“This means everything to me. Everything. I can’t give this up,” I choked out.

Kyungsoo just stared back at me like I had just grown another head. So, instead of waiting for a response, I pushed past him and bolted for the door. I didn't miss the slowly dawning of realization flash across his eyes, though. I was going to break his heart by doing this. And he knew it.

Then, it hit me. I think I just did. I just broke his heart.

I slammed the door shut; ran faster than I ever did, faster than I ever should. It felt like my limbs were on fire. And the invisible smoke was rising up my chest, clogging my lungs. I couldn't breathe. It was like the tongues of the flames from within me started every nerve ending in my body. I could feel everything and nothing at the same time.

I think I just might have broken my own heart too.

           

It has been two years since I last saw him. But, the dying spark in his eyes still haunts me in my dreams. I tried not sleeping. But, Coach made me do three more laps around the field to make me realize the consequences of my stupidity.

“You’re being unfair to the team, Jongin. If you want to up your health, you can forget about sticking around.” I was crumpled on the ground, my hands reaching out to something, anything that could bring back the air to my lungs. He kept shouting about responsibilities and health and team and focus, but, I was too lightheaded to even try to nod my head. He was right. Everybody else was always right. The only time I tried to make my own decision, I ended up making the biggest mistake of my life.

And, I’ve been running ever since. Not stopping for air. Not stopping for anything. Trying so damn hard to forget my way back. Home. I'm too scared to use that word now. Too scared of the warmth that starts to pool at the pit of my stomach like he is touching me again; like he is in me again. Home—I used to be that to him. He used to crawl under my skin and make himself his own sanctuary there. And I used to love it. Now, all I want is to claw under my skin and stop feeling him there.

            So, I tried feeling other things. I’ve gotten hamstring injuries, and countless sprains on my ankles, and torn ligaments, and scrapes and cuts on my legs. They were painful, alright. But, not painful enough. Every time I’d go back to the dug-out reeking of antiseptic sprays, antibiotics, and Salonpas, wrapped up in plasters and slings, I’d drudge and grumble to my locker and slump on my bench. My team mates would always mistake it as me complaining about the pain and the hardships. They’d put their toned sweaty arms on my now broad—well, broader than the last time Kyungsoo’s butterfly fingers danced across them—shoulders and tell me, almost jadedly that “It’s worth it, bro. This is what we've always wanted.”

I would run faster, kick harder, and think quicker because I needed to tune out their voices. I needed to tune out the voices in my head repeating "This is what we've always wanted” over and over again. I needed to tune out the urges I’d have whenever team mates would bring up stories of their girlfriends, almost-girlfriends, not-girlfriends waiting for them. I don’t have a girlfriend, an almost-girlfriend, a not-girlfriend waiting for me. I’m not even sure if I still have a Kyungsoo waiting for me.

 

But, oh, the urges these thoughts bring. Those moments when my muscles ache to reach out to where I have kept him hidden: those places where he so comfortably resided in. And, no matter how many times he pulls out, parts of him leak out and seep through the tiny holes in me. And, they stay there, accumulating. Pieces of him, in me. Every time he pulls out, a part of me clings on to him, and I lose bits of me. In exchange for pieces of him, I lose pieces of me. I do not even recognize myself anymore.

There is more of him in me than myself now.

 

Our favourite rapper, Yong Junhyung, said in that one breakup song Kyungsoo always hated to admit that he loved that two minus one is not zero, it is one. But, I was never into math or any other subject, for that matter. I didn’t see the need to be, he was always there to be my smart childhood best friend, my clean room mate, my own personal pep person—he never liked it when I compared him to an entire squad, but, I swear on the first Nike cleats he bought me for the college varsity try-outs that he was louder—my cramps-be-gone masseuse, my everything I could possibly need and want. But, I had football too. Him and me and football. But, they always said three is a crowd.

