(no subject)
A human heart beats 2,500,000,000 times in a life time.
You smile at the boy who owns the locker next to yours. (He’s taller than you, but then again, most boys are.)
He smiles back, a broad, honest smile. (His smile would never change, unlike everything else.)
You both play football, you’re the same age. It only makes sense that you become friends.
It makes sense that you wait for him after training, though he’s always taking ages.
It makes sense that he’s the first to hug you after you scored a goal (and that he’s the one you’re looking for when you turn around).
And then, it makes sense that you kiss him and that he kisses you back. (It’s too much teeth and saliva and tongue, and you tell yourself you’ll never do it again. (Your first lie.))
You’re together, on the field, in the locker rooms, after school.
You’re together, because it’s the only thing that makes sense (apart from playing football).
You would never leave each other. (Your second lie. Because eternity is a long time to consider.)
620,513,023 beats gone.
“It’s weird though, isn’t it?”
“What?”
“You know, us.”
“What about us?”
“Well, that there’s anything called us in the first place. Don’t you think?”
“No.”
“What is it then?”
“Inevitable.”
734,352,695 beats gone.
You don’t even realize you’re actually leaving until you tell him. Until you see the look on his face (and everytime your eyes meet after that, there would always be a trace of that look left).
“Good luck then.” he says and you have known him long enough to hear the hurt in his voice. But you don’t.
“Thanks, mate. I knew you’d understand. I mean-”
“Leave.”
“What?”
“You said what you came to, didn’t you? Leave.”
And so you do, because there’s nothing left to say.
912,513,860 beats gone (and much more than that).
Suddenly your shirt is white.
As if all the (red) colour has been washed out, drained.
Red is passion and adoration and love.
White is the right thing to do (right things always equal sacrifice, so you have learned. And there was only one thing you had to give.).
You stop dreaming about your future, because future has arrived. And it’s about big names, money, fighting to be listed as a substitute.
You could have stayed.
What if?
Black stripes emerge on your shirt, like the lines that appear on your face.
Michael Owen breaks a metatarsal bone in his foot when he collided with England team-mate Paul Robinson during Tottenham's Premiership clash with Newcastle at White Hart Lane.
Injured England striker Michael Owen will travel to America on Monday to see knee specialist Dr Richard Steadman.
Newcastle United striker Michael Owen has suffered a fresh injury blow after picking up a thigh injury in training.
What if?
985,624,042 beats gone.
It’s almost surreal to see his face again.
“Are you happy?” he asks.
You look at him, you nod. “Sure.” (you have lost count of your lies.)
You nod at each other and you remember the time when you knew how to talk to him.
“You shouldn’t have left.” he says.
“I know.”
You had your chance, not anymore.
“I’m still the last one in the locker room, by the way. Always.” he chuckles.
You nod.
“There’s no-one waiting up for me anymore, though.”
You nod.
“Funny, isn’t it? How you were always waiting for me. While actually, I was waiting for you.”
Your head stops moving, you don’t realize you have opened your mouth, you don’t recognize the voice that asks “Are you still waiting?”
He nods.
You smile.
2,500,000,000 beats.
1,509,354,128 left to make it right.