"Are we playing a game?" asks Alec, and I stare at him in disbelief. A game? Pool? His fucking serious"What?""A game. I feel like it's the only option we have. We can't get to the point any other way. We talk to each other and yet nothing at all comes of it. I'm baring my soul to you here, just like you wanted. But you reveal nothing of yourself. It's your turn, Magnus. That's the deal, the game. You tell me what happened last night. Because your words make no sense to me," Alec replies."All right, what do you want to hear?""Start with what happened after I left the party.""Nothing," I counter, and Alec rolls his eyes in annoyance. His hands rest heavily on the velvety green of the table, the muscles under his fucking soft skin literally screaming at me to get involved with this man.

"I don't understand you. You agreed to this meeting and wanted to know everything from me. You kissed me, touched me and wanted to be fucked by me. And now you act as if.... I don't know. I find it hard to believe that you don't care about me. Nothing! Really? A phrase? We should stop blaming ourselves or making excuses. I behaved like shit and now I'm trying to fix it. I don't know where it will end, but I care about you Magnus and I want to hear from you what happened. Because obviously something happened that goes beyond anger of a betrayed person. Am I right?" Silently I nod, take a deep breath and let the white ball in front of me clatter against the sea of colors. Dispersion, a new order. If only everything in life were that simple.

"Jonah was beside himself. Angry and disappointed. Somehow I can understand him. His mistrust was not unfounded and I should have told him the truth about what happened in London from the beginning. Maybe then he wouldn't have kept his whatever with this guy from me and in all likelihood the two of us wouldn't have met at that stupid party. I didn't even want to go there. But it was already too late for a headache and well.... It doesn't matter now. I lost control, Jonathan caught us. That's the way it is now and it can't be changed. I probably would have reacted the same way in his place. He almost outed you, in front of the other guests." Alec draws in a hissing breath.

"Don't worry," I say quickly. His expression changes, becoming softer, yet a certain hardness remains around the prominent chin area. Not much longer and the house of cards will collapse on him. The facade is already beginning to crumble. I can only begin to imagine the storm raging inside Alec. Those moments, the thrill, adrenaline, desire and the fear of being caught. He would lose everything, that much I already understood and yet he finds it incredibly hard to suppress his gay self. He shouldn't have to, no one should. But our society is unfortunately not yet so far. It's a pity actually, it would make a lot of things so much easier, more colorful and happier.

"It's all good. You're safe. For now. I don't know what Jonathan will do. An anonymous tip to the pres...""I've already taken care of it," Alec stifles my words. His raised hand, the inside, defense, de-escalation, a symbol of his life."Okay. Do I want to know how?", I ask."What does it matter? There are documents and lawyers for such contingencies. They get good money for it. All of them." All of them. His lawyers? Jonathan, it shoots hotly through my head, and stunned, I stare at Alec, seeing his narrowed eyebrows and tangled fingers around the wooden cue. For a blink, I watch Alec and his restless movements. Up and down, fingertips caressing highly polished wood.

"You pay them money to keep quiet?" I ask tonelessly, getting no response."Say it. Did you pay Jonathan not to talk about you guys? Never, ever, at any time? Is your money... fuck Alec." Silently, Alec looks me in the eye, and even though no words leave his mouth, I can see the letters hovering clearly over his head, heavy, dark. Jonathan graduated high school more poorly than he should have, never got an education or attended college. When we met, Jonathan was working as a courier driver, riding his bike through the streets of New York, red-hot documents in his pockets, making sure countless business bosses collected their royalties at record speed. At one point I asked him if he could live off the tips, because despite the dangers of the urban jungle, rain-soaked asphalt, nervous cab drivers, and always having time on his hands, the money at the end of the week was nothing more than compensation for his time. Jonathan smiled and I remember that day clearly. We sat in the sweltering heat high above the rooftops of the city surrounded by hipsters with long beards, flannel shirts and trashy sunglasses on their heads, enjoying cool drinks in one of the hottest bars at the time. It was one of several dates, the view priceless, just like the moment and time of getting to know each other for the first time, the amorous glances, soft whispers, exploring hands and the feeling of immortality.

