Ty's left leg ached slightly as he stood. His eyes were locked on Kentavious's back as the rest of the Dons rallied around Donte, nearly carrying him off the field.
Kentavious sighed, watching the replay of events from the jumbotron, still with his back to the rest of the field; the rest of his team. The ball hadn't arrived, and where was the fun if he couldn't fly through the sky?
He glanced back, meeting Ty's gaze. Ty planted himself. Resolute. Unwavering. Kentavious smiled. Even defeated there was still such determination in Ty's eyes. You'd have thought he was the victor of their little jaunt. Challenging him again would be fun enough. Doubly so when they both reached for the stars.
The crowd was still coming down from their high as Kentavious started towards the Longhorns' bench. Ty turned towards he Dons' sideline. The atmosphere had changed. There was an electricity in the air now. The Dons' comeback was coming along quickly, and steadily, yet it all felt as if the game was waiting for just the right spark to set off an explosion which could turn everything on its head.
As the Dons switched places between defence and offence, Zayden was the only other player who'd noticed Ty's defeat. Concern filled his eyes as he watched Ty sit down, stretching out his legs; that concern was mirrored in Coach Hoang.
He rolled closer to Ty and asked: 'Everything alright, Samuels? I hope you're not taking your foot off the gas just because you beat the guy once.'
'I'm not,' Ty said.
There was no heat in his voice, nor the growl Coach Hoang expected. The same chill hung in the air around Ty; Coach Hoang wasn't sure if that was more or less concerning than if it weren't.
He shook his head, wheeling his chair around, before he muttered: 'Billion dollar stadium and there's still such a shitty field.'
Ty's trembling hands curled into fists. He knew what Coach Hoang was trying to say, what he was trying to shift the blame onto, and he knew it was wrong.
The Longhorns' defence, yet to have a significant break in the quarter, took the field once more, looking at their foes with exasperation.
The Dons, conversely, were full of energy as they settled into their now familiar formation. Chris, JJ, and Cam were determined to prove their shortcomings on the previous drive were just a blip. Yet even if it wasn't, Stephen had already proved the Dons could still be lethal through the air with such limited personnel. And this time they had almost half the distance to go for a touchdown, beginning right on the cusp of the red-zone already.
As the fans sensed the tables turning, and with that bringing the Longhorns' lead into possible jeopardy, some found their voices for the hometown heroes, screaming out chants of "dee-fence".
The ball was snapped, and Jay handed it to Chris, who started left, then kicked back right with another Counter. But the Longhorns were ready. Pippen's leash had been pulled taut, and he didn't over chase, putting himself in the way of Cam, who blocked him off. Chris was sent wide, but he blazed around the corner. Adam rushed down, shooting ahead before JJ could get in place to seal him off. He slammed into Chris's hips and wrapped him up, containing the run to only 2 yards.
Chris slammed the ball against the turf, letting out some of his frustration, though it'd only build right back up again if he couldn't deal with the source. JJ helped him to his feet and said: 'Maybe we're getting too predictable? These pendejos aren't as dumb as they look.'
'Yeah, but they're still stupid, and we're still gonna beat them.'
Both boys were grinning as they returned to the huddle, arms around one another. If the Longhorns were going to focus on stopping the run, maybe they needed to be reminded that the Dons still had twin fangs through the air.
So it was on second down they returned to the air, after another Play-Action fake between Jay and Chris. As the rest of the Dons streamed downfield, JJ remained in the backfield, offering another layer of protection as Pippen charged forward after backing up a step. Even Adam's eyes were drawn to his foe for an extra moment longer.
Jay was locked on Stephen, who once again pushed Juan back on the same route he'd run for his earlier touchdown. The difference this time was Juan didn't give up the outside lane as easily, and was backing away on top of Stephen's line… but Jimmy London hadn't been fooled by the Play-Action, and was in a much better position to cut off a long pass to Stephen.
Yet both Longhorns were surprised when Stephen cut inside, slashing diagonally across the field, towards the goal post at the back of the end-zone. They scrambled after him, pulled into a more congested middle of the field as Jimmy ran into his fellow Safety… and Cole burst by underneath, running just along the threshold of the end-zone on a deep In.
