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Nine seconds on the clock.
Cheers, bad advice and wide eyes on the sidelines. His breath was heavy, the pressure of the game clogging his throat and weighing down his chest. Eight seconds. Now the coach was yelling, “Pass it! You can’t do it! Pass it!” He wanted so badly to obey his coach, but he couldn’t. The rest of his team was surrounded by the other players, if he threw the ball, they’d get the point, his team would lose, and it’d be all his fault. Seven seconds, six, five. He needed to shoot. He was in perfect position for a three-pointer, he was never very good at shots from that far out.
One boy stood out in the crowd. Bright yellow hair, dark brown eyes, pink lips he could suffocate in. He stood and looked at him with a smile, his encouragement, his motivation. The boy nodded, three seconds. Jon looked at the hoop, his team, his friend Tyler, their best shooter, stuck behind the opposing player. Two seconds. Jon lifted his arms and threw the bright orange ball. One second, the timer goes off, the ball is in the air, the crowd is silent.
The ball hits the backboard, the left of the ring, the right, balances on the left. The whole room holds their breath. It falls in and the game is won. The cheers are drowned out as he looks back at Josh, smiling widely. His team and pupils pick him up off the ground and he can clearly see the other team frowning and watching as he’s congratulated for the winning point. But they don’t matter, his eyes land on Josh once again. He is all Jon can see, his boyfriend, his love, his life. The person that matters the most.
The game didn’t matter, winning wasn’t important, Josh was. They wouldn’t have won without his smile.