You'll Be Okay

3

They're filming today.

They're filming today and his heart is pulsating and pounding, ramming in his rib cage.

They're filming and Harry's hands might be shaking. He doesn't want to look too closely at his fingers, just in case it's true.

They're filming and they're all sweating on a football pitch.

"Try and go for top left a couple more times!" Jj called from behind him. "We need to get a good clip of it."

Harry's glad that he can mindlessly follow Jj's commands. He walks back into his position and even though his mind is buzzing and trembling, he manages to ignore it, pushing it to the furthest corner of his mind.

Everyone's tired and exhausted. He could hear the breaths and grunts and feet moving across the astroturf. Harry needs to remind himself to breathe.

He's tired and down and kind of just wants to forget the whole video. He knows he shouldn't think like that- no one else is. They've been working so hard, Harry's probably holding them back.

"Go again!" Tobi shouts from the goal.

Nobody really talks when the camera isn't on them. Which is good for Harry because he can focus more on pushing the nagging feeling that yanks, drags, grabs and shoves him around.

He should be focusing. Focus. Focus. Focus.

He bites the inside of his cheek.

He's not in front of the goal anymore. What is he doing? Oh, he's playing actual football. No more trying to hit the crossbar.

Since when?

He's moving quickly, rapidly. His feet are trying to keep up with him. He feels iron on his tongue. He needs to focus. He's focusing. He is focusing, right? There's sweat gliding down his back. He needs to breathe. There's not enough time in between. He needs to get to the other side of the pitch.

He barely makes it. The floor is slippery. Is it raining? His shoes squeak on the ground. He needs to stop. His ankle hurts.

It doesn't matter. No one else is complaining. He chews on his lip. He concentrates and concentrates, and tries to concentrate.

He's up near the opposing goal now. Isn't he supposed to be defending? Concentrate. He doesn't want to disappoint himself. He goes back. He stumbles on the way. No one notices, right?

"HARRY!!!"

He let the ball slip past him. Fuck.

He's really shaking now.

No he's not.

Yes he is.

No. He's not.

***

It's half time. His ankle throbs.

"We're all over the place." That's his fault.

"We need to be tighter. We are a team. Make sure to stay at your positions."

Harry wants the ground to take pity on him and swallow him whole. "Harry," Lux called. Harry jerked his head up. Since when was Lux here with them?

"You stumbled a few times. Work on moving from one place to another. Everyone else we need to..."

Harry doesn't hear the rest. He's too busy feeling numb. He's too busy feeling nothing to feel anything at all.

He obviously needs to try harder.

They get back on the pitch and Harry knows he's really really really trying his best. He knows they've been here since midday, and that the sky is no longer bright.