The Wild Heart

by Emrys Apollo

  Sean understood. Clint didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t know why this made him so upset. It was clear that Clint wasn’t letting him go, but it was the first time they’d had a misunderstanding that they hadn’t sorted out right away.

  Even if Clint was pretending everything was the same, it was clear to Sean that everything had changed.

  But he’d rather have Clint in some way than not at all, and so Sean nodded. He lunged for the ball at Blacker’s feet, forcing a laugh and saying cheekily, “Try to get it, old man!”

  Clint hesitated only a second, then immediately darted after Sean, trying to steal the ball away. Sean dribbled away, leaving Clint behind, smiling slightly.

  ***

  Over the next couple of days, they achieved a truce of sorts. They went to training together, joked around, talked as much as they used to-but it was different.

  There was a certain tension in the air that didn’t dissipate no matter how many jokes Sean cracked, and though Clint laughed and smiled, he didn’t tease Sean anymore. Often he seemed lost in thought, his brows knitted together.

  Sean had also stopped touching Clint. For some reason, it felt awkward to and so he went out of his way to make sure it never happened. No longer did he sling his arm around Clint’s shoulders companionably, or punch him lightly in the arm for a joke, or hug Clint during a goal in training.

  Clint had never been the one to initiate physical contact, anyway, so the more they didn’t touch each other, the weirder it became. Sean high-fived Clint during a goal celebration in training and it was so awkward that he couldn’t look at Clint afterwards.

  He felt frustrated. He wanted to get through this, but he didn’t know if it was something that should be forced or just left aside to heal on its own. It made him muddled and he played badly during training, finally forcing Emerson to give him a stern talking-to.

  He had also started changing in the bathroom rather than openly as they had done for so many years. He knew that it was a mistake, but he felt so exposed and vulnerable that he couldn’t face Clint with his shirt off.

  Clint, on the other hand, seemed determined to prove that he was fine with everything. He had always been more modest than Sean, but now he changed his shirt defiantly in front of Sean, looking him in the eye.

  It made the situation even worse and Sean felt he was in a terrible comedy where everyone was in on the joke except him. He often turned around and stared at the window as if nothing was happening, the rustling sounds behind making him even more nervous as Clint shed clothing.

  Fortunately, nobody seemed aware of the new undertones in their friendship. Sean noticed, though, that Clint was colder to Paxton. That when Paxton did try to hug Clint or touch him, Clint’s eyes would go straight to Sean and he’d shrug out of Paxton’s grasp.

  Sean didn’t know how to feel about that.

  He tried his best not to look at Clint anymore because Clint seemed to look back a lot more often now. Sean had been caught staring so many times that he felt it was simply too pathetic not to rein himself in. He wondered if he could get horse blinders.

  There were times he caught Clint looking too. He always looked away immediately, though. Once when Sean missed a penalty during practice, he raised the edge of his jersey and caught it between his teeth in frustration. Looking up, he saw Clint watching him, eyes thoughtful.

  When Clint saw him, though, he looked away quickly and Sean swore he saw a spot of red on Clint’s otherwise pale cheeks.

  He didn’t know how he felt about that either.

  They played video games more often together, but there was something different here too. They were more polite with each other, restrained. Now even when Sean teased Clint, he could see a wall up-something he’d never known to exist between them.

  But one thing reassured Sean more than ever. Clint never seemed to want to leave his side now. He made sure he sat next to Sean at every meal, accompanied him everywhere. He eschewed hanging out with anyone unless Sean was there too.

  It meant that Sean was more confused than ever. He knew Clint didn’t have those kinds of feelings for him, but he didn’t know what Clint was trying to do. It was almost as if Clint was trying to make sure they stayed friends, like he was trying to forcibly get through the awkward stage without ever having to talk about it.

  And that was perfectly fine with Sean. He wanted things back to how they were and he was terrified that it wouldn’t happen.

  If it meant going through this, he would.

