Chapter Text
Lacrosse was a Veretian sport with Vaskian origins. According to a quick wikipedia search it had originally been a religious ceremony amongst the Vaskian, and it had fascinated the Veretian soldiers to no end during their occupation of the area some hundreds of years ago. The soldiers then brought a bastardized version of the sport back to Vere with them when the occupation was over, and from there the sport spread down to the south of the Kingdom and then even further south into Akielos.
Erasmus knew he didn’t need to read up on the history of the sport simply to attend a single game, especially when he wasn’t even going for himself, but his nerves were getting the better of him and there was nothing else he could do. He had hoped distracting himself would have calmed him down some, or at least made it look like he had calmed down some. He liked to think it did, anyway, as he sat next to Isander on the half frozen bleachers and mentally recounted the history of the very first Veretian and Akielon lacrosse game back in 1965.
“Erasmus, would you please calm down? It’s going to be fine. This is a school sponsored sports game, not some house party.” Isander said, his eyes searching the place on the field where the players had huddled in some strange pregame ritual.
Erasmus sighed. He thought that he and Isander agreed to never bring up the House Party Incident ever again. After all he still hadn’t forgiven Isander for abandoning him like that and not to mention -- he sighed again. He was working himself up and it wasn’t fair to his friend. That had been almost a year ago. Any normal person would have probably long since let it go by now.
“I’m fine, Issy.” He said. When he felt Isander’s gaze leave the players and settle heavily on the side of his head he added: “Really.”
Isander made a noise that was halfway between disbelief and acceptance as they pulled out a pocket mirror. Erasmus watched as his friend primped in his own mix of disbelief and fondness. His nerves were buzzing and he told himself to ignore it. Instead he watched as his friend fixed his hair and smoothed out his over priced shirt. He knew it was over priced because Isander had dragged him to Urban Outfitters on payday after their shifts.
“How do I look?”
“Good.”
“Good like you’re my best friend so you have to say I look good? Or good like if you were him you would date me good?” Isander asked. Doubt creeped across his face and Erasmus returned the look with brow knotted concern.
“Good like if I were him --” him being number 16 aka Isander’s crush of the week aka the reason Erasmus had been dragged to yet another sports event by his friend “--I’m sure I would date you.”
“Okay,” Isander said with a slight nod. His eyes went back on the field where the game was starting and Erasmus followed his gaze.
The game went by like a fairly stock standard game (or so Erasmus guessed from what little he knew from his research). His school was winning and Isander’s crush had apparently scored (gotten a goal? a touchdown? Erasmus didn’t know the proper term). Sometime after that a player, number 42 from his school, got a penalty and was sent to the penalty box.
Erasmus frowned and watched the back of the player’s jersey as he stalked across the field. He’d zoned off and hadn’t been able to hear whatever his offense was, but judging by his posture he could tell that the player didn’t feel like it was deserved.
“Did Kallias get penalized again?” Isander asked, an amused tone to his voice. “This is the third game in a row.”
“He seems quite aggressive,” Erasmus said with a slight frown, his eyes still on the bright red lettering of Kallias’s jersey.
Isander shrugged. He looked away from the field and back at Erasmus, his eyes stayed there as a slight smile spread across his face. “That’s not necessarily a bad thing. He knows what he wants and he’s willing to do anything to get it. That can be a very good trait in a partner and, you know, he happens to be friends with Aden.”
“I really wish you would stop trying to set me up with your crushes’ friends.” Erasmus flushed. “Need I remind you of--”
“-- the party incident , yes, Erasmus, I remember the party incident. But this is different.”
“How is this different?”
“Well for one Kallias is actually single, unlike that Veretian exchange student, and I happen to know that he thinks you’re cute.”
Erasmus flushed again. Instead of responding he concentrated on staring straight ahead at the field. Players were running around with equipment in what looked more like organized chaos than any kind of national pastime.
“Just give him a shot, okay?”
Erasmus let a sharp breath out of his nose in lieu of a reply. He could never say no to his friend, no matter how much trouble he knew it would cause him. His brother had always said it was because he was too nice for his own good.
“Looks like the game’s almost over.” Isander said after a few minutes.
“Already?” Erasmus frowned. He had lost track of Kallias after he had been let out of the penalty box, but he could see that his school was still winning by two points.
“Sporting events go very quickly when you spend most the first half of them glued to your phone.” Isander chided, and Erasmus breathed out through his nose again. That sarcastic tone didn’t suit his quiet but good natured friend at all.