"It's just a pastime and fun. I like to ride my bike and it gives me something to do. The money is not important to me, I don't need that to live. I have other sources for that," he replied and I frowned questioningly, trying to banish the images of a young man with flaming red hair, lime green eyes and a backpack full of snow."How illegal do I have to imagine your spring?", I asked, and Jonathan threw his head back laughing. Adam's apple bounced excitedly, tiny tears leaving his eyes, wetting his fine lashes with delicate glistening beads."Oh God," he gasped, and I watched blankly as Jonathan reached for the blood-red napkin under his glass filled with sparkling Prosecco, driving the tears of laughter from his eyes and falling silent as suddenly as he burst into peals of laughter.

"What did you think?" he asked, slightly nervous."Drug dealers?", I shrugged and Jonathan shook his head so vigorously that I was afraid I would have to take my date to the nearest emergency room at any moment."Drug dealer? Me?""It's not always the cliché criminals, Jonathan. It's the innocent ones we should watch out for," I replied."No, it's quite different. Some kind of fund. That's all I can say." And that was it, we never spoke of its source again.

"What happens now? Jonathan told me about you. Even though I didn't know who you were then. Are there consequences now?" And if so, what?"I contacted my lawyer after we broke up at Jace's. There's a clause that JoJo signed at the time and with a little notice, hopefully he'll do the right thing. I'm not going to punish him for telling you about me. That's what I meant, this situation, things you hear. What is acceptable to me, to you. You can use every word I say against me. Magnus, you've been silent these past years, and I thank you for that. Don't worry. I could tell by the look on Jonathan's face how nervous he was at the party. He was my best friend. You don't just put certain things away, they stay forever," Alec says in a strangely soft voice.

"Do you miss it?", I ask."Jonathan and Jace? Sure. We were a really good team. On and off the court. Jace didn't care if we were straight or gay. There was this one kiss at a party by... what was his name... wait, Jordan, no James, oh fuck J was it. I can't put my finger on it, never mind. Jace was slightly panicked, him and gay? At most Bi I tried to explain to him. It took a few days, lots of talking and another kiss. I was glad when he calmed down and stopped trying to walk a path as deep as the Mariana Trench into my room."

"You guys were having a good time. Why did the contact fall off? Was it like that? Did you become the arrogant player who thought of nothing but soccer, women, parties and fun? You said those things meant nothing to you. Except the game. That's what you love.""It wasn't like that. The dream of a career in Europe, it's so old I can't remember the exact day or moment. I feel like it's always been like that. Like with my homosexuality. I too have had moments of doubting whether or not.... Some people believe that men are homosexuals because they suffered trauma in their early childhood.""What kind of trauma?", I ask, irritated. That's bullshit, and Alec knows it."Abuse." One word, one fucking word that makes all the blood in my veins freeze and the brilliant blue in Alec's irises fade."Father?" I ask softly. Alec closes his eyes, his head tilting, exposing the pulsing vein on his neck.

"Coach," he replies, pressed. Fuck."Alexander," I whisper, and again he raises his hand, silently asking for a time-out. I remain silent, giving him this moment to take a breath and gather strength."What happened?" The stifled laughter from his throat sounds foreign."We've been asking ourselves that a lot today. What do you think happened Magnus? What do you think?" he asks and I see anger and frustration flicker in his eyes."I don't know. Did he touch you?" Alec snorts."If it had been just that. Then I'd go to therapy and eventually put all this shit behind me. At least in my dreams. I wouldn't be standing at my teammate's grave every year wondering what I could have done better. All of our silence cost him his life and that's not fair." It never is and there are things in life that you just can't and don't want to talk about. They are too big to be carried on the shoulders of one and are not enough to do justice.

"You know what bugs me? That everyone thinks they know how I'm doing. They all know exactly what's missing in my life. I always wanted to please everyone, my team, my father, the coaches, my wife. But they don't know shit. They only see the outer shell. That my career is at its peak, my trophy cabinet is bursting at the seams and I have so much money in my bank account.... fuck I don't want that. I'm a human being and I want to be seen as one. 'Shaking your ass is not enough ladies. You have to make an effort. Leave the pussy at home and grab the opponent by the balls. We can't let those fuckers win in our stadium. And you, try harder, fight. I want to see success. Score goals or watch how it's done in the next game. How real guys play and not those wimps stomping around the turf in high heels.' That's what one of my coaches said, maybe two.... It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter how many assholes rushed us around the court making condescending remarks. My youth coach made that kind of speech several times, looking at us with such disdain. Every time. We were nothing in his eyes. A couple of boys with their heads in the clouds, full of dreams and hopes. We were children and he took shameless advantage of that.