  ***

  Sean made sure he didn’t sit next to Clint on the bed, choosing instead to sit next to Paxton. They’d all been invited to Paxton’s room to watch an old black-and-white movie, a romantic affair that they’d all seen a hundred times.

  Sean deliberately didn’t look to see where Clint was sitting, knowing that his eyes would keep darting in that direction if he did. He was stuffed in between Paxton and Maurice. Paxton kept pushing his hip into Sean’s and Sean kept shoving him back. Maurice intervened with a timely slap to the backs of both their heads every now and then.

  They finally quietened as the movie started and bowls of popcorn began to circulate. Sean munched contentedly, relieved at not having to worry about things like whether his elbow was touching Clint’s as he sat. He grinned at the thought, wondering what people would think if they knew that the great Sean Richardson was in this kind of situation.

  Paxton leaned close and whispered, “Who’s the girl?”

  Sean elbowed him. “Fuck off.”

  Paxton grinned and threw an arm around his shoulders. “Oh come on,” he whispered. “We can share.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

  Sean couldn’t help it. He laughed. Maurice shushed them, clearly annoyed, and Paxton blew him a kiss over Sean’s head, arm still around him.

  Paxton bent to whisper something else in his ear and as Sean leaned towards him to hear better, his eyes met Clint’s across the room.

  This time, Clint didn’t look away. He held Sean’s gaze steadily.

  Sean’s heart started to pound. He stared back at Clint, unable to look away. Clint kept looking at him, eyes dark and serious. Finally, he broke the glance, looking down towards the bowl of popcorn in his lap.

  Sean looked back at the TV, forcing a laugh for whatever comment Paxton had made. His heart was still beating uncomfortably fast.

  He didn’t dare look at Clint for the rest of the night.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  They went back to their rooms in silence, stunned by the match. Sean felt intensely frustrated that they’d let a two-goal lead slip through their fingers. Why was it always so much harder with this team? He vowed to practice harder tomorrow, to never let this happen again.

  He sent a sidelong glance at Clint, sprawled on his own bed. Clint was his usual sulking self-he was a terrible sore loser-and, normally, Sean would have done everything to cheer him up. But he felt a certain reluctance about doing so now-he was probably over thinking things, but maybe it was better if he gave Clint some space.

  That thought only lasted a few seconds. Looking at Clint’s expression, Sean sighed and said, “Clint, stop. You were amazing. You always are. It was just a one-off.”

  Clint turned his head to look at him, but said nothing.

  “Why do you always blame yourself? It’s a team sport.”

  “Because I can do better, Sean! You know that.”

  It wasn’t Clint bragging, just stating a fact. He had done wondrous things before. He could set matches alive with a few brilliant moves. But it hadn’t been enough to win tonight.

  “Whether you score 0 goals or 800, I’ll still think you’re amazing,” Sean said earnestly.

  “Oh, Sean, stop!” Clint snapped suddenly, rolling his eyes.

  “It’s true-”

  “Oh, of course, you would say that.” Clint had sat up now, his mouth snarling and eyes snapping. He looked like he was ready for a fight.

  Sean stopped short. “What does that mean?”<
br />
  “Just that-” Clint gestured, looking for words. “Well, you aren’t exactly unbiased, are you?”

  It was as if he had been slapped. Blood rushed into Sean’s face and his fists clenched. “What the fuck do you mean?” he hissed, punching each word out.

  Clint looked stonily-almost defiantly-back. “You know what I mean,” he said in a low voice.

  “You think because I-” Sean waved his hand between their bodies, unable to use the word love in this context, to admit that he loved him in this horrible fight, to have that moment destroyed in this ugliness, “You think because I want to fuck you that I’m saying this? What the fuck do you think?” His voice was rising now. “What did you think, Clint? Tell me. That I’ve been trying to get into your pants all this time?”

  Clint said nothing, but his guilty expression said it all. Sean felt it like a blow. He’d never ever thought that his secret would make Clint question their friendship; he’d never thought that the consequences would be so far-reaching and so bitter.

