Winter lasts forever
Chapter 1: Spring
Notes: The title comes from the Hal Borland quote 'No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn.'
I do not own Galactik football and I make no money from this fanfiction.
Artegor stared up at the ceiling, squinting at what he thought might be an insect of some sort. He wasn't entirely sure that the dark blotch was an insect; in fact he wasn't sure the blotch was there at all, he'd been awake and staring at the ceiling for countless hours so perhaps he was starting to imagine something, anything, just to relieve the tedium of insomnia. He could have switched on the lights to find out but he didn't want to wake his roommate, Aarch. Aarch's deep sleep breathing was the only sound in the room and Artegor didn't think he would appreciate being woken up.
Artegor had only been living there, in the Akillian training facility, for two weeks and 3 days but he hadn't had a simple night's sleep since he had been there. Some nights had been worse than others but all had been bad. He'd come across trouble sleeping before, when he'd lived with his parents, but it had never been this bad for this long.
He attempted to reassure himself by reminding himself that he would eventually get to sleep and that morning would eventually come for him. Despite these thoughts he still didn't feel any better, his whole body felt itchy and uncomfortable, more than anything he wanted to get up, to go and play. But he couldn't. Lying, still, there was the cruellest torture. He always felt like this during long dreary nights when everyone else was enjoying their dreams and he was alone in the tedium of being trapped in his bed with nothing to do.
Artegor supposed that he would eventually get used to his surroundings and that soon he would adjust and so would his sleeping patterns. He just hoped. Joining the Akillian team had always been his ambition, his dream, but now he was here, the dream had tarnished. Not the football side of it. Playing football had always felt like freedom for him. But it wasn't enough, not yet.
His team-mates left a lot to be desired as well. None of them seemed to take the game seriously enough, there was too much goofing around and horsing about. Most of them had known each other previously before joining the team; Aarch, Norata, Adium and Ciaran. Artegor hadn't known anyone.
Of all the people there on the team, it seemed that Aarch cared about football almost as much as he did. They hadn't spoken much though, despite being room-mates, when they had it had been about football. Artegor usually automatically hated people like Aarch: happy, popular, extroverted and uncomplicated just for being all he was not. Despite this he felt, something, a grudging respect, perhaps, for Aarch. It was instinctive, Artegor recognised talent when he saw it, and Aarch had an abundance of talent. He didn't have the Breath though yet, none of them did. Artegor was itching to get it, to be able to push further, to break more boundaries, to be free from physical restrictions. Flux was necessary if you wanted to be the best.
Artegor rolled over and fell asleep thinking about his future of football triumph.
The next morning soon came, the fingers of the pale light of spring reaching in to gently wake them before practice. Artegor was up before Aarch but only by a few minutes. They both got ready silently, neither one was really a morning person and headed down for practice. Despite neither of the two having the disposition to rise early, they were always both the earliest ones there. They usually got at least 5 minutes practice before the others arrived. Sometimes up to 10 minutes more than Adium and Gabby who were always at least a little late. It was that sort of flimsy lack of commitment that made Artegor hold the rest of his team-mates in disdain.
The practice was a few hours long but it seemed to fly by. Artegor always had regrets when practice ended, there was always something he could have improved on, there was always something he wished he could have done. His team-mates were so complacent; they always came out of practice with such smug expressions on their faces, so self-satisfied. None of them had the Breath, and so no-one had a reason to feel relaxed, without Flux the other teams would destroy them. They didn't have much time either, they had another 2 weeks or so of training and then that was it; they would be thrown into their first real Galactik football match. They didn't even know who they'd be facing yet.
Artegor sighed and headed down to the Lunch Hall. The rest of his team-mates were already there, they had all run off, they seemed more enthusiastic about Lunch than they did about football sometimes. The Lunch Hall was as shiny and new as the rest of the Academy, it had that too clean feel to it, Artegor had lived in an old but large home; he was used to creaking floors and dust. They all sat on one, long, silver table. By now they all had regular seats, they could sit anywhere they liked, but they always instinctually returned to the same places. Naturally Artegor was at the far end of the table. Aarch sat in the middle; he was the hub for all the talking around the table. All the food they got was regulated, balanced so that they got what they needed from it, it warranted complaining from almost all the team members but Artegor thought it made perfect sense. Food was just a fuel, it was just necessary, it wasn't something to be enjoyed or fussed over.
