𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐞 જ⁀➴

X

Cassandra

"...your sloppy seconds are the least of my concerns."

Dorian scoffed under his breath, an unlit cigarette hanging off his lips as he measured a sideways glare to Aleksandr. "As you've already claimed four hundred times, Rome." The three of them stole three spare seats on the bleachers, Cassandra momentarily ignoring her friends current argument to focus on the havoc of a lacrosse game on the muddy field. Normally Cassandra would never have came here voluntarily, but Dorian loved lacrosse and Aleksandr was trying to get on his good side so...

"Then what will it take for you to stop being such a prick and actually believe me because saying you don't give a shit but not talking to me isn't exactly being over it, is it now," huffed Aleksandr, but none of his derisive tone caught Cassandra's attention. No, her attention was entirely upon someone else.

Dressed in the sport's attire of what she calculated to be apart of the opposing lacrosse team's clothing, stood Jameson, headgear blocking the perfect proportions of what she knew all too well to be hidden beneath. That sight alone, despite the lack of appearance palpable, made Cassandra's brain short circuit, and her thoughts to branch off into a million other directions filled with unexplainable emotions of raw need. Her head was already swimming a little bit, a pleasant buzz caused by the addiction she fuelled strictly by the desire of him and just when Cassandra realised she was too far gone, one nudge in the rib blinked her back into the current dull state.

Olive took the spare seat beside her, just as Aleksandr turned to face her with incredulity. "Hey guys," she murmured, eyes already pinned to the game below, notepad in hand and camera strapped around her neck. "Don't bother me. I'm on observer duty, and that is all. Vale put your tiny cock away—"

"Hey!"

"Is that your brother?" Aleksandr questioned, pulling her attention from the only thing that she deemed worthy of looks and to where Adonis stood, smile delirious, sporting the same set of wrong clothing along with his friend Kavanaugh. It didn't take much for Cassandra to realise the trio had been up to something, and needless to say she only needed a small confirmation to mount her accusations. "I really think it is?"

Cassandra admitted, "It is him."

"Huh," Aleksandr thumbed a spare joint. "Didn't think the swot played any type of sports. Thought it was beneath him."

Cassandra hummed. "Because he believes that it is."

"Someone tell him he's scoring for the wrong team," he added when Adonis made another goal, causing the other side of the bleachers to erupt in loud uproar. "Cause we're gonna fucking lose–those three idiots have turned the entire game around."

Of course they did.

Another uproar erupted from the stands of the Devonport supporters, and Cassandra watched in the same very moment as they had scored another goal courtesy of Adonis' trained hand though Elliot had assisted him every step of the way. The throngs of people gathered around her groaned, shouting loud complaints of jeers but all she could focus on was how Adonis responded to the goal himself, running across the pitch like some crazed manic towards the one person who mirrored his insanity: Kavanaugh. Ignoring the applause from those around him, he launched over into his open arms, barrelling them both into the field, intertwined and their limbs just a flash of jangled flesh desperately determined to merge into one entity.

"Hate the pair of them." Aleksandr complained, but he too had matched the incredulous curiosity she had worn as she stared at how her older brother peppered him in kisses until thrown.

Cassandra didn't think she ever seen him smile so much.

The game continued, and Cassandra kept her eyes glued upon the only thing that mattered to her.