A/N: One shot, should be easy to figure out who the male character is. The female character is an OC. If you like listening to music while you read, I suggest Your Hand in Mine by Explosions in the Sky. Along with being the show's theme song, it is the song I wrote this to. Enjoy.

When she sees him in the halls, she doesn't see Number 33, the toughest fullback in the district. She sees a boy whose hopes and dreams have been destroyed time and time again, for as long as he can remember. She always wonders if his eyes would tell the same story. The problem is that he doesn't look at her.

He has long since abandoned the belief that people could see anything past his long hair, the alcohol and the football. He keeps his head down and walks on, playing the part of a dumb jock, a man of few words. He'd like to say something but he's already learned that the more he speaks, the more trouble he causes for himself and the people around him. He can't get the words right, or maybe the inflection in his voice. Either way, he stays silent and walks on.

She never used to like watching high school football. She thought it was ludicrous that the people of Dillon could get so worked up over sixteen and seventeen year olds throwing a ball. Despite all of her opinions, she shows up to the first practice, and the second, and the third. She watches him throw players to the ground (or get thrown to the ground the days he showed up reeking of booze). She fancies that every time this happened, he would crack a little bit more, and eventually he'd crumble to bits. He came close a few times, quitting one time only to return for the next practice. He seems so tied to football that she can't imagine him walking away for good. He always comes back.

He remembers when he used to like football. He still likes it but not for the same reasons; now he likes it because he can hurt people, unleash some of that anger he feels building in his chest. Back when he was young, his brother would take him out to the park to play, and sometimes his dad came too. They wore old sweats and played for fun. These days he wears the blue and yellow uniform and has to think about The Bigger Picture, and to Dillon that means State and no less.Never anything less. "Get it done," they'd tell him. "Bring it home."

And somehow they made it to State. She hadn't truly thought the Panthers could do it. The town was so built around that one objective that she thought the only outcome could be disappointment. She watches as the team bursts onto the field but the screams and cheers of the people in the stands is lost on her. She is concerned with only him. She can see the fire in him, the dream that she so desperately hopes will not be crushed like the rest.

His team had brought it home. The Panthers. He feels like a proud father, even though he never had one. The players are like his family. He sees the excitement and wild happiness in their eyes; its contagious and he can't stop smiling. He knows that this feeling won't last, and that soon Dillon will be looking ahead to the next season and expecting State once again. He'll fall back into the security of his reputation of world class fuck-up. He thinks he deserves it, but in this moment he doesn't care.

She watches him walk out from victory celebrations, alone and beer in hand but looking surprisingly sober. There's a few seconds of panic as she realizes he's headed her way, and butterflies roil her stomach. It settles quickly; she's a believer in fate. He sits down on the bench next to her and their eyes meet briefly. She feels as if they've known each other all this time.

They sit together on the bench, gazing at the stars in their sea of cobalt over Texas, and at that moment they both believe that life is perfect.