After Lunch they had to spend time in their rooms to let the food go down. Artegor returned to his room and watched a Sport's commentary programme. Aarch was elsewhere, he usually was at this time. After the time was up, Artegor headed back down to the practice pitch to begin another session. When he finished, he again felt that sense of odd mix of satisfaction and dissatisfaction. They all them went to eat their evening meal. The whole thing was much a repeat of lunch only the antics were slightly less because everyone was tired from a day of training. Artegor preferred it that way; the less noise the better.
Artegor was actually a night person, he always more awake at night- when he didn't have a room-mate this wasn't so much of a problem for him, he could get up and do something, but without that freedom, the night had become a not so pleasant time for Artegor.
That night was as dream-less as the last. Artegor wondered how long it would continue for. He wasn't sure how long he would be able to take it.
The next day passed in a similar fashion to the last and all the other days. The only difference was that they had done half and hour of laps outside because the weather had been deemed 'good enough' to do some training outside.
The next night was pretty much the same as the last few, he might have got one more hour of sleep but he didn't dream, he still didn't dream.
The next day had been pretty much the same until the free time, after the last practice and before bed. It wasn't really a big difference, not objectively, it was just words.
"Who is your all-time favourite footballer?" Aarch asked, casually, breaking what now seemed to have been a heavy air of silence that had filled their shared room.
Artegor had been surprised; he had to pause before answering, despite knowing the answer to the question by heart. "Gilha, of the Shadows," he answered, quietly, finding it hard to find his voice.
"He's good," Aarch agreed, smiling widely, "but I would have to say that Andrew from the Lightenings is better, less fouls."
There was another heavy pause. Artegor wondered what he could say in return to that.
"You know, we've been room-mates for a couple of weeks now but I still feel like I don't really know you, tell me about yourself," Aarch said, smiling, sheepishly this time.
Again Artegor was struck dumb for a while, trying desperately to find anything worth saying about himself. He didn't usually feel this nervous talking to someone.
"I uh, well, what do you want to know?" He knew as he said it that it was a cop-out, but he honestly couldn't think of a single thing about himself that meant anything.
"Where did you go to school? What are your interests? Do you have any siblings? Just anything really," Aarch said, giving him that encouraging look that Artegor knew meant that Aarch had mistaken him for being shy, it happened fairly often to him, it was one of the perils of being an introvert.
"I was home-schooled, I had a tutor. And I'm an only child," he said, conveniently ignoring the question about interests- he didn't want to admit that he was only really interested in football. He paused again and then added, "how about you?"
"Oh, you had a tutor, that's interesting. I went to Snowhome Secondary school; I doubt you would have heard of it, it was pretty rubbish. And as for siblings, I only have Norata, who you already know."
Artegor nodded and Aarch continued to talk. The conversation between the two of them continued for a while before silence descended, again, upon them. Artegor didn't know why Aarch had taken such an interest, no-one else had, he supposed he was being polite.
There was no way that Artegor could have known that Aarch had decided that somehow he was going to get Artegor to open up. Most people trusted Aarch almost immediately, it was instinctive, but not Artegor it seemed. There was something about that reserved-ness that Artegor possessed that was fascinating to Aarch. Aarch had set his mind to it and despite appearing easy-going and relaxed, when Aarch set his mind to something he saw it through. He was going to get to know Artegor even if it killed him.
Somehow, Artegor found himself falling asleep a little easier that previous nights, he could have sworn he had experiences a glimmer of a dream although he couldn't remember.
Aarch didn't give up either. Everyday that week he talked to Artegor and everyday Artegor found that it got a little bit easier to talk to him. The more he talked to Aarch the more he came to respect him; he was just a dedicated as Artegor and just as single-minded. But he could do other things as well, he could charm anyone just by smiling at them, it seemed effortless for him and Artegor couldn't help but be amazed by this power he had over people.
The concerns of the match that was coming up was central to his thoughts, they had been informed that they would be playing against the Cyclops. Artegor felt cautiously pleased with this result- not the easiest team but not the hardest; he wanted to win the first match after all. Things generally seemed to end how they started.
The fact that none of them had the Breath, himself included, was deeply troubling to him. They needed the Breath soon or they would never win anything. The Coach kept giving them lectures on how to get the Breath- apparently it came with teamwork and good sportsmanship.
It all sounded like rubbish to Artegor. He doubted if they would ever get the Breath if this was the advice they got.
It turned out that he didn't have to worry. Aarch got the Breath a couple of days before the match. Artegor mostly felt jealous, he had wanted to be the one to get flux first, he worked just as hard as Aarch- was just as talented. Objectively he could see that Aarch developing the Breath was a good thing, it was better for the team strategically and it meant that the Breath wasn't unobtainable after all. He, more secretly, felt pride that his friend had done well. Artegor didn't pay much attention to that feeling, but it was there. He didn't even notice that he considered Aarch his friend- not a position occupied by anyone previously.
