Something About You

A candy

The training ground buzzed with the usual intensity—coaches barking orders, players moving in sync, the steady rhythm of cleats hitting the grass. Aaron, as always, was in the thick of it, pushing himself through drills with mechanical precision. Sweat clung to his skin, his breaths coming in sharp, controlled bursts as he tried to keep pace with the relentless demands of training.

But beneath the surface, something else was simmering. It wasn’t just the physical exhaustion from the intense schedule; it was the mounting pressure, the constant weight of expectations that seemed to grow heavier with every passing day. There were games to win, performances to deliver, people to impress. And Aaron, ever the professional, had always prided himself on meeting those expectations, on being the player everyone could count on.

Yet lately, something felt off. As he sprinted across the field, heart pounding in his chest, Aaron couldn’t shake the creeping sense of fatigue—not just in his body, but deep in his bones. It was the kind of tiredness that sleep didn’t fix, the kind that lingered even when he wasn’t on the pitch. Every time he thought he’d caught up, another demand would appear. Another game, another meeting, another set of eyes watching his every move.

He feared letting people down. His coaches, his teammates, the fans—they all had such high hopes for him, and Aaron didn’t want to disappoint. He couldn’t. But the truth was, the constant grind was starting to wear on him. The more he pushed himself, the more it felt like he was running on empty, like no matter how much he gave, it would never be enough to meet everyone’s expectations.

There were moments, like now, during training, where he felt the exhaustion creeping up on him. It was in the stiffness of his muscles, in the way his mind seemed to wander when it should’ve been focused on the next drill. The fear of failure gnawed at him, yet so did the sheer exhaustion that came with trying to be perfect all the time.

He wanted to keep going. To push through it, like he always had. But there was a part of him—a small, quiet part—that was starting to ask what if it’s too much? What if, in trying to please everyone, he was losing himself?

Aaron closed his eyes for a second, just long enough to center himself, trying to push away the doubts. But even as he opened them and jogged back into position, the weight of it all stayed with him. The fear of falling short, of not being enough, pressed down harder with each passing day. And no matter how fast he ran, how hard he trained, that fear never seemed to let up.

But the thing that scared him most wasn’t just the fear of failure. It was the growing exhaustion, the creeping thought that maybe—just maybe—he was getting tired of it all. Tired of being the player who always had to be perfect, who couldn’t afford to slip up. Tired of the endless cycle of games, training, and expectations that left little room for anything else.

As the session went on, Aaron felt the familiar ache in his legs, his body responding to the drill. But the ache in his chest, that heaviness, remained.

…

Layla was about to sit down for lunch with Sarah, her stomach rumbling in anticipation after a long morning of work. But just as she unpacked her meal, a thought struck her like a bolt of lightning—her personal bag was still sitting at the side of the pitch, right near the bench where the players had gathered earlier.

"s**t," she muttered under her breath, feeling a wave of panic wash over her.

Sarah, sitting across from her, gave her an incredulous look. "What now?" she asked, already sensing trouble.

"My bag. I left it by the bench," Layla groaned, stuffing her lunch back into her bag. "I’ve got to go get it."

Sarah crossed her arms, her eyebrows raised. "Seriously, Layla? You’ve got to stop being so careless. We just sat down! Why didn’t you grab it when you left the field?"

"I know, I know," Layla sighed, standing up quickly. "Look, just go ahead and start lunch without me. I’ll be right back."

Sarah’s lips thinned into a disapproving line, but she relented. "Fine, but you owe me. You’re way too forgetful for your own good."

"Yeah, yeah," Layla mumbled, already halfway out the door as Sarah called after her, still grumbling about Layla’s carelessness.

The sun beat down as Layla hurried back toward the field, her footsteps quick and determined. She cursed herself for being so absent-minded; she was already tired from the long hours, and now this. As she neared the benches, her eyes searched for her bag. Relief flooded her when she spotted it, still right where she had left it.

But just as she approached, she noticed something—or rather, someone—else. Aaron was sitting there, on the edge of the bench, a bottle of water in his hand. His head was tilted slightly upward, and he seemed lost in thought, the usual focus in his eyes replaced by something faraway, distant. He wasn’t his usual confident self, not in this moment at least. He looked… tired.

Layla froze in her tracks, unsure what to do. Her bag was just a few feet away from him, but she hesitated, unsure if she should disturb him. For a second, she considered just walking away and coming back later, but then she shook her head. It’s just Aaron. No big deal.

