Stagnant

Lonesome

Rugby was a pretty big deal at my high school -how American Football is a pretty big deal at most schools in America. It was like that but with rugby and British people.

Most people supported the rugby team. It was filled with beefy guys who took up half the space in the corridors (since the corridors in my school were pretty narrow). Our school was designed for five-hundred students but then more people moved to our town for some reason and those people had babies and those babies had babies. When I attended, there was around one-thousand-five-hundred students in attendance which made us feel like real sardines in the corridors.

Anyway, rugby was a pretty big thing at my school. Most of the students attended the matches, I used to attend the matches because Elliot was on the team. I used to go to all the trainings after school, every match and Elliot and I would go to the same restaurant after every match to celebrate, whether the team lost or won.

I was his biggest fan and I'm pretty sure I used to scream the loudest in the crowd, just for Elliot.

Rugby wasn't exactly my expertise and since it had been three years since I watched a live match and a year since I watched or talked about rugby with Elliot, I didn't know a lot, just the basic rules and I was proud of myself for remembering them.

"This is going to be so- why the hell aren't you wearing the jersey?"

I glance down to my plain black hoodie before taking a look at the black Exeter rugby Jersey that he wore along with a dark navy jacket.

"You wanted me to wear it?"

He sends me a look of complete exasperation. "Of course! That's why I left it on the bed."

"Oh." I nod. "Do I have to wear it?" I ask quietly, not feeling particularly comfortable wearing anything that isn't my hoodie.

I don't know what it is but wearing a jersey, wearing a rugby jersey sends a chill down my spine. Rugby. Elliot's sport.

A flash of realisation etches on his face as he nods, the look vanishing. "You don't have to wear it but put a jacket on as well, it's going to get colder."

He sends me a small smile while I nod and turn back to the room, grabbing a black jacket from my bag. My eyes find the shirt on top of the white bed sheets, it contrasting with the dark colour, and without thinking I stuff it in to my bag, wanting to keep it with me but not wear it.

The stadium was a lot more crowded than I thought it was going to be, and a lot colder. We were sardines in a can, all shivering but excited. The excitement fell upon the stadium in waves, the chattering only increasing in volume while we all waited for the players to come on the pitch.

"Do you remember anything about rugby?" Jackson nearly shouted at me since the noise around us was so loud and nearly deafening.

"You can't pass forward?" I said loudly, it sounded more like a question.

He nodded with a smile. "Yea no forward passes, only sideways and backwards. Anything else?"

"Fifteen players each side, no tackles above the shoulders and a try is worth five points." I said, feeling more confident in my words with each passing second as his smile grew.

"Are you sure you're not an expert?" He teased, nudging his shoulder with mine.

Shrugging, I stared out to the field as the players made their on to it, the cheering and shouting of the crowd increasing so it was almost deafening. "I have a good memory."

It was silent from his end and after a moment or two I glanced at him, shocked and confused as to why he was staring at me with an odd expression on his face. I couldn't decipher the emotion or glint in his sapphire eyes but it left as soon as it came.