Artegor got very little sleep in those nights before the match; he went over plays in his head, over and over. He imagined millions of scenarios, all of them bad and tried to think- what would he do? How would he escape from the enemy?
He often recalled their training sessions, he kept seeing Aarch and his new-found Flux flying, spinning, scoring. He wanted that Flux so badly; he wanted that triumph in Aarch's eyes so badly. He felt almost sick at the idea of not getting what he wanted soon. The stillness was driving him crazy. He couldn't stand the silence.
Morning eventually came and so did the match. The atmosphere was different that day, there was excitement and there was sheer terror in the air. The final preparations were made and, as a rather last minute decision on the part of the Coach, Aarch was made the Captain of the team. Artegor wasn't shocked; Aarch was the natural choice as a leader and now he had the advantage of the Breath and besides.
The Coach gave some typical speech about team-work and doing your best. He didn't expect them to win, no team from Akillian ever won, but at least they were good losers. The national ethos frustrated Artegor no end. He wished, and not for the first time, that he had been born a Shadow or a Ryker- a winner. But he tossed the thought aside, he would do his best and try to win with the team he had.
When looking back on the match, Artegor never would be able to remember the moments between leaving the dressing room and entering the pitch. He had entered a state of complete numbness, the eerie calm before the storm. He had got into position; he was a striker, naturally, with Aarch being the other. The Cyclops had then appeared on the pitch. It was a home game, giving them a slight tactical advantage. Of course, the Cyclops had several years of experience overwhelming any advantage the pitch could have.
One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. Then the ball was released onto the pitch like a wild beast to be tamed.
The match got off to a bad start; the Cyclopes took possession of the ball immediately and started an attack towards goal. Defence managed to be at least semi-competent and stole the ball to pass to midfield…where they lost the ball to a Cyclops player again.
It was frustrating to Artegor to watch the rest of the team screw up and not be able to do anything about it. As a striker he hadn't had a chance to do anything yet and it irked him. He wished he could play for the whole team so that he didn't have to watch their sloppy mistakes.
Eventually the mistakes took their toll and the Cyclopes scored the first goal of the game just before half time.
The Coach gave another typical 'do your best, that's all that matters' type of speech. Artegor tuned it out, he was irate, if only they had passed the ball to him, then something could have happened. It wasn't about doing your best; it was about winning, it was no surprise that Akillian was so weak if this was the motivation they got. He and Aarch were the best players and neither of them had been even close to touching the ball. Artegor vowed that he would get his turn to score in the next half; he needed to win this match.
Artegor glanced at Aarch as he continued to ignore the Coach's rambling. Had Artegor not been looking carefully enough, he might have thought that Aarch was listening intently, that he whole-heartedly believed in everything that was being said. But Artegor could see through that, for all that Aarch had the shiny, good boy exterior, Artegor sensed that underneath it they were the same. He saw fire in Aarch's eyes; he saw a desire to win that matched his own.
So they got back on the pitch. Artegor felt confident that they could still win it; the Cyclopes only had a lead of one goal. The ball was released again and Norata briefly took possession of it before having it pinched from under his feet by three marching Cyclopes in typical formation. Eventually, the ball was taken back by defence and it was passed to Artegor. Knowing he didn't have a clear shot, he passed to Aarch who shot at goal, using the Breath.
Artegor held his breath as the ball went flying towards goal, the goalkeeper ran desperately on his stubby legs but to no avail. Aarch had scored!. He was ecstatic that they had scored, he would have preferred to do it himself, but he wasn't feeling that picky at that moment.
"Great goal," he said, when Aarch walked back over to position, next to him. Aarch just smiled in response. They would still have to concentrate if they wanted to score again, the Cyclopes could still win this.
The rest of the match didn't go well for them though. Aarch had got the ball again but he was tackled by the Cyclops defence team, they'd pretty much ploughed into him and he'd fallen. Artegor had stopped almost dead waiting to see what would happen to him, he willed Aarch to get up and to be fine. He stayed down.
Aarch was clutching his ankle, grimacing, trying not to make a sound.
"I don't think I can go on," he said, weakly.
Aarch was carried off the pitch of a stretcher and they got a free kick. He got a free kick.
He placed the ball on the ground, trying to focus all of his energy on this one moment, his mouth a grim line from concentration. He stepped back slowly and took a breath before running at the ball and kicking it with all his strength.
