𝗢𝗡𝗟𝗬 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗬𝗢𝗨 • 𝗔. 𝗕𝗔𝗡𝗞𝗦

𝑇𝑊𝐸𝐿𝑉𝐸

[n a r r a t o r]

Despite the fact that Adam Banks did not get any sleep at all last night regardless how long he had been playing or how many sprints coach had made the team do.

It was that one word that kept replaying in his mind promise. He hated that word, but hearing it coming out of her mouth made it sound so sweet, and it made it sound as if each word that slipped from between her teeth and out from her tongue were like melodies and sweet rhythms. It was music to his ears and he'd listen to it again and again.

But the thing is, Adam Banks hated promises. Mostly because they can always be broken. They can be tossed around and discarded. And he hated making those promises because he knew himself he'd never keep them. And although it was about his wrist it felt so much more then just about a sprained bone.

It felt deeper, he felt it in the very depths of his stomach to the very core of his whole being. But even this feeling hadn't yet compared to that feeling that had blemished his mind in upmost lethal of thoughts and tarnished his cells with aggression and envy as he watched the woman dominate the game even if she was smaller than basically the whole of the U.S.A. Team and Iceland.

He watched as the scouts clapped and cheered the brunette on as they had brimmed smiles as they noted her skills. She had no flaw and that was obvious in reality and through the screen. Everyone knew she was better, he knew she was better and she knows she is better.

That's what flared in him. That's what kept that emotion stirring inside him. He still remembered how it would twist and carve his insides until it made its pitiless void in the middle of his chest. What was worse was that she was the only thing that could fill it, she was the only thing that would make his knees fall to the sharpened nails of the ground and beg on his hands and feet for her attention.

Alexis Stansson had felt the exact same way. Maybe even more. But she hasn't felt envy for the boy. She felt that bone wrenching moment when you see them and you feel your heart caging in your own chest as the pace of its rate quickens with every blink of your eye and the way he would stare at her would make her eyelashes flutter and her cheeks taint with red. He was weakening yet strengthening her all at the same time, whilst damaging and creating his beautiful artwork, yet tearing at the canvas every time he'd get the chance.

But every time he'd end up mending it together again. And the art would still look exactly the same.

The pair was only 3 dorms down from each other. In the exact laid position. With their eyes widened and their feet tucked into their blankets with heaving chests.

With thoughts of Adam Banks. And thoughts of Alexis Stansson. Consistently rummaging through their brain. internally crushing each cell that formed in their minds.

Adam sat with his head in his arms with his feet extended in front of him. The desk giving minimal support as his head hung from the wooden prop.

Luis Mendoza was convinced that he had finally blew his shot in making it into the big leagues of hockey. He had been told his whole life that his one flaw would cost him his whole future. And no matter how hard he tried, or how hard he practiced not once had he fully mastered the simple practices of stopping. So when that buzzer went off and his head was through the net he'd felt that he lost one for the team, he had thrown them under the bus with him as he pulled them down further just as he did with the other leagues he'd played with. He had never been an outcast with them, nor did he feel judged by his friend/teammates for not knowing something such as stopping, to be honest it was a big factor yet no one complained. Or no one took care to notice. But even so he was thankful.

"All right, let's go!" Coach pushed the door opened, only to be met with the exact view he'd seen a few hours. "Team?" Gordon asks as he saunters further into the lockers.