MILES
Friday came, and the classes of all senior levels at Adamson High were canceled for this much-awaited day. Today was the finals for the interscholastic soccer competition, and I was getting ready to watch the game live. As a passionate fan, of Tyler I couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement coursing through my veins.
Sitting on the edge of my bed, I carefully tied my shoelaces, preparing for an afternoon filled with shouts of celebration and exhilarating moments. Suddenly, I almost jumped when I heard a loud yell coming from downstairs. 
"I hate you two! I hate you!" I heard Jackson's voice echo through the house. I just shook my head and contemplated ignoring the commotion and carrying on with my day.
It had been a while since Jackson returned from his military deployment, and I hadn't found the courage to tell him the truth. I knew deep down that it was only a matter of time before he discovered the horrible secret I had been hiding.
You see, Jackson despised our parents, but his anger was particularly directed towards our father. Dad had lashed out at me when he found out I was gay, subjecting me to physical abuse that nearly ended my life. The pain and fear were still etched in my memories, haunting me every day.
Jackson thought that Mom, on the other hand, was always a silent witness to my suffering. She never raised a finger to protect me, allowing the abuse to continue. I don't understand Jackson's hatred towards her, he just didn't know what we've been through. I tried to talk to him about Mom but he just won't listen.
I wrestled with the idea of confiding in Jackson, torn between wanting justice and preserving our fractured family. I was terrified that if he knew the whole truth, he might fly into a rage and end up hurting our parents beyond repair. Despite the suffering they caused, they were still our parents, flawed and broken.
But now, as their voices grew louder, I couldn't bear the guilt and the weight of the secret any longer. I had to come clean, trusting that Jackson's love for me would guide his actions, no matter how justified his anger was.
Jackson had always been my protector, my hero. Growing up, we were inseparable. We shared secrets and dreams, and nothing could break the bond we had formed. But our lives took a dark turn when our dad revealed his true colors.
I remember the first time Dad laid his hands on me. I was just a scared teenager, cowering under his rage. Jackson was there, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger and helplessness. He tried to intervene, but Dad's fury was unstoppable.
As the beatings became more frequent, I saw the light in Jackson's eyes slowly fade. It broke my heart when he decided to leave home and join the military. He believed that by doing so, he would become strong enough to protect me, to fight back against our abusive father until he screamed for mercy.
But little did Jackson know, things took a turn for the worse after he left. With him gone, Dad's rage intensified. His abuse became more brutal, more relentless. Each day felt like a living nightmare, as the walls of our home closed in on me. And I yearned for Jackson's return.
"How dare you raise your voice at me, you little shit!" My Dad yelled back at him, causing me to stop what I was doing and take a moment to listen to what they were talking about. The words echoed through the walls of our house, filling the space with tension and anger.
"What?! You're going to hurt me too like you did to my brother! Huh?! Let's fight to the death then!" Jackson yelled to our Father, and the next thing I knew, I heard loud thuds, the sound of shattered glasses, and groans.
My heart pounded in my chest as I glanced nervously at the door. My dad and my older brother, Jackson, must be fighting again, and it was all because of me.
"Both of you! Stop it! Jackson! No!" My heart raced as Mom shouted. I rushed towards the commotion, fearing the worst. As I got down from my room, my eyes widened with shock at the scene before me.
I didn't know how to react. The house was a mess, with the once neatly organized living room in disarray. Broken picture frames and shattered glass were scattered across the floor, a testament to the chaos that had unfolded. But amidst the wreckage, it wasn't the broken objects that caught my attention-it was Jackson.
There he stood, his usually vibrant blue eyes haunted, standing tall with a mix of determination and anguish etched upon his face. His jaw was clenched, his knuckles bruised and cut, and a trickle of blood dripped onto his hand. The blood was, no doubt, a result of the scuffle that had left my father unconscious on the ground, his nose and mouth oozing crimson. My mother was kneeling beside my father, tears streaming down her face.
