"Kairo, what are you doing?" my mom questioned, walking into my bedroom. "Why is your room such a mess?"

"I don't know what I'm doing, mom," I responded bluntly, still laying in bed and staring up at the ceiling.

"You've been in bed all day, what's wrong with you?" she sighed, disappointed. I sat upright on my bed and blinked at her with a blank expression on my face, "Nothing's wrong. Today is just my lazy day."

"Oh hell no," she said, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth to depict her annoyance. "Get off of bed right this instant, young man - and clean your room up."

"But mom, I don't wanna," I whined like a little toddler.

"Alright then go outside for a walk or something and I'll clean your room, how does that sound?" she offered, placing her hands on her hips.

"You look like a Karen right now," I snorted before realizing she couldn't grasp Gen-Z humor. "Never-mind, when should I be back?"

"I don't know, do I look like a fortune teller to you?" she scoffed. I decided not to argue any longer and got off of bed with a groan of protest before storming out of my room. I sauntered out of the house and shut the door behind me, heaving a sigh at how hot it was outside.

Even though it was night-time, it still felt like I was living in an easy-bake oven and I despised that with a burning passion.

And even though I really, really, really didn't want to, I began what would turn out to be one of the longest walks I'd ever gone for. I went to every possible place I had in mind - I took a round around my street, went to a couple parks in the opposite street and sat down for a minute or two so I could rest my legs, and even hung out with a clowder of stray cats.

By the time I decided to begin my adventure back home, around two hours had already passed by. It was so dark and so hot, halfway through the walk I already began regretting my decision. Beads of sweat were cascading down my forehead and down the back of my neck and I was panting like a dog out in the heat - not in heat, for all you dirty minded fuckers out there.

Pointless thoughts began to occupy my mind whilst I walked back with my hands stuffed into the pockets of my sweatpants even though it was already humid enough. Whilst walking back, I passed by a football field and stopped in my tracks when I heard noises from the field.

Oh God, please don't be a ghost. Is this how I die?

I swallowed nervously and attempted to push back all the negative thoughts and forced myself to look over at what it was.

What in the fucking world?

"Alexander, is that you?" I shouted out.

Even though it was dark and I could only see his silhouette in the distance, I could already tell from the build that it was him. He stopped and bent down to grab what I assumed was the ball and began to make his way over to me in slow, menacing steps.

"Stop! You look like a murderer," I called out nervously. I heard him chuckle and and I folded my arms across my chest and simply waited till he was finally standing in front of me. Even then, I couldn't see him clearly - but one thing was for sure. He was shirtless.

"Go put a shirt on!" I complained, feigning disgust at the sight of his delicious, delicious six pack.

"Alright, give me your shirt then," he responded with a smug wink.

I felt my heart flip at that. Holy shit, this man. I was thankful that it was dark so he couldn't see how bad I was blushing at that very moment. Firstly, it didn't help that he was shirtless. Secondly, it didn't help that he was wearing loose, grey sweatpants. Thirdly, it didn't help that he was looking at me like he was gonna devour me. I was just about ready to get on my knees and-.. pray.

"What were you doing?" I questioned, trying my hardest to maintain eye contact and not let my eyes travel down to his tantalizing abs and v-line.

"Performing a satanic ritual," he responded sarcastically. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Practicing football?" I stated dumbly. "By yourself, though?"

"Yeah, I didn't want to bother anyone else," he confessed. "Do you wanna help me then?"

"I suck at football," I admitted. "I've never played it before."

"No way, you've probably played it at least once before," he snorted in response, handing me the ball. "What position were you then?"

"Bottom," I responded. "No, I'm kidding. I was the football."

He stared at me, unimpressed, "Everyone can tell that you're a bottom, now come on."

"Excuse me?" I scoffed, offended. "In that case, you're a bottom as well."

"I would prove you wrong but I'm afraid you wouldn't be able to handle it," he responded with a sly wink before turning around and making his way back into the football field.

This man was going to be the death of me.