The Rugby Captain – Part 2: The Final

They talked until the harbour lights went out, one by one, and the city settled into its late-night hush. Neither of them moved to the left or the right of the bed. They lay on their backs, shoulders almost touching, and the silence between them was no longer hostile.

"Do you think we'll win?" Harry asked eventually.

"Yes," said Tama. "And then I'll never let you forget it."

"You'll try. I'm very good at forgetting things I don't like."

"Liar."

Harry laughed softly in the dark, and Tama turned his head to look at him. The streetlight from the window made a pale line across Harry's cheekbone, the bruise a faint shadow beneath it.

"Does it hurt?" Tama asked.

"Only when you talk."

"Then I'll talk a lot."

"Please don't."

Tama reached out in the dark, not quite touching him, and let his hand rest on the blanket between them. After a long moment, Harry's fingers brushed against his, tentative, then settled, warm and steady.

Neither of them said anything else. They just lay there, hands touching, until sleep came over them both.

The final was held on a grey, windy afternoon at Eden Park. The crowd was enormous, a sea of black and white and blue, and the noise was so loud it made Tama's teeth ache. He ran out onto the pitch with his heart hammering, and when he looked across at the other team and found Harry already watching him, he felt the old rivalry rise up like a tide.

They fought for eighty minutes. Every scrum was brutal. Every tackle was a collision. Tama scored in the first half with a dive over the line that made the crowd roar, and Harry answered with a try of his own, powering through three defenders with a grin on his face that Tama could see from across the field.

It was the best game of rugby either of them had ever played. And it was the most fun.

In the final minute, with the scores level and the crowd on its feet, Tama found himself face to face with Harry at a lineout, both of them breathing hard, sweat running down their faces.

"Last chance, captain," Harry panted.

"You're going to lose."

"We'll see."

The ball was thrown. Tama leapt. Harry lifted him, and for one dizzying moment Tama was airborne, grabbing the ball and spinning, and then he was falling, and then the whistle blew and the stadium exploded.

Tama landed in a heap on the grass. Harry landed on top of him, laughing so hard he could barely breathe.

"We won," Tama gasped.

"You won," Harry corrected, then kissed him.

It was messy and fierce and tasted of sweat and grass and victory. The crowd roared. Teammates came sprinting from every direction. Tama didn't care. He pulled Harry closer, his hands sliding into damp hair, and kissed him back with everything he had been holding back for six years.

When they finally broke apart, the whole stadium seemed to be cheering for them. Tama could not stop smiling.

"I'm going to need a bigger room," Harry said breathlessly.

"Only one bed, remember?"

"I've been thinking about that all afternoon."

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