Playing for the other Team

Leaves were spinning, tousling around, pirouetting in sync like a ballet. The wind that had been driving and directing them carried the sweet note of treacle and pine. The scent dense, and all encapsulating. The loaded air weighing on me like a heavy blanket, creeping into my lungs and filling me inside out, forcefully reminding me I was a part of all this. There was a storm brewing.

How peculiar that we humans could sense them whenever we took a step back to tune into nature. Despite our abstract thoughts and values, we were a part of the ecosystem that we worked so tirelessly to reject.

Mildew was seeping through my clothes, dampening my skin, yet causing no discomfort, more so embracing me into its symbiosis. Even the soil had softened up, no longer digging into my back, but having carved a neat mould for me. How long would it take until grass and moss would overgrow me? Weeks, days?

Either way I welcomed it. I could desperately use a break. It was all becoming too much to handle. For the time being, I needed people to not rely on me, so I could get my own thoughts sorted. How could anyone expect great things of me when my mind was a scrambled mess?

The weed was helping. It had taken a while for it to kick, in fact I had gotten worried it would not actually work. I had come to the conclusion that I was immune to it somehow, when even after smoking the entire joint and coughing my lungs out, the only change I registered was a tickling in my gums.

Pretty sure I was high now.

My entire life, I had assumed that I needed beyblading to get me through life. The older I got the more I realised it was it was the repetitive structure of my training regime that was relieving my mental anguish, not competing itself.

What am I even getting out of this? I asked myself. Was it even worth putting myself through all this press scrutiny and keeping my team on the hook?

All I wanted was anonymity and to lead a regular life. Have my father take care of me until I turned of age and then go off to study at university if my grades allowed it. Or more realistically, find a job that earned enough for Wyatt and I to rent a two bedroom flat in whatever town he would end up studying. Maybe somewhere in France, where I could work as a translator. Gradually, and at our own pace, with no outside pressure, we could upgrade to a house with a garden, somewhere in the mountains where we could be alone. Set up a koi pond if we were feeling ambitious. I did not crave much more from life.

How did I always find myself in these situations in which people heavily dependent on me?

Why was it up to me to make sure the entire Smithwright clans reputation stayed intact? How did I end up being such an important chess piece when nothing about my existence had been planned to begin with? I was an accident. I was never supposed to be essential to anything. Could I not return to that? If only the ground could swallow me hole. Suck me in like the Bermuda triangle. Despite my desperate pleas, the pebbly soil would not even budge. Nature worked at its own rate. It did not give in to human demands.

The following morning I waited until my teammates had left to go train. Once again, I could not face them directly, instead claiming that I would catch up with them soon.

There was a foreboding atmosphere. I got the sense that they knew, they did not even bother to remind me that our allotted training slot for that morning would be cut short due to scheduling conflict with the European team. When Max told me I'd have to hurry it was clear to the both of us that it referred to me packing my stuff so I could ghost them without having to face them on my walk out. He gave me an extra long hug, while Takao, who typically tried to wrap his arms around me at least once every day (I only allowed Max and Wyatt to hug me) did not even acknowledge my presence at the breakfast buffet.

Only my buffoon of a father, who had consistently lacked the skill to read the room, chattered on like normal. How suiting that it would be me leaving him this time. Coming full circle. Was this symbiosis?

Not like he would care. He would be too busy getting it on with Judy. I was doing him a favour. He would no longer need to pretend to parent.

Right before he left me in England, Wyatt had given me a contact card with a direct line to his family's charter service. An overly polite agent had arranged for a smaller jet to pick me up at Aspen Airfield in the afternoon. Apparently there would be a larger group joining me, which seemed fair enough. Even if Wyatt's family was loaded, I wouldn't want them wasting the fuel to fly me out on my own.

I arrived at the Airport painfully early, primarily to avoid facing my soon to be ex-friends. Having some time to spare suited me just fine. My plan was to brush up on my French so I could communicate with the people at the garden party, or at the very least, call them out when they were trashtalking me to my face.

It quite enjoyed the language, despite all the hate it got. Maybe that was exactly why I had developed a fondness for it. Most people had an instinctive dislike for me too when they first met me. I had a natural inclination to cheer for the underdog.

