Hatred: Nomin

Football: 4

"Dont injure yourself again please; it makes running away from our problems a bit more difficult."

Jeno rolled his eyes as he shook his hands out and chugged some water. Not that he was lacking in that; as the weather had yet again taken a turn for the worse and was pouring sheets of heavy rain. It soaked through his football kit and made it stick to his skin, he slicked his hair back to get the saturated strands out of his face and quickly tightened his laces on his boots.

"Thankyou for your compassion donghyuck." Jeno added.

Chenle giggled softly before he snatched Jeno's water bottle, patted him on his back before immediately drawing his hand back under the respite of the umbrella he and donghyuck were camping under.

They watched as the rest of the football team kicked a ball between them. Jeno had been on the team before, but never this team. He'd been promoted so it seems. And he wasn't mad at it, although his blood was boiling at the rain ruining his hair. The ball skittered off on the wrong trajectory and started to head over to where Jeno, Donghyuck and Chenle where huddled, so Jeno jogged over to pass it back to his teammate, whom he was surprised could even see with his hair dropping water into his eyes. The boy grinned and nodded a Thankyou.

"He's pretty hot." Jeno nodded at him as he jogged away, shirt soaked through.

Donghyuck scoffed. "Oh is he now. Have you been living under a rock Jeno, that's golden boy mark lee, everyone knows he's hot."

Jeno shrugged nonchalant. "He has nice shoulders."

Donghyuck guffawed at him. "You are a strange kid, Jeno."

The coach blew the whistle and the team were called in to prepare for their first match together. Jeno's eyes kept wandering back to his newly acquainted teammate Mark, and his cheekbones and his arms and- boy was he suddenly a big fan of the rain.

"Now go get em tiger!" Donghyuck cheered as Jeno jogged towards his team, flipping donghyuck off with a broad smile, before he was in audible range of the team.

They were briefed, given a short but impactful jeer of support from the coach, before being thrown head first into a match with their local opponent school.

Jeno had to admit to himself he was doing well. He knew he was doing well, spectacularly even wouldn't be outselling. He played fast, aggressively but oh so deftly. People fell and stumbled and slid but perservered on despite it.

With his amassing years of practice and slender but built frame he flew across the pitch. His teammates set him up for some perfect scores and you could tell even the weather couldn't put a dampener on everyone's mood. The crowd screamed elated as Jeno darted up one of the wings in his best effort to get in another goal before the end of the match to secure their win.

His heart was pounding beneath his ribs, his skin was shining from a sheen of both rainwater and sweat, mud peppered his calves and shins; but it meant nothing. Jeno was utterly focused on the ball at his feet that flew forwards in pace with him with the goal ever nearing.

He remembered his training. Head up head down. Check the goal, check the ball, check the players, check the angle, check the ball, kick with a little more force and get ready to shoot. Final scan of the goal.

His eyes were caught though, as he glanced up one last time, and suddenly he was a beat behind, a footstep off kilter, a single hesitant second too long and the opponents were careening towards him. He realised his mistake and fought valiantly to hold possession of the ball, but a few seconds into his struggle it went skittering off; the players around him sprinted away after him like a moth to a flame.