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1
Colin Hughes is 13. He loves football.
He has loads of friends. He fits in with the boys at school. Everyone loves football, and Colin loves it most of all. The walls of his room are filled with pictures of David Beckham and Gareth Bale and the Welsh national team. Sometimes, his mom buys a football magazine for him and he spends entire weekends looking at pictures and reading interviews with the players. He knows every single one of them, their positions, and is the best at predicting scores and outcomes. He loves making bets with the other boys, and he’s one of the only ones to correctly predict Spain as the winner of the 2008 European Championship. He’s on the pitch three times a week, and the other days he’s out on the street playing with the kids in his neighbourhood. Life is good.
When the boys in his class talk about girls, he just looks the other way. He doesn’t care about all that, and his friends know that. When he admits he’s never even liked a girl before, they all just laugh and shrug. That’s Colin. No use asking him what girls he thinks are the fittest: he’s too busy playing football. He’d fuck a ball if he could. Colin doesn’t worry about it too much. It’s true: he IS too busy playing football. He wants to be a professional football player. All that other stuff is irrelevant.
For his 14th birthday, his dad takes him to go see a football match: Cardiff City against Bristol City. They have good tickets, right next to the pitch. Cardiff wins 3-0, and Colin is overjoyed. Every time they score a goal, all the players jump around, leaping into each other’s arms in celebration. Colin has the time of his life, and feels it in his entire being: he needs to be out there. This is what he wants.
At the end of the match, when the final whistle has blown and all the players cool down, one of the Cardiff city players takes of his shirt. He is tall and muscular and when he walks past Colin, he can’t take his eyes off him. The player looks into the crowd and when he notices Colin looks at him, he waves. Immediately, it feels as if Colin’s heart skips several beats. He looks as the player walks away from him, at the muscles in his back and the way his shirt is hanging off his shoulder. Something turns low in his stomach, and his cheeks begin to glow. Quickly, he looks at his dad to see if he notices anything, but he’s too busy celebrating.
All the way home, he can’t stop thinking about it. When he lies in bed at night, he thinks about what he felt and what it might mean. A confusing mix of feelings set in his chest, his mind racing. He thinks back on how his peers talk about girls, and how he could never really relate. He’s always thought he was just too busy playing football to care about girls, but the thought that it might be something else creeps into his head. He hates it. He doesn’t want it.
Something’s changed in him. He doesn’t quite feel like he fits in, anymore. Not the way he used to. The carelessness he used to have has made way for a deep, intense feeling of embarrassment and self-hatred for what he might be. So, he keeps to himself. The only thing that matters is getting as good as football as he possibly can. The other thing, he decides, is just a phase. He forces himself not to think about it anymore. It will go away.
2
Colin Hughes is 17. It has not gone away. No matter how hard he tries to ignore it, it follows him around. Every night, he lies awake, desperately wanting to be someone else, for this part of him to be gone when he wakes up the next morning. It doesn’t happen. Every morning, he still feels the same. He has no choice but to shove it down as deep as possible, and he dedicates all his time and energy on football. And to a certain extent it works, because when he’s playing football, none of that other shit seems to matter.
He’s playing for a different club. He got scouted a year ago, and now he’s at a different school that allows him to combine football with school. He’s at the pitch every day, and he’s getting better, fast. He loves it. There’s a sense of control and stability when he’s out there. He only has one goal, and he knows how to reach it. He’s one of the fastest players on the team, and there’s nothing he enjoys more than the feeling of running, fresh cut grass underneath his cleats, the wind in his hair. It clears his head, and gives him the freedom and confidence he doesn’t have off pitch. This is who he is.
Things change when a new player joins the club he’s playing at. His name is Simon and almost instantly, he and Colin are inseparable. Simon gets Colin like no one else seems to. There’s something in Simon that feels familiar, something Colin recognises in himself. It makes every interaction they have with each other effortless. They make a great team on the pitch as well, and it’s making the entire team better than ever before. Simon plays midfield, and he knows exactly when to pass to Colin so Colin can send the ball straight into the goal. After matches, they spend time at each other’s houses, analysing every detail, giving each other tips and laughing about dumb mistakes the other teams make. He knows it’s cheesy, but Simon makes him a better version of himself. He’s never been so excited to go to practice every day.
Thanks to this new dynamic in the team, they have an incredible winning streak. The final match of the season, they play the best match they’ve ever played. Colin scores the final goal, and when he does, Simon jumps in his arms. When the match is over, Simon takes his shirt off and runs a victory lap around the pitch. Colin looks at him, laughing, while a familiar feeling settles in his chest.
