Written in the Stars

“What advice do you have for-“

The TV clicked off. Electronics crackled as everything powered down to a tiny white dot at the center of the screen. The following silence was a blessing. He was tired of hearing his interview and his stupid bullshit answer and it felt like it was on repeat. His face was plastered above the city as it celebrated without him. They didn’t need him.

He sighed into the dark and took a swig of his drink. If they could see him now would they still love him? Fireworks started and he moved to the window intent on shutting the blinds. He caught his reflection and gently touched his swollen eye. They had paid him to take a few hits. They said it would give the public a better show and give his opponent hope. If he had been hit any harder, he would have been concussed. He lost money by just took one hit before his opponent went down. What did he care about what would make a better show? He wasn’t here for the crowd. He wasn’t here for the assholes that tried to prove they were stronger and faster. They were wrong but they would die for the chance to be right.

He wrinkled his nose in disgust at his reflection. His face was dirty and he needed a shave. He sat heavily in a chair by the window and absently rotated his ring as he watched explosions in the sky. He realized his hands were still wrapped. His opponent’s blood still speckled up his arm from the punch that ended the fight too early. Dumb bastard was giddy in his loss and missing teeth.

Maybe he should have answered differently. Maybe he should have said his advice was to do what people say is impossible. Nothing is impossible if you try hard enough. That advice was enough to make some of them crazy. He had seen it. He knew plenty of men that lost their mind in their obsession to be something they were not. Lost in trying to achieve the impossible because of greed and loss. That was terrible advice. He almost wished he had said it. He frowned and finished his drink, hoping to chase the pounding in his head. 

They offered him a contract to stay. They offered him women. Men. Whatever he wanted. Stay and be the cash cow this country needs. No, this could never be home. There was nothing enticing about this life. He couldn’t even go to a restaurant without getting mobbed. Some wanted their body signed. Some wanted to fight him. With stars in their eyes they pressed as close as they could. He wasn’t a man to them. He was a god.