#michaelscorner

stephen has been playing on the school’s team every year alongside michael - and though stephen can recognize that he’s a decent forward on the team, leading their division in goals scored for the past two seasons. but despite being good at soccer - every time michael opens his mouth, stephen’s eyes roll. he’d been pretty good at hiding it for the first season they played together, but considering how much time the team ends up spending together - he’s sure it’s not very well hidden anymore.

as their third year came to a close and stephen’s name came up in nominations for a co-captain - it felt right, it felt like something he deserved. maybe he was stroking his own ego, but without a goalie as good as he was, would the team be where it was now? he knew that captain was something that he rightfully deserved and had worked hard for.

and then, michael corner’s name was the other one. suddenly, though, it felt a lot more like a punishment.

it’s not that stephen actually hates michael. like noah tells him, he doesn’t think stephen is really capable of hating anyone, as he’s only capable of holding a grudge for about four minutes before caving in. 

but he’s also positive that he’s never met anyone that frustrates him so much.

his roommate, seamus, has mentioned a few times that michael can’t be as bad as stephen describes him to be. maybe they butt heads all the time because they’re similar, or because they’re both as dedicated to the team as the other is. stephen will usually just grumble at that, pouting and asking why seamus can’t just take his side when he complains about michael corner. 

“stop being so logical. you don’t even know him, and you’re defending him,” stephen says to tease him, only to be flipped off in return.

– 

“who’s that?” michael asks him at the end of their fourth game, motioning to the small crowd that’s lingering outside the stadium waiting for them. it was a good game, tied until the last quarter when michael scored the final goal and brought home the win for them again. 

hoisting his duffel bag up higher on his shoulder, he looks out to where michael is gesturing. stephen recognizes terry boot and padma patil, as they usually hung out around the stadium when there was a game and michael was there. he raises a brow, before looking back at him. “that’s noah, my boyfriend.” 

with a quick shake of his head, michael motions once again at the crowd. “not the edgelord, the other one,” he says again.

“ohhhh, you mean seamus? he’s my roommate. i’m surprised he’s here. to be honest, i’m actually surprised he’s started coming to the games at all considering he hates when i talk about soccer.” stephen gives a wave at the others before he notices that michael is still looking over with a curious look on his face.

“huh. interesting,” is all he gets in response, before walking over to meet his friends. “see you later, cornfoot.” 

seamus continues to show up to their games, sometimes to a practice or two. when stephen asks him what his sudden interest in coming is, his roommate just shrugs. “i dunno. never noticed how exciting it was to watch until this year.”

it doesn’t go unnoticed by michael, either. he mentions it at least once a game to stephen - intrigue turning into something with more of an edge. 

it almost sounds like jealousy. 

something doesn’t add up in stephen’s head. seamus couldn’t care less about soccer. michael couldn’t care less about who comes to see stephen. what’s the missing piece in this whole thing?

–

they’ve just been handed their first loss of the season, and everyone is taking it hard. stephen and michael are both on edge, words clipped and terse when they talk to one another. it’s easy to place blame on one another during this, pointing fingers and talking about all the opportunities that the other failed in.

yet, it there’s one thing they can agree on, it’s how to work through it with the team, and that’s to run drills and keep perfecting plays.

this practice started hours ago, the two captains bickering at certain points on what should’ve been the next step or the next drill. “we need to work on kicking goals,” michael hisses at stephen during their most recent water break, at which stephen shakes his head, draining the rest of his bottle. 

“we’re going to do a 7-on-7, work on plays. doesn’t matter if we can kick goals or not if we can’t even carry out a play,” stephen pointed out, before walking away and grabbing the rest of the team into a huddle. he splits the team into two parts, turning to grab the soccer ball from the bench and finding himself faced with michael. 

“is it impossible for you to listen to anything i say?” 

with a shrug, stephen drops his water bottle and runs out onto the field, calling out instructions at the remainder of the team. 

the team is on edge still, fumbling over their own feet and getting in their own way - not working in the usual cohesive manner they’re used to. it probably doesn’t help that he and michael are doing exactly that as well, bickering at any possible chance. “looks like we can’t even practice anymore without stephen’s private cheering section showing up! how much did you bribe him to come this time?” michael calls out, getting a few laughs as he points at the stands. where stephen notices that seamus is sitting.  

trying to catch his breath, stephen rolls his eyes, stopping the ball that was rolling towards him under his cleat. his shirt is uncomfortably sticking to his skin, sweaty and warm, and he’d like nothing more than to continue on with the scrimmage - but fuck, this is getting annoying. 

“are you that oblivious, corner?” he asks, placing his hands on his hips. 

michael stops as well, seemingly confused by the question before he makes a face. “what’s that supposed to mean, cornfoot? pass the damn ball!” 

with a huff, stephen kicks the ball over to the sidelines, before grabbing michael by the shoulder and starting to walk over towards the stands. “seamus could care less about coming to see me practice - we live together, it’s not like we’re dying to see each other twenty-four hours a day.” as soon as seamus notices that the two of them are walking towards him, a look of panic arises on his face, mouthing something unintelligible to stephen.

“i’d ask you if it ever occurred to you that he’s not here to see me - rather someone else on the team. yet from the look on your face, i’m pretty sure i’m already aware of the answer. he obviously comes because he wants to see you, dumbass,” he points out, before motioning to seamus and giving michael a gentle shove. 

“oh my god, this is not happening. holy shit, i swear to god, stephen, i am going to murder you for this,” seamus is muttering, burying his face in his hands. michael’s looking more confused than before as he looks at seamus, but stephen notices the subtle pink shade that’s risen on his cheeks, and he knows his work here is done.

michael looks back and forth between him and seamus, before settling on latter. there’s a whisper of a smile on his face. “really?” he asks. seamus pulls his hands away from his face, looking at michael sheepishly

“that depends… on how you’d react if i said yes.”

with a mutter of something about how he needs a few minutes and stephen should continue the practice without him, michael’s climbing the steps of the stands to make his way over to seamus, taking the seat beside him. rolling his eyes, stephen makes his way back to the field, yelling at the rest of the team that was sitting around.