Page 63 of Off the Pitch

I was so caught up in my head, I almost walked straight past the gate. Christian’s car was in the driveway by itself, so that was a good sign. It would be pretty awkward to explain my surprise appearance to Liam and Jordan, given that I was still just anold football friend.

Those words still stung. A small part of me wished I’d never given Christian free rein to decide who we told. The rest of me knew that I was being a grumpy dickhead. Just because I’d always been comfortable with my sexuality didn’t mean everyone was.

And besides, I wasn’t constantly being harassed and circled by the media. I wasn’t stupid—I knew how much of a big deal Christian coming out would be and how much the media would suddenly pick everything he did apart. Even though it hurt to think that he might not ever go through with it, part of me could understand why he’d be reluctant.

Being with Christian was the best thing that had ever happened to me, and I loved him more than anything. If that meant he was a bit grumpy about the way this season was going, so be it. And if he did reach the total ass stage, I did have a mouth and the words to talk to him about it.

Even if I wasn’t good at that.

I let myself in the back door and found the kitchen empty.

“Hello?” I called, slipping off my shoes and padding through into the living room, where I could hear the television playing quietly. Christian was tucked up on the couch watching last night’sMatch of the Day, staring hard at the screen as if he could change what was happening on it.

“Christian? You okay?” I asked from my position in the doorway. He looked up at me and shrugged, turning back to the TV, where the presenters were talking about Greenwich’s chances in their next Champions League match.

“Talk to me,” I said, walking over to sit on the sofa next to him.

“What’s there to talk about?” He shrugged, trying to turn up the volume to drown me out.

“You’re being an ass.” I tried to take the remote from him. I knew it was childish, but so was his behaviour. “I know you lost both games last week, but that doesn’t give you the right to throw a fucking temper tantrum about it. Grow up. You’re supposed to be a professional,” I snapped.

“At least I am one,” he countered as I sat there reeling. What the fuck was that?

“That’s never bothered you before,” I said, voice ice cold as I fought to keep my sarcasm under control. “I didn’t realise that me doing something with my life apart from chasing a ball was a bad thing.”

“I didn’t say that, did I?” Christian argued, waving his hands. I had no bloody idea what was going on, and his whole attitude was throwing me. I felt like I’d been strapped to a rollercoaster without knowing it, and suddenly I was being launched into the air at warp speed.

“You’re so much better than me,” he whispered. “Why do you even like me?”

Now I was doing loop-the-loops and being thrown into some alternate dimension. What sort of question was that? Did he want an hour-long lecture on how amazing he was? Because I could do that. Fuck it, give me an extra hour and I’d make a whole PowerPoint on the subject. How could I not like him? I loved him more than anything else in the universe.

“Because you’re funny and kind and sweet and loyal and so fucking smart. You put your heart and soul into everything you do, and you’re always there for me. I mean, you spent two hours last week listening to me talk about one chapter of my thesis. You are the most amazing person I’ve ever met,” I said soothingly, reaching out to lay my hand on his leg. He shrunk away from me, and something inside my chest lurched.

“No, I’m not. I’m a mess, David. I’m a fucked-up pile of daddy issues, anxiety, and perfectionism. And you’re so clever and wonderful and amazing. You deserve to have everything in the universe.”

“Sweetheart,” I said as my heart pounded so hard I thought my chest was going to burst open. I had no idea what he was doing, but it was terrifying me. “I don’t want the universe—I just want you. Please, I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s okay, I promise.”

“It’s not, though.” Christian’s eyes looked shiny, his face pale. “It’s not going to be okay. Because one day you’re going to realise how broken I am. I know you hate that I won’t come out, that I can’t tell anyone. I want to, but… I don’t know how. What if they hate me? I’m not like you. I haven’t got any other talents. I can’t do anything else. I can’t lose football. At least this way you’ll find someone better. Someone who deserves you.”

“Please, Christian. Don’t do this,” I begged as the underlying meaning of his words clicked into place. “Don’t push me away. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said. “And that’s why you’re better off without me.”

“Don’t I get a say in this?” I wanted to argue. I wanted to scream and shout. To tell him this was all nonsense. But I couldn’t find the words because I’d never expected this to happen. Not in a million years.

“No,” Christian said, and my heart broke.

“Please,” I started, not even knowing what I was asking for. My words trailed off into silence. We sat there for a moment, my brain frantically scrambling to put everything in order, and underneath it all, I could feel my anger building.

“This is bollocks,” I said, turning to face him. “You know that, right? You’re doing what you always do when you get scared. You’re running away because it’s easier than facing your problems.”

“So?”

“So you can’t go through life running away from everything,” I spat, my voice shaking as a torrent of rage threatened to wash over me. “Yeah, it’s fucking scary coming out. You think I don’t know that? You think I haven’t been called names or been threatened because I’m not straight? Or because people think I’m not gay enough because I like girls or too queer because I like boys? But I still did it. Because even though it was scary, I couldn’t go through life pretending to be someone I’m not.”

“That’s not an option for me,” Christian said, not even bothering to look at me.

“Yes, it is! Nobody will care if you’re gay. You won’t lose anything. I promise. Sure, some people might be shitty about it, but I promise I’ll be there with you. You don’t even have to tell everyone—just tell Liam and Jordan, that’s it. Please, Christian, don’t do this.” Christian said nothing, staring straight ahead, his expression fixed. “Don’t shut me out, Christian. Don’t you fucking dare. I love you more than anything in the world. And I thought you loved me too.” Tears prickled my eyes, and I fought to push them away.

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