"Alright everyone. We don't have a hell of a lot of time." Coach muttered, all of the team gathered around him in a tight huddle. They were all panting, they were all sweating, and they were all on edge. "Here's what we're going to do."

He began stringing out names that the blonde was too tired to catch; he only paid attention to their positions. Two mid, two defense, another mid…two attack, goalkeeper of course…another defense…

He looked pointedly at the blonde, who immediately snapped to attention and absorbed everything around him. His teammates were as tired as he was, but each of them were as eager to win. They were playing the Sky Hawks, their biggest competitor since the season had started some months ago. Now, here they were at State, the fate of the game depending on one goal.

"Roxas."

"Yes."

"You already know what position I'm going to give you."

"Attack." Roxas grinned and looked around at his team, all of whom were looking at him like the entire game depended on him. This was true and untrue; just because he was the best player didn't necessarily mean that he would score the winning goal. And he hated their praise.

"That's it, my boy. Now, all of you little pricks get out there and kick some ass. The last thing I want is to see this dick heads from a little, tiny town in the middle of no where beat us in State. You got it?"

There was a chorus of 'got it's and 'yep's and all sorts of other answers before they broke, each member running out to his designated position on the field. Roxas was being guarded by a very feminine looking boy, probably about his age, and about the size of the eight story building that the little blonde lived next to.

"Hey shrimp." The it said, shoving Roxas's shoulder. "You ready to fuck this up for your team so bad they'll feel it in the ass tomorrow?"

Roxas just laughed, his stance one of preparation. He knew the ball would be passed to him, all he had to do was be ready. "You know what they say, bro."

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

"The bigger they are, the harder they fall."

With that the ref blew the whistle, and they were off. All of the midfielders broke off in the directions that they had agreed on, the one on Roxas's team that, thank God, had the ball passing in a million confusing directions so that the other team would lose track.

It wasn't very difficult for Roxas to lose his guard, who was a very big, very slow boy with not a hell of a lot of eye-hand-foot coordination. It was easy for him to zig-zag between the other players and get open so that he could be passed the ball, bolt over to the goal.

Sora was in control of it at the moment. He was cradling it amazingly well, and when he caught sight of Roxas was more than eager to pass. Roxas lifted his stick and was barely even aware that he was running once he had caught it, let alone that he had caught it in the first place.

What didn't work out in his favor was that he was literally in the dead center of the field. There were players of the opposite team surrounding him and defense players hovering around the goal that was where he was headed, but none of this mattered. He dodged their checks expertly, cradling the ball like it was his baby (which, metaphorically speaking, it was), sprinting as fast as he possibly could to the other end of the field.

He was, in fact, so focused that he didn't even notice Big Boy's foot stick out right in front of his path about two feet away from the goal. He didn't notice the smirk on the face of all of the other team, or the cries of caution from his team.

The second his foot caught, a few things happened. First, his stick went flying, the ball flying out of it, straight into the other team's goal. They had been so preoccupied with Roxas's tripping that the goalkeeper had completely forgotten to actually keep the goal, leaving a path wide open for the blonde's team to score. Which they did.

He felt a stabbing pain in his ankle and heard something that sounded like the cracking of a knuckle, even though he was pretty damn sure there weren't any knuckles in his ankle, and then a complete numbness in his right foot altogether. He took this as a sign that there was something wrong, even though it didn't really completely register in his mind.

He was pretty sure he didn't feel his nose break against his goggles, he just heard it. Well, if he had to choose between hearing it and feeling it, he would've chosen the latter. It made a disgusting crunching sound; like the sound you hear when someone bites into a nice and ripe and crisp apple in the summer time. Great to hear if you're hungry, terrible to hear if it's in relation to your nose.

The last thing he was aware of before he felt the butt of Big Boy's stick come in contact with the base of his neck was the ref calling a few things, all of which disturbed him. The first was, "Goal! Trojans take the match!" followed by, "TRIP! On Sky Hawks!" immediately after which he heard, "HEAD CHECK! SOMEONE CALL A MEDIC!"

--

Roxas knew that there had to be some rule against bringing knitting supplies into a hospital. If not because someone had an allergy to the yarn, it had to be because the incessant 'clink' of the needles would drive all of the patients insane. All the same, Roxas's mother sat in the chair beside his bed, knitting away at a pair of socks for her poor Roxy.

The blonde was deeply engrossed in his book, The Vampire Lestat, praying to God that Lestat could somehow become real and that by some divine act he would be gay and fall in love with Roxas. Chances were slim but…the hope spring's eternal?

His doctor walked in, some weirdo named Vexen, slapping Roxas on the ankle. When the blonde let out a strangled cry of pain he immediately recoiled, apologizing with his gaze before he turned to Roxas's mother.

"Mrs…uh…Mrs. DuPont?" He cleared his throat, Roxas's mom glancing upward, smiling.

"Yes, Doctor?"

"I have the results…from your son's assessment…" Roxas blinked at the words 'results' and 'assessment,' placing his bookmark delicately in the book at setting it down to pay close attention.

"And?"

"Well, the surgery went well." He muttered, glancing down at Roxas's ankle, which was trapped in the uncomfortable ankle brace, and smiled. "We had to put in a few pins, but that aside I think the recovery time will be very brief. Also, your nose should start to look back to normal very quickly."

Roxas ignored the last comment, having already forgotten about his newly broken nose, leaning forward excitedly. "When can I start playing again?"

His mother groaned, setting her knitting down. "Roxas, is lacrosse all you think about?"

"Yes." He answered shortly, still staring at his doctor. "When can I start playing again?"

"Well…that actually brings me to my next point." Vexen muttered. "You see, due to the nature of your injury and where we had to place the pins, there are going to be some complications with your physical activity."

