Seamus Ch. 08

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Sachs
Sachs
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I thought for a brief moment that Nathan was going to kiss me again, but instead he jerked his head back from mine. He kept blinking his eyes, as if he was trying to make the tears or his hangover-induced headache go away. "I- I don't know- Nothing makes sense anymore. I'm all over the place. Fuck, my head hurts. I feel sick..." He rolled off me and slowly got up. "I'm sorry, Seam. I'm so, so sorry about everything..."

As I climbed to my feet, he stepped toward the door. His hand was on the doorknob by the time I spoke. "Nate, are you okay? You're really scaring me."

Nate just shook his head. "All I wanted to do was say that I'm sorry! I just keep- I get angry and I can't control myself. I can't do anything right anymore. I thought that if I finally- you know, went for Jill- everything would work out, but it hasn't. It's alright though. I'm alright. Really, Seam- I'm fine. I'm sorry for what I did. Anyone that I see, I'll tell them I was so, so drunk I- I didn't even know what I was saying."

"Are you sure?" I asked. "You're not making a lot of sense, Nate."

"Blame that on the beer. I'm still full as a boot," he replied, gruffly. "I just need to go and sleep it off, yeah? I'm just so sorry about everything I've done, Seam. Really, really sorry. I know that you can't trust me anymore. I'm sorry about that, but I'm glad that you've always been so good to me. Even now, after everything I've done, you're still good..." His voice seemed to become strangled within his throat, so that his last sentence had to be forced out between his teeth. "...I love you, Seam." With that he was gone.

It took a second to realise what he had just said. I hurried into the hallway after him. "Nathan! You can't just run away after saying something like that, man! Come back."

He stopped in his tracks and turned. There was a half-smile trying to form on his lips, despite the sad eyes which hid beneath his sooty lashes. "Fuck, Seam- I don't even know what I'm saying anymore! I feel like hell! I meant as a friend, okay? I love you like one of my brothers. I'm so sorry about what I did to you. I was so angry that I forgot all that stuff you've done for me. You've always been there and I'm sorry that I couldn't step up and return the favour. Thank you, by the way, for everything you've done." His dark eyes pleaded with me. "I just need to sleep now. I'll see you later... I know Coach Prentice will kill me, but I don't think I'll get to rugby practise tonight. I know I shouldn't ask you for any favours after what I've done, but-"

"You want me to put in a good word for you?" I asked.

"No lies, no real excuses, just tell him I'm sick. Half the team was there last night, so I'm sure the truth will out," Nate said. He rubbed his eyes with his fingers while he yawned. "Look, I gotta get some sleep."

"Do you want me to walk you to your room?"

He just shook his head and smiled a half-smile. "Look after yourself, Seam."

*

When I allowed Neill to drive my car to work, I forgot that I would need a ride to rugby practice. Apart from Liam and Nathan, none of my other team members lived anywhere near my hall of residence. There was no way in hell I'd ask the former to give me a lift and it felt wrong to ask someone to come out of their way to pick me up. Jill may have taken me on the twenty minute drive across town but she wasn't in her room. I had to call a taxi. I arrived at practice late, grumpy and out-of-pocket.

The sky was that hazy blue colour you see when the sun is trying to go down but it hasn't quite got there yet. The field was lit up by lights. I sprinted toward the stadium, knowing I was late and Coach would skin me alive if I didn't hurry up. Since it was programmed into security that the facilities were used for practise at this hour, I wasn't required to swipe my card for entrance. I walked into the changing rooms and dumped my bag on a bench. Within a couple of minutes, I had all my gear on and followed some of the other slow guys out onto the field.

Coach John Prentice was a tall, solidly built man with arms and legs like tree trunks. You couldn't help but notice the power of his form pressing through his tracksuits and jackets. Fabric could not hide his barrel-chest, the great slabs of muscle for pectorals and slightly pot stomach, nor could it hide those chunky arms and legs. He was excessively fit and took great pride in pushing his team to the extremes that he was entirely capable of enduring. Lack of fitness was a weakness; not only could it get you injured, but it could result in you losing the game (which could also get you injured, or at least yelled at until your ears bled). He was known for getting results and he damn well did. If you couldn't hack his training either physically or emotionally he would make your life hell until you toughened up. If you didn't, he was perfectly capable of crushing your career altogether. I'm sure there wasn't anybody on that team who was not afraid of him.

