Page 22 of After the Siren

Jake, Xen and Paddy had all agreed it had to be Stavs coming into the team – there was nobody else pushing as hard for selection, and it was a like-for-like swap.

Stavs was smiling as he clambered over Jake and Tommy and jogged down the few steps to the front of the room, but he looked a bit green around the gills.

He took the jumper, shook hands with Davo, and managed to grin for the camera that Greg shoved in his face.

But as soon as he sat back down, he flipped up his hood and crossed his arms across his chest.

Jake kept an eye on him throughout the rest of the session. He sat very still, folded in on himself. He was up and out the door as soon it was over, turning his face into the side of his hood.

‘Should I?’ Xen asked, jerking his head in the direction of the door.

‘I’ve got it,’ Jake said, deciding that he couldn’t see the meaningful look Paddy and Xen exchanged. As he headed for the door, he saw Paddy catch Raze’s arm. Probably telling Raze that he didn’t need to chase Stavs himself.

Jake left the meeting room and turned right down the corridor.

There was an equipment room a couple of doors down that was always unlocked and didn’t have anything in it anyone was likely to need.

It was, unofficially, the I’m having a meltdown or I need to have a manly cry or I need to hit a marking bag repeatedly so I don’t punch someone in the face room.

Stavs looked up when the door opened. He was sitting on one of the benches, his head near his knees.

Jake slipped in and shut the door behind him.

The only sound in the room was Stavs’ breathing, harsh and ragged.

Too fast, with an edge of a whine on every inhale.

The jumper was balled up in his clenched fists.

‘I’m good,’ Stavs wheezed before Jake could open his mouth. ‘Just need a sec.’

He did not sound good.

Jake crossed the room and sat down next to him, not too close.

Stavs might think he didn’t need anyone here with him, but Stavs hadn’t left Jake alone when they’d barely been on speaking terms, so he could fuck right off if he thought Jake was going to leave him now that they were friends.

If he didn’t want Jake, Jake would get Xen, or Kat, or call one of his friends, or something .

‘You’re having a panic attack,’ Jake said.

‘No fucking kidding,’ Stavs said.

So, not his first rodeo. That was probably good, as much as it also sucked.

‘Let me help?’

‘No,’ Stavs said. Then, ‘Okay. Yes.’

Jake slid down to kneel between Stavs’ thighs.

He thought about the last time they’d been in this position, the way Stavs had tentatively reached out to put a hand on Jake’s shoulder as though Jake might push him away.

Stavs looked down at him, his breathing shallow.

In slightly different circumstances Jake would have made a joke.

‘Can I touch you?’ he asked instead.

‘Okay,’ Stavs said again. He was staring at the jumper in his hands.

Jake put his hand on Stavs’ shoulder, curling his fingers around the spot where it met his neck, his other hand resting just above Stavs’ knee. The position brought their faces close together – so close that Jake could see every one of Stavs’ stupid lovely eyelashes.

‘Breathe with me?’

‘Okay.’

Jake started to count through each inhale and exhale, rubbing light circles over Stavs’ hoodie with his thumb. Touch had always helped Xen calm down, but Jake wasn’t sure if it might be too much, too intimate. Stavs shut his eyes for a second and exhaled, long and slow, then inhaled again.

Jake felt it under his palm when Stavs started thinking about it all again; he felt the hitch in Stavs’ breath at the same time he heard it.

‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘You’re okay.’

Stavs gasped, his eyes losing focus.

‘Stavs. Look at me, I got you.’

For a second, he thought Stavs wouldn’t do it. Then his eyes locked with Jake’s. They’d never been this close before. He could see that Stavs’ dark eyes were hazel with flecks of gold.

‘I’ve got you,’ Jake said again.

Stavs followed his lead when Jake started to count again, his thumb still tracing circles on Stavs’ shoulder.

‘You’re good at this,’ Stavs said, once his breathing started to even out.

‘Xen used to have panic attacks before every game.’

Stavs blinked. ‘He ... he’s so calm though?’

Jake could see why he thought that. Xen had a careful pre-game routine, and he was good at looking like he was focused rather than shitting bricks.

‘Yeah, well, he wasn’t. Still isn’t, probably. Not that you could tell.’

Jake hadn’t been sure what to think about the club psychologists until he’d seen what Jenny had been like with Xen. He knew Stavs was seeing Jenny as well; he hoped he’d told her about the panic attacks. Wondered if he’d told Jenny he was queer.

Jake saw Mick every now and again, but they didn’t usually have much to talk about. He hadn’t told Mick he was queer. He probably should tell Mick about his mum, but he wasn’t going to.

They breathed together while Jake kept counting.

Jake wasn’t sure for how long. The position he was in meant he had to look at Stavs’ face: the sweep of his eyelashes every time he blinked, the slight bump where his nose must have been broken in the past. He smelled good, like the posh candles Lydia brought home from local markets.

Jake wanted to touch his face, wanted to feel the rasp of his stubble, to kiss the delicate skin of his eyelids.

Then Stavs exhaled, long and steady, and Jake watched him deliberately unclench his fingers from around the jumper.

‘I’m good,’ he said, and Jake realised that he was still rubbing circles on Stavs’ back, their faces only a handspan apart.

Jake shuffled back and levered himself up onto the bench again. He resisted the urge to wrap an arm around Stavs, but he let their shoulders press together.