  He’d never thought Clint would doubt what was-barring his son-the purest relationship he had in his life.

  He felt a wave of grief hit him so hard, he would have collapsed if he wasn’t already sitting. Anger came hot on its heels, so scorching he felt as if his head would explode.

  “Get out,” he hissed.

  Clint’s eyes rounded in shock. “What?”

  “You heard me. Get out.” Sean’s hands were shaking, but his voice was clear and a small part of his brain was proud of it.

  Clint seemed frozen. “Sean, calm down. I have nowhere to go,” he said in a low voice.

  “Go, or I will.”

  For a long second, they stared at each other. Clint’s eyes were searching and finally he dropped his head and stood. He put his shoes on in silence.

  Sean looked away, breathing harshly in the silence. His heart was pounding so hard it actually hurt. Without knowing it, he placed his hand on his chest as if to calm himself down.

  “I’m sorry,” Clint whispered.

  Sean looked at him and saw Clint still standing, his eyes fixed on Sean’s hand. There was raw emotion on Clint’s face now and it made Sean ache. He’d never not comforted Clint before. He’d never been the one to inflict pain on Clint, and now here he was throwing him out.

  Emotion choked his throat. “Why would you say that?” he said passionately, his voice low and pained. “Even if I didn’t… Even if I was just your friend, even if I never wanted anything more, I could never be unbiased about you.”

  “I know-”

  “How could you doubt me, Clint?” His voice was rising again and he took a deep shuddering breath to calm himself down.

  Clint sank to his knees directly in front of Sean. His eyes were so full of regret that Sean looked away, unable to meet his gaze. Clint hesitated, then placed his hand over Sean’s. Right over his pounding chest. “I’m sorry. Please.”

  His touch calmed Sean right away. It was as if he was physically soothing him. But he still didn’t want to look at Clint. He was hovering on the brink of something and he was scared of it. He needed to calm down.

  “I didn’t mean it. I was angry and I lashed out.”

  Sean looked at him then, met Clint’s eyes. “Don’t lie to me. You meant it.”

  For a long second, Clint was silent. Then his eyes closed briefly. “Yes, I meant it. I’m sorry. This is new to me. I never-”

  “How could you, Clint?”

  “I-”

  “I would never doubt you.”

  Clint was quiet at that. He looked stunned and overcome with something Sean couldn’t understand. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m not a good friend.”

  Sean pushed him and Clint landed hard on the floor. He looked staggered. “Don’t give me that bullshit. This apology isn’t about you.”

  Clint grinned suddenly. “Can I get back up?”

  That grin warmed Sean’s heart. He felt the beginnings of amusement blossom in his chest. “Why are you laughing?” he demanded.

  Immediately, Clint wiped the smile from his face. “Sorry. Please, may I get back up?” he asked politely.

  “Well, get up, already,” Sean grumbled.

  Clint got back on his knees and although his expression was serious, there was a suspicious quiver about the corner of his lips. But when he met Sean’s eyes again, he was fully, completely serious. “I’m sorry. I never should have doubted you. You’re my best friend. I don’t want to ever lose you.”

  Sean felt something like relief wash over him. “God, you’re cheesy. How does anyone ever put up-”

  But Clint was hugging him before he could end the sentence. His arms were hard around Sean’s neck and he was squeezing him so hard it was almost painful. They’d hugged on the pitch during both their goals today, but this felt different.

  He hugged Clint back tightly. “Don’t do that again,” he whispered.

  “Never,” Clint murmured back.

  ***

  The aftermath of their fight was awkward, to say the least. It had been Sean who’d broken the hug off first. That was new in itself. Clint suddenly seemed to become terribly embarrassed at all the things he had said and he hurriedly retired to the bathroom.

  Sean immediately fell back on his bed, feeling exhausted both mentally and physically. He placed his forearm over his eyes and breathed deeply. Clint’s words came back to him and a silly grin spread over his face.