You’ve been spending too much time in scholar’s bowl with Mr. de Vere. He thought but didn’t say. He felt he should have, though, because with each passing week Isander was turning himself more and more into a carbon copy of their AP Veretian History teacher.
Erasmus crossed and uncrossed his legs. After another hour of gameplay Erasmus came under the assumption that Isander knew absolutely nothing about lacrosse. Either that or his understanding of time and the phrase “almost over” were very off.
“Uh...maybe now?” Isander said, sounding even less certain than last time.
Erasmus scrolled through his phone again, sparing a glance at the scoreboard. The wikipedia article said almost nothing about the length of the game or about whether it was done quarters or halves. He frowned to himself and put his phone away, purposefully ignoring the unread texts from his older sister.
“What’s that face for?” Isander asked and Erasmus was almost impressed by the fact that his friend had managed to even notice that he was pulling a face with his eyes glued to the field like they were.
“It’s Desdemona again.”
“Did you borrow another one of her shirts without asking her?”
“I asked her,” Erasmus said defensively. Then quieter: “She just didn’t hear me.”
Isander gave a soundless laugh. He had heard Erasmus and his sister argue about this countless times. “You would think she would be used to it by now.”
“You’d think,” Erasmus said quietly. His fingers found the hem of the shirt in question. As he ran the silky fabric over his fingers he couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. He had purposefully waited until she had her headphones in to ask if he could borrow the shirt-- he knew it was wrong but he still did it. He frowned a little, guilt weighing more on him. Maybe he wasn’t as nice as his younger brother seemed to think.
The game went on another half hour. During that time Isander had decidedly given up on trying to predict the nature of the sport’s time clock, and Erasmus sent his sister an essay of an apology. She didn’t respond but then again she never did.
“She’ll be over it come morning” Isander offered.
The game finally ended a few minutes after that. When it did the other students, and even some parents, proudly sang the school’s fighting song. Erasmus remembered most of the words from choir and Isander pretended to mouth along. Before the song had even finished Isander started to make his way out of the bleachers, dragging Erasmus along by his wrist.
The guy Isander liked was standing in between Aden and Kallias, the latter of whom looked over Erasmus with an appreciative gaze and a small blush. He then whispered something harshly to Aden, who simply smiled at him knowingly.
Isander dropped his wrist and leaned against the fencing that surrounded the field. Erasmus stood behind his friend and tried very hard to ignore the way Kallias kept glancing at him.
“...yeah, I mean, I’ve always been super into lacrosse,” He heard Isander say.
Number 16 replied with a half teasing “oh yeah?”
Erasmus stepped forward and grabbed Isander’s arms. This was his chance to help his friend.
“Hey, Issy, I actually had a question about lacrosse. Only the goalie can touch the ball right?” He asked and nodded his head encouragingly to tell Isander that yes, that is the right answer.
“Uh, y-yeah. All other players have to use their, uh, sticks.” Isander answered. His brows unknit and his face transformed from a look of confusion to understanding. He got it.
“Oooohhh,” Erasmus replied in a drawn out manner, as if to mimic himself processing this information. “And that like area around the goal, the crease is it?,--” another nod “--why were the players just putting their sticks in there instead of actually going in there? It was like they’re not allowed to go in there or something.” He emphasised the words as best he could without making it obvious. Thankfully, his friend seemed to undetstand.
“Yeah, well, funny you should say that, Massy. They’re actually not allowed to go into the crease, the area around the goal, but they get the ball with their sticks.” The last bit was said uncoached and so a little unasuradly.
Erasmus nodded that he was right on that as well and the tension in Isander’s shoulders dropped.
“Wow, Isander, that’s pretty impressive. I didn’t know you actually knew that much about lacrosse.” The guy said.
“Well, I guess you just underestimated me.” Isander said with a wink, and Erasmus worried he was going to add Mr. de Vere’s signature and you know what happens to men who underestimate me line. Luckily he didn’t and instead opted to lean even further over the fence so that he and his crush were inches apart.
Aden made a disgusted noise and excused himself, saying something about calling his mother.
Erasmus watched him go. Just as Aden reached the halfway point across the field he risked a glance over at Kallias. He was watching Aden walk away too, which gave Erasmus a second to get a better look at him.
A bruise, no doubt from the game, was splattered across his face from his lower right jawline up to where reddish brown tufts of sweat dampened hair peeked out from behind his ear. He had noticeable cheekbones and eyes that looked lit up with something he couldn’t read. Erasmus bit back a groan.
Kallias was very attractive. In fact, he was exactly Erasmus’s type.