Jay fired the ball over towards the now vacant shallow corner of the end-zone Stephen had left behind. Cole sprinted ahead, laying out for the ball, dragging his feet, securing the ball with one foot in the end-zone, one within the field of play. A shove to the back from a trailing Longhorn sent Cole flying over the pylon, though he twisted his body, extending the ball deeper towards the end-zone side just to be safe.
The signal came quickly for the Dons' third touchdown. Half the crowd was in awe, shocked either by the display of talent from the Dons, or the rapid and continued collapse of the Longhorns. The other half roared with enthusiasm, jumping up and down so the stadium thundered.
The Dons rallied around Cole as they had Donte and Stephen before him. They hoisted him high into the air, catching him in the middle of an excited huddle that didn't disperse until they'd reached their sideline.
Coach Long's congratulations were brief, as Coach Norman leaned into his ear and said: 'Should we go for two? If we do, we'll only need one more touchdown.'
Coach Long looked towards the scoreboard, thinking quickly, though not hastily; one could never afford to be hasty with such an important decision. If they went for two, even if they got it, they'd still have to do so again just to tie the game, and that was only if the Longhorns remained stuck at thirty points. While that was possible with how strong the Dons' defence had become in the second half, it wasn't a certainty.
Coach Long told his Offensive Coordinator as much, shaking his head. 'We've earned these past two touchdowns with longer passes. But even if they hadn't stonewalled us on the ground I don't like it. Let's focus on getting another touchdown first, then if our defence has done its job, we can worry about winning the game with a field goal.'
So the kicking team was sent onto the field, and Coach Long's decision proved correct in the moment at least as the extra point attempt was good, and the score settled at 30–21.
Both teams prepared for the kickoff, and the crowd's symphony was rejuvenated for a brief moment as the Kicker charged forward and booted it high in the air.
Sebastian watched it rise then plummet. He felt the atmosphere, but not as the hair-raising electricity other's did—it was a smell to him. Like the dust in the air was gunpowder; he could set it off with this return.
Catching the ball he rushed out of the end-zone, breaking towards the sideline. But the Dons were running with all the momentum on their side. They were upon him faster than he anticipated. He spun away from one, only to spin right into the second.
He was hammered into the ground, stopped before even reaching the 20-yard line. He threw the ball away, and tore up fistfuls of grass before rising.
Coach Bourne turned to his offence, standing before them with arms crossed. His eyes settled on Morrison, and he said: 'Herb? I need you to get your rhythm back. Have confidence in your teammates. They'll provide quick easy options for you. There's still time, and we've still got the lead; there's no reason to panic.'
Morrison gulped the message down as if it was water… or maybe it was vinegar, for he could feeling it rising back up his throat, trying to escape as images of his turnovers flooded him instead.
Coach Bourne hoped to steady things with a run, so they tried that on first down. Morrison took the snap well, but almost lost the ball when handing it over to Stu, who thankfully snatched it away and secured it against his chest. But that cost him time, and with the Dons pressing forward—their momentum still behind them, and even Donte giving his all to stop the run—he could only squeeze out a yard.
When Stu returned to the huddle, the glare he directed at Morrison didn't help settle the boy's nerves one bit.
Play-Action could maybe buy Morrison time and let him process things more calmly. It certainly gave the Dons' some hesitation on second down. Wyatt, the TE, burst right by, sprinting in a straight line towards the end-zone. Morrison lobbed the ball over, floating it in the air a touch too long as both Sonny and Zayden converged. Wyatt met them in the air, and no-one came down with the ball.
Just like that the Longhorns were on third down. Usually, this is where a QB would look to his reliable star like Kentavious. Except any time Morrison even thought of KJ, he remembered the tragedies that had struck the last two times he'd targeted him.
This mental paralysis caused him to miss how open Kentavious had been, almost shaking Ty out of his boots on second down when he'd angled for a one-step Slant, then straightened, before feinting inside, and finally cutting Out.
On third down, Kentavious didn't get as much space, though his double-move still bought him a step on Ty, who had to hold back from bumping Kentavious and committing a foul by stopping him from breaking away down the sideline. Again, Morrison missed him.
