I grunted in exertion as I lunged to my right, my racquet swinging low but accompanied by an upwards flick of the wrist. I had to be careful not to lose my balance, though – I was starting to get tired but I refused to be beaten! The edge of the racquet connected with the side of the shuttle, causing an unpleasant metallic clanking noise and a vibration that found its way into my fingers. Technically it’s called a shuttlecock but that name always makes people laugh, so, shuttle it is.

A loud, disappointed sigh escaped me as I knew that I had messed up. Going by that clanking noise I had mistimed the swing and hit the shuttle awkwardly. This was almost never a good thing and this time proved to be no different. It went flying in completely the wrong direction and ended up landing in the court next to ours. Thankfully there was no one else playing in the hall at the moment.

The sound of a masculine laugh and snort came from the other side of the net and I couldn’t help but smile. I’d fallen for the same trick again, being brought close to the net and I had given my opponent the advantage of height by returning it higher than I wanted to. The smash that followed would have been almost impossible for even the best badminton players to stop and I was far from one of those.

“Not even close,” I muttered in my own deep, rumbling voice. I lifted myself up to my full height with a tired groan, wiping at the sweat that was pouring from my face. Rishaan just laughed that cocky laugh of his and skipped his way across to where the shuttle had landed after my miscue.

Allow me to introduce myself. My name is David Reid, a first year university student studying Geography at some mid-table uni in England. Rishaan, my current opponent, is my newly acquired best friend. We’d met for the first time at the beginning of the academic year, almost nine months ago, and he was still more or less the only person that I hung out with. I’m not really one for a huge cabal of ‘friends’ that I barely knew, instead preferring a much smaller group of deeper relationships.

I wandered back to the middle of the T on my side of the court and turned to watch Rishaan again. I was taller than him by a few centimetres but he was thinner and more flexible than I was in this dumb man-body.

“What’s that? 20-12 now, right?” Rishaan asked as he settled back opposite me, holding the feathers of the shuttle between thumb and index finger in front of him, his racquet held ready to flick-serve it over the net to me. He only needed one more point to win the game and since we’d been playing for almost two hours now, it would likely be our last one of the day. Of the week? Of the year!

I nodded slightly to confirm, but some movement out of the corner of my eyes drew my attention. We were playing in one corner of the university’s massive sports hall, sixteen badminton courts in volume (that’s how I size things, okay?). The ceiling was high above us and a few shuttles had become stuck in the beams over the years. There were the usual green coloured nets separating the quarters of the hall, and the usual strips of tape on the floor to allow many different sports to be played in the same place. There had been no one else in the huge hall while we’d been playing today but the doors had just opened. I watched as two girls moved into the hall with bags over their shoulders and racquets in their hands. They were laughing and joking to each other, decked out in their whitest sports skirts, trainers and tops.

From the other side of the net, Rishaan stopped leaning forwards, leaving his serving stance and turned to look at what had distracted me. He smirked, looking back at me and then back to the two young women as they walked behind him. They gave him an annoyed glance as they noticed us watching. He gave them a small wave of his hand, a massive, dopey smile on his face as they passed by.

A blush would have reddened my cheeks if they hadn’t already been so scarlet from all of the exercise and I tried to look back at him with a shrug. His eyes kept following them, though, even turning to watch them as they kept walking to their designated court.

“Come on!”, I called out to him as I settled back into my ‘ready’ pose, racquet held forwards and slightly above me, angled down.

The truth was, I was still finding it hard to keep my eyes from the girls but my mind was having trouble deciding if it was because I was envious of them or attracted to them – maybe both? I closed my eyes for a moment to allow the wave of depression to wash over me as my badminton partner settled back down to serve.

My emotions suitably numbed, I waited to return the serve but in my heart I already knew that I had lost. My heart just wasn’t in the game any more.

His eyes flicked up to me and then back down to the shuttle as he served it to me, barely clearing the top of the net. I stepped forward to flick the shuttle back, making sure not to make the same mistake as last time, tapping it back so that it again just barely skipped over the top of the net.

Rishaan looked as if he was just going to tap it back to me and instead flicked the shuttle high, to the back of my side of the court. I had to switch up my balance quickly, making sure that I kept discipline with my footwork as I took the three steps backwards needed to reach it.

I was too far away from the net to smash it back like he had to me, so I tried to measure the force and timing needed so that it would only just go back over the net again. Transferring my weight through my body and into my racquet, I felt and heard the swish as it sailed through the air, connecting to the shuttle in just the right way that it needed to.