A shadow wandered across the page, blocking my view of the many needless conjunctions of être in conditional.

"There you are. I've been roaming the entire airport for you!" An all too familiar voice said, breaking my focus.

Immediately, my heart skipped a beat, allowing more blood to enthusiastically flush to my penis. I hadn't actually told Wyatt I was coming, hoping to surprise him. Looks like he had the same idea.

I jumped up, accidentally spilling my obnoxiously large (an "American small") cup of soda across my carefully drafted notes. But never mind those, all I cared about was slinging my arms around my boyfriend. If only he didn't recoil.

"Slow down there, Romeo."

Did my boner scare him off?

No never. Wyatt worshipped my cock. Something was off here.

Taken aback, I took a moment to inspect the figure more closely. He had been standing against the sun, which made it more challenging to discern his features. Wyatt seemed to have had grown taller, and tanner, and seemingly more serious. He was dressed in well-fitted beige pants and a pale blue shirt with the label featured prominently on the chest. His sleeves had been meticulously folded halfway up his forearms. A pair of name-brand sunglasses completed the look.

"Bryce?"

"I go by Bryson now." He corrected me.

Of course, he would be the type.

"My apologies, Wyatt never told me your full name."

He played with a lock of his impeccably well kept hair, repeatedly tucking it behind his ear, keeping his gaze averted. The sunglasses made it harder to gage his mood, nonetheless I noticed him crinkle his nose in what was either disgust or shame.

"It's not. It just makes me sound more professional."

And pretentious.

Better hold my tongue. Not like it mattered to me, I would call gladly him Shirley if that's what it took to enrich his life.

His must have caught sight of the tent shape in my pants since he promptly turned his head away.

"Ehm, why are you here?" He stammered.

Had he not been briefed?

"Weren't you looking for me just a moment ago?"

"Yeah, in the VIP Lounge. Why are you waiting in the lobby?" He asked with the same patronising tone a teacher would use when shaming a student for giving an incorrect answer.

In truth, it had not even occurred to me that I was permitted in the lounge. Plenty of unreasonably wealthy people flew in and out of Aspen on a daily basis, how was I to know I would qualify as elite enough?

He clapped his hands together. "Just come along, we can get you some food before boarding. Chop, chop!" He rushed me, reaching for my books and hastily shoving them into my bag. Though he did make sure not to crinkle a single page.

"I packed myself a lunch." I informed him and held up my cling-wrapped breakfast waffles. They had been somewhat mushed and were now warm to the touch since I had been storing them in my fanny pack.

Bryson let out an audible snicker.

"Yeah, no. Proper food. I'm not going halfies with you on your doggy bag."

I had not offered him any and certainly was not going to now.

-x-x-x-

We were surrounded by a buffet of delicacies. Beluga caviar, cod, salmon and other seafood that must have cost a fortune to fly into a landlocked state. Nonetheless, I made a point to munch on my leftovers, earning me scornful looks from the other patrons.

Bryce himself slurped down some oysters, possibly the only food he could have chosen to one up me in nastiness.

"Mother is up in arms planning your wedding." He informed me, as he squeezed a lemon slice over his goo omelette. I had read once that those things had to be alive when being eaten. How nasty! One might as well be swallowing cum.

Hm actually, maybe these would ease me into the experience. I asked him for one and he gratefully passed me the tray, likely relieved that I did possess a refined pallet. If he only knew.

I almost gagged when the slimy texture hit the back of my throat, coughed a little, then forced myself to swallow. Christ, this was salty.

"Wedding? No thank you. That is not our style." I told Bryce.

Not that I did not appreciate the effort and her enthusiasm, but clearly, neither of us had wanted a big ceremony.

Turns out there was no altruism behind Mrs Smithwright's goals.

"You didn't genuinely believe that you just could elope, did you? There is way too much riding on it. Our family's reputation is at stake. My parents cant just marry off one of their sons without inviting the crème of the crop to the ceremony. It is not done that way."

"Actually, we already did." I stated firmly.

