Cracking

Ian walked out the field house door, cool air flowing across his battered and scratched arms like water around an anchor. He took a deep breath of the cold, filling his chest and belly with tiny, painless pricks like those of small needles. Upon his exhale he widened his oral shape, the warmth of the breath puffing into steam upon contact with the atmosphere. It was only September, and yet it was already getting cold. He would need to do more exercise in the cold to get used to the temperature- weakness wasn’t allowed for someone like him. There was no room for sympathy, or laziness, or vulnerability if he really wanted to be worthy of his five stars.

He ran onto the track of the Tenth Marina football stadium, beginning a self-imposed mile run- if it wasn’t below 6 minutes, he would do another mile. No room for weakness, after all.

After mile three he began to get frustrated. Why couldn’t he get a sub-6? It’s not like he wasn’t trying- he felt like he was running as hard as he could the entire way. But something wasn’t right. Something about his body felt off. Taking quick, sharp breaths, he assessed the situation. He hadn’t even played more than a half of football that night- by no means should he be too tired to run a sub-6. It was his effort, then, surely. He must not be focused, or maybe he was being lazy. He ran another mile, to no avail. He was getting slower. No scout wants a QB who can’t last a whole game at top speed. I’m just not pushing hard enough.

A sharp pain throbbed in his right hip as he slowed down, finishing his eighth lap. It was about one o’clock in the morning, and the moon was high in the sky, its face smirking, laughing at his unsightly self. He had thrown up twice, and had dry heaved most of the way through the seventh mile. He hadn’t taken his helmet off for fear of someone seeing him without it. Considering he had seen Qiang ‘King’ Holt, who was always the slowest out of the locker room, walk out with Katsume an hour before, he should’ve been clear, but he didn’t want to risk it. The face mask was rank, smelling of digested pregame meal and muriatic acid, both of which had at one point been housed in his stomach.

He tripped and fell, skinning his knee on the track. He rolled over onto his back, his stomach convulsing with waves of hunger and pain. His head started pulsing with pain at the temples- the miles were catching up to him. He groaned, unable to massage his head because of the helmet he still wore. The coaches hated that he refused to take off his helmet when he left, worried that he wouldn’t bring it back. Not once had the helmet ever gone missing- he cared too much for it. There was a bin in his bedroom that was specifically meant for his helmet, so he would never have a chance of losing it, even considering how prone he typically was to losing things. Under normal circumstances he would never take his helmet off this close to the field house, but he was in so much pain that he had too. He unlatched the chinstrap and slid the helmet off his head, rolling it a few feet from his head.

Emilia Karlsson groaned again, louder this time, before rolling over and dry heaving once more, the pain almost making her blind. But she couldn’t be weak. Not if she wanted to be worth anything to the team. She slowly did a few push-ups, her stomach protesting violently. The pain didn’t get any better as she tried to stand, the blood rushing from her head to her feet in a matter of seconds. She stumbled before regaining her footing, her head being drilled with a jackhammer as her lungs heaved, begging for a break. Her eyes swam, streaks of light circling around in her vision. She blinked, and she was on the track again. She hadn’t even realized she had fallen on her back until the impact shook her head, waking her up.

She needed water, food, anything that she could stomach to give her energy, otherwise she’d end up asleep on the track. She rolled back onto her stomach and suddenly burst into tears, wailing into the empty night. She didn’t quite know why she was crying- the pain was a factor, but there was definitely something else. Pain alone wasn’t enough to break someone like her down.

Slowly she realized- she wanted to show no weakness, to be the best in the game, but something else in her wanted to be vulnerable, to be intimate with something, and someone in particular.

“This is so stupid!” She half-screamed, half-blubbered, her hyperventilated breaths coming in tiny, panicked spurts. Why, in her senior year, the year where colleges actually cared, did this become an issue? She had never cared for anyone on the team before quite like this- the closest was Kevin, when she was crushing on him in freshman year. But even then, she didn’t want him to find out that Ian Mosslark was just her wearing pads and a helmet. Now, something was different. Of course she didn’t want anybody to find out their starting quarterback was a short nerdy girl racked with ADHD- imagine the loss of trust and faith!- but at the same time, she wanted to tell Katsume. Every time she saw him on the sideline, she wanted to throw off her helmet and say, ‘Hey, Seiro! It’s me!’

