Pushing Too Far
He's having a nightmare. He's being worked to the bone like a sixteenth century slave. Without meals. Without pay. He's running through gilded halls where the floor is covered in fine Egyptian silks and the walls smell of roses. He trips and falls, face first, at the heel of his master's immaculate boot.
His gaze runs up finely clad legs and torso, a hand with a golden ring engraved with a roaring lion's head, till he meets crimson coloured eyes, devoid of all mercy.
"Noooooooooooo!"
Tyson startles awake, stubbing his toe against something hard. "Ow" he keens weakly, reaching down to rub his foot. He opens his eyes, his chin grazing a warm slab of stone. Oh boy.
He lifts his gaze miserably, and he must still be having the nightmare because Kai is standing in front him. Behind the counter. Drinking coffee from a white and brown mug with some text on it. "Morning," he greets, sounding way too sadistic for Tyson to deal with right now.
He sits up groggily, wincing. "I slept here?" he asks, eyes shutting closed again. He pulls the warm blanket over his shoulders tighter around himself.
Kai sets the mug down with a thunk. Unwilling to answer him.
"Sergei, I can't wait for your lazy ass longer," he hears Bryan complain from somewhere behind him. "I'm out!"
A door slams in the distance.
"Fucker left without me. Hold up, Kuznetsov!" Someone's running in the house. Tyson moistens the insides of his dry mouth with his tongue. He needs water.
And some Advil.
His head feels heavy.
His throat sore.
There's a nasty taste in his mouth.
It feels like a bat had crawled in there overnight and died.
Tyson opens his eyes again, drawing the thin blanket off his shoulders.
"I was taking a shit," Sergei's disgruntled voice reaches him faintly as he heads out after Bryan.
Tyson notes that the blanket on his body is the same one he'd seen in Kai's cupboard last night while he was changing his bed covers.
He'd pulled it over him.
"Fold it up and put it back in the shelf," Kai orders without missing a beat.
He's just woken up. He hasn't brushed his teeth or even gone to the bathroom. He literally slept on a counter. His entire body aches. He has not ate. Or drank. And the first thing this guy thought to do was give him work.
He'd rather he'd been left to freeze on the counter.
"Aw, you shouldn't have," Tyson says, teeth showing in a fake grin as he glares at him. He tugs the material off and wads it up into a football-sized sphere.
Fuck you
He slips off the chair, walking towards Kai's bedroom.
The house is silent. It's the first time he's been here in the morning. It's kind of odd.
All the windows are shut. Doors closed. Nobody home except him and Kai when the place is usually swarming with people.
It's hella weird.
Tyson enters Kai's room. It's furnished in hues of brown and beige. Ah, there's an open window here. Cool air carrying the smell of wet earth circulating the space. He folds the blanket into a neat square on the bed, then returns it to the shelf.
His phone chimes with a notification.
The latest one is from their official Toho athletes page. He taps on it.
The post features Tala's cocky face leering into the camera, with the caption, "Today's lineup: Tala Valkov to run first in relay races!"
Tyson's eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. His heart hammers.
There is a meet today. He completely forgot about it.
Oh my fucking god.
He checks the time. 09:45 am. Nooooooo.
Tyson sprints out of the house. Kai stops him when he's almost at the front door.
"Mm! I made you coffee," he says from behind him.
Tyson turns. Awed. Almost touched.
But when he looks at him, Kai's holding out the same mug he was drinking from.
"Fuck off, Kai," he says exasperatedly before spinning on his heel and dashing away at top speed.
"Coach Carr, why am I not starting the race?" he demands as soon as he reaches the ground, already changed into his training gear.
All the competitors from their university are present on the tracks, doing various stretches and warm ups.
A short, stout man who had been talking to a huddle of first string runners, turns to him with a displeased expression.
"You're late. Training began an hour ago."
"Why is Tala running first? I won the starter race," he argues.
"You won the race but you lost at punctuality," Carr barks. "You know which of the two I value more."
