworldly plane of forgiveness all by himself, untouchable by mortal men’swishes. The facts had finally caught up to you while you took a breather fromthe race towards your unhappily ever after, and had brandished an order tellingyou that you’ve been unfair.

They say that‘love is blind’, with little beyond that, but misery masks with equal skill. You’venever given Bokuto a chance, because nobody’s told you to.

He’s smilingsoftly at you. He’s never believed that there’s anything for him to forgive.

“I’m sorry.” Youoffer it so belatedly that it no longer makes a difference. Perhaps it neverdid, not to Bokuto. “I shouldn’t have thought the worst of you. I… shouldn’thave asked that. You didn’t kiss me because you were scared. I asked youbecause I was scared.”

“I know,” he says.“It’s harder for you too. You’re the one who has to take shots just for likingsomeone who doesn’t like you back. I know. I mean- I didn’t always, but I’vebeen trying to get better at thinking about other people.”

Your heart swells,bloating with a fragrant blend of pride and helplessness. “You’re doing good,Kou. Way better than me.”

“But- that’s notwhat I want, though.” Your eyes follow as he lifts his hand, and runs itthrough your hair. He looks slightly pained, urgent, controlled. “You’ve got alot of problems, you know? And it’s all heavy stuff: one-sided love andvolleyball are kinda on different levels. So, if I can make it easier for you,I will.” The tips of his fingers brush against your temples by accident. You shudder.“We’re all trying our best, and who knows if it’ll work out or not?”

“We’re all tryingour best,” you echo. A wisp of a prayer with no addressee.

“Yeah,” he smiles,“you get it. Even though you usually don’t listen when I say these things.”

“That’s not true!”You protest, but you know he’s right. He knows he’s right. Bokuto’s shaking hishead because he’s right. “Just…” you slowly admit, “not many of the goodthings. They’re… harder.”

He looks at youintensely and opens his mouth with something to say, but changes his mind atthe last moment.

“You gotta trustyourself more,” he says after considering his words, “I think you’re great.Akaashi thinks you’re great. You’repretty great.”

“Yeah, yeah,alright,” you laugh, at a loss with the onslaught of positivity, “what is this,a self-help session?”

“Nah. I mean, ifyou had let me help you in the first place, like, for real, you’d be in ahospital and not in my apartment asking me about my feelings.”

Your brows knittogether and you pull away from his grip. “What’s wrong with asking you aboutyour feelings?”

“It wasn’t thepoint, though!” Bokuto exclaims, “c’mon, we were talking about how selfish youwere being.”

“Yeah, I know already.” You know what no matterhow many times you change the subject or apologize, Bokuto’s never going to letit go until he’s drawn the right amount of contrition from you. “I’m justreally sick of hospitals, and it’s not like they can do much for me anyway.It’s not possible to make the petals softer without preventative medicine, andhonestly, they’d just give up and intubate me, and I hate that feeling.”

“I’d rather see atube down your throat than you dead,” Bokuto says sullenly.

“I would just’vepassed out,” you insist, again, “I would’ve been okay.”

A flash ofexpression startles you, and Bokuto’s fury returns briefly enough to sharpenyour nerves a second time.

“Don’t say you’llbe alright.” His fists are tightening around your shoulders. “Don’t say that.Not tonight.”

His hands areholding you upright, but they don’t stop you from instinctively shrinkingfurther into yourself in shame.

“I’m sorry.”

Bokuto’s chesthitches mid-breath, and his hands release you in slow motion, lingering alongthe lines of your bones before reaching towards the almost forgotten plasticbox. He takes a shot out, and holds it out towards you.

“Will you show mehow to use this properly? Where do I inject?”

“Well…” if itmeans that much to him, “my left arm is all taken up, so it’ll be my right.”You move to roll up your sleeves, and feel a bit silly when you realize thatyou’re wearing a dress tonight, not your usual work clothes. “But… you… Kou,you’re sure you like me?”

“I love you.”

Your cheeks eruptto a magnificent temperature. “I- okay…” Put something into your mouth, andyou’d probably be able to bake pottery.

Bokuto, on theother hand, only grins extra wide.

“Yeah. So, whatabout it?”

You swear thatthere’s steam; your forehead feels a lot more humid than usual. “I mean, if… ifyou love me, and you were the one that I’ve been worked over… technically, Ithink that I wouldn’t need the shots anymore.”

“What do youmean?” He lowers the injection, puzzled.

“It’s an unrequited love that causes theflowers,” you explain, “if… now that it’s requited, I should be alright.”

His brow twitchesminutely at the word ‘alright’ leaving your mouth again, and squirmsuncomfortably.

“There’s no harmin doing one more just in case, right?”

Truthfully, you canhardly blame him for not believing you when it comes to matters of your ownhealth. Akaashi is a very reliable mother, and you’re a pretty terriblesurrogate friend-sized kid.

You sigh, lettingit seep through your teeth like a dragon. “I feel like I should be celebrating-or crying- and not discussing medical repercussions, though?”

Bokuto looks upfrom his examination of your right arm. “Want to date me?”

“Uhm. Uh. Yeah.”

He beams. “Same!Now that we’ve solved that problem, I’m going to jab this in your arm, you’regonna take a shower and we’re going to get some sleep.”