‘I can get Xen in here if you need a pep talk.’

Stavs smiled. It wasn’t a very convincing smile, but it was something. ‘The one you gave me at the beach was pretty good.’

‘First and last.’ Jake was never going to be a pep-talker. It was why he’d never be leadership material. Not that he minded. He’d have to be less of a pest if he was supposed to inspire people and shit.

‘Come on.’ Stavs picked up the jumper and folded it neatly. His hands were still shaking, but he was starting to smile for real. ‘I have faith in you.’

‘Okay, here goes.’ Jake pretended to pick up some grass and throw it into the air like he was preparing to take a shot at goal. ‘You’ve killed it in the last couple of games.’

‘In the VFL.’

‘Yeah, well, it’s all footy.’

‘Hmm.’ Stavs smoothed his fingers over the part of the number on the jumper still visible. ‘Maybe.’

Jake watched him trace the outline of the ‘2’ and the ‘7’. ‘Did you pick 27?’ he asked, deciding a distraction might work. ‘Or are you one of those weirdos who doesn’t care what number you wear?’

Stavs glanced up. ‘It’s my friend Priya’s favourite number. I’ve been wearing it since high school.’

‘Cute.’

‘Why do you wear 9?’

‘It was my mum’s number. When I was a kid, I wanted to be just like her. Wasn’t tall enough to ruck though.’ He sighed. ‘Crushed my dreams.’

‘You seem to be doing alright.’ Stavs’ smile faded. ‘Must be nice.’

More pep talk was going to be required. ‘Are you gonna go out there and do your best?’

Stavs gave him a look. ‘Yeah.’

‘Well, that’s all anyone wants from you.’

‘It’s professional footy. You don’t get participation trophies.’

That was true, and it was something Jake had been reminded of by a succession of shitty school coaches. Maybe Jake had even said it a couple of times himself.

He knocked his shoulder against Stavs’. ‘You’re not supposed to fight me on this. It’s a pep talk, you gotta let yourself be pepped.’

Stavs sighed. ‘The media stuff last year messed with me,’ he said. ‘I just ... I don’t want to go through that again.’

‘Seriously, fuck them,’ Jake said. ‘They just want a story. They say fucked-up shit about everyone . Last week they ran a story about how Yelks is past it because he dropped a mark. One mark. Every third week some hack says Xen’s too short to play footy or that Raze is overweight. They don’t know shit.’

‘It’s just ... it’s never just about me.

’ Stavs was twisting his fingers through the drawstring of his hoodie.

‘They say you have to see it to be it , right? I get that. Maybe I would have gotten into footy as a kid if there had been more players who looked like me. And now here I am, and they’re just watching me fail, and seeing racist shit people put on social media. ’

Jake was absolutely not the person who Stavs should talk to about this.

It wasn’t that he didn’t kind of get it, because he felt the same way about coming out – what if he couldn’t take it, what if it just proved to a whole lot of queer kids that they couldn’t be queer and play AFL?

But he did not feel like he was the person to have this conversation with.

‘You could talk to Raze or Paddy, you know,’ he offered, hoping it didn’t sound like please talk to Raze or Paddy about this.

Stavs looked amused, so Jake was going to take that as a win. ‘I shouldn’t talk to you about it?’

‘Well, you can, but I’m real fucking white.’

Stavs actually laughed then. ‘You’re not wrong.’

Jake shrugged. ‘Not usually. Paddy says I’m the whitest person imaginable.’

‘Not gonna argue,’ Stavs said, reaching out to hook the corner of the seashell necklace Jake was wearing.

His finger brushed Jake’s throat as he did it and Jake felt like the temperature in the room had shot up several degrees.

He looked across and found Stavs looking back, still holding the necklace, his knuckles resting on Jake’s bare skin.

Stavs’ eyes flicked down to Jake’s mouth for a second.

For a single, glorious moment Jake thought Stavs might reach for him. Then Stavs swallowed and let go of the necklace, pulling back.

‘Is the pep talk over already?’ His voice was a little rougher than usual.

Jake stretched his legs out. ‘I reckon whatever I say, you’re gonna find a reason to disagree. So I’m not going to waste my breath.’

‘That’s a novel approach to a pep talk.’

‘I know what I know, though,’ Jake told him. ‘You’re not gonna talk me out of it: you’re fucking good at this. You’ve got what it takes. And you’re going to show them.’

Stavs met his eyes. He was smiling. Don’t look at his mouth.

‘Jake,’ he started.

There was a knock on the door and Stavs jumped. Jake couldn’t decide if he was pissed off or relieved that the moment had been interrupted.

‘Yeah?’ he called.

The door opened, and Jake wasn’t surprised to see Xen and Paddy.

‘Ah,’ Paddy said to Stavs. ‘You found Xen’s quiet spot.’

‘What?’

‘Xen comes here when he needs a break from Jaze,’ Paddy told him.

‘So, every day?’ Stavs asked, standing and stretching. His t-shirt rode up to expose a strip of stomach and Jake was absolutely not looking.

Based on the look Paddy shot him, he’d been caught not looking.

Jake made a wounded sound. ‘You know, because this is such a special day for you, I’m going to let that comment go.’

‘Come on, Stavs,’ Paddy said. ‘Celebratory lunch, and Tommy says he’s buying. Hustle.’