"You're late, Fraser!" Prentice barked at me as I joined the rest of the team on the field. We were all dressed in our practise uniforms. For games, we wore a synthetic, breathable fabric. For practise, we wore heavy cotton rugby jerseys which were warmer in the cold autumn air but tended to get hot, sticky and sweaty. On our legs were thick, knee-high woollen socks over shin guards.

"Sorry Coach, Team." I glanced around. Liam's short, yet over-bulked physique was dressed in a university tracksuit; he wasn't going to be practising. Well, I suppose that was a plus. Still, I dreaded having to apologise to him. As he moved toward us from the grandstand, it seemed to me that he was purposely shuffling and limping. Bastard. I knew for a fact that he could move a hell of a lot easier than that, having seen it when he tried to molest me a couple of nights earlier.

"Hennessey not with you, Fraser? Where the fuck is he?" Coach asked.

Some of the guys who had been at the party offered me sympathetic looks. Evidently, nobody had had the courage to report Nathan's behaviour to Coach as they were supposed to. He liked to keep up with our behaviour off the field, to ensure there were no problems that could affect our performance or scandals that would prove embarrassing to the university. He relied on team-mates dobbing each other in during his fortnightly meetings with each player. As it was, Nate was on a bit of a tight leash about his drinking habits after turning up to practise hung-over a few too many times. "He's not feeling very well," I explained.

"Party last night?" Prentice barked out.

"Yes," was my meek reply.

Coach turned to the rest of the team. I knew what he was going to do; it was sort of like show and tell. "Who was there?"

Ten of the twenty guys present (there were five subs, fifteen players), nodded. "Did Hennessey embarrass himself?" Coach asked. "I take it he's still under the influence?" There came a murmur of agreement amongst those present, though nobody was going to speak up.

Prentice's anger flared. "What did I say about parties? Go along, but don't drink up! I take it the rest of you got boozed as well? Now listen to me, we've got some important games coming up and we're damn well gonna win the Cup this year, right? Well, we can't do that if certain individuals on this team don't start pulling their weight! I'm sick of you wankers being late to practice, hung-over, smoking – yes, I know about your habits, Fillipo and Dubois. I'm sick and tired of others of you not putting the effort in to work-outs! I'm fucking sick of the scrapping and fighting!" His glare was directed at me. "I don't know what half of you are doing here if you are not going to commit yourselves to the team! Believe you me, I'll be having strong words with Mr. Hennessey when I see him! The rest of you need to learn your fucking lesson. For a start, alcohol and cigarettes fuck your system up! I'm not asking you to be completely sober, but I am asking you to think carefully about how much you're drinking and how often you're doing it! Now I believe Fraser as something to say, an apology. Am I correct?"

I nodded. My throat was suddenly dry. I realised that I had to get the apology over with, but I had no idea what I was going to say. Of course, I had thought about and even memorised my little speech, but for the life of me I couldn't remember it. "Yes, Coach," I began. Liam sniggered; I flashed him a livid look. "I'm really sorry to Liam and the rest of you guys for getting carried away with my rage. I'm sorry that I injured him," I couldn't bring myself to say Liam's name for a second time. "Not only did that hurt him, but I've probably hurt our team's performance, since now our best left winger is unable to play." I shot Coach Prentice an 'is that enough?' look.

"Right! Now don't let me hear that any of you other wankers have followed Fraser and Liam's examples." Prentice slapped his large, hairy hands together. "Let's get this show on the road." The practise continued normally. At the end, when the other guys hit the showers, Coach Prentice pulled me aside. His watery blue eyes held mine just as firmly as his paw gripped my elbow. "Come through to my office, we have to talk."

We walked into the large, modern building that encompassed the changing rooms, grandstand, gym facilities and the various offices of different university professionals. Prentice lead me down the white-washed concrete hallway and into the bowels of the building. He hurriedly unlocked a maroon painted door, then pushed his way inside. I stared around the familiar room. There were various photographs and newspaper clippings mounted upon the walls which signified the great pride Coach Prentice took in the teams he had coached over the years. Though Prentice was not a vain man, three of the photographs were from his own international rugby career in the 1980s. Carefully arranged and displayed next to these were several framed diplomas, certifying Prentice's training in physical education and sports psychology. As his 'day job', Prentice lectured in these subjects.

