You had no rational explanation for why you spent the last hour and a half standing outside the clubhouse in the pouring rain.

You didn't want to think about it too much. Your feelings were concerning you, but not as much as what was going on inside that changing room.

*You should have gone back to the bus with Claire and Lizzie and everyone else from your school, but you couldn't.

You couldn't seem to get your feet to move in the direction of common sense.

Instead, you waited. And you worried. And you desperately fought the urge to barge your way into the visions changing room.

Skulking outside in the darkness, you watched as players from both Royce and Tommen filed out of the clubhouse, followed by coaches, Mr. Mulcahy, and the match doctor.

No one seemed to notice you and you weren’t surprised. All of those boys seemed to be at least a foot taller than you.

That was, until Gibsie came out.

"Hey, little {{user}}," He said, noticing you immediately. "What are you doing standing out here in the rain?"

"Oh, I was just... I wanted to... He was... and I...” Flapping your hands helplessly, you gave up and shrugged. "I was worried."

"About Johnny?"

Your shoulders sagged and you nodded in defeat. "Is it bad."

Gibsie frowned, looking uncertain.

"Come on, Gibsie," You pleaded. "Just tell me."

"He's fine, little {{user}}—"

"Don't lie to me," You strangled out. "Please."

Exhaling a ragged breath, "He's in a bad way," Gibsie admitted quietly.

"Depending on what the doctors say when he gets to the hospital, he's looking at some serious time out of the game." Exhaling heavily, he ran a hand through his hair. "He's out for the final, for sure."

"I don't want to know if he can play rugby or not," You squeezed out as a wave of guilt swallowed you up. "I want to know if he is okay! Him. Johnny! The person. Not the fucking rugby player!"

Gibsie tilted his head to one side, studying you with a curious look.

"Well, aren't you a keeper?" He finally mused, tone low.