#me when my captain is absolutely giddy just switching me around to every position for funsies. ok

[eriecanal]

just got back from practice i might be playing center now i guess??

[sidejerk-blog1]

     You and your teammates pass the gym and make your way to the locker rooms, all of you making quick work of shucking your sweatpants and jackets into your bags and your bags into the lockers. There’s an excited buzz in the atmosphere of the room and you can’t stop the grin that’s been plastered on your face since you boarded the bus from growing wider.

    “My my,” comes a voice to your left, with an elbow to your ribs following. “You’re positively giddy, mahal. I’m afraid you’ll be too overcome with excitement to hit my tosses.” But their grin is just as wide as yours and you give them a playful shove before you both shut your lockers, laughing. You can hear the team starting to file out now, heading to the gym to start warmups. Enrique puts their leg up on the bench running between the lockers and adjusts their kneepads; they’re more like leggings honestly. While they do so, some of their hair falls over their eyes.

    After a quick glance down, you see their headband on the bench and you pick it up and run your thumb along it before going to stand in front of them. They look up when you do and cock their head with a grin, waiting. Careful not to snag any hair or pull their ears, you stretch the elastic headband over their head and pull it up to push back their bangs. Pond green meets your brown and you lean forward and press your lips together, you can feel when they exhale through their nose in a sort of laugh. Vaguely, you can hear a few jeers from your teammates but you don’t pay them any mind.

    “I hear this is a great way to cure giddiness.”

    “Are you absolutely certain? I feel as if you’re just reinforcing the myth of locker rooms being gay.” They step over the bench to put an arm around your shoulders and start leading you both out along with everyone else. Before you even step foot into the gym you can hear people already in the bleachers above, talking amongst themselves while the players begin their warmups before the match.

---

    “LEFT!” Enrique nearly roars, eyes quick to catch the opposition’s quick and subtle changes in positioning. You jump and steel yourself before you see the spiker raise their arm and is about to bring it down with all their might to try and break through your block. Except they don’t. It’s a light smack and the ball is easily going back over to their side as the two others beside you grunt when you all come back down. “Dammit.” They hiss, somewhere off to your right.

    They’re already setting up for their next attack. It’s the third set and you’re a few points behind thanks to the other team’s ace that has the most annoying tendency to spike his balls right by peoples’ heads. Jackass. You make a mental note to ask Enrique to practice that with you after this.  

    Speak of the devil and he shall fucking appear. Their setter sets up a toss for their ace, a back attack, and you’re all bracing yourselves to receive. Which you do. Your libero does an amazing job with saving the ball, but unfortunately not getting it back to your setter. In fact it doesn’t get to anyone on your team and goes back over to them.

    “Sorry!” He calls, once he sees the ball passing over the net.

    “Don’t mind! We’re getting the next one!” Enrique’s voice rings out, full of assurance. You smile, that’s your captain. You’re all scrambling to get back into position but it looks like the other team is a step faster than you this time and the ace is already making his spike. Shit.

    And then it happens. If you’re being entirely honest, you’re not quite sure what went wrong. Their footing maybe? The weird angle of the ball? You can’t really blame the force of it. Did they get distracted for a second? What you know for sure is that the ball hits Enrique’s face at full speed, but it doesn’t stop. It was almost like your captain was just a slight hinderance in its path. Nothing more. Because next thing you know they’re falling back as the ball makes it’s way to the ground, as if it had some stupid magnetic pull to the gym floor.

    Maybe that was it. If only. But then they hit the ground with a horrible thud and shout. You find out that a head hitting the gym floor doesn’t sound like a volleyball at all. They’re groaning and don’t get up, but you’re already by their side. The crowd gasps and you think you wince. There’s already a worried hum starting on the court.

    You don’t remember walking over. Walking? You feel something rise in you, something mixed in with the worry and concern and anger and. Is it dread? When you think back on it later, you think it was.

    “Hey. Are. Are you okay?” They furrow their brows and shut their eyes, in pain probably, before blinking rapidly in succession. You have your hands on their arms and you can hear someone calling for a timeout and footsteps running over. Out of the corner of your eye you see it’s the coach.

