Flashlight (part 3)

                                    

                                          
(9) 
*flash* *flash* 
It's still early in the evening and you're not in bed yet, instead coloring in your coloring book. You almost don't notice the lights, because it's not dark outside yet, but you just catch it and move to the window. 
Calum is standing there in his football jersey. "Hey," he greets you.
"What's wrong?" you ask. Calum and you spend a lot of time together and you can instantly tell from the furrow of his brows and the tension in his shoulders that he's angry. 
"I'm gonna stop playing football."
"Why would you do that?" you wonder out loud. "You love football." It's true. During lunch breaks, you always see him kick around a ball with his friends. Every now and then he'll ask you to join him, but you always say no. You're too clumsy to play football, you'd probably break something. 
"Not anymore," Calum says stubbornly. "I'm too good at it." At this, a laugh escapes your mouth. "It's not funny!" he calls out. "My friends hate me."
"Why would they hate you?" 
"Cause we were playing a game and we did it that every man was for himself and there were no teams and I beat them all really fast and they said it wasn't fun to play with me and they don't wanna play with me ever again." His words are all jumbled up and to your surprise his voice cracks, almost as if he's on the edge of crying. You've never seen Calum cry; he's the bravest person you know. One time he fell off the swing set and there was a lot of blood on his knee, but he still didn't cry. 
"That's fucking stupid," you say, and Calum raises an eyebrow.
"Fucking? What does that mean?" 
"I don't know," you admit to him, "but I heard Natalie say to Mali that Jake was fucking stupid. I don't know who Jake is, though." Your eyes scan Calum's face. He no longer looks angry, but he looks sad, and you don't like seeing him sad. "Cal, do you want to play with me?" 
"Why?" he frowns. "I'll only beat you." 
"Yeah," you shrug, "but that will make you feel better." 
He smiles and nods, and you meet up in his back yard. He completely kicks your ass and wins every time, not holding back in the slightest - not that you would want him to - and when his mom finally calls you both in, he grabs your arm. 
"Do you still wanna be my best friend, even if I beat you at football?" He genuinely sounds worried, and you giggle.
"Cal," you say, "you're good at football. If that's a reason to stop being your friend, I'd be a pretty bad friend, wouldn't I?" 
"And you're not," he answers, "cause we're best friends forever and ever." 
"Yeah," you playfully punch him in the arm, "forever and ever." 

                          
(( all credit goes to stillrunningbacktoyou on tumblr ))