NOTE: This was an extension of a story I was already working on with the David and Jerry characters. I was inspired to pick it back up again when I saw the beautiful video for Sigur Ros' "Vidrar Vel Til Loftarasa". *sniff* So...this does have to do w/ the love between these two boys, so homophobes and pricks be warned and don't come crying to me if you're offended.

David ties the laces of his shoes tightly, tugging hard at the strings. The shoes must be tight. It's a fear he has, a paranoia, that he will be playing during the game and the shoes will come undone and he'll trip and fall in the mud. He brushes bits of grass and dirt from his soccer uniform and stands up to stretch his legs. He looks up at the sky. A dark gray cloud is approaching quickly on the horizon, reminding him of a Biblical film he once saw. David scrambles onto a nearby rock to get a better look at the playing field. A cool wind brushes the backs of his knees and he sighs contentedly. He feels like a god right now, standing here. He wants to move the lightning. David looks at his watch and realizes he's about to be late. He quickly scrambles down the hill towards the field. Jerry's here, he notices with a smile. He looks at Jerry's uniform, the same bright red as his, and thinks how ill it suits him, making his ivory skin even paler, sickly looking almost. The wind starts to pick up, developing an icy edge. Jerry starts to shiver and David has an odd impulse to hold him. "We shouldn't be playing today," Jerry mutters, his voice shaking. David nods, "A storm's coming. You can feel it." Jerry mumbles a string of curse words, having been terrified of storms since the age of five. David knows this and smiles sympathetically. He rubs Jerry's shoulder to calm him and the two boys' eyes lock.
Jerry's eyes are a deep green. They stand out from the rest of his face and seem to glow, clear like a crystal. David can see his reflection in them and turns away, slightly unnerved. Jerry is still looking at him, oddly. There's a sadness in his eyes, a sadness stemmed from not getting what one wants. David recognizes the look because he knows he has it too.
"What's wrong?" David asks, then regrets it. It's a stupid question and he knows it.
Jerry's eyes well up with tears. His chest heaves from trying to hold them back and his face takes on a desperate, strained look. David forgets and hugs him tighly. He can hear Jerry's muffled sobs against his shoulder.
"It's OK," he whispers to Jerry even though he doesn't know why.
He leans back to look at Jerry, his eyes glossy. In this small fraction of time everything has changed between them. A whistle blows then, signaling that the game is about to start. David and Jerry spring away from each other. Something hangs in the air, a deep, palpable feeling. David's stomach sinks as he watches Jerry walk away, counting the steps that take him further and further away.