The Degradation (translation)

Chapter 4

Milan Kundera said: "There is no freedom in the game. For the player, the game is a trap."I don't want to fall into this trap. If it's a loss, have you thought about what the win will be? I want to play with you. It remains to be seen whether you win or lose.
***

Louis' pov

The final whistle blows and I fall. With my eyes closed, I land on my knees on the grass and spread my arms. Sweat drips from my hair, and my T-shirt is stuck to my body. I scored the damn goal. Ten seconds to go. I hit so hard that I almost twisted my leg. The goalkeeper did not have time to catch, and I scored. Scored. 4-3. We've won, and I can hear the hysterical screams all around me. I slowly regain my breath. The whole campus is in the stands. My body is shaking with adrenaline, we won the first match of the season. I stand up and turn around. I look for my father, who claps his hands vigorously, looking as proud as the coach. The other players run in my direction, and I notice two eyes looking at me. Green eyes. At the entrance to the locker room. I can only hear my heart beating. And in less than a second, I'm surrounded by players, and he's gone. The outside world is there again, and I am being lifted into my arms. Euphoria. We won.

The locker rooms are in complete chaos. We change clothes, we yell, we sing. The guys tap me on the shoulder. I'm the star of the day, and I love it. I scored three goals out of four, including the winning goal. I take off my T-shirt and captain's armband when the coach calls me.

"Well played, Tomlinson."

And again, congratulations. Even my father, who came with him, praised me, and this does not happen every day. We chat for a few minutes. About the score, about the tactics, about the next match, and in the end, the locker room is empty, and I'm the last to go to the shower. I wrap the towel around my hips and tousle my hair as I head back to the locker. On it is a piece of paper folded in half.

«Congratulations. - H» I look around. There's no one here. I'm alone.

***

The victory party is held at the guy from the team. We were not allowed to drink for a whole week, because of the upcoming match. So now everyone is trying to catch up, and the beer is disappearing before our eyes. I can't take a single step without getting smiles, winks, and congratulations in my direction. Eleanor proudly wears my captain's jacket. Red plastic vodka cups are being emptied. We dance, drink, play. The rooms are occupied, and even the dumbest understand what they are doing there.

"I'm telling you! He tied it to the battery and then took off."

"Handcuffs!"

"Are you sure?"

Three girls are chatting in the hallway, and I start laughing. I wave my head a little, so as not to show how drunk I am.

"Styles is sick."

What? At the mere mention of a name, I stop behind them. I lean against the wall, pulling out my phone so they'll think I'm texting instead of eavesdropping.

"This guy was chained up all day, completely naked, before he released him."

I don't know if it's the alcohol, but I'm dripping with cold sweat. A completely drunk girl pushes me as she goes to the bathroom, and I flinch, letting my vodka glass fall to the floor. I go to the others sitting on the couch in the living room. I think I had too much to drink, or I was tired after the match...The music is too loud, there are too many people, the voices, the laughter, it all gives me a headache. I'm hot and everything is floating.

"I'm getting out of here."

Liam looks up at me.

"What's wrong, man?"