My heart raced as I tried to process what had just unfolded before my eyes. The room seemed to spin as a whirlwind of emotions consumed me. Confusion, anger, and fear collided within me, creating a stormy turmoil that threatened to drown my thoughts.
I had always known that there were problems in my family, but nothing had prepared me for the scene that lay before me. The shattered remnants of plates and vases were a painful reminder of the battles they fought, both verbally and physically, within the confines of this once-loving home. But seeing Jackson, my older brother, standing there, apparently having played a role in this violent episode, sent shockwaves through my core.
"Jackson," I called him, and the moment he heard me, he looked at me in surprise.
"Miles," he whispered, his voice catching in his throat. A mix of emotions must've churned inside him: anger, sadness, and the glimmer of hope trying to break through. And as I looked into his teary eyes, I realized that the bond between siblings was indeed unbreakable.
Without a word, he enveloped me in a tight embrace, as if trying to bridge the gap of our lost years. His touch triggered memories I had long suppressed-memories of the times we laughed, fought, and supported each other. We were always there for one another until circumstances ripped us apart.
"I'm sorry for leaving you behind," he murmured, his voice trembling. "And I'm sorry if I was too late, brother."
His words struck a chord deep within me, stirring a wave of forgotten pain. The day he left for the military left a void in my life-an emptiness that changed me forever. And now, despite the questions, all I wanted was to understand my brother.
"But I am here now, and I will not let anything happen to you ever again; I will protect you no matter what," he said gently as he pulled away from me, slightly caressing my face like I was still a child.
His words, filled with determination and love, echoed in my mind as I stood there, staring into the depths of his eyes. It had been so long since one of my family members had made me feel safe, even cherished. The scars of my past still lingered, a constant reminder of the pain I had endured. But in that moment, I felt a glimmer of hope and a newfound strength that made me believe that maybe, just maybe, I could overcome the shadows that haunted me.
My brother may be ruthless, but he's a good man.
"If anything happens to my brother again, I swear I'm going to kill you both!" Jackson said to Mom, his voice filled with a hint of desperation.
Mom turned her gaze slowly to Jackson, her eyes red and swollen from the tears she had shed earlier. The weight of worry contorted her usually serene face.
"You're just as useless as everyone said; you both don't deserve to be our parents," Jackson spat, his voice filled with venom. The accusations fell harshly on our mother, who immediately burst into tears again. At that moment, I was both surprised and angered by Jackson's ignorance. He had no idea of the sacrifices Mom made to protect me and keep me safe.
Our father had been a dark cloud hanging over our lives, a storm that threatened to drown us in fear. But Mom had always stood tall, a beacon of strength amidst an endless sea of turmoil. She had endured the abuse to protect me, shielding me from the storm that raged within our home.
"Enough, Jackson, this is unlikely you!" I whispered gently, my voice laced with concern. I longed to reach out and soothe the turmoil within him, to offer a lifeline back to the person he used to be.
He glanced at me briefly, his gaze filled with a mixture of sadness and understanding. A flicker of regret crossed his features glimpse of the person I knew he desperately wanted to be. "I'm sorry," he said.
Suddenly, Jackson gently grabbed my chin and lifted my face a little, his touch both firm and delicate. I could see his eyes checking every corner of my face, searching for something. But then something caught his attention: my neck. I could feel his gaze lingering over the area. It was then that I remembered the faint bruises, remnants of a painful episode I had hoped to keep hidden.
He let out a small gasp as if a profound sadness had washed over him. The expression on his face changed, his brow furrowing with worry. The jovial spark that usually danced within his eyes flickered, replaced by a deep concern for my well-being.
Without a word, he released his grip, and his hand fell softly. The weight of his unspoken words hung heavy in the air between us. I couldn't find the strength within me to explain the truth or to express the pain and humiliation that I had endured.