Bryce sighed, twirling with his hair again. I noticed it was significantly shorter and scruffier looking on his left side. Hardly an intentional style choice, judging by his character so far. More likely was that he had a hair pulling tick.

"Don't get smart with me. Even you must have anticipated that there would be consequences. You are not entering this world blindly, are you? Of course, I have been briefed on what happened to your grandfather, but he was a powerful tycoon long before and will remain one no matter what. You should be familiar with how things are run amongst our people."

I wasn't sure if by our people he included me or not. Either way his snobbishness was starting to get on my nerves.

"Nothing happened to him. He committed those acts on his own accord."

Bryce yanked out a thin strand of his locks and let it fall to the ground. He appeared to do it subconsciously, since he didn't even flinch. "No need to get defensive. I was trying to be polite. I'm not the enemy here, just the messenger. And you can thank the Gods it's me they sent."

What did he mean by that?

"I'm your only supporter in the family. It's been obvious to me for a while where Wyatt's preferences lie. Even before he was willing to admit it to himself. And I'm not one to deny the truth just because it's messy. I'm practical. I'd rather hurry up and accept it so that we can work around it. Pushing it out of our consciousness is not going to do us any favours, it will simmer up eventually."

He shrugged.

"Besides, I really don't see the issue beyond some people having an innate dislike for the concept of two men together. It's an abstract problem caused by abstract thoughts. It's truly pointless to get worked up over it. The only real world consequence it has had is a slight dip in our trustworthiness ranking, and as I've been trying to explain to our parents, it is only temporary. It will pivot upwards as soon as we get some trade deals with Japan, which your family name should secure us by default."

He was pragmatic to a shockingly inhuman degree. Though it felt nice to meet someone not driven by emotions for a change, at least I would be able to predict his reactions. He reminded me of my grandfather in that way.

"Do you think you can work with that?" He asked.

I nodded. "Tell me what you need from me, I don't really mind."

Now that my athletic career had been put on hold I might as well go all in. If I didn't I would have sacrificed it for nothing.

"Excellent." He whipped out his planner. Of course he was the type to have a planner. "I instructed our PR team to conduct a survey on how the general public perceives you. I have already discounted the ones that object to you on a moral level, there would be no room to work with them anyway. These are a collection of the most common reasons people have a problem with you. I ranked them in ascending order of prevalence and ease of adaptation. Give them a read."

I sure wish he would have added some positive feedback to spare my already bruised ego. Though from what I had gathered about his personality so far he would have deemed those "useless".

Goldigger it said on the top of the list.

Bryce had added a note: Leak pictures of lavish childhood home and luxury vacations. Photoshop if necessary.

Fake "candid" pictures of W+K looking wholesome.

"I will ask my father. He took me to Disneyland when I was a kid." I proposed, trying to make myself useful.

"Disneyland is too pedestrian. The average middle class suburban family can afford it. Did you ever go on safari?"

I had certainly not. Who had?

To be fair, that was the point of this exercise.

"Grandpa dragged me along to a sailing regatta once." I suggested, grasping at straws.

While I had been born into an affluent family, my childhood had been anything but.

He nodded enthusiastically. "That is a good start. Think in that direction."

There really was not much else. I could hardly impress him with my stories of sharing bunks with orphans.

I suddenly remembered the pictures of Wyatt and I cuddling in the photobooth. I had safely stored them in my wallet all this time, almost been too shy to look at them. Only in moments of weakness. They were candid. Too candid. Did I really want to share them? It felt like an invasion of privacy.

I should be collaborative, I decided. Bryce was doing us a favour here. My father knew how to handle the general public, but Bryce knew what made his parents and their pompous friends tick.

He raised his brows in disbelief when I showed him the photo strip. While he had welcomed me with somewhat open arms, part of him might have suspected that I had done this for financial gain or even just to stabilise my tarnished family's position in high society.

"It's been a while since I've seem Wyatt happy like this." He stated solemnly.

A brief smile flashed across his lips, I think I caught him in a rare moment of genuine appreciation, before he pursed them and switched back into manager mode.

"You are okay with publishing these?" He asked, having picked up on their intimate nature.

"I don't care." I declared.