She couldn’t get thrown off track by some high school crush. She had colleges interested- she was a five-star, and she already intended to commit to Georgia Tech, an East Coast university in the Atlantic Coastal Conference. She had a future in this sport, as long as she didn’t get found out. But even then, she still worried less about how it would look to turn down Ohio State than how it looked to tell Seiro that she couldn’t come to any of his games. That was a lie- she would be at every single one, and she was so proud of him for his touchdown today, but he could never know that. Not if she wanted a shot in college.

“Damn it, Katsume…” she muttered, tears still streaming down her cheeks. “Why do I have to choose?” Her headache hurt even more now, as her body was sucked clean of water by her tear ducts. She was so thirsty she could drink the ocean water just across the stadium, if she could get there.

“Yo. You need some water?” A familiar voice sounded from above her, and her heart rate jumped to 200. She didn’t dare look up- maybe, he’d still think she was a guy, what with her shortish hair.

“I’m good, Danny.”

“Ian, I’m serious. You need water, right now. How long have you been running?”

“I- I dunno…”

“Drink it.” He placed a bottle of water in front of her face, expecting her to hastily gulp down the fluid. She still didn’t move. He sighed dramatically. “Haaaah. You don’t want to move because you think I’ll see you without your helmet and be shocked. Hate to break it to you, but you’re wearing pink shorts and a tank top. Anybody could tell you’re a femboy.”

“Fuck you,” she cursed, grabbing the bottle and slowly sipping it, all the while trying to sit upright. Danny was, despite his previous statement, shocked.

“Ah! Wait, you’re- wha- you’re actually just a girl? I thought you were just into some sort of kinky shit.” His expression shifted through confusion, frustration, and suddenly worry.

“What? I thought you wouldn’t be shocked,” Mia said, finally changing her vocal cords from what she called ‘Ian mode’. Danny scratched the back of his head, embarrassed.

“Yeah, you’re definitely a girl… so, first of all, I want to apologize even harder for what Cat and I did earlier. If I had known that you were… Well, I’m sorry.” Though her whole body still radiated with pain, Mia couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, you’re fine. It just- it startled me. I wasn’t expecting it.”

“Second of all… what’s your real name? Because Ian Mosslark is clearly not your name. Ianette. It’s Ianette, isn’t it?” She hated that Danny of all people had found out, but she found it incredibly kind of him to still try to cheer her up. She knew he was a great person, but she had never seen it at this length.

“It’s Emilia Karlsson- what?” Before she even finished a huge grin had spread on his face. He laughed, leaving her baffled.

“Sorry. Not something I can tell you. O-line only. Say, in exchange for keeping this secret, can you… do something for me?” A sense of dread kicked in, and Mia’s face turned to that of horror. Danny saw this and frantically changed his wording. “Promise me something. I want you to promise me something.” Her panic eased off, though her stomach pains still hadn’t.

“What?”

“Promise that you’ll forgive Cat for earlier at the game. I can’t really give you context, but… he didn’t mean to scare you, and he definitely doesn’t know you’re a girl.” Mia blushed, recalling how Seiro had asked for her to show him her backside. She still had no idea why, but instead of pondering that her mind kept fluttering back to when Seiro’s hands grabbed her waist, and the embarrassing yelp/moan she had let out.

“O-Oh! Yeah! He’s absolutely fine! I was fine with it!”

“…you were?” Mia silently killed herself mentally. “Anyway, thank you. And, uh, if you don’t mind me asking, how did you get so ripped?” Mia was self-conscious of her form- she always wore a hoodie and sweats to school for the purpose of hiding her physique from the public. Generally it was frowned upon for petite blond women such as herself to be absolutely shredded beyond belief. However, despite being ashamed, she did have some advice she was willing to share.

“75% weight until failure for most lifts,” she said, slightly nerding out. “And my natural testosterone is really high.”

“75%? Failure? Might try it. Thank you. I can get you some food from the coaches' office if you need me to. If not, I’m headed home.”

“I think I’m better now. I can eat at home. Thanks… for the water. And you better not call me Mia in front of anyone. I will kill you.”

“Alright,” Danny said, walking off toward the parking lot. “By the way, Cat wants to see you wearing short shorts. See you.”

Wha- wh- what?!