Chapter 4 - Confrontation

James grabbed his helmet with both hands, dropping to his knees in despair. At a time like this, Leonel could only sigh.

However, under the silence of the arena, a resounding boom of two clashing bodies sounded.

Leonel grimaced, feeling his already fractured ribs break cleanly as his vision was filled with sights of the moon above.

It was then a loud whistle blew through the silence.

"Unnecessary roughness, roughing the passer, number 21. Half the distance to the goal, still first down."

Leonel landed heavily on the ground, grasping at his chest with his eyes squinting in pain.

The rookie stood over him in shock. At first, he had let his frustration get the best of him. He had never for a moment thought that James would drop such an easy layup of a pass, so he unleashed everything he had on Leonel, knowing they would lose the game. Never did he think that his actions would give the Royal Blues another chance with zero seconds on the clock.

The medics rushed onto the field. Despite the Royal Blues gaining new life, the stadium still remained silent. The sight of Leonel writhing in pain made many send furious gazes toward the rookie and James.

"Bennett, get the hell off the field! Rook, you're in."

Coach Owen coldly benched his Five-Star prospect. He didn't know what was wrong with James today, but he was clearly in his own head too much. It was impossible to use him for this final play.

The medics quickly lifted Leonel's jersey, undoing the bandage wraps from the first half to reveal ghastly purple and green bruises. It was simply impossible for a bruise to spread so quickly. The only explanation was that Leonel had suffered this injury very early on in the game.

"Don't." Leonel grabbed the hand of the middle-aged male medic who tried to take his pads off. "There's just one play left, I got it."

Coach Owen who had rushed onto the field frowned deeply, his arms crossed over his well-built chest and his mustache billowing.

The team stood around Leonel's slowly rising figure, solemn expressions on their faces. They knew that everyone made mistakes, but at the moment, they were having a really hard time forgiving James.

"What are you all pouting for? An injury timeout doesn't last forever, let's do this. Line up!"

Seeing Leonel's resolute attitude, the medics and Coach Owen had no choice but to jog off the field under the silence of the crowd. In those moments, the heavy breathing of the players who stood on their last legs was all that remained hanging in the air.

Leonel's fiery gaze lit a fire under them all, filling them with a strength they didn't know they had.

On the sidelines, Conrad looked on with a gloomy expression. Victory had been in his grasp, yet it slipped away, just like that.

Leonel slapped his hands together, standing behind his offensive line as though he wasn't injured at all.

"Blue 80. BLUE 80. Down set, HUT!"

**

Leonel sat in the locker room breathing heavily. The sounds of celebration surrounded him, causing a light smile to play his handsome features. Who knew how they did it, but the guys managed to get their hands on a few dozen champaign bottles. Their wrist watches were probably beeping away with talks of the Underage Drinking Code.

Unfortunately, he couldn't take part too actively. Though he could forcibly ignore his pain if need be as he did on the final game winning play, it was probably best he didn't move too actively, lest his ribs puncture his lungs.

"Stop moaning and groaning, cap. You're not getting out of partying tonight!"

One of Leonel's O-lineman, Three-Star Center Milan Inga, slapped his shoulder without regard for his grimace. He swung back a flask of vodka, his massive fat covered body somehow appearing ripped of muscle at the same time.

"Oof, I already promised I'd come. No need to kill me first."

Reaching into his locker, he put on a pair of deep blue jeans, a skin-tight white turtle-neck sweater, and draped over a long black trench coat.

'It's only 8 pm right now, dad won't kill me too much if I'm home by midnight...'

Leonel slung his backpack over his shoulder. But the moment he turned, his footsteps stopped.

"What are you moping around for?" Leonel smiled toward James.

"I..."

"If it's a struggle for you to tell me, then just don't tell me. There's no need for you to be sorry, that rookie would have hit me like that whether you caught the ball or not."

"..."

For a while James didn't know what to say. But, he didn't move out of the way of the door either.

"... You knew you would get the unnecessary roughness call, right?"

Leonel's smile dimmed a bit, but he didn't respond.

"I know you too well. You don't like to lose, but you're too soft-hearted to call me out on my bullshit too. So, you'd find a way to protect our friendship and ignore it, all while winning the big game anyway. Am I right?"

Leonel sighed. "Is there really a need to know the answer?"

"Of course there is!" James' voice rose. "If you knew I needed your help, why couldn't you just lose this one time?! This is just a game, isn't it? You've already won three times, did you really need to win for a fourth? You don't even want to be a quarterback!"

Leonel's gaze narrowed. "Whether I want to or not is irrelevant. In everything that you do —."

"I already know! I've heard it a million times. Respect and persistence. Respecting this garbage hand you were dealt, you're definitely the first. Congratulations!"

Leonel's eyes flickered with a hint of sadness.

"James, why are you being like this? You didn't even try to talk to me beforehand, we could have come up with a solution together. Did you think using being late to class as an excuse was enough?"

James' expression rapidly changed, flaring with anger, then shame, then finally, capitulation.

"... I'm sorry. I lost my cool. There are just some things that... Never mind. It doesn't matter anymore. What's done is done."

James shook his head, recollecting himself.

Turning away, James reached for the door. After a pause, he turned back with a bright smile as though nothing had happened.

"Come on, all your adoring fans are waiting outside to crucify me. The party's going down in Blue North Dormitory. We gotta get there before all the booze's gone."

Before Leonel could respond, James ripped open the door, unleashing a sound wave of flashing cameras and the shrieks of groupies.

In the NAFL, reporters were allowed into the locker rooms. But, since they were minors and the bigwigs were worried about optics, they were forced to wait outside at the Academy level.

At the same time, Royal Blue Academy's campus was usually locked down from outsiders, but there were rare occasions like today where those who paid obscene amounts of money or had appropriate connections could come.

Like this, Leonel was forced to wade through a sea of reporters and fan girls with a bitter smile on his face, James' sinister laugh sounding off in the distance as he ran away.