Chapter 4
The stadium lights blazed against the winter sky, illuminating the pitch in harsh white. The crowd’s roar was already building, a low hum of anticipation that made Jamie’s stomach twist.
This wasn’t just any match — it was the kind that defined seasons, the kind that left scars and stories.
Jamie tightened his boots, trying to focus, but his eyes kept drifting to Alex across the locker room. Alex was laughing with a couple of teammates, his grin wide, his energy infectious. Yet when his gaze flicked toward Jamie, it lingered just a fraction too long.
"You ready?" Alex asked, crossing the room to sit beside him.
Jamie nodded, forcing a smile. "Always."
The whistle blew, and the game exploded into motion. Mud flew, bodies collided, adrenaline surged. Jamie and Alex moved like one body, their synergy uncanny. Alex broke through the line, Jamie covering his flank, the ball flying between them with precision.
"Go, go, go!" Jamie shouted, and Alex sprinted, diving across the try line. The crowd erupted.
The team swarmed them, cheering, slapping backs. But Jamie felt only Alex’s hand gripping his, their eyes locking in the chaos. For a moment, it was just the two of them, the world narrowed to that connection.
Later, in the locker room, the atmosphere was electric. Teammates celebrated, beer cans cracked open, laughter echoing. But Jamie felt the weight of whispers. One player nudged another, eyes flicking toward him and Alex.
"You two are inseparable," someone joked.
Jamie froze, but Alex didn’t flinch. He grinned, slinging an arm around Jamie’s shoulders. "We just play better together,"he said easily, though his grip was firm, protective.
When the noise had faded, Alex found Jamie sitting alone. "We can’t keep hiding," he said quietly. "I don’t care what they think. I care about us."
Jamie hesitated, torn between loyalty to the team and loyalty to his heart. But when Alex pulled him into a fierce embrace, the decision was made. The line had been crossed, and there was no going back.
The next morning, they met at dawn, bikes ready, the city still asleep. Riding side by side, the world felt wide open.
"I’m scared," Jamie admitted. "Scared of what people will say. Scared of losing rugby. Scared of losing you."
Alex slowed, turning his head. "Then don’t lose me. Don’t let fear decide for you."
Jamie’s throat tightened. "It’s not that simple."
"It is," Alex said firmly. "We don’t have to have all the answers. We just have to choose each other."
The sun rose, painting the sky in gold. They crossed a white line on the road, wheels spinning in unison. It was just paint, but to them
it was symbolic — a boundary broken, a new beginning embraced.
The new season carried a different energy. Coach barked orders, drills ran long, but Jamie felt lighter. He wasn’t hiding anymore. Alex jogged beside him, their banter easy, their connection undeniable.
Some teammates had adjusted quickly, treating their closeness as just another part of the team dynamic. Others still watched with curiosity, but the edge of suspicion had dulled. Respect had replaced whispers.
After practice, they sat on the bleachers, watching the sun dip low. Alex nudged Jamie with his shoulder. "Feels different, doesn’t it?"
Jamie nodded. "Yeah. Like we’re not just playing rugby anymore. We’re proving something."
"Proving what?" Alex asked.
Jamie thought for a moment. "That we can be ourselves. That trust makes us stronger. That love doesn’t weaken the game — it makes it better."
Alex’s smile softened. "I like that. Curiosity isn’t just wondering. It’s courage. Daring to find out."
Jamie looked at him, the words settling deep. "Then let’s keep daring."
But with victory came attention. Their teamwork became the talk of local sports columns, their chemistry undeniable. Reporters began to ask questions, not just about the game, but about them.
One afternoon, after a decisive win, a journalist cornered Jamie outside the stadium. "You and Alex seem to have a special connection," she said. "Care to comment?"
Jamie hesitated, muttered something vague about teamwork, and slipped away. Later, Alex found him. "You dodged the question," Alex said gently.
Jamie sighed. "I panicked. I don’t want this to become gossip."
Alex leaned back, thoughtful. "It already is. But we get to decide how the story’s told."
Jamie looked at him, torn between caution and courage. "What if it changes everything?"
"Then it changes everything," Alex replied simply. "But I’d rather face it with you than hide from it alone."
That night, riding through the city, Jamie finally said it. "Next time they ask, I’ll tell them the truth."
Alex’s smile softened. "Good. Because I’m not going anywhere."
The hardest test came at home. Jamie sat at his parents’ kitchen table, the smell of tea steeping in the air. He had told them about Alex — not everything, but enough.
"So… he’s more than a teammate," his mother said gently.
Jamie nodded. "Yeah. He is."
His father leaned back, arms crossed. "And the team knows?"
"Some do," Jamie admitted.
The pause was heavy. Jamie’s heart raced, waiting for judgment. But his mother reached across the table, squeezing his hand. "You’re still our son. That doesn’t change."
His father exhaled slowly. "As long as you play hard, as long as you’re happy… that’s what matters."
Relief washed over Jamie. Later, he recounted it all to Alex at the pitch.
"That’s huge," Alex said, his smile warm. "You told them. You didn’t hide."
Jamie shrugged. "It wasn’t easy."
"It’s never easy," Alex replied. "But it’s worth it."
They sat together on the bleachers, the stadium empty, the world quiet. Alex leaned against Jamie, their shoulders touching. "We’ll face it all — family, team, press. Whatever comes. We’ll face it together."
Jamie looked at him, the words settling deep. For the first time, he believed it.
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