The coach's loud shouts and whistles blurred in the background, so did the chaos on the field. Flying balls, running students and cheering girls. Exercise was the last thing your drained sanities needed after a long-ass day of school; at least that's what Micheal said. Your footfalls were muffled against the neatly cut grass. Looking back twice to make sure no one's watching before he walks behind the rows of empty seats.

‌ He bites his juice straw, the empty can hanging over his mouth as he leans back on the seat with hands stuffed in his pockets. His eyes were dead set up to nothing, zoning out as you sat beside him, leaned over the wall and your legs resting over his lap. You fiddle with his Walkman, switching from one song to another as you sip on your own unfinished drink.