Chapter 30 #2
“Let me tell you what I think. First of all, he is not my former friend. He is my friend. Secondly, what gives you, or any one of you, the right to make up stuff to put in your papers and brainwash the public? Have you ever once asked how a player is feeling? Checked in on their mental health? No. You haven’t.
You peddle your hate and your lies and produce it to the masses for them to scream at us on match days.
And yes, I know they’ve paid their money to say what they want.
Fine, fair enough. But when it comes at the cost of forgetting we’re human with feelings and emotions, that’s where I draw the line.
You’re in the public eye, right? Would you like it if I sat behind you in your little office or your mum’s basement and rained abuse down at you for every typo you made?
No. You wouldn’t. And I already know what you’re going to put on the front and back of the papers, but how about you for once, think about the person.
That’s all I’ve got to say on the matter.
” I stand up and walk out, adrenaline coursing through my body.
The headlines the next day are polarizing. I’m not sorry for what I said or how I said it.
Hat trick Hero Kyle Assisting with Mental Health
Kyle Thurston Slams Media
Kyle’s Call for Change
Kyle Goes Mental
Crying Kyle in Unprofessional Outburst
I’m not the only one in the headlines—of course AJ has made them again. I wonder how much money we have made for them?
AJ Bullies Defenders in Sensational Second Half Banging!
AJ Bags Himself Goals and More!
Catch Me If You Can—AJ Scores Four Goals in a Second Half Cameo, Sending Him Top of the Charts But Police Want to Question Him Over Violence
I can’t help but be amazed at AJ, coming on as a substitute and scoring four. Sure, the team they were against was rock bottom of the league, and sure, he scored more goals than me, but yet, I’m happy for him. Technically, I scored the hat trick first, though, and that comforts me.
I take a mouthful of the eggs Trish has made me. I know she is itching to talk, but thankfully she is giving me some much-needed processing time. I sent a text to AJ, asking how he is, and he told me he is coping okay. I don’t quite believe him, but don’t push him on it.
“I’m fine,” I say, after watching her side-eye me for nearly thirty minutes.
“And is AJ? The media are flexing their muscles and you’ve pissed them off.”
“He says he is. Do I believe him? Nope. But I know he will be soon.” I finish my eggs and smoothie, wiping my mouth with the heel of my hand. “Going out for a run. Want to join?”
“Always,” she says, getting up from the table and heading upstairs to get changed.
We meet outside in less than fifteen minutes.
I put my headphones on and block out the world.
Trish does the same. She matches my pace until I sprint around the park.
No one can catch me when I’m sprinting, especially with a ball at my feet.
My thoughts are consumed by AJ. I want to do what is right, but I don’t think the world is ready for a gay English League star.
Not unless…not unless the media takes our side.
I grind to a halt and whip out my phone, pressing call on AJ’s icon. He picks up on the second ring.
“Hey,” I say into the phone. Trish is now standing beside me, catching her breath; she mouths ‘who is it?’ to me, and I tell her it’s AJ. She makes kissing faces at me, so I flip her off.
“Hey,” he says back. One word, packed with so much love, it’s enough to knock me off my feet.
“Can you meet me at my house in one hour?”
“Sure, I’ll be there.”
I hang up, vaguely aware I have in some ways inherited my dad’s insistence of timekeeping.
I’m pacing around the living room, both AJ and Trish are watching me like I’m some wild exhibit in the zoo.
“Okay, so what is this about?” AJ finally asks.
“Us,” I say, beaming at him.
“US?” He looks confused, and very cute with his bed head. Despite looking like he hasn’t slept properly since the news broke, he looks fine as hell to me.
“If we want the media to be onside with us, we need to get them to like us.”
“Us?” he asks again, still confused.
“Yes—us. As in you and me.”
“As in, together, us?” Realization dawns on his face and his smile lights up the whole room.
“Now you’re getting it,” I say, smirking.
“Are you sure?” he asks, taking my hands in his.
I look him in the eyes, and say, “As sure as anything. If it comes down to never playing football again or losing you, I’d pick never playing football again.
You were my first dream. You are the one that keeps me grounded.
You are the one that I love. If we’re telling truths here, I have always loved you, I just didn’t know.
” Tears prick at my eyes, and I plant a kiss on his lips.
He pulls me into a hug, and then a pillow is thrown at us.
“Forget I was here?” Trish says, smirking.
“I was hopeful, yes,” I say, winking at her.
“What about your parents?” AJ asks, sitting cross legged on the sofa, his long frame looks both comical and cute like this.
“They can either get on board or not. I’m pretty sure my mum will be fine, and if my dad knows what’s best, he’ll be supportive too. Happy wife, happy life and all that.”
“And the manager? My gaffer?” he asks, now stretching out his legs. He’s clearly uncomfortable on the too-small-for-him-sofa.
“If we play the media right, then they'll come off as homophobic assholes if they even think about dropping their best players. And besides, I don’t think they’d have a problem. Look at our England manager, he was all for it, as long as we didn’t cause any trouble.”
“And how will you get the media on your side? I believe AJ can, but after your outburst the other day, I think you’d have a bit more trouble,” Trish says from her position on the beanbag chair.
“I am a media darling,” I say stubbornly.
“You’re not,” they both reply in unison.
“I love you, Kyle, but you’re not as friendly to other people as you might think,” AJ adds.
I grunt and let out a scoff.
“You just proved your boyfriend's point.”
“Boyfriend?” And now it is our turn to speak at the same time.
“Oh, let me guess, you both don’t want to put a label on it?” Trish says, using air quotes.
“I was actually going to say I like the sound of it,” I say.
“Me too,” AJ chimes in, much to my relief.
I go over to him and plant another kiss on his lips.
“Okay, so your original plan was to come out at the end of the season. Due to the media being assholes, we’re going to have to accelerate that or else you’re looking at a potential prison sentence,” I reaffirm.
All of this over a fucking photo. My mind doesn’t let me think it’ll come to nothing.
No, my mind likes to seep in the darkness and the implausible ‘what if’s. ’ I hate my mind most of the time.
“I’m aware,” AJ says, looking sheepish.
“We’re over halfway through the season anyway, so I say we start working the media now and, in a few weeks, hit them with the truth.
Call a joint press conference. We need both of our clubs to be on board with this, though.
I don’t want to blindside them, because then they will be pissed—and rightly so. ”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” AJ says, getting up from the sofa and stretching his back.
AJ stays for dinner, and we talk over the plan some more before sitting down to watch a movie.
By the time we know it, it’s almost 1:00 am, and I don’t want him to go.
Having him curled up on the sofa with me has made me realize how far away he’s been and how much I've missed him. I’m so close to having everything.
It’s time to be brave and take what’s mine.