When Tyson stands in front of his coach, the man has to tilt his head to look up at him, yet he still manages to come off as intimidating. He notices Tala listening in on their conversation, a few paces away, hands on his hips.
"This is so unfair," Tyson grumbles.
Carr leans toward him, threateningly. "You should be thankful I'm even letting you run last, Mr. Granger. If I were you I'd keep my mouth shut."
Tyson swallows his protests, indignation burning in his chest. Coach walks off. Tala flashes two middle fingers at him, sticking his tongue out tauntingly as he takes a couple of steps backward, on his way to accept his tag.
That's it.
He's recording the best time today.
His body may be sore. His head stuffy. But he can unleash beast mode no matter how bad his condition is.
Tyson's stretching out his quads when Michael joins him, on a break from baseball practice. "So?" he asks. "What did he say?"
"He's being a dick."
"Shit," he cusses. "It's just one meet." Mike slaps him on the shoulder. "You have the rest of the season. Not a biggie. Let it go."
Tyson's blinking, trying to stifle his anger. "Sure. But if he does better than me Coach will give him more chances. He likes him better, anyway."
"You're the boss, man," Michael reminds him, massaging his upper back muscles. "You're the boss. There's not a soul in this campus who can best your time.
That was true. He did have the fastest recorded time amongst all the players on the field right now.
Tyson inhales deeply. The Ibuprofen must be starting to work because he feels much better than he did when he first woke up.
The air is full of noises. Whistles, conversations, shouts and buzzers. Tyson's doing squats beside the track, slightly nervous, as the bleachers fill and the events begin.
He's only running in the relays this time.
He surveys the stands for familiar faces. He spots Emily and Hilary and waves to them cheerily.
A bunch of arms wave back at him along with the ones he'd waved to. It's Mike, Eddie and Rick. Sitting three benches down from the girls. Popcorn and snacks in their hands.
He grins at them, stretching his arm and shaking out his wrists.
"Go Tyson!" Eddie shouts.
"Go beast!" roars Rick.
Tyson signals at them to cheer louder. Let em hear it. Let the teams from Komazawa, Hoshi and Date Universities learn he's on the track and quake in fear.
Asahi, Hoshi's top competitor, eyeballs Tyson as he waits beside the area where the action goes down.
Tyson shoots him a friendly grin.
Asahi glances away without acknowledging it.
They're already mad.
Lovely
Tyson's gloating, eyes scanning over the faces in the crowd, when he finds a face he didn't want to see anytime soon in the midst.
Fuck
It's Kai.
Why is he here?
It looks like he got a haircut too. He's shaved the sides of his head. Slicked back the long black hair in the front.
The undercut makes his jaw stick out sharper. His neck longer. Hoodie high fashion.
He looks-
Tyson turns around.
Hilary sips on her rainbow Slurpee, head canted sideways. Emily claps her hands beside her. Excited for Tyson. The relays are about to begin. "Let's go, Champ!" she cheers.
A girl in Hilary's line of vision moves back in her seat, clearing her way to Kai.
She nearly chokes when she sees him.
Hilary rights her head. "Shit"
"What?" Emily inquires.
"I just saw you-know-who."
"Ew, where?"
Hilary points discreetly with a finger to her right.
Some thirty feet away, Emily finds him. He's on his phone. Julia on his other side.
"Hm, he got a new haircut?" she muses. "Suits him." She glances at Hilary. Reads her expression. "Don't," she warns immediately, shaking her head. "Don't."
"Yeah" Hilary agrees in a tiny constrained voice. "It's just-"
"I know. I have eyes too."
Hilary puts a hand on her chest. Reminding herself of a few important things. "He's making Tyson run around like a dog."
"Mhmm" Emily nods, encouraging her. "You should hate him, babe." She sneaks another look at him. "That scar on his forehead. It's from Tyson, isn't it?" She begins laughing loudly.
Hilary joins her.
"No wonder he hates him. He got him pretty good."
The wound wasn't visible before because his hair used to fall in front of it, hiding it.