Instead, Morrison found Sebastian who flashed across the middle of the field. While Deshaun was watching deeper, JJ corralled Sebastian underneath. Finally, Morrison completed another pass, but Sebastian was easily contained afterwards and held to only 3 yards, pushing the Longhorns to fourth down.
As time run out and ended the third quarter, it looked like another Longhorns' drive had ended in failure, and after a quick break, the Dons would be well on their way to bringing the lead down to less than three points.
However, as both sides returned to their respective sidelines, and most Longhorns veered away from Morrison, giving him dirty or pitying looks, Kentavious approached him.
'KJ,' Morrison's shoulders slumped. You'd have thought the grim reaper had just walked up to him. 'I'm so sorry, man. I'm choking so fucking bad. Look, I—'
Kentavious stopped his apologetic rambling by placing a hand on his shoulder. When he spoke, he did so with a voice loud and clear enough for all on the sideline to hear.
'Chin up. It's supposed to be fun, right? Throw it up to me and I'll show you something amazing; something that'll put a smile back on your face.'
Morrison stared, amazement mixing with confusion as his jaw dropped open soundlessly. All around there was more curiosity than the indignation and envy such a statement would usually incur when coming from Kentavious. It was so… strangely cheerful instead of arrogant.
Coach Bourne was as bewildered as anybody, though when Kentavious turned to him, it all became so clear. Without any words the boy asked for the Longhorns to trust in him completely and go for it on fourth down.
Ty watched from the opposite sideline, seeing the change stir through the Longhorns as a whole. Heads were raised instead of lowered. Shoulders were pushed back instead of curling inward. They stood tall and proud as they had to begin the game, and before the second half. And it was all because of something Kentavious had done.
Did you tell them you can beat me? Did you lie to your teammates, you fucking snake? Don't give them false hope. You'll never beat me again.
He glared at Kentavious throughout the break, massaging his legs until it was time to stand and take the field again.
Ty walked out first, confusing his teammates. The confusion didn't last long, though it was replaced by a different flavour of confusion itself. One that was more intense and packed a double whammy—why were the Longhorns going for it, and how had Ty known they would?
The Longhorns' offence, not their punting unit, were the ones to step foot on the gridiron to resume the fourth quarter. A buzz of excitement formed in the crowd, starting as a soft murmur, then a quiet hum, and finally sounding as if the whole place had become a beehive.
For Ty, that incessant buzzing represented his growing anger. He marched up to Kentavious, and stared deep into his eyes; into his soul. Ty's own eyes were pits of darkness and malice. So deep you could drown in them. Kentavious stared back with indifference. Heat and frost swirled around them, a vortex that kept all else out.
'You think you're better than me?' Ty snapped. 'You've already lost. You won't ever catch anything while sharing the same field as me. EVER. I've won this game. It's inescapable. Not because of fate, or destiny, or any of that bullshit. Simply because I, Tyrese Samuels, am the greatest—in the world of the ordinary, I'm the only one who's special.
'While you were sitting on your ass for a month, I proved that fact week in, week out. Every time there was some hyped up false idol just like you who stood against me, I crushed them into dust and irrelevance, because they were nothing more than great. You're great, Skywalker, but you're not SPECIAL.'
'Special?'
Kentavious rolled the word over his tongue. He thought back to the tape, the hours of film he'd obsessed over in the lead up to this championship game. He'd see a spark… but was that SPECIAL?
'What is special?' he finally asked.
Ty growled, teeth grinding. He wouldn't let Skywalker confused him, but before he could respond, Kentavious cut him off.
'Maybe you can tell me if I show you what I think of when I hear SPECIAL.'
The ball was snapped. Ty's spear stabbed out, piercing only air; Kentavious skipped to the outside. He'd reacted faster than anyone to the snap. Ty wheeled around and chased after him, catching him quickly.
Kentavious glanced across at Ty, smiling. 'You're fast. Is that special?'
Ty gritted his teeth, keeping up with him stride for stride, though unable to pull full enough ahead. Zayden turned towards them, thinking of joining their race, but they blazed past already. Surely they were running too far.