"What do you mean 'complications'?" Roxas barked, almost lunging forward, his expression livid. "When can I play?"

"That's…that's just the thing." Vexen cleared his throat and straightened his tie. "You can't. I highly doubt you're ever going to be able to run again. Of course, that won't prevent you from doing other things…you understand this all depends on your physical therapist…"

The doctor trailed off, Roxas's expression enough to silence him. The little blonde looked like he was about to kill someone, hands balling into fists, soft sounds of distress emanating from his throat, and quickly Vexen looked away and at Roxas's mother.

"I know a few good physical therapists in the area, and if you want I can refer you--"

"What the hell do you mean, I can't?" Roxas finally snapped. "Of course I can! All it is is a stupid broken ankle with a few pins! Tell me what the recovery time is so I cal tell me team when to expect me back!"

"Roxas, I'm sorry but--"

"Why are you apologizing? There isn't anything wrong! Tell me when I can play again!" Roxas looked terribly distressed. His face was red, his brows knit together in confusion and distress, and he looked frantically between his mother and his doctor, both of whom were watching him solemnly.

"Roxas, I'm sorry." Vexen muttered finally. He was wringing the blonde's charts between his hands nervously, shaking his head. "I know how passionate you are about lacrosse, but it just can't be done. If you were ever to even run again, you would probably be in so much pain you could very well pass out. I…I think it's time you found a new passion."

Roxas was shaking his head, tears already streaming down his face, his mother trying to comfort him. He kept shaking her off, though, glancing desperately at his book and out the window and at the TV. He was looking for anything to help him outlet his anger and frustration and sadness, but to no avail.

Distantly, he was aware of Vexen telling his mother about several good physical therapists in the area that she could contact. He could refer her to most of them, but the most exclusive required a personal, face-to-face meeting. Of course she would choose on of those…because she needed the best for her poor Roxy.

He was distantly aware of his mother signing his discharge papers and getting his clothes together and his stuff and stuffing it all in a bag and telling him to get out of bed to change. Of course, none of it registered. After playing lacrosse for almost thirteen years…he couldn't imagine his life without it.

--

"Alright. Now…what's he going to need? Assume that cost isn't an object." Roxas was sitting on the couch, flipping through the channels, trying his best to keep away from the lacrosse channel that he made his mom subscribe to especially for him.

"Okay. That's great. And the first appointment is…Tuesday?" There was a pause, and Roxas inclined his head toward the kitchen to try and get a better look at his mother, who had been on the phone for the last twenty minutes trying to have a conversation with his physical therapist. Trying.

"Alrighty! I think that just about covers everything. Thank you so much mister…?" She trailed off, and Roxas couldn't believe that she was stupid enough to ask for his name instead of looking at the little article she printed off about him online.

"Russo! Got it. Okay, well, we'll see you Tuesday! Mmhmm. Buh-bye." She placed the phone back on its hook and all but pranced into the living room, where Roxas had redirected his attention to a far more interesting episode of Family Guy.

"Oh Roxas~"

"What, Mom?"

"You're going to love your new physical therapist!" She seemed really excited, and the blonde couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. She was acting like such a soccer mom, it wasn't even funny. No offense to soccer moms. (In Roxas's opinion, she should've been acting like a lacrosse mom, but no.)

"As opposed to my 'old' physical therapist?" He asked.

"Oh, stop it. You know what I mean. But anyway," She bounced over to the couch and sat down next to Roxas, who didn't tear his eyes from the TV screen to look at her. "He's this really nice guy, you're going to call him Mr. Russo. He has a really good reputation among post-surgery clients. Very exclusive."

"I'm sure it is, Mom." Roxas muttered. "But just out of curiosity…how much are you paying per appointment?"

"About $1500. That's for two hours, that is." She smiled and cocked her head to the side in a gesture of innocence (a habit that Roxas had, unfortunately, inherited from her) and placed a hand on Roxas's shoulder. "Don't worry though, love. I want the absolute best for my Roxy."

"Please don't call me that, Mom." Roxas groaned. "Seriously, I think you should call this guy back and ask for a lower price. Or not go to him at all. I mean, that's just ridiculous. You shouldn't have to pay that much."

"Well it's not like we can't afford it!" She said defensively, straightening up all the way and crossing her arms stubbornly. "Plus, I've already paid for the next two month's appointments."

Roxas's expression deadpanned. "You're joking."

"Not at all."

"Oh my God Mom!" He groaned. "Well, how often am I going? Like, once a week?"

"Actually, you're going five times a week." Now she was getting cocky. She smirked down at her son, stood up, and patted his head. "Don't worry, honey. It's going to be fine."

"Mom, you're killing me here."

She sighed. "Roxas, you might as well make the best of this. It's not like you're going to get out of it by griping. Now get up off the couch and go put some clothes on."

"Why?"

"Your new physical therapist runs a pretty tight shift. You're not allowed to consume simple carbs or sugars during your entire time with him. So I figured I'd get you an ice-cream cone to make you feel better." She had her car keys already and was standing by the door, watching Roxas gape at her from the couch.

"What?"

"You heard me. Now let's go, princess."

A/N: Yay! A nice short chapter to get you guise excited for my newest story~

This isn't going to be as epic as Amber, I'll tell you right now. It's not going to have as much angst, and there's going to be way more fluff. And it's going to be fluffy. And Roxas is older, so there isn't any shota. :( Ohhhhh welll. We'll just have to deal until my NEXT story! ;D But anyway...yeah. I hope you guise like this one. 'Cuz I like this one. And I don't want you all to not like this one 'cuz I like it and...yeah. Heh...^^;

Well, subscribe. And read. And enjoy. AND REVIEW! I love your reviews. They're all so nice. So...yay. ^^