'Cheer up princess. Otherwise the crown will fall off. At this he slapped my ass with the flat of his hand and I cried out in surprise. Not as manly as it should be, rather high and squeaky. That was a found food for the coach and in the following weeks more and more such remarks came and again and again there were lewd gestures. He never mentioned my name in front of the assembled team. I was Princess, Jace he called Brutus, because even then he had decent muscle mass. JoJo he always called Ginger and I just thought it sucked. But he had the power over us and success as a player. I trained my ass off. I spent every free minute on the court, went to every fucking training camp and the selection games for the successful teams. Just away from that asshole, I thought at the time. My dad was happy, he was proud of his son and that I gave everything to build up my talent. My mom, on the other hand..." Alec falters, shaking his head and pressing his knuckles tightly over his teary eyes.

"I don't know why, but she was against a career as a footballer. Of course she respected my desire, but she never put her whole heart into it. She was never the typical ambitious and proud soccer mom. On the contrary. She was only too happy to leave that stage to my father. But I would have needed my mum. As soon as the subject of soccer came up, she was gone. She had a room in the attic of our house and to this day I don't know what is behind the door. Mum had a key and the door was always locked. She withdrew, had her own life and when I left for Germany she could hardly look me in the eye when I said goodbye. She didn't hug me, didn't cry, didn't say a word. She stood next to my father and her gaze was just blank. I would have loved to hug her one last time and tell her that I loved her. Why didn't I do it? I don't know. Fuck, I was seventeen years old and on my way to a foreign country. I knew the language, understood more than some people thought, and yet I felt so alone. The moment at the airport when I left my parents behind was the beginning of my adult self. Yet I was still a child, trained to succeed and that was my hold. The training, the pain in my muscles when the man in the red sports suit and barking barrack tone spurred us on to top performance. The pain in my child heart was eclipsed by the burning pain in muscles and tendons. As if in a frenzy, I chased across the field. One game, two goals, victory. Euphoria, congratulations, shouts of joy. New week, new training, more pain, again screams on the pitch and insults in the dressing room. Weekend, new game, a goal. Cheers, euphoria, as if on drugs. Flash of lightning, top stories in the big newspapers and new pain, new insults, new tears. An eternal cycle and I was in the middle of it. There was no escape, only conversations with the club psychologist, who had so many years under his belt that I was sure he knew the Queen personally from the crawl group. It was ridiculous and when he finally realized that a girlfriend wasn't going to help me, there were new talks and appointments with managers and club bosses, all the big names in sports. And my dad came from New York to smooth things over and gave me a verbal enema that I can still replay verbatim in my sleep. I was used to being reprimanded by him.  He caught Jonathan and me and believe me, no one, no child in this world, wants such a conversation. His words didn't hit me for a long time. There was this wall inside of me and it all bounced off. Like a perfectly placed shot. His words were the leather under my feet and I thrashed at the ball like I was out of my mind. Cutting air, bam, that sat and my anger was lost in the roar of cheers in my head. My dream threatened to burst like a balloon that just can't get enough of the dizzying heights. High, higher, further and further, towards the sun. Above the clouds surrounded by silence."

"You're rambling," I say softly. "You are who you are.""No Magnus, I'm not digressing. It's the big picture, my life and the shame. I need to talk about it. This flood of secrets... they take my breath away and I don't know if it's wise to tell you the truth. But I know one thing, soccer is important to me, it's not something you can fake. Feeling, passion, lifestyle. Cups, tournaments, the smell of the grass and sweat, euphoria, the floodlights blinding my eyes. Soccer is life, soccer is both a curse and a blessing, soccer is all I have. At that time, my father had taken my coach into his confidence. So that we could find a solution to the 'problem'. I didn't know where to put my emotions. Suddenly I was a problem. But what solution could there be? It was so ridiculous. I didn't feel like laughing, though, after his words clearly, distinctly, and razor-sharply settled into my thoughts. 'My players are not fags. I'd know if one of my guys was bothering the others in the shower. A breech loader? On my court? Over my dead body. I know a fag when I see one. Those girls with their manicured nails and squeaky voice can't even recognize a ball when it's right in front of them. No, a fag will not play with me. He can warm the bench and make room for the real men on the team. That kind of person has no business on the soccer field.' Can you imagine how that feels? To always have to hide? Never being able to stand up for who you are. How you are. A person with feelings and a blessed talent. I have never put myself in the foreground. Most of my wealth is invested. For a wish after my career, for Mason and Sara. I don't care about money. Expensive cars, jewelry worth a family home, extravagant clothes, uncomfortable utopian expensive shoes, exquisite vacations. I don't need to show the whole world how fat my balls are. We all just want to be seen for what we are. Human beings and not unfeeling machines. One look from my father was enough, one question and my problems were dismissed as confusion and stress. From that moment on I was straight. So stock hetero that it already hurt. And at that, everything inside me screamed and the skin burned every time it touched me."

