SIX WEEKS WITH HIM

Back on the field

*Saturday. 3 PM. Varsity Rugby Pitch.*

I told myself I was just here to watch.

Support. As a friend.

Not because I was terrified of watching him get hit and re-tear his ACL on national TV

The stands were packed. UoN vs KU. Rivalry game. Lucas was starting at flanker for the first time since the injury.

He looked different in full kit. Bigger. Faster. Like he belonged out there.

But I kept seeing the way his knee had swelled in week 2. The way he’d gritted his teeth when I pushed him to 90 degrees.

“Kip!”

I turned. It was Aisha, from my class.

“You came to watch Kimani?” she asked, grinning. “Didn’t know you were a rugby fan"

“I’m not,” I said. “Just… supporting a patient.”

She gave me a look. “Sure. That’s what it is.”

Before I could answer, the whistle blew.

The game started fast. Hard hits, quick passes, the crowd roaring every time KU got near the try line.

Lucas was everywhere. Tackling, rucking, running. He looked good. Better than good.

Then, 22 minutes in, it happened.

A UoN prop hit him low and late. Lucas went down hard, grabbing his right knee.

The one we rehabbed.

My heart stopped.

“KIP!” Aisha grabbed my arm. “Go!”

I was already moving.

I vaulted the barrier before I thought about it, flashing my student ID to the med team at the sideline. “Physio student. I know the injury.”

They let me through.

Lucas was on the ground, face screwed up in pain, but his eyes found mine the second I knelt beside him.

“It’s not the ACL,” he said immediately, like he could read my mind. “It’s the MCL. Got hit on the outside.”

I checked quickly. Swelling, but not like before. No give in the joint.

“Grade 1 sprain,” I said to the team doc. “He’ll be okay. Ice, compression, 2 weeks off.”

The doc nodded. “You sure?”

“Positive,” I said. “I’ve seen this knee at its worst.”

Lucas smirked up at me, even in pain. “Told you I’d give you a reason to run on the field.”

“Shut up,” I said, helping him sit up.

The crowd was confused, seeing me treat him on the field. Whispers started.

Dennis came over, saw me, and put two and two together.

“Oh,” he said quietly. “Oh.”

He didn’t say anything else. Just helped me get Lucas off the field.

In the tunnel, away from the crowd, Lucas leaned on me.

“Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You’re an i***t,” I said. “But you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” he repeated.

We stopped walking.

For a second, I forgot about the crowd, about Dennis, about campus.

I just looked at him. Alive, okay, still here.

“Don’t do that again,” I said quietly.

“Can’t promise that,” he said. “But I’ll try not to make you run on the field.”

I shook my head and kept walking.

But my hand stayed on his back a second longer than it needed to.

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