"Sit down." Prentice motioned to a chair in front of his desk as he took the one opposite. I watched him warily. "We haven't had a catch up session for a few weeks, have we, Fraser?"

"No, can't say we have." I wished he would use my first name. Liam was addressed in that way. This wasn't preferential treatment; Prentice just found it easier to yell out 'Liam!' than Liam's surname, 'Llewellyn!'

"Don't be so sullen," Coach snapped. "Anyway, we're not really here to talk about you. I take it you've learnt your lesson?"

'We're not really here to talk about you,' flashed through my mind. "It won't happen again, Coach."

Prentice watched me carefully. He had a very square, weathered face with closely-cropped blonde hair that was slowly retreating from his temples. His ears were the typical 'cauliflower' type that you usually see in someone who has spent their rugby days in the front row of the scrum. "Did you go to the physio department, like I asked?"

"Yeah," I replied. "I saw Bryan Rhys. He's got me onto some new stretches and strengthening exercises."

"You were moving a bit slowly today. I take it you're still sore?"

"I'll be alright. Rhys says I need to keep moving but not to push too hard. I'm going to get back into my daily running but I have to watch the weights I lift," I said.

Prentice nodded. "That's good to hear. Now I wanted to ask you about Hennessey. During practise, I heard the other guys say that he has taken up with your girlfriend. I also heard that you had a bit of an altercation with him over the girl last night. Now listen to me and listen to me good, because I am only going to say this once. I don't want somebody who is going to fight with everybody else on my team, got it? If I hear of a repeat performance of what happened with Liam happening with Hennessey, you'll be off this team so damned fast your feet won't hit the ground. Listen to me, Fraser. You have always seemed to be cool and calm, reserved even. I know that Liam is a shit-stirring little bastard. I know that Hennessey drinks like a fucking fish. You've just got to stay out of their way. So tell me, this girlfriend thing, it's not going to be a problem, is it? You and Hennessey have always been tight before this; I'd hate to see some girl get in the way of your friendship."

I chose my words cautiously. "I haven't got a problem with him and my ex. We talked this morning and everything's fine."

"Good," Prentice said. "Because I'm worried about Nathan Hennessey. In the past few months he's behaved like a complete, fucking idiot. When he turns up to practise he is often hung-over. Sometimes he has cuts or bruises like he's been in a fight. I've attempted to talk to him about it, but he won't listen."

"What do you want me to do about it?" I asked. "I've told him heaps of times to watch his drinking but he won't listen to me either."

"Well, there's not a lot you can do. I was just wondering whether you knew if he was in any sort of counselling."

I smirked. "Counselling? No, I shouldn't think so." The truth was Nate had been in counselling while we were in high school but he'd sworn me to secrecy over the whole thing. Even though I was still mad at him, I wasn't about to tell Coach Prentice about his past. There were secrets I would never tell, even if Nate told mine.

Prentice banged one of those giant fists on his desk, causing the photographs that sat beside his name plate to topple over. I saw a flash of a middle-aged red haired woman and four teenaged boys before he straightened the picture up again so I couldn't see it. "Don't fucking laugh! It's not a laughing matter! If Hennessey is an alcoholic, he needs to get some sort of help!"

"He's not an alcoholic," I snapped. "He just doesn't hold his liquor well. He only drinks at parties, not everyday."

Coach made a frustrated clicking sound in the back of his throat. "It doesn't matter when he drinks, if he's drinking too much on a regular basis, he's an alcoholic. When I catch up with Hennessey, I'm going to recommend he visit Student Health and Counselling. I think that you should be prepared to help him out if worst comes to worst. So no fucking fights over girlfriends, okay?"

Suddenly, I felt like I was the bad guy in all this, once again. Prentice had this way of making it seem like everything was my fault. "Of course not, Coach. I told you, me and Nathan are fine over that."

"Good, now get out of my sight."

I stomped my way back to the now empty changing rooms. My bag was sitting by itself on one of the benches. By now the sweat I had worked up during practice had become cold and sticky. A musky odour clung with my cotton rugby jersey to my chest. Quickly, I stripped everything off and grabbed my towel. Just as I was heading for the showers, I heard footsteps behind the row of green lockers that shielded the inside of the changing room from the door.