Alec's breathing is labored, his chest rising and falling at a rapid pace."Breathe Alec. Calm down, you need to calm down," I say empathetically."How can I calm down when all this shit is about to come crashing down on me? How much longer can I take this? How do I manage to deal with all of this? I don't. I just live and try to stay undetected as long as possible. But in here..." Alec's fist lands powerfully on his chest. The dull thud squeezes all the air out of his lungs."... I just want to be loved. By the fans, Mason, my parents, and you. I want a future with you by my side and then I hear that caustic voice in my head again telling me that there can be no future without hurt and abuse. That's it. This is what it looks like. This, you can't have," he yells at me in frustration. Alec's arms are stretched wide and the image is clear. Him. Him. His life belongs to soccer, not me.

"What made you the man you are today?" I ask, swallowing the lump that hangs painfully in my throat. My lungs ache, every fiber of my body tries to fight back against the impending faintness. There is no future."I don't know. The time in youth sports? When my whole existence revolved around sports? My friends were my teammates, no parties on the weekends instead training camps. Heart racing and naked panic as soon as the dorm light went out and the quiet choppy breathing from that asshole. You smile when the scouts shake your hands and plan the athletic future with your father. Between furor and euphoria, also always the worry of not being discovered. I went to Germany alone, to a country that was foreign to me, and so many things came crashing down on me. It was not easy to keep my feet on the ground. For many years I felt lost, always searching for whatever or whoever. For me and my destiny? My destiny, my life is soccer, but I soon realized that an important part of myself fell by the wayside. Other boys my age were enjoying life. They went to school, prepared for final exams, met girls for dates and sex adventures, had wild parties every weekend and enjoyed their lives. And I sat in my performance center room every night, missing my parents, my friends, and my home."

"Where did you sleep?", I ask."It's like a boarding school. In sports, it's called a performance center. The boys are prepared for a professional career, can go to school, and if things go well, they play in the Bundesliga at seventeen. Or not, then later. Many of the boys go to other clubs. That's a normal process. Not everyone stays loyal to their supporter. Since I was not yet of age, my father negotiated a place at the performance center. You can probably imagine that I wasn't very popular. After all, I was depriving the others of their chance to play in the premier league, and having a regular spot in the lineup is everything. It's like winning the World Cup and gold medal at the Olympics together. There were strict rules at the performance center boarding school. That was the first thing they told me when I arrived. I had come straight from an intercontinental flight, an eternally long train ride, and no sooner was my butt sitting on the cushion of the leather chair in the director's office than so much was piling up on me. All I wanted to do was sleep. Rules, instructions, commitments, diet plan with whole grains instead of wheat, tips. Luckily for me, there was a folder with neatly written pages, laminated and emblazoned with the club logo on the upper right corner. Beautifully radiant in blue and red. I was a bit closer to my dream again and my heart was beating so infinitely loud and fierce in my chest. There was joy and fear, my soul life for the rest of my career." 

"What kind of rules were those?", I ask with interest."Well, normal things like bedtimes. By 10 p.m., everyone had to be in their rooms. These times were staggered, depending on the age of the boys. No girls in the rooms, keeping order, training times, being late was punished with fines. Just like in professional sports. If I didn't show up on time for training, I had to pay a fixed sum to my club. Even if I gain more than 1 kg during the vacation. That was really hard for a lot of guys during puberty. I saw a lot of tears or anger in the eyes and clenched fists."