To celebrate, the entire team stays behind in the clubhouse that night. They drink booze from the secret stash one of the strikers has hidden in the ceiling. Colin and Simon are the last ones to leave. The entire clubhouse is empty, but Colin doesn’t feel like going home yet at all. As it gets later, their conversations die down. There’s a tension in the air between them. Colin feels it, he knows what it means, and usually it would be too big and scary, but the alcohol in his system numbs him in all the best ways. When they look at each other, Colin feels a bravery he didn’t know he had, and pulls Simon towards him and kisses him. And Colin is so happy he does. It’s the type of kiss that changes him forever: all Colin’s feelings and fears are confirmed, but for once, it’s like he doesn’t even care. Because Simon kisses him back, his tongue touches his, his hand is in his hair, he pushes Colin against the wall and he pushes his hips against Colin’s, and how could this ever be wrong?
The next weeks go by in a haze. They’re filled with glances, texts, and every chance they get, they drag each other behind the clubhouse to make out. Colin is full of feelings and emotions he’s never had before. His desires had always been a source of self-hatred, but now he’s in love, and he’s happy. All the awful things he was feeling before suddenly don’t seem as awful anymore. The dread of what might happen when people find out never leaves, but he’s so head over heels that he can barely feel it anymore.
It doesn’t last, of course. One afternoon, he arrives at practice and he can immediately tell something’s different. As it turns out, Simon’s come out at school, and news spreads fast. Suddenly, Simon doesn’t fit in with the team anymore. He’s different. He’s the gay one. All at once, all of the good feelings are gone. Colin is in a constant state of anxiety that somehow people know about him too. The anxiety is making him unfocused, and messy. He gets benched halfway through the next match he plays. The winning streak is over.
It’s the most terrifying thing that’s ever happened to Colin, but he gets through it. Once the worst rumours die down, his teammates focus on other things. He still gets strange looks sometimes, after all, him and Simon were very close, but most of his teammates leave him alone. Simon, however, never truly recovers. It doesn’t take long before he gets permanently benched. With everything going on, he doesn’t play like he used to.
Not long after all this goes down, Colin gets drafted into Cardiff City. Before he leaves, he takes Simon apart one final time.
“I’m sorry,” Colin says.
“What for?”
Colin doesn’t answer. It’s not his fault, he knows this. But he still feels an incredible amount of guilt.
“Hey,” Simon says to him, “It’s okay. Really. I’m happy. No regrets.”
Colin finds that hard to believe. After all, Simon was one of the best players on the team. Now he’s benched and no one wants to play with him anymore. How could he be happy?
“Just… try to be happy, too,” Simon says, “Whatever that means for you.”
Colin smiles back, not entirely sure what to make of that. “Of course.”
There, behind the shed, they share their final kiss. They don’t speak again after that. Simon never makes it, his football career dying a quiet death before it’s even started. Colin gets a fresh start at Cardiff city, having learnt two very important things about himself. One: this is who he is. No matter how bad he wants it to, it isn’t going to change. And two: no one can ever know.
3
Colin Hughes is 26. He is on a date.
He grabs the bottle of wine out of the fridge, fills two glasses and takes the glasses and bottle with him. Once he enters the living room, Michael is standing in front of the framed picture of all the players of AFC Richmond.
“You know, when you said you worked in sports, I wouldn’t have guessed this is what you meant.” Michael takes one of the glasses from Colin’s hand and takes a sip.
This night has been a long time coming. They’ve been texting off and on for a month now, but Colin’s busy schedule and Michael’s frequent work trips have made it impossible to plan something. But now they have, and here they are.
“So, am I safe to assume that not many people know you’re gay?” Michael looks back at Colin.
“You are.” Colin answers.
“Is it hard? I mean, I can imagine it’s not the most … gay-friendly environment.”
“I mean, it’s not exactly a pride parade, but honestly, I hardly ever think about it anymore. This is just the way it is.”
“Well, I hate to disappoint you, but I know absolutely nothing about Football. There are only maybe three players I could name off the top of my head. Well, four now.”
Colin laughs. “Yeah, don’t worry about that. I have enough people in my life that I can discuss football with, believe it or not.”
Michael takes another sip of his wine, never breaking eye contact. It’s making Colin flustered, heat rising to his cheeks. Colin smiles at him, carefully, and when Michael lowers his glass again, he winks at him.
Bollocks, Colin thinks, this guy is really cute.