Yet Morrison stepped forward, putting all his faith in KJ as he unloaded a cannon. The ball shot out of his hand and streaked across the domed sky.
Kentavious found the ball in the air, a tiny dot against the silver ceiling of the dome. Ty looked back, locking onto the ball. Both thought it belonged to them.
The ball floated through the air for what felt like an eternity before it finally fell. Still in a full sprint, neither boy had slowed. They didn't need to. The pass was perfect.
Kentavious jumped first, twisting in the air to face the ball. Too soon, Ty thought. The ball would be his. He'd… it was coming in too high. Ty's brow furrowed. It looked like it'd miss them by less than a foot but maybe…maybe he could still. He leapt, twisting and arching as he stretched his body to the utmost, one arm piercing the sky. If he could just get his fingertips to it…
He stretched as far as he could, until it felt like all his joints would pop out of place. But he still wasn't close to the ball. It was way too high. No one could've caught it.
An uplifting breeze caressed Ty. A shadow passed over him. His eyes widened as his head tilted back. Kentavious was still ascending. He was flying. His hands rose further. As Ty started to crash back down to earth, Kentavious had only just reached his apex.
Ty could only watch. It seemed like both the ball and Kentavious were twenty feet off the ground. Somehow, Kentavious had reached it, walking through the heavens to do so.
Light glimmered around him. He was like a fucking painting reflected within Ty's dark eyes. For a moment, all was frozen, and Ty was stuck with that painting for eternity; a masterpiece titled simply—Skywalker.
Then Ty crashed, slamming into the ground like a meteor, before rolling to a painful stop.
Kentavious landed gracefully, still on his feet. Ty could only watch from his back as—without missing a stride—Kentavious sprinted into the end-zone for a 76-yard touchdown.
Kentavious's euphoria reached a crescendo as he ran through the end-zone towards a stand full of astonished, screaming fans. Joy overwhelmed their shock, and they screamed for him as if welcoming a beloved king. The feeling quickly turned bitter.
Starting in his stomach, the bitterness curled its way up his throat. The ball fell from his hands, his euphoria vanishing as clarity swarmed in. The warmth rushed out, replaced by a cold hollowness. He'd soared through the air, higher than ever; it was magical. But then the moment was gone, and he was left with the consequences.
In one play he'd reversed the game; in one play he'd taken all of Ty's effort throughout not just forty-five minutes, but an entire year, and made it obsolete. He'd leapfrogged the only rival to challenge him, and eclipsed him with an all new peak even he'd only just discovered.
Kentavious knew then what it meant to be special—being special meant being alone. Forever. There was no space on the mountaintop for anyone else, there never had been. Kentavious had just been spending all his time on the penultimate peak before the summit itself. Only the king could stand on the summit, and he did so by stepping on the bodies of those who had come before him.
He turned, facing his teammates, empty, even as they swarmed him, mirroring and overwhelming the joy and exhilaration found in the stands. Kentavious saw beyond them, to where Ty knelt; where he'd left Ty behind.
If Kentavious was hollow, Ty was a tempest. He was shaking with broiling emotions as he stared at Kentavious, and the longer the two held eyes, the more Ty's rage burned its way to the forefront.
Don't you fucking look at me like that. Don't you fucking pity me!
Supernova. Black Hole. A force powerful enough to not only suck in, but destroy all light and hope. There had been flashes of such a thing in Ty's film. Even in this game he'd shown it… potential? No. It was just an illusion. The only one welcome amongst the stars was Kentavious. Ty was just a…a shark. Formidable, dangerous, indomitable. A king of its realm. But only its realm. Bring a shark out of the ocean's depths, and it was just another fish out of water. Like any other it would flounder with nowhere to go, and slowly choke to death.
I thought… But what had he thought? He delved within himself once more. Shouldn't he be happy with nothing more than a sky to soar through? Even if he was alone. As long as he had a ball to chase higher and higher, something to strive for. Wasn't that enough? But he'd never been alone. Not once in those few memories of happiness. Someone was always there with him. SHE was always by his side.
I thought you were the one.
Kentavious turned away, the sea of noise unable to drown his thoughts.
He was still the loneliest star in the universe.