He had to find an excuse to get Isander out of there and get them back home. Maybe he could say his sister replied to his text and said that if he didn’t return home with the shirt by 7 then she would shave his pet rabbit. She had done it before.
Just as he opened his mouth to say something Isander turned to him and said, “I’m going to walk him to the locker room to get his bag and then to his car. Do you mind waiting here until I get back?”
Do I mind waiting here on an almost dark, almost fully empty sports field for who knows how long? Erasmus thought bitterly, then felt guilty for his anger. His friend really liked this guy, and all he was asking for was a few minutes alone. That wasn’t too much.
“Er- yeah. Sure, Issy.” Anything for you.
“I’ll wait here with you.” Kallias said, almost making eye contact with Erasmus.
He wondered if his panic had shown in his eyes and that was what made Kallias offer, or if Kallias just wanted to be alone with him. Either way Erasmus’s face grew warm with embarrassment.
He turned to say something to Isander but he had already walked away with his crush, the two hand in hand. Erasmus sighed and not so guiltily began to wonder if it wasn’t time he found a new (less boy crazed) best friend.
Kallias opened his mouth and breathed in like he meant to say something, but then closed his mouth and looked away.
Erasmus stepped a little closer to the fence, worried about seeming rude or standoffish, and smiled warmly at him. He felt he should at least be friendly with Kallias-- at least as friendly as he was with all others.
The sun was setting and various shades of pinks and yellows danced across the sky.
“Pink is my favorite color,” he said without thinking.
“Yellow is mine.”
“There’s a sunset between the two of us, then.” Erasmus said
“Or a sunrise.”
“Mhmmm,” Erasmus replied with a soft smile.
He was unsure of what else to say or do, so he looked back at the sky. The shades of yellow had turned to orange and the pinks had turned to red. Around them various players and parents shuffled off of the field and out into the parking lot. He could already hear the car horns of impatient parents desperate to get out of the traffic that always came with school events.
“It looks like we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other,” he heard Kallias say after a moment. “Since our friends are dating.”
Erasmus nodded. He didn’t feel the need to bring up Isander’s track record with boys or how he was almost entirely certain that this would be the last game of lacrosse he ever went to.
“Not that- not that I think that’s a bad thing or anything,” Kallias amended. Erasmus looked back over to him to see that his blush was back-- a bright pink against the black-purple of his bruise. “I- I actually wouldn’t mind seeing more of you. Not at all.”
Erasmus felt his cheeks heat up again. “I don’t think I would mind seeing more of you either.”
Kallias opened his mouth to say something, then closed it in a bright smile. There was something very endearing about the way he looked down at the ground then back up at Erasmus.
A gust of wind came through the field, chilling Erasmus. He wrapped his arms around himself and felt even more regret about wearing his sister’s shirt. Silk didn’t make for the most warming garments.
“Would you like my hoodie?” Kallias asked.
Erasmus hesitated for a moment before tentatively nodding. He watched as Kallias unwrapped the sleeves of his hoodie from around his waist and passed it to him.
He held out the hoodie, looking it over for mud or something else, before slipping it on. On the back he noticed the word Jawbreaker embellished across the back in bright patterned lettering.
“Jawbreaker?” He asked.
“All the guys on the team get nicknames,” Kallias explain, a small but triumphant smile on his face “I got mine from, well, breaking a guy’s jaw last year.”
Erasmus’s eyebrows shot up in a surprised expression that he desperately tried to repress. Kallias’s smiled dropped a little at that, but even still Erasmus heard him give a soundless laugh through his nose.
“He had it coming, I assure you.” He said “His dad was the referee and he kept penalizing our school’s team for the stupidest things, so I took one for the team and bodychecked him as hard as I could.”
Erasmus got the distinct feeling that causing the kid any lasting damage was just a happy accident. He didn’t see any glory in the action himself, but clearly Kallias’s team members were thankful for it.
“How noble of you,” he smiled and hoped that the sentiment didn’t come off as sarcastic.
“Thank you,” Kallias replied.
He looked like he wanted to say something else but he looked away again. Erasmus followed his gaze and saw Isander and the lacrosse player making their way back to them. He felt himself frown a little-- though they hadn’t said much he had been enjoying his time with Kallias. There was something interesting about him. Not an air of danger like he got from the Veretian exchange student last year, but rather something akin to mischief without malice. It intrigued him. It made him want to know everything about Kallias.
“My name is Erasmus,” he said suddenly. “And you can get my number from Isander.”
“My name is Kallias.” He smiled, the mischief that Erasmus was beginning to adore was alight in his eyes “and you can plan on getting a text from me before the end of the day.”