Nothing finds itsway out of your throat. Bokuto cocks his head to one side, a knowing crinkle inhis eyes.

“I’ll check onyou, okay? I’m still kinda shell shocked, so I’m not like, super in touch withmy feelings right now, but I don’t think anything has to change just yet. I’mnot expecting anything right now, and you just puked up like, a whole babyshower arrangement. So take all the time you need. No rush, nothing.” Right.He’s right. Bokuto watches you mull his words over with exhaustion, and cupsyour cheek with one hand and leans in for a soft, final kiss. “I’m still BokutoKoutarou,” he smiles broadly, “and I’m still your best friend. You can count onme.”

And you absolutelycan. Leagues better than any hospital, Bokuto’s smile and cheesy lines can healbones, burns and bruises alike with regular exposure, and your figurative cropsare flourishing as he blinks guilelessly at you.

“I’ll leave it inyour hands,” you answer.

“Okay.” Pleasedwith your acceptance, Bokuto seems to sit taller beside you, and glows a littlemore from his eyes. “You go clean yourself up, I’ll grab some of my clothes foryou when you’re done.” He points towards his guest bathroom down the corridor.“Afterwards, we can give you your medication and I’ll call Akaashi. You canstay here tonight, and we’ll go get you checked out tomorrow. Good plan?”

“Yes, captain.”You raise your hand up in a small salute and Bokuto laughs. He leans in topress a kiss to your forehead, and wanders away to find some spare clothes foryou with a warmth to his face.

You remember toclose the lid of the plastic box before you get up. You follow the trail ofBokuto into an untouched bathroom, sparkling clean, and for a second you’re overwhelmedwith the urge to simultaneously run from its perfection and to make as much ofa mess out of it as possible.

You settle fortaking a normal, sane shower.

The rest of theevening goes unimaginably smoothly, as Bokuto had taken it upon himself to makeyou as comfortable as possible, which meant that he’d left everything you’dpossibly need out for you, and by being so busy doing so, you hadn’t been ableto exchange much of a conversation. He’d forcibly taken the couch, almostshoving you onto his bed in his insistence that you’re the guest, and he’sgonna treat you right, and had zoomed out of the room immediately after.

His bedroom is theonly part of the apartment that feels like Bokuto, and it’s that thought thatallows the tiredness to seep through your muscles, and everywhere you turn,you’re soothed by a familiar scent.

It doesn’tsurprise you either, to find that he’s stuck glow-in-the-dark stars onto hisceiling in the shapes of his favourite constellations.

Tomorrow’s anelusive thing, tonight barely hinging on reality, but as you point out theluminous yellow of a plastic Lupus, you consider that even if the world hasshifted one step to the right, everything in it keeps the same radius. You’restill sleeping over at a friend’s, and you’re still going to the doctor’stomorrow, and the night has still fallen.

Sleep comesslowly, but sooner or later your brain slows to the deep rumble of a starry skyreplica. You fall asleep, and it’s been a long, long day.

Bokuto closes thecar door behind you, and takes your hand before you can object. You’re stiff,fidgety, and he stands right by you in the scorching midday heat until you takeenough breaths to lead the way. He falls into step beside you, letting you pullhim, fingers laced and tightened, through the doors of the hospital.

He has to pull youout of your reverie when the speakers finally call your name, but you get toyour feet without stumbling.

When the doctorcalls ‘come in’ from the other side of the baby blue door, you feel Bokuto bumpinto you slightly when he dodges a quick wheelchair down the corridor. A bravesmile curls itself against your cheeks, and you slide the door open.

This time, it’sokay.

[aaliyahhill]

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MLS Newsstand - May 15, 2018

May 15, 20181:29PM EDT

MLS ARTICLES

Galaxy’s Dos Santos brothers, 4 LAFC players named to World Cup rosters

Los Angeles Times – May 14, 2018

Monday’s deadline to submit provisional rosters for the World Cup starting next month answered questions for some of the 32 teams but raised doubts for others as top players continue to battle injury and fitness issues.

Mexico, England, Brazil, Russia, Germany, France and Tunisia are among the teams that have significant doubts about the availability of key players a month before the tournament kicks off.

Mexico cast aside injury doubts surrounding forward Giovani dos Santos and his brother, midfielder Jonathan, and announced that the Galaxy teammates had made the training camp team. Gio did not travel to Dallas for the Galaxy’s game last weekend and has sat out half their matches this season while Jonathan has played only 82 minutes in the last month because of injury.

If neither player is available to play in Russia it will end a streak of at least one Galaxy player appearing in every World Cup since the team’s founding in 1996.

Mexico also summoned forward Carlos Vela, who leads the Los Angeles Football Club with six goals, and 39-year-old defender Rafa Marquez, who retired from club soccer this spring. If Marquez, a surprise addition to the provisional roster, makes the cut for Russia, it would be his fifth World Cup selection.

Three other LAFC players landed on World Cup rosters with forward Marco Urena chosen to Costa Rica’s final 23-man roster while defenders Omar Gaber and Steven Beitashour were named to preliminary rosters by Egypt and Iran, respectively.

