Chasing You

The roar of the crowd was deafening, a tidal wave of cheers and chants that echoed through the stadium. The floodlights illuminated the field, casting long shadows across the freshly cut grass. Among the sea of players, one figure stood out—Adrian Cole.

Dressed in the maroon and gold of Brookewood High, Adrian moved with an effortless grace, the ball an extension of his body. As the team's midfielder, he orchestrated every play, bridging defense and attack with seamless precision. But he wasn't just a playmaker—he was a finisher too, with a knack for scoring crucial goals when it mattered most. With sharp features, tousled dark hair, and an undeniable charisma, he was the star everyone came to see. But beyond the charm and the smirks lay a raw, unrelenting hunger. Football wasn't just a game to him; it was his escape, his rebellion, his identity.

"Cole! Over here!" A teammate's voice cut through the noise, but Adrian already knew what to do. He sprinted down the field, weaving past defenders with calculated precision. The opposing team tried to close in, but he was too quick, too clever. The crowd held their breath as he feinted left, then right, sending one unlucky defender sprawling. And then, with a deft flick of his foot, the ball sailed past the goalkeeper and into the net.

The stadium erupted, and Adrian basked in the adulation, arms raised in triumph. But beneath the surface of his smirking exterior, there was a deeper satisfaction—not just in the goal, but in the fact that for these fleeting moments, all eyes were on him. No one was thinking about his grades, his older brother, Matt Cole, or the constant weight of expectations pressing down on him. Here, he was untouchable.

The last twenty minutes of the match were a blur of sweat, grit, and sheer determination. Brookewood High fought tooth and nail, and when the final whistle blew, declaring their victory, Adrian collapsed to his knees before being swarmed by his ecstatic teammates. He laughed, shouted, and celebrated with them, but his eyes quickly scanned the crowd for one person.

From the stands, only his older brother, Matt, watched him with a smirk that Adrian couldn't quite decipher—was it amusement, or something else entirely? Without hesitation, Adrian sprinted toward him, engulfing him in a tight hug.

"Jeez, you spoiled my clothes, kid," Matt muttered playfully, wrinkling his nose. But there was a smile tugging at his lips.

Adrian laughed, hugging him even harder. He knew Matt would never actually say it, never give him the words he craved. But in his own quiet way, his brother was always there, always supporting him.

But Adrian didn't care. Not now. Not when the crowd was chanting his name, and for this brief, shining moment, he was exactly where he belonged.

The cheers began to subside as the players started filing off the field, heading toward the locker rooms. Adrian could already feel the weight of his brother's gaze on him as he lingered by the edge of the field. He wasn't ready to leave the buzz of the stadium yet—didn't want to let go of the attention, the adoration that came with being the hero of the night. His legs were still buzzing with the adrenaline of the win, and the last thing he wanted to do was head home and sit in the silence of his room, where no one cared to look up from their books or their responsibilities.

He pulled away from Matt and gestured toward the locker room. "I'll be right back. Just need to grab my stuff."

"Take your time," Matt said, his voice laced with something that sounded like amusement. But Adrian didn't linger to decipher it. The moment Matt said "take your time," it was clear—he didn't need to be part of the celebration.

Adrian made his way through the side gates, slipping into the narrow hallway that led to the locker rooms. His teammates were already loud, chattering about the game, congratulating each other. Adrian felt a brief pang of loneliness before he shook it off. Tonight wasn't about anything other than the win—the attention, the adrenaline, the applause.