To the ones precious to us

    As couples confessed their undying love.

    In one building, partly built into the side of a cavern, there was a growl. A low, frustrated growl as the sound of something bouncing off metal echoed through its open space. A dry place unlike so many others and the closest thing one could use to emulate a surface field.

    It was on this field that Barit Jowes was having a downright awful time.

    He was alone, lining up his sling to make another shot. In his line of sight was what could only be called an old contraption. Made out of tired, old driftwood with an attempt at Oten’s face drawn onto it. Its wooden arm raised midway through the air, mockery of a sling ready to receive the ball from the one who could actually move on his own.

    The ball flew with too much power, knocking driftwood–Oten on the shoulder before bouncing towards the wall and promptly landing into the water with a plop.

    It took all Barit’s willpower not to scream.

    His shots were getting worse. When he did laps around the field it got slower and slower. Strength and endurance training just made his muscles ache in a way that was most likely bad for him. He should be going home, call it a day and come back tomorrow when he was feeling refreshed, but there was one big problem with that.

    Barit [i]didn’t[/i] want to go home.

    Was there anything wrong with his flat? No, not really. It was the same flat he’d had for years, bought with his own money that he’d made as a professional Yooyuball player. He’d been so proud of it back then, excitedly telling his friends how he had managed to get his own home before he was even a legal adult.

    He didn’t feel that way about it any more.

    The home he’d been praised for, not too extravagant, gaudy or tacky as so many others like him were wont to pick, still seemed so impossibly large. No longer fully his own, the sense of other sinking deep into floors and walls and smothering him. Barit didn’t have a drop of surface dweller blood within him, but the feelings he felt as he sat in his home – alone – was most likely the closest he would ever come to understand what drowning was like.

    Barit should be getting the ball, unbothered as it floated on the entrance to the pitch, but instead he found himself sinking to the ground. He wanted to do more. Practise shots, reps – anything really, but his body felt too heavy. Who knew what time it was at this point. Too late their coach would say, and he knew for a fact that she and their manager both would have thoughts about him staying overtime.

    Suddenly Barit could feel the wayward ball sail above him and he looked up just into time to watch it land into driftwood–Oten’s sling, swaying slightly in place before settling down. Barit turned his head around to where the ball had been previously. The sound that escaped him was an odd mix of a chuckle and a sigh.

    “I thought you’d be home by now, Elon.”

    Elon Hughlis, star player extraordinaire, captain of the Maraquan Yooyuball squad and probably the most important – Barit’s close friend, said nothing at first as his eyes locked onto Barit. He’d never been the chatty kind, especially not when he was tired. Water dripped off him as he approached and the moment he stood next to Barit he pointed upwards with a key on hand.

    “Noticed the lights were on.” he said simply as Barit looked up at said white lights, “would have been stupid to leave them on all night.”

    Not elaborating any further Elon walked up to driftwood–Oten, lowering its arm to get the ball back. With one movement he passed it over to Barit, nodding towards storage. “Would you mind putting that away? I need to give the field one final look–over.” he said matter–of–factly already turning to do his job before Barit could comment one way or another.

    Barit mumbled an apology he knew full well Elon couldn’t hear before getting up. Driftwood–Oten wasn’t heavy (or it wasn’t to Barit at least) so there weren't technically any problems with putting it away. It was simply a hard stop. No way he could convince Elon to just leave him for the night.

    Neither of them said much as they finished cleaning–up, Elon only gestured to the water to tell Barit to go first. It was only when Elon showed up in the locker room that any attempts at conversation started again. Barit watched him in the corner of his eye at first. Watched as Elon fiddled with the tassels of the shawl actually–Oten had crocheted for him a couple of years back.

    Elon may have been of the quiet sort, but he was easy to read once you knew how. His emotions were loud, flickering behind his eyes like the waves on the ocean’s surface. One thing overpowering and overwhelming to hide the unstable current underneath. He didn’t like Jair (she looked too much like his older sister that was lost to the waves) and it showed. He hated when Filo would challenge him (poke and prod and threaten to pull the ugly truth out of him) and it showed. His mood was foul when Dorina first left the team (he wanted her to stay – yet he wanted her to be happy) and it showed.

    Now Elon was looking at him with worry.

    It showed.

    Barit closed the door to his locker, careful not to slam it. His hand lingered as he waited. Waited for Elon to say something. Anything.

    “If I hadn’t noticed the lights you would have been locked in here.”

    Ah, practicality would be the angle of attack then. Barit swung his bag over his shoulder before shrugging.

    “The break room has a couch and a fridge,” he said, smiling as Elon looked unconvinced, “I’d live.”

    Elon brought his hand to his chin as he thought, the splitting image of Tonie if it weren’t for the fact that he was so obvious in his train of thought. He wanted to say something else. Something that would get to the heart of the matter that Barit didn’t feel the need to get into.

    “Coach would have been upset.” was what eventually came out. A statement that ended up said more to himself than to Barit as they both swam out of the locker room and went down the hall. It was weak. Easily brushed off.

    “She’s had worse.” Barit pointed out as they neared the entrance. Elon stopped, still thoughtful as Barit hovered. Anything to avoid going out that door. Elon’s eyes flickered upwards, waves still as he collected his thoughts.

    “I suppose she has, yes.” he said eventually before swimming ahead slightly and opening that blasted door. Looking at Barit expectantly.

    Throwing out any hope that he could linger somehow Barit suppressed a sigh as he went through that door, eyes squinting as they adjusted to the assault of colour. The sound of the door locking felt almost too loud as the colours began to dim, twilight giving way to night.

    Usually when it was just the two of them left this would be where they’d bid each other good night before parting ways, but now neither of them moved. The silence was loaded. Elon still wanted to say something, Barit could tell even without looking at him. Barit for his part kept his gaze straight ahead, looking at nothing in particular.

    “Do you want to come to my place?”

    Now their roles are reversed. Barit turned towards Elon who in turn kept his eyes towards the tassels again, turning them around in his hand over and over. Looked small as he shied away.

    The last time Barit had come to Elon’s house had been during Elon’s huge mental health crisis a few years back and despite being there almost daily for a while he’d never stayed the night. Oten had jokingly called it a doll house back when he’d stayed there for a bit after the third cup and it wasn’t really a wrong assessment. It was a cute little thing – more of a cottage really. A far cry from what one would imagine Elon Hughlis – The Black Hole of Maraqua living in.

    It most certainly beats having to stay at his own flat.

    Barit couldn’t stop the small smile that made its way to his face, feeling almost foreign. “I wouldn’t mind.” he found himself saying and despite the weak answer Elon’s eyes lit up, reminiscent of the stars in the Altadorian night sky.

    Elon brought a hand to his face, faking a cough to hide his smile before nodding towards the general direction of his home. “Right then,” he said, gathering his bearings, “shall we get going then?”

    To be continued…