“It’s something that every player, every coach wants for his players,” Beitashour, who was on the Iranian team four years ago, said of the World Cup invitation. “It’s an honor. It’s the biggest tournament that any football player can dream of playing in.”

The four selections for LAFC are the most by any MLS team and that number could grow. Belgium isn’t scheduled to publicly release its provisional roster until next week, but it probably will include LAFC captain Laurent Ciman, who was on the 2014 team. If Ciman travels to Russia, LAFC could be without half its starting lineup for as many as six games.

John Thorrington, the club’s executive vice president for soccer operations, celebrated the selections.

“For all of our players that are eligible and have the potential to go play in a World Cup,” he said, “we are incredibly supportive and hope they do go and hope they do really well.”

Brazil, among the pre-tournament favorites, expects star forward Neymar to be a full participate when training camp opens this month. Neymar had a broken bone in his right foot repaired in March.

Defender Dani Alves, a two-time World Cup player, is sidelined after suffering a torn knee ligament in the French Cup final last week.

Germany, the defending World Cup champion, is monitoring the progress of goalkeeper Manuel Neuer and defender Jerome Boateng. Neuer hasn’t played since suffering a foot injury in September abd Boateng is sidelined after suffering a thigh injury last month.

England will definitely be without midfielder Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain, who underwent knee surgery this month, while Russia’s preliminary roster omitted forward Alexander Kokorin and defenders Viktor Vasin and Georgi Dzhikiya because of knee injuries.

Among those chosen as a replacement was 38-year-old defender Sergei Ignashevich, Russia’s all-time leader with 120 international appearances. He came out of international retirement to join the team.

Argentina put forward Sergio Aguero and midfielder Lucas Biglia on its roster, though both are injured. Aguero had minor surgery on his left knee last month; Biglia is trying to come back from two cracked vertebrae.

A knee injury will sideline Tunisia forward Youssef Msakni, the team’s leading active scorer with 14 goals, while France has confirmed it will be without Arsenal defender Laurent Koscielny because of a ruptured Achilles tendon.

Banc of California Stadium will stage Gold Cup soccer matches next summer

Los Angeles Times – May 14, 2018

Banc of California Stadium, which has hosted four Major League Soccer games since its grand opening last month, is one of 15 venues chosen to stage matches for next summer’s expanded CONCACAF Gold Cup.

CONCACAF will roll out the announcement of the other 14 venues in 13 U.S. metropolitan areas this week. The tournament is scheduled to play over three weeks in June and July.

“The venues selected thus far offer a mix of soccer history as well as a taste of the future of the sport in the U.S. and we are excited to work with the local host committees to bring the game to fans all over the U.S.,” CONCACAF President Victor Montagliani said in a statement.

Banc of California Stadium, home to the Los Angeles Football Club, an MLS expansion team, is the newest and most expensive soccer-specific venue in the U.S. The price tag for the Exposition Park venue was $ 350 million.

The regional championship for teams in North America, Central America and the Caribbean, the Gold Cup is expanding to 16 teams this year. Six teams — Costa Rica, Honduras, Mexico, Panama, Trinidad and Tobago, and the U.S. — have already qualified for the tournament by virtue of reaching the final, hexagonal round of World Cup qualifying in 2016. Ten other teams will qualify for the Gold Cup next fall.

The Gold Cup is played every two years.

Whitecaps captain Kendall Waston heading to World Cup

The Province – May 14, 2018

Kendall Waston put his country into the World Cup.

That was a pretty big deal.

Now he’ll get to play a part in the big deal: He’s been confirmed in Costa Rica’s 23-man roster that will head to Russia next month for the 2018 FIFA Men’s World Cup.

This is the first time Waston, the Whitecaps’ captain, will be at the Cup; he was named to Costa Rica’s provisional 30-man roster for Brazil 2014, but was in the final round of cuts.

“It’s a huge accomplishment. I feel very happy. Very proud,” he said Monday after a hot and sunny practice at the University of B.C. “(I feel) a lot of emotions … I remember four years ago, it was a different feeling. Now, I can enjoy this moment.”

Whitecaps coach Carl Robinson got to tell Waston the news in front of his teammates (who celebrated by spraying him with water); the club also invited his wife, Priscilla, and son, Keysaack, to Monday’s practice.

“It was a great surprise, I didn’t expect my family here. I’m really thankful to the club, they always do special things for the players. Without my family, without my teammates, my coaches, I think this wouldn’t be possible,” Waston said.

After Robinson announced the news and Waston gave his wife and son a kiss, he gave a heartfelt speech to his teammates.

“I love coming here (to train),” he said. “In my heart, you guys are always going to be.”

Waston has won 25 caps for his country and scored three times, including the dramatic header against Honduras on the final day of qualification that put his country back into the Cup.

Los Ticos kick off their Group E Russian campaign against Serbia on June 17. They then face Brazil on June 22 and Switzerland on June 27. They’ve also got a trio of warm-up friendlies against Northern Ireland (June 3), England (June 7), and Belgium (June 11).

Waston, 30, will join Costa Rica after the Whitecaps’ home match May 26 against the New England Revolution. MLS is taking a nine-day break from June 14, the day the Cup officially opens, and June 22. Yes, that means MLS action will resume before even the group stage is over. As it stands, Waston will definitely miss games June 1 in Colorado, June 9 at home against Orlando and June 23 in Philadelphia.