The time it took for the ball to fly through the air seemed like a lifetime to Artegor. A lifetime that came to a swift end when the Cyclops goalkeeper dived and caught the ball stopping it from entering the net.
Artegor breathed out, bitterly disappointed. It had been a good shot, if only he had done that little bit better, then it might have gone in. If only he had the Breath.
From there the match went steadily worse, their opponents managed to score another goal in the last 3 minutes and then time was up. They lost.
Artegor walked off that pitch with a heavy burden on his shoulders, he felt responsible for their loss today. It felt awful to have lost their very first match. It did not bode well for the rest of their career.
He slunk dejectedly back to his room to find Aarch already there, watching the holo-tv with a disappointed, yet thoughtful expression on his face.
"How bad is your ankle?" Artegor asked, awkwardly, not wanting to talk about their loss. Besides, he was also genuinely concerned for Aarch, especially as he was one of the Team's best players.
"It's a mild sprain, it should be healed in time for the next match as long as I go easy in practice," Aarch replied, answering Artegor's unspoken question.
"That's good." Artegor gave a serious nod.
"I can't believe we lost," Aarch said, bravely broaching the topic. "I know it was our first match but I really thought we could win."
Artegor nodded again. He paused before asking Aarch a question. Normally he didn't like to ask questions, his tutor had often berated him for doing such, taking it as a sign that he wasn't listening.
"What does the Breath feel like?" he finally managed to say, his curiosity overwhelming any doubts he'd had about asking, it was important to him to know.
Aarch thought for a moment, closing his eyes in an attempt to recall the feeling. "It feels amazing, it's like pure energy running through every part of your body, you feel so…alive…I'm sorry, it's hard to explain, you'll know yourself soon."
"I hope so," Artegor replied in neutral tones, trying not to betray just how desperately he wanted the Breath. He could barely contain the feeling of longing within him, it haunted every waking minute, it just seemed to come so easily to Aarch.
The conversation ended there but it didn't feel awkward, it was a natural silence. Aarch continued watching holo-tv and Artegor was reading through the biography of the ex-manager of the Shadows, hoping to pick up some more tips (he knew there was no point sulking over their loss, they had to look to the future.)
The dreaded time came faster than Artegor had hoped for, the time for the lights to be switched off. Artegor lay in bed as ever, staring at ceiling as was his habit and wondering whether it would always be like this. Bodily, he was exhausted, but as ever, his mind was whirring, analysing, thinking about everything, He just didn't know how to shut off his thoughts.
For some reason tonight, things were worse than usual. The darkness, the stillness was suffocating him. Sudden dread washed over him in waves and he felt the inescapable urge to run, to flee. He was sweating, it seemed to hot in the seemingly shrinking room. He didn't know what had come over him but he knew he couldn't stay here.
Slowly, he moved his leg, softly pushing aside his covers, pausing every now and again to make sure Aarch wouldn't hear him. He put his bare feet onto the carpeted floor and got up cautiously, making as little noise as possible. He crept through the room as if his life depended on it, stopping and listening to make sure that Aarch had not woken. He then reached the door that lead out to the balcony attached to their room (Artegor had never actually been onto it yet, but he knew that it existed.)
The door made a minimal amount of noise when opened; it didn't creak like one of the doors in his parent's house would have. He stepped onto the balcony, lightly shutting the door behind him. He breathed a sigh of relief, he had made it.
The balcony was fairly small and it was made of shiny, silver metal. It looked brand new. According to novels, balconies were supposed to be the scenes of romance, but Artegor would defy anyone to find the romance in this monstrosity- it was too hard, too mechanical.
His feet were cold on the metal floor and the spring night air was cool enough to send a shiver up his spine. He didn't mind the cold though, it was better than the oppressive heat of the room, it was liberating.
Artegor admired the view, knowing there was really nothing else he could do up here, at least he wasn't staring up at the ceiling. There were no stars in the sky but there were plenty of clouds, they were scattered everywhere like players on a pitch, Artegor could almost see a formation if he squinted slightly. From his vantage point he could see their outdoor training field, which despite the shadows cast on it, looked pretty inviting, he wished he could be there now. He could also see houses, lots of boxy houses, in neat rows- faceless, all the same- there had recently been a lot of development in the area. He couldn't see he old home, it was miles away, surrounded by untouched land.
Closer to the Academy were cherry blossom trees, their branches blowing sinisterly in the wind, the petals scattering and falling onto the ground, coating it almost like snow. There was no one around, the streets were completely abandoned, the roads were still, it was like the rest of the world had died and he was the only one left to survey what was left.