"I won't leave you alone again, I promise," he finally whispered, his voice filled with determination.
My brows furrowed with concern. "But what about the mil-," I said, but before I could finish talking, he interrupted, "Enough," and then I shut my mouth, just like that.
"Let's just go, Miles, or we'll be late," Jackson urged, impatiently tapping his foot through the front door.
"Mom?" I stammered, my voice trembling. "You should bring Dad to the hospital; have him checked."
She looked at me, her eyes filled with anguish, and nodded silently, wiping her tears from her cheeks. It was evident that she had been grappling with the same concerns and fears.
I approached Mom and kneeled next to her, my heart pounding with worry. Struggling to keep my composure, I reached into my pocket and retrieved a handkerchief. It was a piece of cloth, but one that held sentimental value. It had been a cherished gift from my dad, a token of his love and affection before it had gone away. Now, it would serve as a tool to provide comfort in a moment of distress.
Gently, I unfolded the handkerchief, its soft fabric soothing against my trembling hands. Then, I knelt beside my dad and began wiping away the blood from his nose. Despite the chaos and uncertainty, I found solace in the familiar act, as if it brought a sense of normalcy to the abnormal situation we found ourselves in.
As I worked to stem the flow of blood, I glanced up at my mom. Her eyes welled with tears, mirroring the pain and anguish that filled my own heart. "I'm so sorry, sweetie," she whispered, her voice barely audible amidst the chaos. It was as if she blamed herself for the unfortunate events that unfolded.
"Mom, please don't believe every word that Jackson said to you; he didn't mean a single thing about it," I said to Mom, and then I felt her hand in mine.
"I love you, and I will never get tired of doing everything I can to protect you. You know that, right?" She said gently, so I smiled, nodding my head in response.
"I'll take care of your dad; go now before your brother loses his temper and throws tantrums again," she added.
TYLER
Today was the culmination of weeks of intense training, sweat, and tears. The finals of the interschool soccer competition had finally arrived, and the air was filled with a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation. The entire town was buzzing with anticipation. The stands are packed with supporters, cheering and waving flags in support of their respective schools.
As the sun beat down on the freshly cut field, the two teams gathered in our respective locker rooms, preparing mentally and physically for the challenge that lay ahead.
Just a few minutes before the game starts, I find myself standing inside the locker room, feeling an unfamiliar sensation coursing through my veins. It's nervous, and it's overwhelming. The butterflies in my stomach flutter anxiously as my teammates huddle together, preparing for the upcoming game.
This feeling is entirely new to me. In the past, when it came to soccer, I would always be calm and focused. My entire brain would be consumed by the game, my thoughts solely dedicated to strategizing and executing plays flawlessly. But now, everything has changed.
It all began after I invited Miles to come and watch my game. Miles, with his unwavering support and unyielding enthusiasm, has brought about a shift in my perspective.
The memory of the time we spent together on that magical field of wishes lingers in my mind. We laughed together, sitting on a sea of dreams and aspirations. The happiness I felt in his presence has left an indelible mark on my heart.
Ever since that day, thoughts of Miles have consumed every waking moment and even invaded my dreams. After our time together, he never seemed to leave my mind. The way his smile lit up his face, the sound of his laughter, and the pure joy he exuded started to flicker through my thoughts, even during the darkest hours of the night.
The whistle blows, and we emerge onto the field, our black and orange jerseys gleaming in the sunlight. Both teams are greeted with a cascade of applause from our fellow students and teachers. The atmosphere is electric, with cheers and chants echoing through the air.
But amidst all the noise and chaos, my eyes were fixed on finding Miles. I scanned the benches, trying to locate him among the sea of faces. The familiar faces of friends and family surrounded me. The cheerleaders, clad in vibrant uniforms, jumped and chanted, their enthusiasm contagious. But all I could think about was finding Miles.