But, he was waiting for it. The moment the shuttle crossed to his side of the net he flicked it back with the lightest of feather touches. I had no chance of reaching this one and I just sighed, allowing the shuttle to fall to the floor without even moving towards it.

I smiled at Rishaan, “Good game.” Then I turned and walked over to where we’d stashed our bags, picking up my water bottle to take a few mouthfuls. Mmmm, electrolytes. It’s what plants crave.

“Good game, mate,” he replied with the same grin as before, “you gave it to me at the end though.” His accent was undeniably English, but you could tell by his name and his appearance that he had ancestry from the sub-continent. I’d never questioned him about it, though. I figured that if he thought it was important then he’d tell me about it. He was just a good friend.

Which is why the words didn’t sting as much as they would have normally. ‘Mate’ is like ‘dude’. People still claim that it’s neutral but it’s really not. If the word is used out of context then it will always conjure up assumptions of masculinity and that was the problem. I knew he wasn’t doing anything maliciously because I hadn’t told him that much about myself. Not really. Not the real me.

“When do you head home, Rish?” I asked him without replying to his observation, putting my drinking bottle away in my bag. I waited as I watched him take a few mouthfuls of water from his own bottle. I’d already finished all of my exams for the year and was getting picked up tomorrow by my parents. What a wild year it had been. I was only in my first year of university and everything had been so different. I was learning to look after myself (yeah right) and what real responsibility was for the first time in my life. I also felt like my self-confidence was finally coming to me.

He shrugged and tucked his own bottle away in his sports bag, “Next week sometime. My uncle’s busy until Wednesday.” The grin on his face faltered a little but it came back as we shouldered our bags, zipped up our racquets and headed for the door that the girls had come in through.

“Ah,” I replied, “I’m heading back tomorrow. Time for summer!” My voice had absolutely no excitement to it despite my mock arm pump and he laughed.

“Come on, Dave, it can’t be that bad at home.”

“Right…” I replied. He was right. It wasn’t strictly home that was the problem. It was having far too much time on my hands in a place that I knew far too well from before. It was also too much time away from friends.

I heard the squeak-squeak of trainers from the other side of the hall and my eyes turned to glance at the girls. They were playing badminton in the opposite corner from where we had been. We slipped out through the door, another sigh escaping me as we did.

“I guess I’ll see you next year, yeah? Chin up! Stay in touch!” he called out to me as we left the sports complex a minute later. His eternal optimism was something that I was glad for and I tried not to be too much of a downer in our relationship. It was tough though. So tough. It felt like it was getting tougher, too.

I flashed him a weak smile and we parted ways, heading to our own university rooms on campus. It had started to drizzle with rain while we were playing and it had grown chilly. It felt nice and I tilted my head back to gaze up at the overcast spring sky and let the drizzle fall on my reddened face.

---

I arrived in my now half-empty shared house. It was a mess and would need cleaning after I was done having my bath. I pulled out the vacuum cleaner from its spot under the stairs to remind myself that it needed doing later and trudged up to my room. The house had four bedrooms, two up and two down with my bedroom being one of the ones upstairs. It was typical university accommodation, utilitarian furniture and off-white walls were the order of the day. There was also a kitchen and a living room on the ground floor while the upper floor held a separate bathroom and toilet. The bathroom was just next to my room and I started a bath running as I began to strip out of my clothing, refusing to acknowledge what was beneath.

I looked around at my room as I threw the damp clothing into a pile. It was in keeping with the aesthetic of the rest of the house – that is to say, utilitarian and off-white. I had my single bed to one side and a large desk in the corner with a back-breaking office chair. There was also a chest of drawers and a wardrobe, both now emptied and ready for whomever would be coming to claim this room next year.

It wouldn’t be me. At my university, first year students stayed on campus but in the second and third year students found private accommodation off-campus. That was usually after friendships had been made and groups had agreed to live together.

My belongings that I had brought for the year were scattered around the room now. Almost everything was packed away for the move back home. There was just my computer and some clothes left to go. Some dumb clothes.

I was usually terrible for leaving everything to the last minute. Even back when I had gone away with my family every summer, it would be a ‘night before’ kind of affair for me. That led to a few last minute, chaotic moments when we couldn’t find my passport or something equally important. Luckily, I was a hoopy frood who knew where my towel was, and I wrapped it around myself as I went into the bathroom, locking the door behind me.

