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Zach shouldn’t have eaten the porridge. He knew he’d overslept and didn’t have time to fully digest his meal before he’d have to run laps of the rugby field, but Coach Adebayo (Frankie to everyone but him) tells them to make sure they’ve eaten before they come to practice, and he always listens to Coach Adebayo, even if she schedules practice at the crack of dawn and hates his guts. Frankie’s the first black and first female rugby coach in the big leagues. It’s a big deal. She’s a big deal. He wants to support her (and he does by winning games and making her look as good as she is), but it’s hard because of the petty hatred she has for him, and Zach’s not a good enough person to rise above it.

It’s March, and Zach isn’t used to getting up in the dead of night (five a.m.) to go to hell (rugby training that he spent years fighting for). But now here he is, listening to the sound of the whistle blow every time his knees aren’t high enough as he all but skips across the field in a scarf and gloves. And it’s everything he thought it would be. Sort of. It could be better. It’s his fault that it isn’t, but it’s too early to unpack that right now, so he doesn’t.

Oversleeping isn’t something he’s used to. Zach has a schedule, and he sticks to it. His therapist (that he saw three times total and said “Nah, not for me, cheers”) said it stems from getting himself up and ready for school. Zach tried to get his older brother, Devon, up as well, but every day, Zach still walked to school alone. Zach was always there on time, with his perfect attendance and his one jam sandwich, because he wanted to be able to go to sixth form. He had great plans for university too. If he’d done that, he wouldn’t be freezing to death on a rugby pitch with a bunch of people who refuse to speak to him.

Zach always wanted to do something, be something. He had grand plans that included a family, a partner that loved him for him, and children, if he was lucky enough.

Recently, life decided it doesn’t give a shit what Zach wants. His landlord is three seconds away from throwing him out, which he should be glad about because his roommates are twats. Still, he hasn’t found anywhere else reasonably priced, close enough to work, and within walking distance from his mum. Lately, he’s been ignoring the first two issues. They don’t matter. He’ll live on noodles and drive an hour to work if need be. But he needs to be close to his mum. In an ideal world, he’d move her in with him, but he’s not in the premiership yet.

Zach sighs. The sunrise peeking over the edge of the housing estate does nothing to keep his spirits up, as his locs keep hitting him in the face. This morning, he decided an extra five minutes in bed took priority over tying them up and making them look half-decent. Of course, he could have thrown them up when he got changed, but he’d rather be annoyed for two hours than look bad. There are people here who can see him.

In all his twenty-seven years, the only thing Zach has been good for is his face and his body. If his knees gave out on him on the rugby field, or if he didn’t attract people, he’d sit on a bench and crumble into nothing. He’s gotten used to being needed for one thing, and he’s good at it. It’s why he spends time making sure he looks good even when he’s doing a quick run to the shop. His face has been on the back of a newspaper more times than he can count. Lately, it’s been for the league win and helping the Titans move up a rank, but before, it was him and a string of girls he’s never spoken to again. Zach used to hate being photographed, but then he got paid for the photos a couple times, the team trended on social media, and the higher-ups kept looking at him in a positive way. Then, he decided if it was going to happen anyway, it might as well benefit him.

Today, there are no photographers at training. No one cares about the team that much that they’d camp outside the grounds to get some grainy, dark photos of them training in full winter gear while Frankie shouts at them. But Zach’s used to making sure he looks good now.

He could turn up to training as if he’d rolled straight out of bed. The entire team is far too macho to be anything other than oppressively straight. Zach’s not sure he’s the only queer player, but he’d hanker a guess that out of twenty people on the pitch, he’s far from the only bisexual out here. So, he’s just going to assume someone is harbouring a secret crush on him. It’s terrifying to come out as a professional athlete, but the Toulshire Titans are barely even mainstream. The only people that know anything about most of them are the six-year-olds at the local park. Better now than later.

To be fair, Zach hasn’t told his teammates that he’s bisexual. He should. He wants to, but they don’t like him anyway. He doesn’t need to give them another reason to oust him. His need to discuss it, to have it out in the open, is probably due to how he was outed at his last club and hounded out of town because of it. That’s what his therapist of three weeks said, anyway. Zach tries not to think about it too much.

The only issue with the photos and the girls is that it makes the people closest to him think he’s only after one thing. His mum thinks he’s always seeing someone new because he wants that—not because that’s what’s always been expected of him. No one wants to date him for real, which is good, because he has no desire to date anyone anymore. But some people (Frankie, and he shouldn’t care because why is she bothered who he does or does not sleep with?) assume that the quick sex and non-existent relationships are all on him. That these poor girls he has on his arm every other week are clueless, desperately-in-love women he’s tricked. When, in reality, Zach’s not sure he’s ever flirted with someone in his life. He’s always the one that’s approached, and yeah, sex is fun, so of course he’s going to go home with them.