Costa Rica and the other Cup teams were required to name a 35-man provisional team Monday, but Ticos coach Óscar Ramírez opted to skip right to his final squad. Six Costa Ricans playing in MLS were selected by Ramirez. Ex-Cap Christian Bolanos was also chosen.

(Teams can make injury replacements to their squads up until 24 hours before their first match in Russia.)

Waston has appeared in 99 MLS regular-season matches and scored 12 times since joining the Whitecaps midway through 2014.

Iraqi boy relishes chance to meet Timbers players, attend rivalry match while seeking medical help in Portland

The Oregonian – May 14, 2018

Mustafa Abed hasn’t had an easy life.

The 15-year-old Iraqi teenager lost his leg at the hip and suffered serious internal injuries during a U.S. missile strike in his hometown of Fallujah in 2004. Then in 2014, the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant, known as ISIS, took control of his city. This year, Abed and his family were forced to flee their home as Iraqi forces fought to reclaim war-torn Fallujah from ISIS control.

But amid the political turmoil and violence in his home country, Abed has managed to find an outlet in soccer. As an avid supporter of Real Madrid and huge fan of Cristiano Ronaldo, he has developed a deep passion for the game.

And on Sunday, soccer was the only thing on his mind as he happily sat on the bench at Providence Park and watched the Portland Timbers warm up ahead of their rivalry match against the Seattle Sounders.

“I couldn’t have imagined this,” said Abed through an interpreter. “Soccer is part of my life, it’s part of the excitement in my life.”

Abed came to Portland for medical treatment for the first time at the age of 5 in 2008 through the help of Maxine Fookson and her husband, Ned Rosch, who founded a Portland chapter of No More Victims, a nonprofit that raises money to bring children wounded by war to the United States for treatment.

During that initial visit to Portland, Abed was treated at Doernbecher Children’s Hospital and Shriners Hospital for internal injuries and fitted for a prosthetic leg.

No More Victims had hoped to bring Abed back for treatment every couple of years, but lost touch with him and his family after they returned to Fallujah. The nonprofit was only able to reconnect with Abed by chance after he appeared in a PBS Newshour segment on Fallujah in 2016.

Ten years after his first trip to Portland, Abed finally returned with his mother, Nidhal Aswad, last month to receive additional medical treatment.

“We were very happy and we started crying,” said Aswad through an interpreter about reconnecting with No More Victims. “I feel at peace. This is a dream come true.”

When the Timbers found out about Abed’s love of soccer, they immediately made an effort to connect with him. Abed and his mother attended a Timbers practice last week before taking in Sunday’s Timbers-Sounders game. They are also expected to be in attendance when the Portland Thorns host the Utah Royals on May 25.

The Timbers players and staff stood quietly in a circle at training last Wednesday as they listened to Abed’s story. After the practice, many of them came up to Abed to give him a hug or try to offer a few words of encouragement. Timbers coach Giovanni Savarese told Abed that he would be the club’s “good luck charm” in Sunday’s game, while goalkeeper Jeff Attinella and defender Zarek Valentin spent a while on the field passing the ball back and forth with Abed, who is able to kick a soccer ball thanks to the braces that he uses to walk.

“This is just pure joy for him,” said Geri Berg, a pediatric social worker who has assisted Abed on both of his visits to Portland. “Just looking at his face and the way he was smiling and how excited he was to be on the field with the players.”

The experience with the Timbers has been an important distraction for Abed amid all his medical appointments. Berg said that he is continuing to see doctors to determine what the next steps will be in his medical care. Berg said that Abed tried out a hand-powered bicyle at Shriners last week that could be a big help for him in getting around back home. She is interested in looking into raising money to send him back to Iraq with the bike.

“It’s multiple systems, multiple injuries,” said Berg about Abed’s health. “We’re just starting to get the feedback on what’s going to be possible.”

But Sunday wasn’t about hospitals visits or medical care. For Abed, it was just about enjoying the game that he loves.

Ahead of Sunday’s match, the Timbers gifted Abed a personalized jersey with his name and the No. 7, the same number as Ronaldo. He wore the jersey to Sunday’s match. It’s a memento that he will cherish.

“I feel like everybody has cared so much for him,” Aswad said. “He never got any care like this back in Iraq. I’m very happy all of this is happeneing.”

Philadelphia’s Lincoln Financial Field to host 2019 Concacaf Gold Cup games

Philadelphia Inquirer – May 15, 2018

The Concacaf Gold Cup is coming back to Philadelphia next year.

Lincoln Financial Field will be one of the host venues for the 2019 edition of the biennial tournament, sources confirmed to the Inquirer and Daily News.

The official announcement will come Tuesday from Concacaf and the Eagles. It’s not known yet which games will be here, or which teams. But the odds are strong that the United States will visit in some form.

Next year’s tournament will be the fourth time overall that the Linc hosts the continental championship for North and Central American national teams. The venue hosted quarterfinal doubleheaders in 2017 and 2009, and the championship game in 2015.

The quarterfinals drew 31,165 fans in 2017 and 31,087 fans in 2009, with the U.S. involved both times. The 2015 championship game, featuring Mexico and Jamaica, drew a sellout crowd of 68,930 — the largest attendance ever for a soccer game in Philadelphia.