           

I was 11 years old when I got kicked out of the basketball varsity team. I was a team player until a transfer student got into the team. He was a good player and nobody had anything bad to say about him. But, I had trouble dealing with his lips. They were the pinkest lips I’ve ever seen, and they were a huge distraction. It was a practice game against another all-boys school. He was mouthing a "Here! Jongin! Here!” at me from across the court. I threw the ball I was dribbling to the outside of the court, and stomped my way to the kid. I punched him across the jaw, his lips no longer pink, but stained with red. I left the gym after swiping my thumb across the kid’s bloody lip. I was called into the guidance counsellor’s office, then to the principal’s office, then to the coach’s office.

            I met Kyungsoo two weeks after that incident. He was trying out for the school’s football team. I was passing by the field when the loudest voice I’ve ever heard snapped me out of my “emo”-walking moment. “GOAL!” I looked up and saw him a few feet away, his right foot caught in mid-air. He looked like he just won the lottery, the smile on his face made me want to smile too. I almost did until a ball hit me on the face. Then, I out.

 

The offer came as a shock to me. His reaction, though, was an explosion of broken promises and hidden complaints. He kept saying “No, no, no. Not this time. No.” And I stood there thinking about how hard I worked to get into the national team, how my entire life revolved around this, and how can he—out of all people left in my life—not understand how much I want, need, deserve this. Because when the heart yearns for something, it barely understands the obstacles it has to go through to be able to attain it. Sometimes, it is unnerving to find yourself in a dead end when you have painstakingly tried to run past everything that dared stand in your way. Blasting through glass doors. Slamming brick walls with your chest and shoulders heaving, heaving. Breathing is overrated. Stopping is unaccepted. The lines blur when you try to make sense of it all because why would you even do that?

But, I should have. I lost him that night. I lost him on the night I thought I finally got what I have always wanted. But, like I said, I was not much of a thinker. I was not much of anything, really. My jock status was all things stereotypical. But, what we had was all things opposite of stereotypical. So, when I ran out of our tiny little rented room, I ran out of the only thing that defined me aside from football. But, I did not know it then. And, even if I did, I would probably pretend that I didn’t. I’m probably still pretending that I don’t.

 

            Kyungsoo didn’t get into the football team. But, he taught me how to play. He taught me so well that I got recruited as a defender. He threw a football at my face when he found out. And, I passed out again. We became inseparable after I woke up to his face a few inches from mine in the school’s clinic. It was a different feeling, waking up to someone’s face. I decided I liked that feeling, and I liked his face. We’d sleepover at each other’s houses every weekend, and wake up to each other’s good morning faces and breaths and hair. High school came and so did the hormones. Kyungsoo and I still did the sleepovers, but, we barely really had any sleep. I became the high school football team captain and he became the president of the debate club.

            I was his person. He was mine.

            In college, I realized I had everything I’m ever going to need. But, when our coach came up to me and told me that the national team wanted me, I found out the difference between needs and wants. I thought I’d have it all. But, Kyungsoo made me choose.

 

Kick-off is in 10 minutes. After two years of non-stop training, nights and days melting into one huge black hole, sleeping and being awake becoming one and the same, almost losing the ability to play, run, walk, even stand on my own two feet, I am finally minutes away from the realization of my dreams. I take off the brand new official white cleats we were asked to wear as a team. I pull out the neon green cleats he got me for his last birthday we celebrated together. It did not match my red jersey. It was falling apart. I was sure my feet would be bleeding 15 minutes into the match. But it was still a perfect fit. Our team captain picked up the white cleats and placed them on my lap,

“Put these on. Your cleats can barely hold themselves together. Those’ll ruin your career even before you officially manage to have one. And besides, you have learn to belong, Jongin.”

 

“These mean everything to me. Everything. I can’t give them up.” I spit out.

Our captain just gawked at me like I just kicked dirt at his face. So, instead of waiting for a response, I pushed him aside to run past the door, the dugout, the stadium, the decisions I should have and should not have made.

I ran faster than I ever will again. Faster than I should not have done before. It felt like my entire body was on fire, shooting sparks to every crevice of my soul. Igniting my senses. Making me feel again.

 

I can’t wait to finally stop running. Home goal, away goal, a goal is still a goal. And, I can’t win this without my keeper. I have only always known football. I am no baseball player, I can’t do a home run. But, I can always run home.