  He rolled over and buried his face in his pillow. His hands were still underneath his chest and to be a little more comfortable, he bent his knees a bit, his bottom rising slightly off the bed. Sighing, his mind meandered through the match they’d played and he imagined redoing the dribbles he’d flubbed today.

  He heard the bathroom door clicking open and then a sudden sharp intake of breath.

  Confused, Sean turned to look at Clint.

  And saw his eyes trained on Sean’s bottom.

  They flashed up to meet Sean’s face immediately, but Clint could do nothing about the blush quickly spreading over his face and down his neck.

  Incredulous, Sean watched as Clint immediately bundled himself into his sheets, turning firmly towards the wall.

  Had Clint just checked him out?

  It couldn’t be.

  But Sean couldn’t keep himself from crowing inwardly. He rolled over, grinning, and went to sleep almost immediately, feeling peaceful after a long time.

  ***

  The next morning, Clint was in an unusually chipper mood. Sean was surprised but pleased. Usually, Clint required quite a few days after a draw to get back to normal. They walked to breakfast, laughing and teasing. The tension was still there between them, but there was a sense of peace despite it.

  At breakfast, everyone seemed determined to be positive. There were jokes, laughter, and, in Maurice’s case, a very rousing speech that drew a few cheers.

  Sean and Clint were sitting opposite each other. Most of the seats had been filled up by the time they had arrived and Sean didn’t mind so much. At least Clint was sitting in between Tevin and Cleo. Sean himself was between Owen and Roger.

  The mood was festive and Sean appreciated it. Sometimes the group could be so down after a match that it took real effort for Sean to cheer people up. This was better, and it was far more motivating too! It was rousing in its own way.

  And then it all went to hell.

  Sean plucked a banana and was just peeling it when his eyes met Roger’s. Roger waggled his eyebrows at him. Sean rolled his eyes but a whistle caught his attention. He looked across and saw that Cleo too was smirking.

  “Fuck you.”

  He bit into the banana, looking up and meeting Clint’s eyes. Clint was looking riveted. He must have heard the whistle and realized what was going on.

  Sean turned red so abruptly he almost resembled a beet.

  For a second, he seriously considered putting down the banana, but now the whole team was looking at him and wolf-whistling. Normally, he
’d have put on a show, biting seductively into the banana for the amusement of everyone. He had always been the one clowning around.

  But Clint was watching.

  And Clint knew whose banana he really wanted to have in his mouth.

  It was excruciating.

  Why was Clint watching?

  Sean peeked up, unable to stop himself, and saw that Clint had not taken his eyes away. His gaze was on Sean’s mouth, seemingly fascinated.

  Sean had always had some pretty wild fantasies about Clint. There was the one where they fucked in a stadium after winning the Championship, with the whole crowd cheering them on. That one was still one of his favorites.

  But he’d never, not once, pictured Clint watching him eat a banana.

  He wondered what the least sexual way was to eat a banana. He nibbled gently at the tip, but a chorus erupted from every mouth at the table. Sean wondered if a person’s head could explode from having too much blood in it.

  He decided that maybe a big bite was better. But, just as he opened his mouth wide to take it, Paxton burst out laughing, sending the rest of the table into hysterics. Only Clint was still watching, his eyes dark and serious.

  Sean realized too late that opening his mouth so wide was even worse. He bit into it, keeping his lips as closed as possible. But this made the banana stretch his mouth slowly and it ended up looking even more erotic.

  Sean wished he could stab his eyes with the banana. Why was a piece of fruit driving him straight to hell?

  The guys were making orgasmic sounds with their mouth, moaning and groaning and generally frightening the wait staff to death. Sean decided he hated them all.

  He wished Clint would stop staring. Why on earth wasn’t he looking away?

  He turned to Maurice, finally, eyes pleading. But Maurice was on the phone, steps away from the table, one finger in his ear to block out the noise.

  Sean decided to go for it. He took a deep breath, stuffed as much of the banana as he could in his mouth and then raised his middle fingers in two wide half-circles.

  After the cries of “Swallow!” piped down and he did just that, he finally dared to look at Clint.