But that was a lie. It was always a big deal when it came to him.

She chewed her bottom lip, weighing her options. Should she say something? Or should she just quietly grab her bag and go? The longer she stood there, the more awkward it would become, she knew. But something about the way Aaron was sitting there—so still, so unlike the animated, energetic player she was used to seeing—made her hesitate.

He looked like he had a lot on his mind, and suddenly, the words she might’ve said stuck in her throat. She didn’t know if he’d even want to talk. Maybe he needed space, or maybe he didn’t even notice her standing there.

Layla’s fingers fidgeted by her side as she stood in the silent tug-of-war with herself. The bag was so close. So was Aaron.

Layla took a deep breath, steeling herself as she made her way over to the bench. She bent down quietly, hoping to retrieve her bag without making any noise, not wanting to disturb Aaron. But as her fingers wrapped around the strap of her bag, Aaron shifted slightly, his attention snapping out of his daydream. He turned his head toward her, his eyes catching hers in surprise.

Layla froze, her heart skipping a beat. She hadn’t expected him to notice her, let alone acknowledge her presence. And now, with Aaron looking directly at her, the air between them felt awkward. She quickly averted her gaze, fumbling with her bag.

In a sudden rush of nervousness, Layla dug into her bag and pulled out a small packet of her favorite mango-flavored candy. Without thinking much, she offered it to Aaron, her hand extended. "Here," she blurted out, her voice a little higher than usual. "Have one. Eating candy can make you happy."

Aaron blinked, momentarily caught off guard by her gesture. He glanced at the candy in her hand before taking it slowly. Layla stood there for a split second, her cheeks flushing slightly as the awkwardness of the situation settled in. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, and before Aaron could say anything, she grabbed her bag and hurriedly mumbled, "I should go—uh, lunch break, you know."

She turned on her heel and started walking away, her steps quick, her breath uneven. She could feel the heat rising in her face as she mentally kicked herself for acting so awkwardly. But just as she was almost out of earshot, Aaron’s voice drifted toward her, soft and thoughtful.

"You still like the same candy…”

Layla didn’t hear him. His voice was low, almost to himself, as he looked down at the small mango-flavored candy in his hand, his fingers turning it over gently. He smiled faintly, reminiscing, but Layla had already hurried off, oblivious to his quiet words.

Layla rushed into the café, her breath a little unsteady from the quick walk. She spotted Sarah already sitting at a table near the window, scrolling through her phone while waiting. As soon as she slid into the seat opposite her friend, Sarah looked up.

“Did you find your bag?” Sarah asked, her tone half-concerned, half-annoyed.

Layla nodded, trying to act normal despite the lingering awkwardness from her encounter with Aaron. “Yeah, got it,” she replied quickly. “No harm done.”

Sarah narrowed her eyes a little, sensing something was off. “You sure? You seem a little… rattled. Did something happen?”

Layla shook her head, hoping to steer the conversation away from Aaron. “No, really, everything’s fine. Just... uh, reminded me to be more careful next time.”

Sarah sighed, leaning back in her chair. “You’re always too careless, Layla. I swear, one day you’re going to forget something way more important than a bag, and I won’t be able to save you.”

Layla gave a sheepish smile. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ll be more careful.”

After a pause, Sarah softened, waving it off. “Well, at least you got it back. Anyway, let’s eat. How’s your day been? Anything interesting?”

Relieved at the shift in conversation, Layla relaxed a bit, glancing over the café’s menu as she spoke. “It’s been… busy, I guess. Lots of running around. That injury scare with Aaron earlier was stressful, but it turned out fine. Oh, and I gave him one of my mango candies.”

Sarah blinked in surprise. “Wait, what? Why’d you give Aaron a candy?”

Layla shrugged, trying to downplay the moment. “I don’t know. He just looked like he needed something to cheer him up. It was kind of random.”

A smirk tugged at Sarah’s lips. “Oh, really? So now you’re giving candies to the star player? I wonder what he thought about that.”

Layla’s cheeks flushed a little. “Stop it, it wasn’t like that. It was just... something small.”

“Sure, sure,” Sarah teased, before dropping the subject. “Well, my day’s been pretty uneventful compared to yours. A lot of paperwork, and I had to deal with a stubborn player who refused treatment.”