Also in 2015, Talen Energy Stadium hosted a third-place game between the U.S. and Panama that drew 12,598 fans.

Concacaf is spreading venue announcements throughout this week. It has already made two venues official: Los Angeles FC’s brand-new Banc of California Stadium in central L.A., and the Arizona Cardinals’ University of Phoenix Stadium in Glendale, Ariz.

Various sources with knowledge of the tournament confirmed reports that Minnesota United’s Allianz Field, set to open next year in St. Paul, Minn., will host the U.S.’ tournament opener; and the Cleveland Browns’ FirstEnergy Stadium will also be involved. The Carolina Panthers’ Bank of America in Charlotte, N.C., is another reported venue.

There will be 15 U.S. venues in total, spread across 14 markets.

The governing body also plans to stage parts of next year’s Gold Cup in Central American and Caribbean nations for the first time ever. Past editions have almost entirely been in the United States. Mexico City hosted games in 1993 and 2003, and Toronto hosted games in 2015.

Concacaf will also expand the Gold Cup field from 12 teams to 16 next year.

Atlanta United’s Robinson shines in second start

Doug Roberson – May 14, 2018

Atlanta United manager Gerardo Martino usually seems bemused when asked if younger players on the MLS team are going to make the 18 on game days.

His answer almost always includes the player’s age. It’s a soft exclamation point and rebuke that this is a professional league with important stakes, so he will players that he feels are ready.

One of those players, 21-year-old defender Miles Robinson, didn’t play in a league game for the team last season. Instead, after being selected with the second pick in the 2017 SuperDraft, the Syracuse product worked on the training ground with the senior team, and spent some time with the Charleston Battery.

This season, he again spent the early part of the season working with the senior team, and also spent some time with Atlanta United 2.

That work is starting to pay off.

Robinson has made two starts with the senior team this season and performed well in the 5-0 win against LAFC on April 7 and again in last week’s 2-1 win against Orlando City.

“As I said after the LAFC game, he’s ready,” Martino said. “He’s a player who’s improved a lot over the course of the last year. So we know he’s ready to play on days when he has to step up and help us out like today.”

Robinson kept things simple with his defending, staying close to his mark at all times and using his speed to recover on counters, and his passing — his biggest weakness — against the Lions. Facing veteran Justin Meram, Robinson held his own with two exceptions. Once, Meram was able to turn Robinson and create enough space to get off a shot. Goalkeeper Alec Kann got down low to his right to make the save. The second came when Kann punched away a shot. The deflection came right to Meram, who scored. Robinson didn’t have enough time to react. He attempted a tackle, but the play happened too quickly.

“It was a difficult ball,” he said. “I need to watch it again. Looking back, I would try to do something different.”

Martino said Robinson hasn’t played more because of the depth on the back line. Robinson may have started against Orlando City because of injuries to Chris McCann (hamstring) and Franco Escobar (chest).

Robinson may not start again for Sunday’s games against New York Red Bulls at Mercedes-Benz Stadium because it seems likely that Martino will switch from 3-5-2 formation that uses three centerbacks to a 4-3-3 that uses two centerbacks. Atlanta United is unbeaten in nine games using the 3-5-2, but the Red Bulls like to play from the back. Martino has said that teams he prefers the 4-3-3 against are teams that build play from the back.

Robinson doesn’t seem worried.

“I’m just trying to go and compete, play my best and that’s all I can do,” he said. “It’s up to the coaching staff to determine anything else. I’m happy that I got the opportunity to play again.”

World Cup Countdown: Six MLS Ticos headed to Russia

Soccer America – May 14, 2018

Costa Rica’s 23-player squad for the World Cup includes six MLS players. As many as seven players could be on Panama’s team for its first World Cup when the Canaleros’ squad is cut down from 35 to 23.

The squads announced on Monday included 22 MLS players. Most teams have not picked their final squads. Other MLS players should be included in provisional squads for Belgium, Peru and Sweden.

Costa Rica (23-player roster):

Francisco Calvo (Minnesota United)

David Guzman (Portland Timbers)

Ronald Matarrita (NYCFC)

Marco Urena (LAFC)

Rodney Wallace (NYCFC)

Kendall Waston (Vancouver Whitecaps)

Egypt (29-player short list):

Omar Gaber (LAFC)

Amro Tarek (Orlando City)

Iran (35-player preliminary roster):

Steven Beitashour (LAFC)

Mexico (28-player short list):

Giovani dos Santos (LA Galaxy)

Jonathan dos Santos (LA Galaxy)

Carlos Vela (LAFC)

Panama (35-player preliminary roster):

Harold Cummings (San Jose Earthquakes)

Fidel Escobar (NY Red Bulls)

Anibal Godoy (San Jose Earthquakes)

Adolfo Machado (Houston)

Cristian Martinez (Columbus)

Michael Murillo (NY Red Bulls)

Roman Torres (Seattle Sounders)

LAFC star Carlos Vela named to Mexico’s provisional World Cup roster

SB Nation Angels on Parade – May 14, 2018

Monday is the deadline for countries headed to the World Cup to release their provisional rosters for the tournament, and that includes Mexico. National team boss Juan Carlos Osorio revealed his 28-man preliminary roster, and as expected, Los Angeles Football Club forward Carlos Vela is on the list.