"Alright, you will get back to me about the regatta photos. Oh, and ask your father for some pictures from his own graduation ceremonies. From Le Rosey and Oxford. We need to play up the angle that he had the same prestigious education our peers had."

I nodded. Moving on to the next point on the list.

Trashy.

Gee, thanks.

"You sure a blunt."

He stared back unphased. "Was I wrong in assuming you could handle it?"

"No. I prefer it."

As for the last one, he had left a note in his impeccable handwriting, which was leagues more legible than Wyatt's hieroglyphic scribbles.

Contact foreign minister about Mr Hiwatari's early release.

"You can do that?" I asked, astonished.

A wave of excitement washed over me, though it was quickly drowned out by my own revulsion. No matter how much I loved him, my grandfather was rightfully locked up. This would be a serious obstruction of justice, and I was not sure I was comfortable with the thought that certain families wielded that much power over the law and prosecution.

"My godfather is a Russian oligarch, he has friends in high places. I am certain he can make something happen."

On the plus side, this could sway my grandfather's opinion in my favour. He would owe me one. And that was the currency the wealthy ran on. Credit.

Still, the corruption scared me, and so did my own selfishness in this situation. What about Yuri and the other children whom my grandfather's actions had impacted? I could forgive him for what he had done to me, but who was I to take away their only justice served?

"It's not right." I concluded. "He should serve his time. For the victims' sake."

"It's business." Bryce stated bluntly. His expression softened as he bowed his head in shame. "But I agree with you. He is a scummy character." He then straightened himself out, and stated firmly, but with a notable trickle of doubt in his voice: "The ends justify the means."

That sentence echoed in my head. I had heard my grandfather and his associates repeat it all throughout my childhood.

We should be doing better than this. How long until our generation was in charge of making these decisions? Had it already started and we were slipping into complacency? Shifting the blame on our parents for having raised us that way? It was easier this way. It would always be.

"Do they really?" I asked.

He genuinely pondered on the question for a moment, switching between pride and complacency, finally landing on disgust.

"Not really. But that is above my paygrade. This point comes from my father directly. If you feel compelled to take the blame I wont discourage you. I know this was never your intention but we would not even be debating this if it wasn't for what you and Wyatt did."

He was right. Indirectly this would be my fault. I could either take on the guilt or chose to dissolve myself of all responsibility.

There was another note.

Clean up appearance i.e. Hair and clothes.

Had it not been for the previous point, I would have protested. Now it felt petty to fight to maintain my style when all the other abbey children would be faced with such gross injustice. This was the least I could do.

"My parents would prefer it if you would return to a more natural colour."

"Yeah. Whatever."

"Seriously? I expected more of a fight."

"This is just a costume, you know. Everyone goes all out for the World Championship."

In all fairness, my style had been a bit extra lately, even by my own standards. I had blatantly been acting out, yet it still hurt me how everyone on the team was responding like I had no line to cross.

"They mean for the entirety of the tournament. All public appearances."

"I'm not competing anymore. I resigned this morning."

"You will be on our team."

Wait. That could only mean...

"You want me to compete for the Majestics?"

"Well yes, I'm the team manager. It would look strange if you were our rival." He said brusquely, as though this was something I was supposed to be privy with. "Didn't Wyatt tell you?"

He hadn't. Not that we had spoken much in the past weeks, things had been so hectic. Of course I intended to call him back, but life got in the way. But he could have easily put this in a text, why wouldn't he?

There had to be a reason.

"Won't this upset Enrique?"

If I was joining one of the founding members would have to take a step back, and unfortunately for him, he was the lowest ranked blader on the team.

"It will, but he is not family."

Even though it felt cruel stepping on Enrique's toes, my heart warmed when Bryce called me family. I had never truly felt a part of one before. My own had been so disjointed, I could hardly remember the last time the three of us had spent an hour in each other's company, let alone a full day. Back when I had been a child my Dad would typically pick me up and drop me off as though he had made a post-divorce custody arrangement with my grandfather.

This was good, I told myself. This was exactly what I wanted, right?

Thanks to Bryce's quick thinking, I would be able to keep competing, while his family could keep flaunting me as a trophy husband. I would be doing them a favour as much as they one for me. It should be the perfect arrangement, so why did it feel so wrong?