Layla chuckled, grateful to turn the attention back to Sarah. They began swapping stories about their day, their lunch stretching into an easy back-and-forth conversation. It was nice to unwind a little after the chaos of training, and even nicer to have someone to talk to about everything—well, almost everything. Layla wasn’t ready to bring up Aaron’s weird comment about her smile just yet.

As Layla and Sarah continued their conversation, the sound of rain tapping against the café window caught Layla’s attention. She turned her head slightly to look outside, watching as the sky turned a dull gray, and the steady downpour began to blur the view of the training field in the distance. The sight of the rain should have been calming, but instead, Layla felt a sudden wave of dizziness wash over her.

She blinked a few times, trying to shake it off, pressing her fingers lightly to her temples as the sensation lingered. It wasn’t anything serious, just a headache creeping in, but it was enough to make her feel slightly off balance. Great timing, she thought, silently cursing her body for choosing now, of all times, to start acting up. She forced a smile, hoping Sarah wouldn’t notice, but her friend was always too perceptive.

“Layla?” Sarah’s voice broke through her thoughts, her tone shifting from playful to concerned. “You okay? You’ve gone quiet all of a sudden.”

Layla quickly straightened up, trying to mask her discomfort. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she lied, giving a half-hearted smile. “Just got a little distracted by the rain, that’s all.”

But Sarah wasn’t buying it. She leaned forward, narrowing her eyes at Layla like she could see right through her. “Uh-huh. You’re holding your head like you’ve got a migraine. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

Layla sighed, dropping the act. “It’s nothing, really. Just a small headache. I’m probably just tired.”

“Tired? Layla, you’re pushing yourself too much lately,” Sarah scolded gently. “I know the job’s stressful, but if you’re not feeling well, you need to take care of yourself. Don’t wait until you collapse in front of us or something.”

Layla winced a little at Sarah’s bluntness, but she knew her friend was right. “I’ll be fine,” she reassured her, though even she wasn’t fully convinced.

“I just need to rest, maybe grab a painkiller when I get back. But right now, I’m okay.”

Sarah studied her for a moment longer, then sighed, relenting. “Alright, if you say so. But if it gets worse, promise me you’ll call it a day. No more playing the hero, okay?”

Layla nodded, grateful for Sarah’s concern but not wanting to make a big deal out of it. “I promise.”

They continued their lunch, but the rain outside and the pounding in Layla’s head made it hard for her to focus. She tried to keep up with the conversation, but every now and then, her gaze would drift back to the window, watching the rain fall in thick sheets, her mind drifting further away.

But Sarah sighed heavily, clearly unconvinced by Layla’s reassurances. She stared at her friend for a moment, her eyes narrowing with that determined look that Layla had come to know all too well. It was the look Sarah gave whenever she was about to put her foot down.

“That’s it,” Sarah finally said, standing up from her seat.

“You’re going home. I’m not letting you sit here and suffer in silence, pretending like you’re fine. I’ll talk to the staff, let them know you need to leave early.”

Layla’s eyes widened, quickly shaking her head.

“No, Sarah, I can’t—there’s still so much to do! I’ll be fine, really. Just a couple more hours and I’ll—”

“Layla.” Sarah’s voice was firm but gentle, cutting her off before she could protest any further. “You’ve been running yourself into the ground lately, and I’m not going to watch you push through another long day when you’re clearly not feeling well. Trust me, I’ll handle everything with the staff. You need to rest.”

Layla bit her lip, hesitating. She hated feeling like she was letting people down, especially when there were still things to be done, but she could see the concern written all over Sarah’s face. The pounding in her head wasn’t letting up either, and as much as she wanted to argue, she knew her friend was right.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” Layla asked, her voice quieter now, almost resigned.

Sarah nodded, reaching for her phone.

“Absolutely. I’ll explain everything to them. Don’t worry, they’ll understand. And I’ll drive you home myself. You’re not going to argue with me about this one.”

Layla managed a small smile, though the guilt still gnawed at her. “Thanks, Sarah.”

“Of course.” Sarah returned the smile, though hers was much more triumphant.

“Now, finish up your lunch. I’ll go make the call, and then we’ll get you out of here.”

As Sarah stepped away to speak with the staff, Layla leaned back in her chair, exhaling slowly. She stared out at the rain once more, feeling a mix of relief and frustration. Part of her was grateful that Sarah was looking out for her, but another part of her hated the idea of leaving early, of feeling weak.

But as the throbbing in her head continued, she knew that going home was probably the best option.