Vela, 29, has played in one senior World Cup in his career, in 2010. He skipped the 2014 tournament due to a long-standing dispute with the national team, but fences have been mended in the meantime.

Vela is considered one of Mexico’s core players, and barring injury he will be on the plane to Russia. He will almost certainly miss four league games (May 26 vs. D.C. United, June 2 at FC Dallas, June 9 at San Jose Earthquakes, June 23 vs. Columbus Crew SC), and that could be more depending on when he’s called away by Mexico and how deep El Tri goes in the World Cup.

Osorio still needs to trim five players off the prelim roster, but again, if there’s no injury or other personal catastrophe in the meantime, he’ll be on the plane to Russia. Felicidades a Carlos!

RSL goalkeeper Nick Rimando’s 200th MLS win makes for a special night

Pro Soccer USA – May 14, 2018

Nick Rimando was on the verge of 200 Major League Soccer wins for weeks.

Two weeks ago, Real Salt Lake dropped its match with the Vancouver Whitecaps. One week ago, the team fell short against Orlando City SC after jumping out to an early lead.

This weekend, for a split moment, it almost seemed as if it would take another seven days for Rimando to get to 200 after D.C. United got the go-ahead goal in the 10th minute.

However, Rimando’s teammates stepped up their game and beat D.C. 3-2 so the team could earn three points and so Rimando could finally reach his 200th win. And in a way, RSL losing two games on the road first, though not ideal, made Saturday’s night win all the more memorable because Rimando got that elusive win in front of family and fans at Rio Tinto Stadium, a place he’s called home since 2007.

Longtime teammate Kyle Beckerman reflected on Rimando’s accomplishment as he handed the goalkeeper a trophy commemorating the milestone.

“It was great to be a part of it with him and all the hard work he puts in, he’s the best,” Beckerman said. “Every time he plays he’s breaking another record, and it’s really cool to be a part of.”

Rimando’s son and daughter accompanied him during postgame celebrations and even went to his postgame press conference as they looked up at their father in awe.

Rimando’s wins come from playing with the Miami Fusion, D.C. United and, of course, Real Salt Lake during his 19-year career. In early August, 2016, Rimando passed former LA Galaxy goalkeeper Kevin Hartman for the goalkeeper with the most all-time MLS wins as. Hartman recorded 180 wins in 17 seasons. And wins isn’t the only record Rimando has to his name. In August, 2014, Rimando broke Hartman’s record for most career shutouts in the MLS and he’s currently sitting at 138 shutouts.

Setting and breaking records nothing new for Rimando, and though he takes pride in his personal achievements, he would much rather focus on the support system that helped him achieve those milestones.

“The longevity of my play, the consistency of my play, the trust I get from my teammates and the coaches, I take a lot of pride in that, so to play this many years and to get to 200 is special,” Rimando said.

And funny enough, a couple of his milestones — the 200th MLS win and dethroning Hartman for career shutouts — came at the expense of D.C. United.

“When they come in town, there’s something to achieve,” Rimando jokingly said.

Ben Olsen, D.C. United’s head coach, isn’t happy Rimando keeps breaking records against his team, but he did applaud him for all the time and work he’s dedicated to the league.

“He’s stayed healthy, and that’s a huge component of playing as well as he has,” Olsen said. “He’s taken care of his body, and it helps he’s a goalkeeper, they end up playing a little bit longer. But he’s an unbelievable competitor and a dear friend, so I’m very happy that he’s the guy breaking records.” 

Teammates laughed as they said Rimando should go for 300 wins. It’s hard for them to imagine the organization without him. RSL will lose part of its long-time identity once Rimando finally does hang up his cleats.

“It’s a special night for Nick for sure, not just for Nick but for all of us in the locker room, the players, the organization,” Petke said. “Nick represents this organization along with guys like Kyle, Toney Beltran, and any time he can be recognized like this is phenomenal.”

For now though, his fans, his teammates, his coaches and, most importantly, his family are all enjoying what a special night it was Saturday.

“We’ve had a lot of big games and special moments, played a lot of years here and to do it front of those fans is special because they’ve had my back and have supported me for so many years,” Rimando said. “I’m lucky to play here in front of those fans and to do it in front of them on this special night is something I’ll remember for a long time.”

Brad Friedel’s lineup changes set Revs up for success against Toronto

Pro Soccer USA – May 14, 2018

The New England Revolution survived a late, two-goal rally from Toronto FC to secure a 3-2 victory at Gillette Stadium on Saturday night. New England’s victory keeps the club in playoff position and improves its record against TFC to 13-6-9 all-time.

Here are three takeaways from the Revolution’s win:

High press stumped Toronto early

It took about 10 seconds for the Revolution to play their first ball into the box Saturday night, four minutes to open the scoring and another three minutes to double their lead. Toronto gifted New England with some awful passing out of the back to start the game, but Cristian Penilla took his chances extremely well as he helped the Revs jump to a 2-0 lead.

Revolution coach Brad Friedel hasn’t kept his intentions, particularly home games, a secret: the Revolution are going to press. They’re going to clog the midfield. And they’re not going to stop until they catch their opponents and score.