They sit down on Colin’s couch and keep talking for a while, abandoning the topic of football and moving towards Michael’s job, their families, what school was like for them, and who their favourite artists are. There’s a certain confidence and ease in how Michael carries himself. It’s a certain type of confidence that Colin only ever sees in queer men; one that he knows he himself does not have. It’s in the way Michael laughs, the way he lightly touches Colin’s knee, the way when Colin tells him he’s a leo, he just answers “of course you are.” It’s incredibly attractive, and Colin finds himself slowly inching closer to him until their legs and shoulders are touching. Time flies by, and when Michael reminds them of the movie they were supposed to watch, Colin doesn’t even answer, he just leans in and kisses him.
They stumble to his bedroom, making out and undressing each other. Michael drops down on his bed, and Colin climbs on top of him, firmly pressing him deep down into the mattress. He puts his full weight on him, grinding down. He kisses him as if it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, deep and hungrily. He slides his hand between their bodies, and as he finds the waistband of Michael’s boxers, a whimper escapes from Michael’s lips. It lights a fire in Colin. Here, behind the closed door of his bedroom, he gets to be maybe the purest version of himself. He’s in control. He is figuratively and literally naked: in the arms of another man, he has no secrets, nothing to hide. No shame, no fear. This is who he is.
The following months, they keep seeing each other, and it becomes increasingly hard to follow the rules Colin has set for himself. They text all the time. He sleeps over at Michael’s house. They go out for dinner together in public. When his bright orange car is at the mechanic, he lets Michael pick him up from practice. He’s getting reckless, he knows it, but he wants to spend every moment he can together.
It’s not just that, though. Their recent winning streak has lifted the team’s spirits like nothing before, and he feels …safer than ever before. Ted has spread an insane amount of positivity through the team. The team is tight and everyone is supportive of each other. The atmosphere in the locker room is better than ever before, and Colin often finds himself wondering what would happen if he ever told his teammates. He wouldn’t, and couldn’t, but still.
When Sam asks the entire team to go eat as his new restaurant, Colin invites Michael to go with him. As a friend, of course. It’s terrifying, but he really wants to do it. Beforehand, he’s worried Michael might not have a good time, but after he gets there, he quickly realizes he has nothing to worry about. Colin can’t stop watching him, how he’s making everyone laugh and joins in on every conversation (yes, even the ones about football. He knows Michael would never admit it; but it looks like he’s been doing his research). He sits there, looking at him, until he can’t take it anymore. So, while Isaac and Zoreaux are loudly arguing about something, he subtly leans in a bit closer to Michael. Not too close, though.
“You having a good time?” He asks, while still looking at the rest of the table.
“I am,” Michael responds, and when they make eye contact, he winks at Colin, “Are you?”
Alright, fuck it. Colin looks back at the rest of the guys, who are still not paying attention to them. He doesn’t answer Michael’s question, but instead asks: “Do you want to get some fresh air?”
And so there they are, minutes later, pulling each other closer, cool brick wall against Colin’s back, a soft moan escaping from his throat. Another rule broken.
When they return to the restaurant together, Michael makes a final round before going home. Colin stays a bit longer to talk to everyone for just a bit longer, and then about half an hour after Michael’s gone home, Colin follows him to his house.
In the taxi on his way there, he reflects on the night. It went well, really well. He loved seeing Michael talk to everyone. Everyone loved him, of course, how couldn’t they? Against his better judgement, he imagines for a second what it would be like if he didn’t have to lie. He thinks about all his teammates, who get to talk about their girlfriends, and wives, and about all the girls they are with.
He wants that too. He wants it so badly it hurts.
He isn’t unhappy. He loves playing at Richmond, and at this point, the lying is like second nature to him. This is how it has to be, and he knows this, and he’s fine with it. He’s made it as a professional football player, and he simply has to make sacrifices for that. He doesn’t hate himself anymore for who he is - but when he’s with the rest of his team, it never once leaves his mind that he’s different. All that stuff just never goes away, he figures: the envy, the fear, the shame. The envy he feels when his teammates talk about what girls they think are attractive and who they’re going on dates with. They get to be wholly and fully themselves and love publicly, and Colin doesn’t. The fear of what might happen if anyone ever finds out. The fear he felt when Simon came out, what that might mean for his upcoming career. The deep shame he felt as a kid, making eye contact with a shirtless football player. The shame of feeling like he’s different, like he isn’t normal. It’s all still there.
Maybe his teammates wouldn’t care. Maybe his career wouldn’t be affected at all. And maybe being different isn’t a bad thing at all.
He looks out the window of the taxi, London scrolling on by. He takes a deep breath. His teammates are back at the restaurant, Michael is waiting for him. No matter what happens, he can handle it. He is a strong and capable man.
He isn’t ready yet. But he’s starting to believe that maybe, just maybe, he might be. Some day.