Sometimes, it gets him down. Lately, he’s been missing something. His therapist said it was love, romance. Someone to look forward to coming home to. He misses a life he’s never had. The image of walking along the river hand in hand with someone is blurry to him now. The thought he’d ever be anything other than miserable is not something he thinks about. Most of the time, he goes to a club and finds someone hot enough to distract him from it. Zach just hasn’t been fucked well in a minute.

Since he joined the Titans last year, the club got promoted, and that came with a whole host of other commitments. So, he’s been too tired to get laid. He can’t jack off at home because his roommates are weirdos who always walk into his room without knocking. (Hopefully his landlord kicks him out mid-contract, because he thinks being twenty-seven and having roommates outside of London is lame.)

Sadly, there’s no one on the team that has tickled his fancy. Ezra Adebayo, the team captain (yes, Coach Adebayo did name her brother captain, and no, no one is willing to call out the nepotism) is hot, with his deep brown skin and sharp jaw. He has thighs that suggest he’d fuck so well, but he’s still a rude wanker, and Zach can’t be bothered with the politics of it all. Even though people always “joke” with him that he’s only bisexual because he “can’t decide” or because he’s “greedy,” Zach can’t capitalise on sex with anyone right now.

No one on the team can stand him, and he’s not the least bit interested in attempting to figure out if anyone is slyly flirting with him behind a thinly disguised veil of blind hatred. He’s never seen any women around the training grounds apart from Coach, and he’s not even going to attempt to flirt with her. She’s terrifying, and he has more respect than to assume she’d want to be hit on by her players. She’s also a lesbian.

Zach’s mum keeps telling him he needs to grow up and settle down, but he’s been a grown-up for longer than he should have been, and he’s too busy to do the latter. Zach would never tell his mum he’s been the parent since he was old enough to learn how to use the oven, because it’s never been her fault, not really. Besides, when he goes to see her later, the chance she’ll remember him at all isn’t all that high. So, at least she won’t be disappointed that he’s still alone.

The only person trying to keep her out of a nursing home is Zach. His dad skipped town decades ago because he’s a knob and had a second family. Devon was supposed to help. He was meant to be taking some ownership of his life and ensuring their mother was safe while Zach was at work. He promised he was going to keep to the schedule (he only had to go around twice a week and make sure she was okay and that she was taking her meds) but he’s back in jail again. He gets out in a couple weeks, but Zach’s doubtful this stint did the rehabilitation the first three avoided. So, it’s down to Zach. Again.

Zach tries not to blame Devon. They had a rough time growing up. They weren’t on the streets or anything, but there were times they didn’t have a home. Still, he never noticed anything was wrong until he was in secondary school. Then, as he almost doubled in height and weight, he realised there was never enough food, never enough heat, never enough help. When he was that age, Zach blamed his mum. He didn’t know there was anyone else he could blame. Teenage Zach decided it was the end of the world if he didn’t have name-brand trainers, and it was selfish of his mum to make him walk home instead of getting the bus. That coming home to an empty house was anything other than his mum trying her best.

But as he grew up, he realised his mum was the only reason they were still alive. That the reason she sat in the kitchen while they ate was so they wouldn’t see her eat nothing. That the missed rugby games and the late pick-ups were because she was working two jobs, desperate to put her sons through school without living on someone else’s sofa. It’s only ever been the three of them, and Devon hasn’t come back around quite as much as Zach did. He didn’t change his bad-boy demeanour when he hit seventeen. He didn’t force himself to focus on anything other than getting in trouble. It’s hard on Zach. It’s harder on his mum. Especially now, when she forgets so often.

So, no, Zach’s not in a place where he wants to let anyone in. He’s not about to let anyone else take as much of him as he’s given in the past.

“Azan!” Coach screams. “Knees!” Zach almost sighs, but then he remembers that a sigh is five laps, and the porridge sits heavy in his chest, so he keeps his knees high instead.

Zach loves playing rugby, but he wishes he could propel himself to the higher leagues faster. He has plans, and none of them centre around making as much as he does now. He needs more money, and not because he wants to impress anyone—he doesn’t need that—but because he needs to look after his mum. He wants a house, preferably with a side wing so his mum can have some independence but still be close for if she has an episode. He saw a house for rent on his morning scroll that seemed perfect. It even has an outbuilding for his mum. Live-in landlord though— ew . But as the days turn to nights and back again, Zach realises he might not have a choice.