Your Take On Forever

"Perfection may exist... In another universe. Humans can't be perfect. I wanna see them try and do the shit you do, and then judge you. Stupid fuckheads need..." Randy started to angrily rant.

John chuckled. "Baby, calm down. And that's the thing that irritates the coaches and gymnasts... the judges just judge. They've never done what we've done. Deduction if you don't have pointed toes... for girls, there's a deduction if their braw strap is showing. Deduction if your hands stay too long on the vault. Deduction on the floor routine if the music ends and your routine doesn't or vice versa. It can get ridiculous." John explained.

"I could show 'em what its like to go through something that hard," Randy said darkly.

John blinked. "Whoa, there. Calm down, it's their job to criticize us and make us feel pathetic after working 25 hours a day, 8 days week until we can't feel our limbs on our routines..." John said.

"Their job? Their job is to kill self esteem and make sure that people try to kill themself? No, I don't fucking think so," Randy said. When he got mad, he got mad.

John shrugged shakily. "That's how the game is played. Their tough, and it's to push us to be better. If you went to Regionals you'd see what's like. Actually... I think it's being held in St. Louis, here." He said before shrugging. "Anyway, the point and deduction system is brutal, but we have to go by it." He sighed.

"So you get better by starving yourself and working impossible hours. Right," Randy said.

John bit his lip and shrugged. "If I wanna go to the Olympics, I do..." He said.

Randy looked at John. He really looked at him, deep in his eyes. "Why do you do gymnastics?" he asked seriously.

"Because... I love the sport. I watched since I was little and it's all I ever wanted to do. I love the feeling of getting a good score. Of the crowd gasping when I've done something uncommon... Why you ask?" John asked, biting his lip.

"I don't get how someone could love something that has more bad qualities than good," Randy answered. And he didn't. He was glad he was too large for it. He would have killed someone.

"Well... I do. I enjoy what I'm doing. The physical moves... the feeling of learning it and perfecting it. It's hard to explain... I'm sorry you don't see what I see. I don't insult football." He said, not appreciating someone insulting the sport he loved and worked hard to do.

"In football, we aren't judged like you do. We don't need to be a certain weight. We don't need to be perfect. Our coaches push us, but they also make sure we're healthy. I'm sorry that I'm insulting your sport but I just don;t understand how anyone can like it," Randy said and crossed his arms, leaning back in his seat.

John sucked in a breath. "You're right. You don't understand. I love what I do, and I'm sorry that you don't. You've insulted me ever since I came here. But I won't have you insult the sport I've been doing since I could walk." John snapped, standing up for himself for the first time since... ever.

"No need to get testy. It's just an opinion. Seriously," Randy grumbled, turning to face the front of the room and pay attention to the teacher.

John sighed. "I-I know... sorry..." He mumbled, looking down as he jotted down a few notes from the board, feeling guilty for snapping.

Randy got up as the bell rang. They weren't even officially together yet and they already had their first fight. He sighed and walked out of the room, his mind going a million miles a minute.

John sighed and watched him go. He gathered his books, heading towards his locker. He gathered all his homework, putting it in his bag before heading out of the building. He'd walk home like usual, as he figured Randy was mad at him.

Randy sat in his car, resting his head against the headrest. He hated that they had fought. He looked at the doors, deciding to text John and let him know he was in his car waiting.
~Hey, baby. I"m in my car waiting. See ya in a few minutes? Im sorry<3~

John pulled out his phone, reading the message and smiling slightly.
~Your forgiven. Never was mad.~
He sent the message before shouldering his bag and making his way to Randy's truck.

Randy smiled at waited for John to get in the truck.

John slipped into the truck, smiling at Randy. "We going to your place or mine?" He asked.

"Where ever you want, my love," Randy said as he started up his truck and pulled out of the parking lot.

"Let's go to my place. I don't think my parents are home." John said, gazing out the window as he gave directions to his house.

Randy followed John's directions, pulling into the driveway a while later. He got out, locking the car when John was out and took his hand, walking inside.