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The sun beat down relentlessly, showering the freshly cut grass in blistering hot rays. A hot, humid wind blew across the park, fading into the haze of summer.
Touya swiped a hand across his dripping forehead, panting like a steam engine. He struggled for moisture in the heatwave, his heaving quick and dry. Shouts from his teammates rippled through the air, but he could barely concentrate in the oppressive heat.
“Man on, man on!” One of them yelled in the far distance, but Touya barely registered it as more than a gust of the wind. He loosened his tie, trying to give himself some breathing capacity. Of course, it was only a lunchtime practice game, but Touya had a role to fulfill. He was the captain; someone his teammates could rely on. Even in the sweltering weather.
He yanked at the buttons of his shirt while bolting to the side of the park, tossing his tie on a stray bench. His fingers were slicked with sweat, barely managing to undo the last button in such a rush. Touya tossed it to the ground, adjusting his uniform trousers before finding his way back into the middle of the game.
“Push up!” Touya commanded, ignoring one of his teammates as they jokingly whistled towards his undressed state. He rolled his eyes.
Before he knew it, the ball was at his feet. It felt like an extension of his own body, rolling at his feet with precision and accuracy. His legs burned— partially from heat, partially muscle exertion— as he sprinted towards the goal, waltzing past a defender like a swerving motor.
Time stood still as he struck the ball. It flew through the air. The zooming bullet headed straight for the top right corner of the net, far past any goalie’s glove could ever reach.
Roars from his team reverberated off of the fences as they tackled him to the ground in celebration. Almost feverish, Touya closed his eyes for a moment, drowning out the noise, the feeling of sticky sweat. Dopamine rushed all too quickly to his brain, and he let out a satisfied sigh.
This was why Touya loved soccer. He never played it out of obligation from anyone. It was his own decision, and possibly the best choice he had ever made for himself.
He could temporarily forget all about his father, the screams from his mother and little brother, black-and-blue bruises and snapped bones if he had a goal. When Touya managed to focus, nothing else mattered. He was an iron wall, an unstoppable force.
Touya was only sixteen, but he knew this was how he wanted to live. Soccer had been an outlet for Touya since he was a toddler and lacked the attention of his father. A distraction, a way he could spend time with his siblings.
When he had started middle school, he was forced to join a club. Begrudgingly, he picked soccer, an easy option at the time. He grew to love it: the companionship, the glory of winning, the feeling of being seen and heard.
Finally, he opened his eyes and let out a deep, contented sigh, sitting up with a grin. His eyes scanned the area around him— a habit from when he was a child, always searching for his father in a crowd in the odd chance he might see him one day, finally watching him and feeling proud.
Something caught his eye. With a sandwich halfway in his mouth, chewing like a starving hamster, was Keigo Takami. Touya had nothing against him. Takami was a scholarship kid, one with exceptional grades and a semi-decent personality. Friend groups clashed, so they never spoke outside of: ‘Do you have a pencil I could borrow?’
Takami wouldn’t have been a particularly interesting sight most days. However, today Takami looked like the bird of prey he truly was. His eyes shimmered, locked on Touya, but not looking at his face. The once golden colour had darkened around the edges, and his pupils swallowed the light. It was raw, primal, and intense. As if Touya were a piece of meat ready to be devoured.
A strange heat crawled up Touya’s neck— from the heat, and something else he shoved to the back of his mind. He hated the strange feeling in his gut, the butterflies dancing around in his stomach.
Touya had expectations to fulfil, ones that others had pushed upon him. Most, he didn’t mind: find a partner, marry, have children to further the Todoroki legacy.
He bit his lip warily. He should feel flattered, really. If it was a girl, he wouldn’t have minded. He’s liked girls before. Every boy does. He might have gotten up if Takami was a girl, asked her out and attempted to flirt back.
Touya did stand up, but his fists were clenched. It was wrong, unnatural. His father told him all the time. Real men don’t act like that, Touya. It’s not how you were raised.
He took a deep, hard breath and marched over to Takami like a man on a mission. His teammates seemed confused to see his rapid departure from the glory. They followed behind him, like sheep to a shepherd.
“Hey!” Touya yelled, his voice coming off shakier than he intended, “What the hell do you think you’re staring at, Takami?”
Takami choked on his sandwich, coughing frantically as he fetched his water bottle with a feather and gulped it down. He quickly brushed the crumbs off of his lap, face flushed. “W-What? I wasn’t staring…” His gaze drifted to the ground.
Touya’s heart pounded in his chest. It was overwhelming. The scent of sweat clinging to him, the cacophony of confused murmurs from his teammates, the burning hot sun on his skin, the sight of Takami looking so nervous. He was a terrible liar.
Touya pointed his finger. “Don’t lie. You’ve been eyeing me this whole time!” His voice rose, throat feeling scratchy from dehydration and yelling. “What’s your fucking problem? You think I’m some kind of show for you to gawk at?”
Takami fidgeted with his lunchbox, closing it over with a quiet click and running his long nails over the plastic lid of the box. “I can’t help it when you…well…” He spared a glance at Touya, looking him up and down before guiltily looking away. “You look like that.”
One of his teammates put a hand on his shoulder, but Touya brushed it off, eyes narrowed as he glared at Takami. Takami was already starting to pack up his things, clearly uncomfortable with Touya’s attitude.
That only made Touya’s heart pound harder against his chest, like a beating drum. He didn’t like that look. Shame flooded through him for making Takami look like that. For making his hands tremble, forcing his feathers to scramble to grab his bag and get ready to avoid his wrath.
Something twisted in his gut, but what else was he supposed to do? Let him think that it was normal? Let everyone else think that he was okay with it?
It shouldn’t sit in his chest like a victory— Touya shouldn’t be okay with how Takami was staring at him. Touya shouldn’t have butterflies, he shouldn’t be feeling hot inside from the gaze, he shouldn’t be getting that same dopamine rush he felt from scoring a goal by a mere staring creep.
“I’m not like that, Takami.” His voice was low, but a little shaky. He wiped a line of sweat from his forehead, pushing his hair back slightly. “I’m not like you. Don’t look at me like that.”
Takami sighed, pressing his lips into a thin line as his feathers gathered his belongings. He slung his bag over his shoulder, standing up and rubbing his arm. He didn’t look at Touya again, but he mumbled angrily to himself as he left.
The familiar heat began to stir in his gut again as he watched Takami leave, but was quickly stifled by the harsh slap of a sweaty palm on his back. Touya tried not to flinch.
“Kid was drooling,” joked one of his teammates, laughing heartily, “does he have to be so obvious about it? Like, we all get that you have abs. No one cares.”
“Bet he’s got a crush on you. That’s how they are, right?” Another commented, tossing him a bottle of water. Touya caught it, unscrewing the cap with unsteady hands.
“…Yeah.” Touya muttered, taking a long sip of the water, nearly chugging half the bottle down.
His father would probably tell him that he did the right thing. He would possibly get a pat on the back, and a hum of approval. But the thought didn’t sit right at all. The words tasted wrong on his tongue, sour and vile, like vomit itching the inside of his throat. Touya watched as Takami skittered around the corner of the school building, finally out of sight, with only one thought on his mind: he should’ve kept his mouth shut.