"Still here, faggot?" Liam asked me. His brown eyes gleamed maliciously over a set of bruised and over-prominent cheekbones. A thick white plaster covered the bridge of his bruise-rimmed nose. His small mouth was chapped and scabby.

"Go away," I said, in a tired voice. I saw the way he was looking at me and instinctively tightened my grip on the towel that covered my hips. "I haven't got time for this."

"What's the matter? In a hurry to get home and fuck your girly boyfriend's arse?" he sneered.

I refused to let him get to me. "Which part of 'go away' did you fail to understand?"

Liam just laughed. He easily sauntered into the room and sat on the bench, right in front of me. I backed up. "So I hear your mate Nathan isn't talking to you now he knows you're a fag. In fact, he got so angry he was gonna kick your pillowbiting arse."

"He was drunk. Nobody believes a word he said. Nobody's going to believe anything you say either. So why don't you do us both a favour and bugger off before I kickyour arse, Liam?" I snatched for the bag sitting on the bench beside him, convinced that I could grab my stuff and get changed in one of the toilet cubicles. He knocked my hands back. In one quick move, he was sitting on my bag. "Get the fuck off my bag!" I shouted, suddenly irritated.

Liam gave me a cruel smile. "Oh, I bet you'd like me to bugger, wouldn't you, fag? Too bad that's not happening anytime soon." He laughed again, a short 'ha!' as if he was grunting as he exhaled. His words confused me, because I had him picked as- well, certainly not straight- after that attempted handjob he had given me when I was out of it in the toilets. "The thing is, you might think that no-one believes Hennessey. Just you wait. Give them a couple of days and not only will they be watching you like hawks, but they'll start remembering all those times they've seen you touching him. Little Harry in the room next to yours is going to start wondering about all those funny bumps coming from your room during the night. Jillian down the hallway is going to think how strange it was that you liked her touching your arsehole- yes, I know about that too. I heard her ask one of her girlfriends about it.

"Everyone will know. I wonder how the guys are gonna feel, knowing that you've been standing in the showers beside them, lusting over them as they soaped themselves up. I'm sure they're gonna be furious. Nobody'll want you around. They won't want your face between their arses in the scrum. They won't want you tackling them and pulling them to the ground during practise. 'Cos they'll know that every time you do that, you'll be thinking about fucking one of them, won't you?"

"I will not!" I snapped back. "Fucking hell, I haven't thought about anyone on this team like that! Shit, I would never live it down if I got hard during a changing session! And I haven't, 'cos I'm not a dirty, disgusting pervert like you! Only guy I'm attracted to is Neill!"

Liam just shook his head and grinned at me. "It doesn't work like that, fag. You either like boys, or you don't. Everyone knows that. Fuck, they are gonna be so furious with you. That beating I gave you will be nothing compared to what will happen to your queer arse when they find out."

"Shut up!" I grabbed for the edge of my bag, not caring that he was sitting on it. I pulled at its handle and dragged him along the bench with it. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"You know what? There might be some truth in what you said before. I bet you're the kind of guy that'll fuck anything with a hole in it. Girls, guys, animals, your own hand. I bet you only fuck his arse, 'cos you're straight like that. You probably don't even suck his cock, right? He only sucks yours. He's got one of those pretty mouths, hasn't he?"

"Fuck you!" I shouted. My fist came out and struck Liam square in the cheek, glancing off his hard cheekbone. It was enough force to make him jump to one side, leaving my bag free to be pulled away. "Will you just fuck off and leave me alone!"

"You're just a filthy faggot, you know that? You can't give orders to me," Liam growled. "I should beat your sorry arse for what you just did!"

At that moment, another voice joined us. "Fraser, Liam, stop it!" My heart skipped a beat as I saw Coach Prentice come out from behind the lockers. His wide, square face was crimson red. He looked positively ropeable. "Liam, I don't know what the fuck you're still doing here but rest assured you can get your sorry arse out of my sight right now! I won't have a little shit like you fucking around with my team! Now get out!"

If I wasn't so scared I would have smiled as Liam scampered from the room. Coach turned his attention to me. "Sit down!"

I did as I was told, perching uneasily on the slatted bench with my bag next to me and my hands in my lap. I don't think I was breathing. I couldn't meet Coach Prentice's eyes.

Sachs
Sachs
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