Carefully not looking into the mirror above the sink, I settled everything down and worked the taps to get the water temperature toasty, but bearable.

I could hear Claire wandering around the house as I slipped into the water. It sounded like she was getting ready to leave, too, with a lot of banging and I could hear her moving things out of her room. Claire was one of the other people that I’d lived with and we’d become good friends over the year.

She enjoyed badminton, too, and we’d often walked together for badminton nights. There’d even been rumours floating around that I had a crush on her. Which was true. I just wasn’t in the head space to act on that. I groaned and slid down, my knees bending so I could still fit into the bath as I did.

My head slipped under the water, breathing out as I did to stop the water from stinging my nose. The sound of the world disappeared here and it was so soothing. Is this what it was like for a baby in its mother’s womb? It was so peaceful. Was this what mermaids heard? Yeah right, okay, because mermaids are real. Uh huh. Still, it would be so cool to-.

There was a deep booming sound of a distorted crash from downstairs and I slipped my head back above the water again. I was careful not to move so quickly that I caused all of the water to jump out with me. My dark brown hair hadn’t been cut since I arrived at university all those months ago so it was starting to get a bit long and it flopped over my eyes.

There was another crash and an agitated feminine growl from downstairs which I could hear clearly now that it wasn’t distorted. My eyebrows pushed themselves together in concern. It took me a few minutes to wash myself after that, doing the bare minimum needed to remove the grime of exercise from me before I hauled myself out of the bath.

Claire must have heard the sound of my pulling out the bath plug and moving around because the next thing I heard was her calling out, “Dave? Are you here?”

Everyone else in the house had gone home for the summer already and left all of the cleaning to us. I had to get on with that now that this bath was over. Damn. If we didn’t clean up then we wouldn’t get our deposits back – quite a lot of money for us poor students!

I unlocked the door and opened it just a crack – just enough to call a quick confirmation through it.

“Yep!”

There was some more movement and then she was at the bottom of the stairs, calling out again, “Could you help me, please?”

“Sure. Can I get dressed first?” I asked, smiling to myself as I stared at my side of the door.

“Uh,” she paused, “yes please.” I could just hear a nervous laugh and I smiled a little bit more, opening the door to walk into my room again. I had the towel wrapped around me and I moved through the upstairs landing in a couple of strides to hide myself in my room.

After towelling down and getting dressed I went to see what help she needed.

When I reached the bottom of the stairs I saw a young woman with dark black hair, tied up in a bun, kneeling down and facing away from me. She was wearing what looked like comfy jogging bottoms (sweat pants) and an overly large jumper (sweater). Claire turned as I saw her, gesturing with her small hands at the mess that she’d made. “Could you help me pick these things up, please?”

There was a cracked plastic crate that had been set upright to one side of the hallway. Some of her personal belongings that I assume were in that crate were now strewn across the carpeted floor. I noticed with an unconscious sigh that there even seemed to be a broken bottle of nail polish that had splattered some of its contents up the wall. The utilitarian, off-white wall. It was bright metallic blue. Bye bye deposit.

“What happened?” I asked, already moving to help put the things I could find into the crate. I knelt down on the floor on my knees and picked up a hairbrush, a foldable mirror and a cracked, framed picture that had been taken of all of the badminton club earlier that year.

I peered at the framed picture, noting with satisfied irony that there was a single crack that ran through the image. That crack hid my unsmiling face behind it.

“Someone left the hoover out,” she said, accusingly, “I couldn’t see where I was going because I was carrying BOXES…” she continued. I could tell just out of the corner of my eyes that she was glaring at me. Right. Yes. This was definitely my fault. Hoovers aren’t just a brand of vacuum cleaner here. They’re a generic term for all vacuum cleaners. It wouldn’t be strange to hear ‘my hoover is a Dyson’.

“Shit. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, keep being sorry and help me fix this!” she said, her voice rising in pitch as she gestured at the wall.

Fuck. My. Life.

“Alright, alright! We’ll fix it. It’ll be fine,” I said, my voice rising slightly in reaction, though I did my best to keep it reassuring rather than combative. I hated conflict. I tried a reassuring smile to accompany my words. It seemed to work because she at least stopped shouting at me.