My gaze returned to the field, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. And then there he was. Standing next to his brother, Jackson, who looked equally determined to find an available seat. Miles' eyes flickered across the field, scanning the crowd as if searching for something specific.
On the spur of the moment, I raised my hand, an instinctual action I couldn't explain. And just like that, it caught Miles' attention. His eyes locked onto mine, and a smile broke across his face. At that moment, it felt like the world had paused around us.
Miles waved his hand at me, a gesture of acknowledgment and friendship. Without hesitation, I waved back, a reciprocal connection forming between us. A warmth enveloped my heart as our smiles met, bridging the gap between us.
Miles and his brother sat down next to his friends after we greeted each other, but we continued to give each other glances and smiles even after they moved seats. I don't know why, but as soon as I saw him, my emotions subsided.
What is this sensation?
As the referee blew the whistle, the soccer ball soared into the air, beginning its unpredictable path across the field. The game started slowly, with lighthearted banter and playful laughter echoing among us. But as the minutes ticked by, the game intensified, and our determination to win took over.
The field became a battleground as we sprinted, dribbled, and maneuvered around one another. The grass beneath our feet was stained with sweat and determination. The occasional collision, shouts of frustration, and jubilant cheers filled the air as we fought for control of the ball.
The game flowed with a rhythm of its own, a symphony of footwork, strategy, and teamwork. Each player showcased their unique strengths, crouching low to tackle or leaping high in an attempt to score goals. The spectators on the sidelines were enthralled, their cheers and applause urging us to push ourselves harder.
MILES
"You guys seem much closer now, Miles," Jackson blurted out of the blue, causing my friends and I to abruptly turn our attention towards him. I shot Jackson a glare, silently pleading with him to drop the subject, but he simply laughed softly in response, seemingly unfazed by my silent warning.
My friends, Erin and Charles, exchanged curious glances before turning their attention back to me, awaiting an explanation.
"Oh my God, are you and Tyler boyfriends now?" Erin's whispered outburst caught me off guard. I quickly looked around, realizing that our entire school was gathered at the stadium, eagerly watching the soccer game. Panic gripped me at the thought of our secret being exposed, and I immediately covered Erin's mouth with my hand to prevent any further slip-ups.
"You're jumping to conclusions, Erin; that's not what Jackson meant," I whispered at the two of them, her and Charles. The two seem more confused. I let go of Erin with a sigh, but before I could say anything, Jackson immediately led me.
"Tyler and Miles are kind of childhood friends, you know, or should I say childhood sweethearts?" Jackson said teasingly while laughing, so I glared at him.
"Is it true, Miles?" Charles asked me with surprised looks on his and Erin's faces. It took me a couple of seconds to stare at them both before I could speak again.
"Yes, but that was before," I simply replied, and I faked a smile. I just avoided looking at the two of them and focused my attention on the game.
"I don't think Tyler only sees you as his childhood friend; by the looks of it, I think it's more than that," Jackson said, making me shake my head, my friends here, on the other hand, just laughed with excitement.
"I AGREE!" Charles said enthusiastically. I just shook my head as a smile drew on my lips.
As I focused my eyes on the game, watching Tyler gracefully running around as his teammate passed the ball, kicking it towards him, suddenly Tyler jumped backward into the air and then kicked the ball. Time seemed to slow down as I watched the ball glide effortlessly past the goalkeeper. The crowd erupted into cheers, and a smile stretched across my lips. Tyler had done it. He had scored the first goal of the game.
We all leaped to our feet, clapping and laughing as the excitement washed over us. Tyler turned to face the cheering crowd, his eyes meeting mine. A satisfied grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as he raised his hand in acknowledgment. I couldn't contain my joy, so I gave him an enthusiastic thumbs-up. His smile grew even wider, his eyes sparkling with exhilaration.
With a quick nod, Tyler focused back on the game, ready to lead his team to victory. Meanwhile, the cheerleaders positioned themselves on the sidelines, ready to motivate and uplift our team. Together, we chanted and cheered louder than ever, encouraging Tyler and his teammates as they battled fiercely on the field.
