Damian likes to think heâs experienced his fair share of embarrassment this year, but even then, nothing has quite prepared him for this. Itâs like the day he came back from his suspension but much worse. This isnât fear or mistrust or whatever else people looked at him with then. This is... utter shock. And pity probably. So much pity that Damian actually feels insulted. He insulted himself by performing so poorly.
âUm--â The first thing he thinks of is how heâd be scolded if his mother were around. She always tells them to never say âumâ or start anything with âumâ because it suggests youâre unsure or not confident. And boy is she right because Damian is plenty helpings of both at the moment. âI, well--â Get back into it. Donât fall apart. Carry on, he instructs himself. âThatâs practice for today, team. Good-- um, good efforts. Iâm proud.â Lie. A lie he wishes wasnât so because he should be proud of his team. He shouldnât be feeling like this but he canât help it.
Damian canât exactly recall what he says after that because heâs running on auto-pilot and shame is quick to fill his cheeks, but he excuses himself when he otherwise wouldnât and he knows his team can tell heâs embarrassed and that makes things even more embarrassing. He retreats to his things on the bench, hoping to dry off and wait around here pretending to jot things down on his chart while everyone else files into the locker rooms to change and shower and likely talk about his terrible execution and how heâs probably an unfit leader now.
Heâs rifling through his gym bag for absolutely nothing when he hears someone approach from behind him. âWhatever it is, weâll touch on it next week, okay?â He doesnât look behind him. He canât. âItâs Friday. Please just-- enjoy yourself and carry on back to the dorms.â He does his best to hold himself together but all thatâs running through his mind is his mistake, his loss, his humiliation.