Turns out the group that had chartered the flight was my team. Figures they would be going to this stupid wine mixer too. My new team, I repeated to myself. The reality of it had not quite clicked. These people were no worthy replacement. I would always treasure the Bladebreakers as my first real friends, even if we were rivals now. However, I feared they would not extend the same kindness to me.

As soon as we were allowed to board, Enrique marched to the very back, down by the toilets. Nothing was too petty to get away from the rest of us. He even blocked out his senses by putting on a headset and a sleeper mask, and refusing to speak with anyone, making his discontent more than obvious.

Not that I planned on striking up a conversation. Bryce had me memorise a folder with the names and photographs of all close and distant family members. He even prepared some talking points in case our conversation would dry up. His attention to detail and commitment to his clan was truly remarkable.

"What is this animal in your family crest? Is that a snake or a dragon?"

He had to take a peak at the page. "It's a fire spitting lizard." He claimed, with a clear lack of confidence.

"A reptilian." I muttered under my breath.

Michael was right!

I chuckled. Not like I actually believed so but I found the link amusing nonetheless.

"Good grief, you're not one of those are you?"

Oh crap, had I just outed myself as a conspiracy nutbag?

The catch was, the more I insisted that I wasn't one, the more obsessed it made me look. On the plus side, it got Enrique to remove his sensory deprivation kit so he could bask in my humiliation. It took him another few hours, until we were literally about to disembark to say his first words.

"My concern is that people would perceive us as the queer team." He remarked.

He had spent the entire trip fabricating a fool proof argument to give me the boot, yet this was the best he could come up with.

"Hey, I'm not gay, I'm European." Oliver protested.

"We all are, but you're the only one to wear pink armour in battle." Robert mocked him.

Johnny burst into repellent laughter and high fived him.

Oliver kept his composure.

"I have a fiancé!" He asserted.

"Your parents are arranging your marriage, that does not count." Johnny teased.

"So what? I still got to chose her from a selection of girls."

Grim.

"And yet you chose your cousin."

"Don't give me that, Mr Robert von fucking Habsburg. Your family tree is a circle!"

"See Ricky, there's only you and Kai. We should be just fine." Bryce said sneakily.

Enrique and Bryce glared at each other in a standoff of impractical pride while the remaining dickwads took it as a joke, almost kneeling over in laughter.

I understood Enrique's heartbreak and why he had been a grade A jerk to me the past few days. He had been testing my nerves with his stupid catcalls and underhanded remarks, yet I could relate to his distress and had no intention of outing him. Bryce had no such qualms.

This was a clear warning not to disrespect his brother.

How were we ever going to be a cohesive team if half of us were in the dark about such a major conflict?

It did not take long for further issues to manifest. As we exited the plane and were out of everyone's peripheral, Enrique forcibly shoved himself past me on the stairs, casually ramming his elbow in my guts in the process, which momentarily forced me to gasp for air. That little shit! This is what I got for playing nice.

"How can you justify taking this away from me?" He hissed at me.

"It's business." I repeated Bryce's words, still panting.

"Is this even an original thought or do you only do what you've been told?"

Guilty as charged.

He wasn't satisfied with merely stabbing me, he wanted to keep twisting the knife.

"You joined last years tournament cause your granddaddy needed a spy, then stuck with the Bladebreakers because they expected you to, now you are pushing me out because that's what your in-laws want you to do. You don't give a shit about the sport or integrity. Don't act like you have a clue about the greater plan. You are letting yourself be used and that is exactly how you like it. I bet you married Wyatt cause you were too much of coward to say no and risk him leaving."

I had no idea how to respond to that.

A victorious smirk flashed across his lips, and he walked off gleefully, head raised high, over to the rest of his team. The strangers that did not actually want me, and him even less.

This was a lot to take in.

I desperately craved some simplicity and for someone else to take the reigns. Like for Wyatt to hold me and tell me I did well.

God, I was pathetic. It had been less than a day that I left my Daddy behind, and I was already longing for a protector. Enrique was right, I truly could not function on my own.

