Stay Calm

Knock, knock, knock.

Blaise Atkinson opened his still sleepy eyes with a yawn. He woke up to three loud knocks that irritated him this early in the morning.

It wasn't even his father knocking on the door. Who at this moment, had most likely gotten a clean getaway from his responsibilities as a father to work even earlier than usual.

"Bollocks…" Even if he doesn't want to, Blaise was forced to open the door, to avert a disaster.

He opened the door to the suddenly annoying face of his friend Terry Quinn, who made fuck knows how much trouble for the family of two last night… just the way his teammates dreaded he would.

Last night.

After parting with Callum just outside the train station, the merry band of two made a beeline to Atkinson's home.

Blaise had already informed his father about someone spending the night at their house, and at first, the father said some bullshit like, "Wow, my son's all grown up now huh. Someone already wants a taste of your balls."

What bullshit, he only ever had eyes for one person...

When Blair Atkinson opened the door, he expected his son to have a beautiful girl in tow. Instead, in his sight was a smiling boy the same age as his son that was also wearing the red black training wear of Sheffield Blades.

His jaws dropped as he can't even fathom how his son didn't even bother to clear up his mistake earlier.

"Oy, Blaise, I thought it's gonna be a girlfriend! Not a teammate, you punk!" Blair's mouth twitched.

"I didn't say that. I don't even have one."

"Uncle, I'm a boyfriend. Not a girlfriend." This fool, trying to stir things up with an innocent smile.

Blair suddenly closed the distance and looked at Terry with a menacing stare on both his eyes. He's always been the kind of open minded, whatever goes kind of parent that welcomes new ideas freely, but this one caught even him off guard.

"You don't look like a bad person." His death stare finally ended, as he entered the house before turning back one more time. "Please take care of my son, okay?"

"Huh?" Blaise's eyebrows furrowed.

"Huh?" Terry scratched his head.

"Huh?" Blair's cheeks flushed.

For a moment there, right at the door of the Atkinson residence, the three silly bastards looked at each other like the other two were fools.

The first to break the tension, was of course the oldest. "Hehe... so… you aren't my son's lover?"

Blaise got annoyed in an instant once he knew that his father actually thought about it.

Terry blushed, and shook his head wildly.

"Seems like I got my answer." Blair walked inside with brisk steps, as if trying to forget what had happened. He turned back one more time for some final instructions. "The guest room is just beside Blaise's on the second floor, there's steak on the table. Feel at home."

Blaise flashed his two middle fingers at Terry.

Inside, on the large green walls of the living room, was a huge framed portrait of the family. A young Blaise, a smiling Blair, and a woman that looked a lot like a female version of Blaise.

She has the homely air of a kind and caring mother, deep brown eyes, a freckled face, a knockout smile that accentuates her fine lips, and skin that is fair as snow. Her flowing brown hair stood out too, as well as the fact that she didn't look like a mother of a grade schooler but instead an eligible lady of Victorian high nobility.

Young Terry seemingly had his soul taken from him with just a look on Blaise's mother as he just got stuck there motionless.

"Oy. The table's ready." Blaise said a few steps away. "I know my mom's a looker, but quit staring at her, you're grossing me out."

He managed to snap out of his trance after he heard Blaise's voice. "Yeah, I'll be there."

***

Present

Blaise went down together with Terry like they're a couple. Since no one's in the house anyway, nobody cared.

"I saw your dad making some damn good fried rice with that leftover steak." Terry was already wiping his drool. "I just don't want to be an unkind guest and eat without even waking you up at least."

Passing by the living room, he saw his friend's clothes lying around everywhere. Already numb after a full night of his bullshit, he didn't even bother calling him out about it. He only reassured himself that he will never let Terry stay overnight at his house ever again.

When they reached the dining room, he only saw a half plate of fried rice with a single chunk of beef in it remaining. He looked behind him, where Terry was supposed to be, but he's already gone to who knows where.

"That fuck face!" He's starting to lose the final shreds of faith about Terry's domestic life.

This guy is so toxic at home! It's bonkers!

He was just thinking about it when he heard a loud cracking sound from out back. Without breaking the calm facade on his face, he sat at the dining table and scooped up whatever's left of the breakfast his father prepared.

It was as if he's an isolated human still living a slow life in peace, while the world around him was falling apart at the seams.

"FUCK!" He heard another scream as the sound of shattered glass threatened to destabilize his peace of mind.

"I shouldn't have agreed… this house can't hold him for a day!"

Terry came in from the backyard with a face filled with shame. "I'm really sorry! I'm such a klutz when I am inside houses!"

Blaise didn't know whether to believe him or not.

***

Inside a conference room bearing the crossed swords insignia of Sheffield Blades were several middle aged men in suits. They were conversing, and at the head of the table was an old chubby man with wrinkles all over his face, a double chin, a bald head, and a charismatic air.

"Any remarks, Cassidy?" He looked at Ryan Cassidy, the balding under 18 manager.

"Sir, I have to note that this current crop of the under 18 team is progressing way beyond my expectations. As you can see with the early results, we're on a four game winning streak to start the season… with exemplary performances to boot." He looked uncomfortable in a suit and tie.

"Oh! You have that one gem right? Why not promote him quickly? We're in dire need of central midfield bodies on the upper levels!" A man that was seemingly a chatterbox cut into the conversation from the other side of the table. "He's ready for the promotion, I know it! We've been looking at him with an objective eye!"

"Dan, he's new. He's been in the club for just a quarter of a year, plus he's also just 17!" Steve Bronson also gave his piece from beside Cassidy. "Unless we come to unprecedented circumstances, I think he should stay in the Under 18s for now and let him progress naturally."

"No, no! You don't understand! He's ready for the bright lights! Give him maybe a game or two in the Under 23s and then he's good to go to face League One!" The determined display of Under 23s gaffer Dan Powell has started making the other staff nod their head. "This is a golden opportunity! Believe me, sir!"

"Hmmm…" The chubby man rubbed his double chin. "The first team manager should know the pros and cons of decisions like this the best. Bronson, you go decide."

Powell's face fell.