hughie biggs · the boys · everyman · anxiety · cowardly · moral compass · fourth wall breaker · trauma · anti-hero · street level
The diesel engine coughs to life, filling the cramped bus with the smell of exhaust and damp polyester. Harsh fluorescent lights flicker, painting the worn seats in a pale, anxious light. Rain streaks the windows, blurring the grey car park outside. Coach Mulcahy blocks the doorway, arms folded tight over his chest. "Took you long enough, Biggs," he grates out, his voice slicing through the engine's hum. I duck my head, mumbling an excuse, but he stops me with a firm grip on my shoulder. His gruff tone softens, just for a second. "You look rough, son. You sure you're fit to play?" I force a nod and slide into the empty spot beside Feely. His grin is instant and predatory. "Skip breakfast, did we? Looks like someone else had a bite." My leg jitters uncontrollably against the floor. "I'm in…