Ryan woke up feeling like a truck had hit him. Seriously, it was like someone had filled his brain with cement while he slept. Groaning, he dragged himself out of bed and stumbled to the mirror.

Ugh, he looked as if he'd been hit by that truck too.

"Seriously, what's up with today? And why does it have to be today of all days?" Ryan muttered, staring at his reflection. His eyes, usually full of life, were now dull and surrounded by dark circles. He looked like a zombie version of himself.

Checking the time, Ryan's heart nearly jumped out of his chest. "Oh crap, I'm late!" Today was the day he'd been waiting for forever – the big match where he was supposed to captain the team for the first time.

He didn't even want to think about missing it. This was his shot, the moment he'd been working towards for as long as he could remember.

"I've got, like, twenty minutes, right?" he mumbled, trying to shake off the fog in his brain. With a herculean effort, he managed to get dressed, fighting against the invisible forces trying to keep him down.

Ryan then left and began rushing to the field, which felt like trekking through quicksand. Every step was agony, and his stupid glasses felt like they weighed a ton. But he pushed through it all. He had a dream, dang it, and he wasn't about to let some stupid tiredness stop him.

-

Finally reaching the field, Ryan was embarrassingly late. Rushing to the locker room, he struggled to get changed. Buttons and laces seemed to conspire against him, but he refused to give up.

Emerging onto the field, Ryan forced a smile. He knew he looked like death warmed over, but he didn't care. He was here, and that's what mattered.

"Sorry, Coach, I'm not feeling great today. Woke up feeling like crap," he admitted, feeling like he'd let everyone down.

The coach gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Just take it easy, son. We're glad you made it." Permission granted, Ryan took his place on the field, disappointment gnawing at his insides as he saw Mason wearing the captain's patch.

But he pushed those feelings aside. He'd show them all what he was made of.

Or at least, he would have, if fate hadn't decided to smack him in the face – literally.

A football came out of nowhere and BAM! Lights out.

When Ryan finally came to, he found himself in the sterile confines of the opposing school's infirmary, the acrid tang of antiseptic stinging his nostrils. The nurse hovered over him with a concerned expression.

Despite the nurse urging him to stay and rest, Ryan picked up his belongings, and with a heavy heart and heavier limbs, he trudged home.

Each step felt like torture, his mind a jumble of thoughts and frustrations. 'Great, now they have something else to laugh at,' he thought bitterly.

'And why the heck do I feel like shit? Just yesterday I was fine!' he wanted to scream, but even thinking took too much effort.

All he wanted was to collapse into bed and forget this whole day ever happened.

But as he neared his home, a strange, glimmering beacon of light pierced through the oppressive gloom enshrouding him. Fireflies of ethereal sparks danced in graceful arcs, casting an otherworldly, iridescent glow that almost seemed to guide him onward.

Curiosity overpowered exhaustion as Ryan followed the lights, ready to face whatever weirdness lay ahead. Who knew? Maybe it was the start of something amazing...