Maybe, I should just let go and stop trying.

-x-x-x-

"You don't have to shoulder this burden. You are not fighting alone anymore." Wyatt reassured me as he stroked the top off my head, gently brushing his fingers through my unruly, brown bangs.

He reached for the blanked, draping it over me to ensure my backside would not be exposed to the cold. I hardly felt the draft as I was cradled in his warm embrace.

Bryce and I had arrived at his parent's summer home rather late, so I had decided to head straight to bed. Wyatt's bed, that is.

"You should have come to me about it earlier. Of course, I am on your side. It's us versus them now. We are on the same team."

The notion that someone would always be in my corner had seemed fantastical and out of reach to me, but hearing him say those words with such conviction gave me a new boost of confidence. I had to laugh. Why hadn't I just come to him? He was the person who had showed me nothing but loyalty.

I nestled into his chest. His skin was soft and warm to the touch. He had a fluff of hair down centre though not enough for it to be obstructive. Resting my head on his heart, I got entranced by the soothing rhythm of its beat. There was something calming about the regularity of his breathing and it tickling my forehead with every exhale. I softly brushed his lips with my fingertips, looking for affirmation. His expression was tender. His eyes wide and gleaming with excitement. They had become my new standard for trust. The look in them was so genuine and loving, as though I was his favourite person in the world. Wyatt had that quality about him, he knew how to make me feel special. It made it easy to work up the courage to place my mouth on his, our lips patiently marinating against each other, but in a sort of zen, harmonious way. This blissful warmth filled my body, as though I had just drank a shot of harsh liquor. My stomach fluttered and my toes tingled. Some hairs on my back rose as I pressed against him harder, craving more. His tongue kept teasing so I eagerly opened my mouth allowing for him to venture in.

Wyatt was the type of kisser that was awfully enthusiastic with his tongue. He was also on the drooly side. I put it down to growing pains, I am sure there were things I was awful at that he was too polite to point out. Eventually we would evolve to communicate what we liked but as teens it was sloppy, full-frontal tongue action. The kind that would leave you with a few hickeys and your boyfriend's chewed out gum at the end of the night.

"The thing about doing what you want is that if you fully commit, then it wont bother you what people say because you are too content to care. But if you compromise, you don't reach the same level of happiness and start questioning your ability to chose for yourself." Wyatt stated confidently.

He did have a point, it was only when I started giving in to other people's demands that the shame would creep up. Even with matters as simple as my hair colour.

"I much prefer you as a bluenette." He told me reassuringly, though that did not stop him from twirling his fingers through my freshly dyed locks.

"That has got to be the dumbest word anyone has ever concocted."

He laughed. The vibrations emitted from his chest gently rocked our conjoined bodies.

"I'm serious. I will keep this colour just to make sure you can never call me that again."

"I will leak it to the press." Wyatt threatened.

"It will never be published as it won't hold against the divorce rumours I'll be leaking."

He pulled me closer, our lower halves were touching now and I did my best to not obsess about it.

"As if I would ever let you go." He whispered in my ear, then kissed my neck.

I flinched, which he wrongly interpreted as arousal. I was sensitive there but not in a good way. I had never liked my throat being exposed to the elements and in all honesty wasn't enjoying the wet kisses he planted until he reached my collar bone. He switched from chaste kisses to trailing his tongue, painfully slowly, until he reached my nipple and gave it a lick before closing his lips around it. Fuck, that was hot actually. He bit down gently, making a jolt of adrenaline shoot through my body.

"Ouch." I complained.

He smirked and bit down on the other one, carefully massaging it between his teeth.

"You monster."

"Oh you're clearly into it, I could feel you harden up." He said as he continued nibbling on my flesh, trying out other spots. "You're a little pain slut."

It was hard to deny it when I had an incorruptible arousal-meter between my legs, that was currently swinging off the charts. Still, it wasn't something I had expected to be a kink of mine, though it was fun to explore my raunchier side. I had no idea what I was into or he for that matter. We were both at the precipice of our sexual journey and there was a lot to uncover. The anticipation was palatable.

In this moment, however, I was fully satisfied.

"Just keep holding me."