9. Huddle

 

  As Sehun pushed open the door and entered the guidance counselor's waiting room, the smell of antiseptics and anxiety filled his nostrils. It hit him like a steamy, hot puff of air when you open a dishwasher mid cycle - the fluorescent lights glared on the tile floors.    He could practically feel the worry and sadness coming off of some of his fellow students. He sat down on a blue chair, smiling to the secretary that glanced up from the display of the computer. "Sehun, Mr. Kim is still in a heated discussion. He is sorry for the inconvenience and the delay it causes. Feel free to read one of our magazines."   Magazines lay on a mahogany table in front of him to read but usually they all . They were too boring, even to dawdle over. He didn't care about the latest fashion trends from Milan, nor did he show interest in getting to know the relationship status of  'A' celebrities.    He cared about Luhan.   "Thanks, Misses Shin." he replied politely. The clacking of the keys coming from the receptionist and the constant boring commercials from the TV that hung in the corner were driving him insane.    Luhan was the reason why he was here.    He cared about him a little too much, a little too often. He conquered Sehun's heart a little too fast. Caring is an act of maturity. He underestimated the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, a gorgeous alluring deer.   Football has always been everything to him, it has been more important than anything on earth. Now he knows he's great at it, a valuable player on the team.   The clock struck thirteen, sharp.   Fear clutched Sehun's heart as the door was opened and a girl with puffy eyes walked out of the surgery. She blinked briny tears from bloodshot eyes, her thick lashes stuck together in clumps as if she'd been swimming.    "The next one." the liaison teacher said and laid his eyes on the note. "Oh Sehun may come in now."   He stood up, feeling all eyes on him. Of course, as a football player from his school he had a reputation to keep up. Gossip. He could practically hear the news carried out of the room to the fellow students.    The room gave away his bachelorhood. Everything is functional. The couch is cream but inlaid with a fine green silk; leaves embroidered so delicately that they might have landed there in spring. The white curtains are linen, the kind of white that is untouched by hands. There wasn't a television, nor bookshelf, only chairs that were arranged around a desk. The room could have been on the cover of a business interior furnishing magazine.    "Please, take a seat," the liaison teacher said and pointed towards one of the black chairs in front of his desks. Then Sehun sat down heavily in the easy chair, almost falling into it.   "What brought you here today, Sehun?"   "Lately, the thought of quitting my career has been crossing my mind frequently. I feel like I'm no longer able to play in a peak condition."   A white lie.    Luhan crossed his mind much more, he didn't want to play any longer, not that he wasn't physically able to, he longed for the other. Love is such a beautiful thing.    Chen, the young liaison teacher in his first year, raised a brow in question.    "Sehun, quitting lasts forever. It is the easiest thing in the world to do. A recent study has proven that people who worry about failure shut down, but those who are relaxed about doing badly soon learn to do well. As far as I know, you get praised for your skills. We all make mistakes, it is human. So I don't see your point in giving up. Do you have anything else you would rather do in life?"   Sehun tensed. His smile is taut and there was a slight tremor in his cheek. He crossed his legs and fingers intertwined over one knee.   "The sponsors of our team are breathing down my neck. I started playing football, because it's fun. Now it has become something I have to do. I can't be alone for a second, because I'm surrounded by fans - their judgemental gazes. I want to be myself again for once."    Chen nodded. After sitting in his black leather chair he would occasionally straighten up, pushing his shoulders backwards and the small of his back upwards and in, sitting taller, more erect.   "I don't believe that football itself is bothering you, Oh Sehun," he began and grabbed a purple document. The ballpoint danced over the paper.    "Even your body language is telling me that you are lying. I advise