"Then there were those moments in my life that I will never forget. How could I. My first league game, for example. That was absolute madness. At the time, I thought the razor-sharp rain would peel the skin off my body in shreds. A ghostly fog lay over the city, gray clouds, autumnal cold, and with every breath small vapor clouds escaped into the cone of rays of the floodlights. I felt invincible. The crowd chanted my name, cheering, I ran across the square, the cleats of my shoes leaving deep craters, earth and grass swirling through the air. The air was cold and smelled of euphoria, sweat, winning and hard work. Blood rushed in my ears, I stank and sweated, gasping. My lungs were on fire, I could hear the shouts of the fans and my coach on the sidelines. 'Faster guys. Pressing. Up front. Come on Lightwood. Come on, come on, you can do it.' Tunnel vision. I was trapped in the tunnel, David on my left looking at me, focused. My muscles and skin ached with exertion, I ran across the field, voices around me, the smell of grass and freedom. David had green eyes and we understood each other blindly. The ball on his foot, a turn with the inside, just slightly, too late for the opponent to react and the shot, it sat perfectly.  The game took its course, the ball flew through the air directly towards me. The stadium paused, the drums of the fans fell silent, silence. I heard the trajectory of the ball, focused, exhaled and hit the top corner. Unstoppable, the fans went wild, the drums boomed in time with my heart, and I sank to the ground, stunned. I can still feel the weight of my teammates on me today. They overran me. Suddenly there were arms around my body and my head was patted. I was one of them and I would have so gladly cried at that moment. In the moment of greatest happiness, I felt the cohesion and strength of the team and wondered if it would still be the same if they knew I was gay. Cocksucking Bitch. As a young player, you reach for the stars. Legs heavy as lead, cramped trembling muscles, eyes focused towards the goal. Bundesliga, Champions League, European champion and the zenith, world champion. Top scorer, world footballer. The best of the best. But you can only do that if you keep both feet on the ground, work hard, fight, leave the selfish asshole in the booth and never forget where your heart is. Every lost game hurts physically. Defeat is like a stab in the heart. Deeply, with a dull blade and broken prongs. The edge covered in red-brown rust and drops of one's own heart's blood slowly fall onto the lawn, turning the lush green into bitter red. An involuntary outing is the worst thing that can happen to me. Not everyone has it as easy as you do, with friends who don't care how many guys you fuck and parents who stand behind you. Your brother, I on the other hand have no one. I'm an only child and in moments like this I wish I had a bag full of siblings, annoying, playing, laughing, always there for each other. My father would no longer represent me. I would have to find a new counselor and honestly, find one who is willing to face this mess. The storm would break over us unstoppably. I'm afraid of these feelings, the longing you trigger. I'm intoxicated as soon as I think of you, the sight of you is killing me. I don't want this and yet I'm so drawn to you, my body feels foreign and glows. My skin tingles at the slightest thought of your hands on my body and I have only one thought left, 'Kiss me like it's the last time and after that I could die happy.' I would feel no pain, only joy and love and you would smile and the world could go up in flames. I wouldn't care.'"

"Alexander," I whimper, wrapping my body around him and sobbing at the implications of his words. He loves me, but he loves soccer more."I think ending your career would affect you more," I state, and again Alec shakes his head, lowered, no longer looking me in the eye as if that will only make everything I've said more true."This is the end of my career," Alec presses out angrily. His chest rises heavily, lowers, and I see the contractions, feel the tension in his body."I'd love to wake up next to you every morning. You can break the system, change the world," I whisper.

"Magnus, you don't understand. I have never, in my whole life, done anything else but play soccer. I got my first ball for my birthday when I was two, I was a member of the club when I was four, and I stood on the pitch for the first time as a tournament winner when I was six. I have nothing but my career. A mediocre high school diploma, no education, no studies. Grades, courses, exams, it all mattered so little to me. I had to perform on the court, keep up in practice, and not be a benchwarmer. A failed exam on curve discussion and differential calculus? No matter, I shot my team to the German championship. Did I shake up the identification patterns of people and nation? I was about to be called up to the squad of the U21 national team. That was what dominated my life, still dominates it. Soccer is life. My life. It is joy and sorrow, stood by my side in bad times, gave me strength and support and the will to carry on. But it is also the death of my soul. Our night in London? I have never felt more alive than with you. You do me good. Soccer is not just the game I play. Soccer is who I am, what I am. Why I am. It's every second on the clock, every moment I live - on game day or any other day."

Alec is pure chaos. Beautiful chaos with a touch of self-destruction. I can clearly feel Alec's vulnerability, but also his strength and willpower. He wanted it all and yet it wasn't enough. It's that one moment, that feeling in the legs, the pressure in the chest and hot adrenaline in the heart and veins. It's moments of happiness, exuberant emotions, memories and feelings. Time that stops, experiences that close, experiences that suddenly make sense. Bitter realizations, our feelings for each other were never the problem.