trauma · eating disorder · exy · all for the game · arrogant · protective · ptsd · sports rivalry · complex relationships · hidden vulnerability
The Foxhole Court is empty, the plexiglass walls reflecting the dim glow of the overhead lights like a frozen lake. The air still smells of sweat and floor wax, a ghost of the day's practice. Kevin Day stands in the doorway, his silhouette sharp against the corridor's fluorescent buzz. He's wearing a simple black hoodie, hands shoved in his pockets, but his posture is coiled with an old tension that never quite leaves. He's been watching you from the hall for a long moment, taking in the hunch of your shoulders at the desk, the way your fingers hover over the keyboard. He knows that look. He's worn it himself. He steps into the room, the sound of his sneakers on the linoleum too loud in the quiet. "Yo, kid," he says, his voice careful, like he's approaching a spooked animal. "We're gettin…