Artegor was shocked out of his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder. He whirled around immediately, heart pounding like a drum. He was faced with the sight of Aarch, standing behind him, with an expression on his face that Artegor thought might be…concern.
"What are you doing out here?" Aarch's voice was a little tired, but it was gentle, there was no accusation in his voice.
"I-" he started and faltered, he shivered again, all feeling concentrated on the spot where Aarch's hand was touching his shoulder. "I couldn't sleep."
It was a pathetic explanation, he knew that, he winced on hearing his voice crack, hoping that Aarch wouldn't notice how much his sleeplessness was weighing on him. He didn't need to know about it.
"Are you okay?" Aarch asked, insistently, making direct eye contact, shocking Artegor.
He was so used to looking away, but he found himself held transfixed. He couldn't speak, he felt shaken to the core, he didn't even really know why.
"Do you have this problem often, not being able to sleep?" Aarch pursued him, calmly, kindly.
"Yes," he finally admitted, his voice dried up to a croak. He looked away as fast as he could, fixing his eye on a particular cloud to avoid Aarch's gaze. He couldn't explain why, but Aarch got to him in a way that had never happened to him before. It terrified him; he didn't want anyone to have that power over him.
"Is there something else wrong? Is there something specific that's keeping you awake?"
"No, I just…there's nothing," he said, noticing that Aarch's hand was now moved from his shoulder to his upper arm. He wasn't used to being touched, his parents weren't the sort to give him hugs, so the sensation was odd, unfamiliar to him. Had it been anyone else, he would have slapped the hand away but as it was he let is rest there- Aarch was just trying to help.
"It might just be because you're in an unfamiliar environment and you haven't adjusted yet, Norata used to have trouble sleeping in hotels," Aarch said, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. "I think you'll be fine, but if not then perhaps you could get some sleeping pills."
Is that your professional opinion? Artegor thought, sarcastically.
Still, he was glad that Aarch had come out here, that he had cared enough to try and work out what was wrong. "Thanks."
"No problem, shall we go inside? It's freezing out here," Aarch said, leading the way, back into the room.
Artegor followed and crawled back into bed, feeling considerably better than he had done. He fell asleep after ten minutes and slept peacefully until morning came- too early for once.
He went to train with renewed vigour, he wasn't going to be defeated, he knew he could get the Breath if he pushed himself as hard as he could. He ran a little faster, played harder; it was amazing what a good night's sleep could do for you.
The day passed quickly and so did the next night. It was all falling into place.
Their next match was against the Wambas, so they were all trying to prepare. Although the Wambas team had gone downhill ever since their star players Zoran and Wotan retired, they were still a team to be reckoned it. It wouldn't easy for the Akillian team to pull themselves out of the precedent set by their first match.
The next week went quickly, training was getting fulfilling. So far a couple of other team-mates had managed to gain the Breath. Artegor was envious but not to the point where it was taking over his entire thought process.
"It'll come," he reassured himself, he was working hard, the Breath had to come. He was talented, he knew that much, there was no reason to think that it wouldn't come to him in time. Aarch had reassured him in the same manner- he hadn't asked for reassurance or voiced any of his doubts, but it seemed Aarch was getting better at reading him- a fact that he found simultaneously disturbing and thoughtful on Aarch's part. No-one had ever really cared how he felt before.
The time soon flew until it was time for their match against the Wambas, despite their defeat last time, Artegor felt a buzz of excitement on the shuttle going to the Wambas planet (it was an away match.). Looking around he thought the team felt it too; they still messed around too much for Artegor's liking but they were starting to take things more seriously. In Artegor's measured opinion, the most crucial element for a team to have was discipline.
They arrived and went to their rooms on Wambas that had been provided for them, the match was the next day so they would have time to adjust from the travelling. It was difficult for all of them to sleep that night, Artegor included, but it was just the normal sort of sleeplessness that happened before any event of import.
The next morning they ate with the Wambas team (the food was dreadful, it made the food they got on Akillian look half-decent) and then they went to the locker room to receive the typical rousing speech from the Coach.
Then they were ready to play. Artegor stepped out on the pitch and got into position. He was determined not to let the Wambas beat them. This time they would not lose.
The ball was released and so the match begun…
That's it for this chapter; I've been writing this for a while now, little by little thanks to the menace of exams…It might take a little while for the next chapter to be up just because these chapters are longer than my usual chapters. Oh, and I usually work with the idea that Artegor and Aarch knew each other before they joined the Akillian team, but in this story I decided to try it with them never having met before, just because I like trying out new stuff. The fic's going to cover right through past the point where Aarch quit the Shadows, so I anticipate it being longish. So anyway, please, please review!