Promises

“Are you coming tonight?” Ravi looked over at Kiran expectantly before slamming his locker shut. The metal sounded like a shot fired into the empty space between them. There was a shuffle of feet afterward and the familiar thump that announced the contact between Ravi’s elbow and the door he’d just closed. The man was always dressing in such a hurry that he never gave himself enough space.

Contrary to the fact that they were standing in a locker room after winning the soccer game two to zero, Kiran hated sports. Being a part of the team was only as important to him as the scholarship that came with it. The absolute last thing in the world that he wanted to do after playing a game he couldn’t stand was to have to continue the charade but apply it to watching other people play. At least if he was the one playing he could find some challenge in it to keep himself entertained, but just sitting around and watching it? He’d rather be told they were going to make him eat the ball with hot sauce.

“I dunno, man,” he said after pretending to think it over. “My folks are supposed to be coming through town on their way to visit my sister and her new baby. I kind of promised them I’d be available if they had time to stop by.

Ravi looked at him like he’d already started chewing on that ball. “You’re joking, right? We’re talking Leicester City. Last time they played you went absolutely mental, man.”

That part was true, but only because Kiran had a ton of money riding on the game. Money he’d won in the end. Money that paid for the following year’s supplies, texts, and all of his food for two whole semesters. The whole thing had been an accident, even if it was a happy one. There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that he would get that lucky again.

“Family has to come first, Rav. Sorry.” Kiran pulled his bag out of the locker and shouldered it, shrugging his apology at the same time. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for my parents. I owe them, you know?”

Another distorted truth. His parents forced him into soccer when he was young. They’d tried putting him in football and basketball, but Kiran hadn’t been able to stomach either. It wasn’t that he was afraid of being hurt, he just didn’t have the fighting spirit you needed to bully your way through a brick wall or slap a sphere away from a target. When they found out he could run they put a ball at his feet and the rest was destiny. 

In a lifetime that was written, directed, and edited by his parents, Kiran went from clumsy schoolboy to unwilling sports star. He was the highlight of every team not because he could score goals or defend the net, but because he had the most assists of anyone in the recorded history of each team he played for. Soccer wasn’t a sport to him, it was more a combination of skill and mathematics. It wasn’t like he was out there doing equations to calculate trajectory or anything, but he simply had a knack for knowing exactly what angle and speed he needed to get the ball exactly where it had to go. That way every game he played wasn’t sport, but a test of his abilities. Sometimes he didn’t even know the score when the whistle blew.

“Sure. Okay, but we’ll be at the bar if you change your mind, right?” Ravi clapped him on the back as he walked past.

“Yeah. I’ll stop in if they don’t show,” Kiran promised, knowing that he would break his word. After all, it wasn’t his parents that he was waiting for.

He let Ravi leave before heading out himself and making the mile-long walk from campus to the bus that would take him to his apartment. The sky was darkening, adding to the hush that fell on the school after a major game. Too many people were celebrating to clutter the sidewalks and Kiran could almost imagine he was just wandering through a neighborhood instead of passing parking garages, athletic fields, and dorms that stretched to the sky. He missed the quiet. One more year and he could go off and get himself a little farm somewhere, maybe start a family, and just live.

“Hey.” A voice called out once he reached the bus stop. 

Kiran looked up and smiled at the man leaning against the flimsy shelter. His blond hair curved over his forehead and hung almost to a point where it might poke him in the eye and his arms were folded over a shirt in the school’s colors, hiding the soccer logo that was underneath.

“Don’t sit down, some jackass dumped soda all over it.”

“Good to know,” Kiran told him. “Thanks.”

Before either of them could say anything else, the bus turned the corner and slowed with the hiss of air. Kiran breathed a sigh of relief as he dropped into the first vacant spot he could find. The game had been grueling, his body was fatigued, his mind was exhausted, and all he could think of now was the soft comfort of a mattress beneath him. Not long now, he knew. Five stops on campus, three along the main city roads, and then he’d be standing at his front door.

Eyes closed and head leaning against the window, Kiran counted each pause in the road. It was easy to tell when the bus crossed the boundaries of the school and entered the city beyond. Pedestrians stopped being a menace and there weren’t so many intersections to slow them down. Travel outside of that scholastic bubble was swift and direct. One stop, two stops, a third, and he reached to pull the chain. In the same moment another passenger called for the stop, causing an echo in the tiny ping that signaled the driver.

“Sorry,” the man from the stop said as he passed Kiran and nodded to the driver. “And thanks.”

“No problem,” the driver told him.

Kiran followed behind, feeling relief wash over him the moment his feet hit the hard white cement surrounding his apartment building. Standing alone in the glow of a nearby street light, he gazed up at the windows, stupidly wondering if a similar glow would be visible above, left to welcome him home. The window was dark, just as he knew it would be.

“Just let the elevator be working,” he mumbled before pulling open the building’s main door and making his way to the tiny, magical box that would transport him up to the place he called home. Unlike this morning, there were no signs directing him to the stairs, so he pressed the button and waited. One breath, two, and on the third, a wondrous ding announced the beginning of the final leg of his journey to the bedroom.

Kiran wanted to drop his bag onto the floor when he pushed the number five, but held on, reminding himself that he’d only have to bend over to lift it again. One minute more and he would be able to drop the thing down and leave it to collect dust for six months.

His apartment was second from the elevator, so he was out of one tiny box and into another after only a few strides. The darkness was welcoming, as was the chuckle he heard the moment his things hit the floor.

“Funny,” Kiran grunted. “Blinding me in my own home.”

“Our home,” he was corrected. “Unless you changed your mind on that.”

Kiran sighed and tried to reach for the light. “You know I wouldn’t.”

A hand caught his to keep him from the switch. “Not yet. I’ve got plans.”

“I hope those plans involve getting rid of that hideous shirt.” Kiran reached in the direction of the voice and caught the cloth in question. Balling it in his fist, he pulled it close until another body collided with his own. “You know how much I hate being on that team, Brian.”

“Couldn’t resist,” Brian told him. “I was kind of hoping you’d be so grateful of my literally saving your ass that you’d ignore it.”

“You saved me from soda,” Kiran huffed. “I think I might have survived that.”

Brian laughed. “You would, but those pants wouldn’t.” There was a pause and Kiran imagined him tipping his head to toss the blond hair from his eyes. “Besides, maybe I also thought you’d rip it off in a rage once you had the chance.”

“I don’t know about rage, but I can promise the rest,” Kiran told him, knowing it was the first promise of the night that he would actually keep.