It’s remarkable how hard it’s been for opposing teams to work around the Revolution’s press. Then again, New England has boasted some of the most dynamic and clinical attacking options in Major League Soccer for years; maybe the high press is finally helping the team maximize its strikers and offensive-minded midfielders.

Toronto shot itself in the foot at the start, and though the visitors found their form eventually and recovered two goals, the damage had already been done.

Friedel’s lineup changes deserve credit

Toronto wasn’t at full strength, choosing not to start Sebastian Giovinco, Chris Mavinga, Ashtone Morgan and Victor Vazquez. Michael Bradley even played out of position at centerback.

But TFC’s lineup was capable. It just started off poorly – thanks, in large part, to Friedel’s lineup changes.

Scott Caldwell and Kelyn Rowe returned to the starting XI, giving the Revolution a more attack-minded approach to moving the ball in the center of the pitch. Caldwell was instrumental in helping the Revs win, as he intercepted a Bradley pass to start the breakaway that led to Penilla’s first goal.

Next, Friedel named Antonio Delamea and Chris Tierney starters, pulling Claude Dielna and Gabriel Somi from central defense and left back, respectively. Delamea ended the game with an own goal and Tierney caused the foul that led to Giovinco converting from the penalty spot in the 89th minute to make it a one-goal game.

But Delamea was unlucky on the deflection that led to his own goal and the penalty call on Tierney’s foul was soft.

In any case, Tierney had a passing accuracy of 77 percent, made four tackles and intercepted one pass. Delamea completed 78 percent of his passes, made one tackle and had three interceptions.

Stats aside, the performances from Delamea and Tierney were a stark departure from the poor display offered by Dielna and Somi in New England’s last game, a 4-2 loss at Montreal. Somi completed a paltry 48 percent of his passes in that game, while both he and Dielna, along with the rest of the Revolution back line, left patches of space for the Impact to attack.

Friedel didn’t throw anyone under the bus last Saturday, but clearly stated changes were necessary after the result in Montreal and that those who work hard in training will be rewarded.

Delamea’s own goal and Tierney getting called for a penalty kick shouldn’t distract from otherwise positive performances by both players.

Matt Turner, MVP

Arguably the most important part of Saturday’s game came between the 20th and 30th minutes, when Revolution goalkeeper Matt Turner made three key saves.

Turner’s best stop of the game – which Friedel later singled out in his postgame presser – came in the 26th minute when he went left to get his fingertips on a left-footed drive by Tosaint Ricketts. That was Toronto’s best bid to pull one back before halftime. Had that chance – or any of the others TFC put on frame in the first half – gone in, the dynamic would have changed greatly at the start of the second half.

Penilla scored twice and Teal Bunbury had the eventual match-winner, but Turner’s saves were, from a defensive perspective, the real difference.

Turner, who made his 10th-consecutive start Saturday, has earned his keep. He boasts MLS’ second-highest save percentage (72.9) and is also sixth in the league in saves (35).

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MLSsoccer.com News

MLS Newsstand – May 15, 2018 was originally published on 365 Football

[wrestlingisfake]

TLC preview

Kurt Angle & Dean Ambrose & Seth Rollins vs. The Miz & Braun Strowman & Cesaro & Sheamus & Kane - This is a TLC match, so tables, ladders, and chairs will be set up around the ringside area to be used by the participants.  Normally the only way to win this type of match is to climb a ladder to retrieve something hung above the ring, but since nothing is at stake, it looks like the match will be decided by the first pinfall or submission.

This was supposed to be the in-ring reunion of the Shield--Dean Ambrose, Seth Rollins, and Roman Reigns--for the first time since Seth’s heel turn in 2014.  However, just 50 hours before the show Roman was scratched due to a reported viral infection.  WWE evidently thought they needed add something big to the match as a make good, so Raw general manager Kurt Angle is coming out of retirement for his first match in over six months and his first WWE match in over 11 years.

The match had its beginnings from the recent Dean/Seth vs. Sheamus/Cesaro and Reigns vs. Strowman feuds.  Miz stirred the pot until Angle announced  Shield vs. Miz/Cesaro/Sheamus, but then Miz convinced Angle to authorize adding Strowman to his team.  Then Miz came back and arranged to get Kane for some reason.  So it’s five-on-three, and on top of that there’s nothing to prevent Miz’s henchman Curtis Axel from interfering.  So it’s more like six-on-three.  Except, really, it’d be fair to count either Kane or Strowman twice, so it’s could be like nine-on-three.  And then you add Kurt Angle to the mix, you chances of winnin’ drastilly go down, 'cause Kurt Angle KNOWS he can’t beat me, and he’s notven gonna try!

It is a pretty significant story that Angle is doing this match; his ability to get cleared by WWE medical has been an open question since the day he left the company in 2006.  Kurt has a history of giving 1000% whether his body is up for it or not, resulting in a history of muscle tears, neck problems, and painkiller abuse.  You could make a strong case that he should have retired when he needed neck surgery in 2003.  You could frankly argue that he had no business in the 1996 match where he won his Olympic gold medal.  A lot of people are going to be very worried for Kurt during this, which is pretty much how I’ve felt about everything he’s done for 15 years.