With every passing minute, it became evident that Tyler was in his element. He effortlessly weaved through the opposing players, displaying his prowess and skill. His teammates rallied around him, feeding off his energy and determination.
JESSICA
I watched intently as Tyler sprinted across the field, chasing the soccer ball with determination and skill. The bright sun illuminated the field, casting long shadows as the game progressed. Outwardly, I appeared to be fully engrossed in the match, but my mind kept drifting back to an encounter I had witnessed earlier, leaving me puzzled and conflicted.
Just before the game began, I had been standing near the bleachers, chatting with the rest of the cheerleaders. That's when I noticed Tyler and a familiar face, one that had always been on the outskirts of our social circle. It was Miles, the outcast of our school because he's Gay.
But something was different today. I saw Tyler and Miles exchange waves and smiles as if they were old friends reuniting after a long separation. There was a warmth in the air and an ease in their interaction that struck me as odd. How had these two seemingly unrelated individuals formed a bond that had escaped my notice altogether?
I tried to dismiss it as a passing moment, but it lingered in my mind, gnawing at me with relentless persistence. I watched Tyler's teammate maneuver through the opposing team's defense, skillfully dodging their attempts to intercept the ball. His agile footwork mesmerized the crowd, and a surge of excitement rippled through the spectators.
The moment Tyler's teammate passed him the ball, he immediately made his favorite move, the bicycle kick, and then scored a goal. The crowd erupted into a symphony of cheers, and the cheerleaders, myself included, leaped to our feet, shaking our pom-poms with unrestrained enthusiasm. Tyler's face lit up with a wide grin as he celebrated the victory with his teammates.
While the crowd erupted in cheers, I couldn't help but be captivated by Tyler. His every move commanded my attention, making it difficult for me to tear my gaze away. However, amidst the exhilaration of the game, something unusual caught my eye-a momentary exchange between Tyler and Miles.
Tyler veered his attention away from the game, his eyes locking on Miles. A soft smile crept across his face, illuminating every feature. With a gentle gesture, Tyler raised his hand, as if signaling Miles that he had just scored a remarkable goal. Startled, I watched as Miles mirrored Tyler's smile, pride shining brightly in his eyes. In response, he happily gave a thumbs up, emphasizing the sense of camaraderie between them.
Confusion washed over me as I tried to comprehend the connection that seemed to transcend the bounds of mere friendship. There was an air of familiarity between Tyler and Miles that struck me as inexplicable. It was as though they had known each other for an eternity, their bond both elusive and enigmatic.
As I watched them from a distance, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy and insecurity. Were they boyfriends? The thought haunted me, and I found myself questioning my worth in Tyler's eyes. As his girlfriend, I believed I should have been the one by his side, basking in the glory of his achievements.
But the whispers of my squadmates echoed in my mind, casting doubt upon our relationship. They had planted the seed of insecurity, suggesting that maybe I wasn't good enough for Tyler. In their eyes, he had rejected me, denying our relationship, and some went as far as accusing me of fabricating the whole thing for attention.
I can't have a rival with Tyler; what will everyone say when they find out that Tyler doesn't care about me?
"Go Tyler Baby!" I shouted, and I saw everyone look at me with smiles drawn on their faces, and they also joined me in cheering. I looked at Miles, and I could see that his expression had changed. He must've liked Tyler so much because otherwise, his expression wouldn't change when I called Tyler my baby. There was an intensity in his eyes longing that I had never seen before. It was evident that he admired Tyler, perhaps even loved him.
As I shouted, "Go Tyler Baby!" once more, I noticed a flicker of pain in Miles' eyes. It was a split-second vulnerability that only I seemed to detect. At that moment, I questioned whether Miles' feelings for Tyler went beyond mere admiration.
"Pathetic little bitch," I whispered to myself as I smirked.