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Summary
Ted watches the ball sail through the air, the arc not entirely on-point, nor straight. His heart starts to thump when he sees it curve, and it rockets up into his throat when it ends its trajectory by flying for Trent.
“Hey— Hey, Trent!” Ted starts to shout, mixed in with a few of his players shouting the same, but he’s not fast enough. None of them are. When it comes to a kick from Jamie Tartt, nobody can be fast enough; he can call over to Trent all he wants, can start to sprint towards him as quick as he can, but the ball is still going to sail through the air in a direct curve for him, too swift for anyone to reach Trent or stop the ball or do a single goddamned thing about it.
Despite his warning, Ted still realizes that Trent can’t move in time, can’t do anything but lift his head in confused recognition before the ball is colliding directly with his face, hard and head-on, with a whump that Ted can hear even this far down the pitch.
or: trent takes a football to the head and gets knocked out, and ted loses his mind about it. just a little bit.
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Bookmark Notes:
Whump my beloved.
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Bookmark Notes:
Hurt/comfort hurt/comfort hurt/comfort!