The whole thing was sort of a clusterfuck from the start because of the way the deck was stacked against the Shield.  WWE obviously didn’t think anyone took Miz, Sheamus, and Cesaro seriously as a real threat.  But now that the heels have two giants helping them and the mystique of a reunified Shield is out of the picture, there’s no good reason for them to lose.  Which means that if they do lose, the heels will look especially weak and foolish.  But it also means that if the heels win, the match will feel like a foregone conclusion.  The only thing that’s certain is that WWE creative have their work cut out for them, and finding out what they come up with is now the main draw of the show.

Asuka vs. Emma - It’s Asuka’s debut on the main WWE roster, and Emma won a five-way to earn the right to get killed to death here.

Asuka joined the NXT roster in 2015, and has not been pinned of submitted since.  (I know she was eliminated in a battle royal and maybe lost a few tag matches or four-ways, but that’s about it.)  She held the NXT women’s championship for over 500 days, in one of the longest title reigns of any kind in modern WWE history.  She was sidelined for a couple of months with a collarbone injury, so WWE announced she would vacate the title to move up to the main roster in an apparent effort to protect her aura of invincibility.

This could be Emma’s big chance to be in the spotlight, after years of being mishandled and overlooked, but I wouldn’t count on it.  She’s most likely in this spot to make Asuka look good ahead of bigger matches with Sasha Banks, Bayley, Alexa Bliss, etc.  That’s rough for Emma, but watching her get annihilated should be fun for the rest of us.

Finn Balor vs. AJ Styles - I wrote a whole thing about how stupid the Finn vs. Bray Wyatt match for this show was going to be, and then they pulled Bray from the show.  So AJ is coming over from Smackdown to make up for the change.  Although I hope Bray and the others sidelined by this mysterious infection get well soon, it is nevertheless worth noting that the match is now better for having been switched at the last minute.

As Prince Devitt, Finn Balor founded Bullet Club in 2013.  When he left New Japan to join WWE/NXT in 2014, AJ Styles was added to the group and eventually positioned as its new leader.  So yeah, if you’ve been wondering why some fans go apeshit any time Karl Anderson and Luke Gallows do absolutely anything at all with either of these two, that’s why.  This is a dream match for Bullet Club fans, who are probably going to make their presence very clear at this show.

Just doing this match is pretty hot, but what makes it more interesting is it’s happening on a show where everything feels like it’s fall apart.  WWE is in a position where two of the most heavily promoted storylines for this show have been shot to hell, and plans for next month are in limbo.  When that kind of chaos is in play, Vince McMahon and/or creative sort of mentally gives up and you get a very different kind of show.  I’m thinking Finn and AJ are going to get a lot of time and very few story cues for this match, so they can just go out there and wrestle a whole lot, like if they were in New Japan.  That could play to both guys’ strengths and give us a tremendous match.

The finish is probably not going to matter since these guys are on different rosters and preoccupied with their own storylines.  AJ seems to be getting positioned for a world title match with Jinder Mahal in the future, so he should probably get the win.  On the other hand, it’s Raw and Finn’s the Raw guy, plus you’d sort of want to keep him strong for the rescheduled match with Bray later on.  I’d say it’s even money.

Alexa Bliss vs. Mickie James - Bliss defends the Raw women’s championship.  James is 38 and so WWE is making her age an issue in a really shallow effort to put heat on Alexa.  Considering James has been back with the promotion for over a year, I’m honestly surprised they managed to wait this long before pulling this shit.  Anyway this match is your reminder that very little actually changed when they did that whole divas revolution business, and WWE is still pretty scuzzy when it comes to women.  I’m sure Bliss will retain because WWE can’t get enough of presenting pretty blondes as stuck-up sociopaths.

Kalisto vs. Enzo Amore - Kalisto won the cruiserweight title from Enzo on October 9th, so this is the rematch.  This all stems from a storyline where Enzo put it in his contract that if anybody in the cruiserweight division hit him, they would be banned from challenging him from the title, so the entire division beat him up anyway because they hate him that much.  That left Enzo without any challengers, so Kalisto switched weight classes, and he’s exempt from the no-contact clause. 

Kalisto was supposed to challenge Enzo for the title here, but the match got bumped up to replace a non-title Neville vs. Enzo match that was scrapped when Neville walked out of the company.  It’s a safe bet Kalisto only won the 10/9 match out of some sense that WWE had to “make good” on the cancellation, and that Kalisto is set to drop the title at the company’s earliest convenience.  I’m pretty confident we’ll see Enzo get the belt back, and in a way that solidifies his heel turn.

Cedric Alexander & Rich Swann vs. Brian Kendrick & Jack Gallagher - It’s a bunch of cruiserweights, WWE has turned these guys into the bathroom break division, it doesn’t matter what happens.

Sasha Banks vs. Alicia Fox - This is scheduled for the pre-show, and seems to have been rushed together.  Ordinarily Fox never gets to do anything on TV, but she’s apparently filling in for Nia Jax who reportedly asked for time off (which has frustrated industry watchers trying to figure out why).  I like Alicia and I think she’s underutilized, but I’ve also given up expecting that to ever change.  Banks will win.