It's as visible as day now.
But he wears it like a crown.
The race begins. Tala shoots off like a bullet, legs long and powerful on the rubber. Tyson claps encouragingly. "Let's go! Let's go!"
They're only second to Asahi and Hoshi.
Date's in fourth. Lagging behind everyone else. Their first runner weak. A fatal mistake.
Tala completes his round, handing off the baton to Lee, who is shorter than the rest. He slows down their pace considerably. They fall to third place. Tyson combs his hair back in frustration as he waits in the sidelines. Ready to go after Garland.
Garland starts off beautifully. He makes up for Lee's shortcomings. They pull ahead of Komazawa again.
They need to win this.
Tyson needs to win this.
He jogs out to the track as Garland rounds the curve, speeding toward the white line. Tyson reaches out his arm for the baton.
He's almost there.
Almost hands him the baton.
But suddenly, his sole gives out. Garland nearly trips. He catches himself before he can face plant on the track but those crucial seconds cost them.
They fall to third place once more.
Garland extends the baton to him. He is already afoot.
He turns once it's in his grip and takes off.
He's well warmed up.
His body is feeling great.
Asahi and Bento are in front of him.
Tyson digs his feet into the soles of his boots, into the track. Gripping on as hard as he can before calling all his energy to the surface.
The muscles in his legs start to burn.
He crosses the track in huge leaps.
Komazawa cannot keep up.
Asahi is all that's left.
The finish line is fifty metres away.
Tyson puts his all into it.
The baton gripped tight in his sweaty palm.
The crowd is cheering for him.
He can hear them. They love him. They want him to win.
He can't let them down.
Tyson pushes himself further.
His heart pumping harder.
Asahi getting closer.
The finish line is ten metres away.
Come on.
Come on.
It's the end.
Sweat leaks off of him in buckets.
His breath comes out faster.
Tyson grits his teeth.
The world moves past him in a blur.
The crowd is overflowing. A split second before Asahi touches the line, Tyson's foot flies over it.
Toho University erupt with pride for their star athlete. They scream his name.
Tyson knows he won. He's happy. But his vision swims. His breath is too loud in his ears.
The world tilts around him. He hits the ground.
"I'm fine" he reassures them. "I'm fine."
He drinks water from a bottle, sitting on the side of the track. Near the rest and refreshments station. Lee and Garland stand around him concerned. Coach Carr shouts at him for taking it too far.
"You clocked in at ten, Tyson. Ten!" he bellows. "Who do you think you are? Bolt? Your fastest time so far has been eleven twenty-two! How dare you push yourself that far!"
Tyson pours some water over himself from the bottle as he listens to him berate him endlessly.
Tala waits a few feet away, hands on his hips, wearing a grudging expression.
Julia twirls a lock of hair around her finger. "He's like a jaguar or something. It's such a thrill to watch him."
Kai puts his phone away, glancing at her.
She stares with a smirk on her lips, chin balanced on a hand. "He's brilliant."
Kai sucks in his lips.
Julia laughs, reading him. "You hate seeing him win."
He gives a shake of his head. "He's inconsequential."
"You're so sour," she's still giggling, seeing through his bullshit.
"Too bad, Kai. He's going to keep winning."
Kai tongues his cheek.
"All of the races."
Tyson celebrates the victory with his friends.
Drinking and dancing till dawn.
Hilary sings karaoke with him. In a room bathed in sexy red lights.
Tyson almost kisses her. Then comes back to his senses and gags when he realizes it's her.
Hilary tells him he needs to get laid, bringing a pillow down on his head. Feathers fly in the air.
Emily fact checks this and agrees with her.
Eddie and Michael do their darnedest to find him a girl.
Mathilda volunteers. She arrives at two a.m. Tyson sends her home declaring they have no chemistry together.
"Who the fuck do you have chemistry with then?" Emily asks him, fed up.
"Kristina"
"Who?"
"They made me hard," he tells her, drunk out of his mind.
"Who?"
"Kai"
They all black out by four in the morning.