Claire let out a frustrated sigh in reaction, turning away. I returned to picking up her belongings again, putting them into the broken crate while she worked at trying to remove the already coagulating nail polish with paper towels. It took me about a minute to notice the sounds of sniffling coming from her as she rubbed the towel hard against the wall.

My heart dropped at the sound and I sat in impotent, empathic sadness as I watched her. I knew instantly that I wanted to hug her, to hold her and reassure her that everything would be fine. Things had been bad for her the last few weeks. She’d received news of some terrible family event back home and had been having trouble with her boyfriend. I didn’t pry, but I did hear the tears most nights. Eventually I said, “Hey, we’ll fix it. It’ll be okay…” I tried to make my voice as soft and reassuring as I could, hating the sound of it even as I spoke.

She wiped at her eyes with the other hand, still refusing to look at me as she said, “I…” It took her another moment before she continued, turning to look at me with tear streaked cheeks, “I just need the deposit back, okay?”

I nodded as I moved to take a paper towel from the pile she’d accumulated to help with the wall and I said, again as softly as I could manage, “It’s okay. Go. I’ll deal with it.” It was the least I could do. It was my fault, after all.

She flashed me a sad but grateful smile and nodded in reply, turning to pick up her crates and move them to the living room.

I looked back at the bright metallic blue stains and swore to myself. Hell. How do I fix this? I decided to Bing the answer. Hahaha, no not really, I used Google.

Some lunch in the form of a sandwich later, I squinted as I stared at the pattern that had been made on the wall, the small splats of paint almost beginning to resemble something… A star pattern? Haha. Sure, okay. I mean, there are so many stars that any Jackson Pollock painting probably looked like a star pattern somewhere.

I pulled out my phone again to quickly take a picture of it for later. You know, just in case? Besides, maybe I could sell it to an art gallery and become internationally famous. With that done, I then returned to trying to remove the nail polish from our wall.

It took me most of an hour to work through some instructions that I found on how to remove nail polish from painted walls. Thankfully, most of it had already wiped off. It just required a lot more scrubbing to get those stains looking much less metallic and blue and a bit more off-white. All the while Claire was moving back and forth with her belongings, using the living room as a staging area for her to then carry them outside. It turns out that her family actually lived quite close to the university so they were coming to get her this evening.

Dinner time rolled around by the time I was finished and then I had to start vacuuming and doing my share of the cleaning. Meanwhile, Claire was just finishing in the kitchen when there was a knock on the door. I moved to answer it but she was already there, opening it and welcoming some strangers into our house. Her family I assume?

I gave them a quick smile as they bustled in, moving to the living room to remove her belongings and take them outside. They smiled back, nodding to me as they did. They were all men, so I guessed brothers or cousins?

“I guess this is it, then?” I asked, stopping my cleaning to look at Claire. I hoped I was conveying upset or at least sadness but I knew that my face didn’t seem capable of that. It disturbed me.

She looked so much more mature after this year of university. She’d been so bubbly and full of life and optimism when we’d first arrived. Now she looked jaded but… stronger? Her long, dark hair was pulled back into a bun and I could see the athletic softness of her face. The curve of her jawline and the cuteness of her nose. Those sky blue eyes. Yep, definitely female.

She gave me a nod and looked over where the nail polish had been. Now there were just what looked like drying patches of the off-white where once had been that horrid blue. She turned back to me and smiled, moving forward for a hug as we had our last embrace. Hopefully, not forever. I could feel her breasts pressing against my chest and I closed my eyes.

There was the sound of cursing from the living room and some minor banging. I guess someone had picked up the cracked crate. There were no other noises, though, and I saw one of the guys taking the crate outside with an annoyed look on his face.

My eyes re-opened as she started to move back, away from me. “It’s been awesome. See you next year for badminton, yeah?” she asked, her fine eyebrows lifting as she turned to head towards the door.

“Next year, yeah,” I said, forcing the smile onto my lips.

She turned and then she was gone, slamming the dumb, squeaky door behind her. I went to sit down on a chair in the living room as I listened to the sounds of her leaving. I would be the last person here, I guess. The end of a short era. I wished I could cry.

After making sure the house was clean downstairs, I went back to my room and sat at my computer. This was what my life had become now, outside of classes and badminton. Computer games. I knew that it was for escapism but really, what else did I have?

My parents wouldn’t be arriving to pick me up until the next morning, so I had nothing to do until then. Rishaan wasn’t a huge video game player but I was. So, I decided to play Warframe until I could barely keep my eyes open.