Work Text:
1
Troy ran happily around the playground, giggling loudly. He jumped around, trying to catch the butterflies that flapped around in the air. “Get over here!” he yelled at them, but it only served to make them fly higher away from him.
He kept running after the butterflies, eyes on the sky instead of where he was putting his feet, and one unexpected rock later and he was tumbling to the ground.
Tears immediately filled his eyes and he started screaming. “Daddy! Daddy!!”
Troy’s dad trotted over. “What’s up, Troy the Wonder Boy?”
“I fell,” he said tearfully. He pointed at his knees, which were pretty badly scraped. Little beads of blood were beginning to well up.
His dad looked him over. “You’re okay,” he said definitively. He wiped the blood away from Troy’s knee, and Troy hissed in pain. “Don’t cry, Troy. You’re a man. It’s just a scraped knee.”
He sniffled. “O-okay, daddy.” He stood up, brushing away his tears. He didn’t really want to chase butterflies anymore.
2
Fifth grade was really hard.
Troy was straight up failing english, and barely passing the rest of his classes. But he cared less about any of that than he cared about the paper he was staring at, a list of names posted in the hallway.
He hadn’t made the football team.
He could still play football, technically. His elementary school had two teams, the good one and the bad one, and only the good one needed a tryout. Anyone who wanted to could play in the bad one. But he’d had his heart set on playing in the good team. Or, more accurately, his dad had wanted him to play.
He blinked back the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. He wasn’t good enough.
He didn’t know how he was going to tell his dad.
3
His second year of fifth grade, Troy got into the good team.
He told his dad with a huge smile on his face, bouncing up and down, close to tears with how happy and proud and relieved he was. He got in. He got in!!
“Good job. But calm down. You’re not a girl,” said his father, disdain seeping into his voice, and Troy stopped bouncing.
“Sorry,” he said. His stomach sank. He wiped his eyes and remembered to keep smiling. “I’m so excited to play football!”
“Attaboy!” His dad clapped him on the back hard enough to make Troy stumble forward. “I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks, dad,” he said, never letting his smile drop. He was celebrating, after all.
4
Troy loved playing football.
He loved running down the field with five people chasing him, tumbling to the ground while holding onto the ball for dear life. He loved messing around with his best friends in the locker room, the feeling of comradery, the way they lost together and won together and played together, always a team. He loved throwing and kicking and tackling and just, the game.
They won the semifinal his senior year at Riverside. Troy’s dad shook him by his shoulders on the ride home, grinning widely. “Good job, champ!”
“We won!!” he yelled, punching the air. “It was amazing! Did you see me score? And then everyone piled on top of me and we WON!”
“Next stop, championships!” said his dad. “There’s gonna be scouts at that game, you know. Play well, and you’re practically guaranteed a scholarship.” He patted Troy’s knee roughly. “You’re on the way to playing in the big leagues, Troy.”
“Haha, yeah,” Troy said, looking out the window. The big leagues. He imagined himself on the screens he saw his favorite players on, imagined the roar of a stadium full of fans. His stomach did a flip, the kind it did when he looked over the railings on the second floor and saw the drop.
He blinked hard. He couldn’t cry in front of his dad. But he didn’t want to play football forever, not when it was like this, not with this intense pressure to win, win, WIN. Troy just wanted to play.
He plastered the smile back onto his face. They won. There was nothing to be sad about.
5
Troy covered his mouth without taking his eyes off the screen. His breath hitched. “The dog dies??”
“Yeah,” said Abed, not even fazed. This is what Troy got for choosing to hang out with the weirdo in his study group. Abed was the coolest person Troy had ever met, but what kind of person didn’t get upset when the dog died?
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Troy cried, aghast.
Abed shrugged. “You didn’t ask.”
Troy gaped at Abed’s always-blank face. “You’re not even sad!”
“I am sad,” he denied, looking back at the tv. “I just don’t tend to cry, like you.”
Troy’s stomach dropped. “I’m not crying!!” he yelled.
“It’s okay if you--”
“Shut up! I’m not crying.” He wiped his eyes, turning away from Abed.
Abed was silent for a moment.
“I’ll make sure to give you a warning if the dog dies in any future movies we watch,” he said.
Troy smiled despite himself, even with tears still tauntingly close to falling. “Thanks, Abed,” he sniffed.
+1
Spring meant butterflies, and butterflies meant Troy couldn’t walk from one class to the next without getting distracted and chasing one of them.
Thankfully, Abed was fully down to join him, and they trailed after butterflies instead of going to spanish. They were laughing, or at least Troy was, but he could tell Abed was having fun by the way his body was loose and wiggly as he ran.
And then Troy fell.
He was fine, really. He’d only scraped his knees. But as he sat there on the ground, he felt the tears come. He hid his face in his arms.
“Troy! Are you alright?” said Abed.
Troy nodded silently. Abed knelt down next to him and patted his back. “It’s okay,” he said, in the exact same tone he said everything else in, but it was enough to break the damn. Tears rolled down his cheeks, and Abed took his hand, and Troy cried for so many more reasons that just his knee.
And it was okay.