    “Rey?” They’re squinting as you and coach begin to sit them up, they look over at the sudden pair of hands in what seems like surprise. “I-I’m fine. I’m fine I’m fine.” They shakily get to their feet, you and coach ready to catch and steady them if need be. Everyone’s watching as they make their way to serve. To you, they look a little unsettled, but can you really blame them? Sparing another glance at them, you get into position.

    To your immense relief, their serve lands your team a point and you all cheer. ‘One more, captain!’ One of your middle blockers tosses them the ball, and they fumble with catching it. You don’t think much of it because soon enough, they make their serve. Unfortunately, this time the other team receives it and they land a point.

    When Enrique makes their way to the front beside you, you give them a grin. One that quickly slips off your face.

    “Rey. I… I can’t see.”

    The set is starting. You’re not paying attention.

    “W-what?”

---

     “I’m sorry. We’re doing what we can but…” He sighs. As if this is painful for him. As if he knows what this will mean. To the team. To you. To them. “It doesn’t look good.”

    Suddenly, winning the Spring Tournament doesn’t feel all that great.

---

    “Then one of my cousins starts climbing me like a jungle gym and next thing I know? Almost all of them are and I very nearly tip over and bust my ass.”

    “And thus the world’s most gorgeous playground fixture was born.” You get a quick whack to your left shin, but they laugh. You’ve gotten used to the steady tapping of their cane by now, but not entirely to the dull pain that it inflicts every now and then. With your left hand, you easily take hold of their right as you both make your way down the hall, heading towards an exit. With your right you start pulling down your tie and continue. “I feel like it’s been ages since I’ve seen them, amor. When are you having another get together?”

    “Ages my ass. You saw them two weeks ago.” They pause only for a moment. “I think next Tuesday for my aunt’s birthday.” The two of you knock shoulders lightly as you walk, but once you leave the main building, your smile tugs down and your grip on their hand loosens. Enrique turns and raises a brow.

    “Uh.” You never know how to say it. You should come up with a code word for it or something. But the sudden tightening of their jaw tells you they got it. Their hand falls away and they wrap it around the strap of their bag.

    “Right. It’s Wednesday. Sorry, must’ve slipped my mind.” You bite the inside of your cheek and clench your fists. It was easy to pretend this didn’t happen three times a week when you’re both in classes.

    “It’s fine.” You reply automatically, and lean up to press a quick kiss to the side of their mouth. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

    “Right.” And they begin walking off with a nod. As always, you wait until they leave the school grounds and you can’t see the maroon of their uniform jacket anymore. Something burns in your chest. But it’s better than a burning behind the eyes that you had grown all too familiar with.

    It doesn’t take you long to make your way to the club room to change and chuck your stuff into a locker. Some of the others, your teammates, flinch when you slam the locker door shut. A quick jog later and you’re inside the gym where your team’s assistant coach has already rolled out the carts of volleyballs. You catch two kids, a year below you, snickering as they slowly bring out the nets.

    “HEY.” They freeze at your call and reluctantly make eye contact. “Unless you two figured out how to practice without nets, hurry it up already.” It comes out like a bark, but you didn’t necessarily mean it to. You don’t think you do, at least.

---

    “NO!” You shout, the gym nearly going silent as the ball pitifully bounces to the ground. Some people politely avert their gazes away from the setter you’ve been focusing on this week. They showed some potential in your last match. But now you’re having second thoughts. “I said keep your arms straight until I hit the ball!”

    “I-I’m sorry, captain. Next time I’ll—“ You don’t want to hear it and whip around towards the other setter you’ve been alternating between.

   “You. After this set I’m switching you in. And you,” Your attention returns to the one currently on the court. “Can do drills with the freshman until practice is over.” They both stammer out a ‘yes’ and you growl at one of the other wing spikers to swap out with you before clapping your hands for everyone to resume practice. They do. But the chatter that follows has some tension to it. In the back of your mind, there’s a nagging voice telling you you’re being too harsh. They’re not Enrique. But that thought has you gritting your teeth. Exactly.

    You weren’t meant to be captain in the first place.