Talk Fast || DNF

Chapter 10

He's been here before. White lights beating down on him as beads of sweat gather on his forehead. The cheers of the crowd have numbed themselves to his ears, the sound of his blood rushing through his veins overtaking everything else. There are two minutes left of the game that determines whether or not their school will be the champions for this season and of course, since Dream can never catch a break, it's a tie. His team is looking to him as the whistle blows, starting what will hopefully be the last play of the game. The ball goes to the enemy team first and Dream groans internally, chasing after his defense but falling back for an open pass. He sees Karl get the ball, skirting around someone's ankles and throwing him off guard. The clock ticks down with a little under a minute left and Dream is the only open player on the field.

"Oh, Christ," he mumbles as Karl kicks the ball towards him. Avoiding the defense heading straight for him, he catches the pass and begins to run towards the goal with the ball underfoot. He passes it to one of his teammates, yellow swarming his vision as he is surrounded by the defense who hasn't quite realized he doesn't have the ball anymore. He smiles to himself as he gets around them, opening himself up for another pass as he gets closer to the goal.

There are less than thirty seconds left and Karl still has the ball and he'll admit, he's getting nervous. The last thing he wants to deal with is overtime; he's nervous enough as is. Dream just wants this game to be over so he doesn't have to worry about soccer for another few months. Ten seconds left on the clock and the ball is sailing back over to Dream.

He doesn't even bother to catch it, he just keeps the momentum and kicks it into the left corner of the goal with all the power he can manage through his exhausted bones. His leg falls out from underneath him and time slows down as he falls, watching every movement of the ball. It seems his slip-up distracted the goalie just enough, the ball sailing into the corner he aimed for just as the clock hits zero. A buzzer sound rings in his ears, echoing alongside the cheers of his university and his team. He collapses with his back against the turf as he is swarmed by his teammates, all shouting his name. Everything turns to white noise as people rush onto the field to congratulate the winning team. Not just the winning team, the champions. He smiles to himself as he lays on the turf amid his team trying to yank him up. Sweat drips down his face as he catches his breath from having the wind knocked out of him.

A hand reaches out and he smiles, intertwining his fingers with George's as he lets his boyfriend pull him up off of the ground. As soon as he's up and everyone realizes he isn't hurt, he's pulled into the sweatiest hug imaginable, him and George in the middle of it all. As soon as the team gives them the slightest bit of space to breathe, Dream pulls George to him, pressing their lips together in a heated celebratory kiss. Win or lose, he still gets to have this and that's all he cares about.

" Dream," George giggles into the kiss, his hands pressed against the blond's chest, "There's people."

"They can deal with it," Dream just laughs and kisses him again amid whoops and wolf whistles from his team. Pats on his back disrupt them, but all he can do is smile as he pulls away from George, letting his arm sling around his shoulders and pull him close.

They finally get off the field, but not without the team lining up for their show of sportsmanship that really just involves sweaty palms and stuttering over the phrase "good game" over and over again. As they make their way to the track where their coach is waiting with a proud smile on his face, the team downs their water bottles as they get approached by their friends and family who were making their way down the stadium steps to congratulate the team.

"So, I was right," a voice reaches Dream's ears and despite the growing irritation, not even Damien can spoil his celebratory mood. He turns around to face the man whose eyes were darting between him and George with his hands shoved in his pockets. "You two were fucking."