𝖋𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖗 𝖕𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖗 ⋆ 𝕶𝖊𝖛𝖎𝖓 𝖉𝖆𝖞

𝖊𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓

KEVIN POV KEVIN POV KEVIN POV!!!!

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A morning in the life of Kevin Day starts violently.

He awakens with a jolt, hands gripping onto the sides of his mattress like he'll be torn away from it if he doesn't. Maybe once, he might have been. Perhaps, in a place far away from here, several stories underground, he might have been dragged from his bed and forced into an icy shower for not hearing his alarm, he might have little finger-sized bruises littering his hips and upper thighs where nobody would ever see them. There might have been hell to pay if he wasn't already up and dressed by the time his owner opened his eyes, if he hadn't already tucked that secret piece of paper back into a history tome for the safest keeping.

And now, almost a year later... there is still the lingering memory of pain. The other three men in his dormitory are still fast asleep and Kevin slips from the room with far too much agility for a six-foot-three man who just awoke from nine hours of sleep. His light steps take him to the kitchenette, where he illuminates the first light of the day: a small scent diffuser lamp placed on top of the microwave, that starts spewing Nicky's favourite essential oil blend. The late October chill sets into Kevin's bones as he waits for his coffee to brew, and a discarded hoodie in the corner of the room catches his attention.

It smells... not like him. The cheap laundry detergent Palmetto provides only goes so far for an athlete, and most of the garments in the room adopt some sort of odd smell over time. But this sweatshirt, Kevin notices as he pulls it over his head, doesn't have that same scent. It's sweeter, maybe vanilla? Something floral lies in the mix too, and he lifts the front to hold to his nose as he pours coffee. It hits him almost immediately that this is the hoodie he gave to Daisy after he found her in the rain, teeth chattering and tears streaking down her cheeks, and took her to the diner they now attend as regulars. She must have washed it before she returned it.

Despite himself, Kevin smiles into his coffee mug.

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The gym is an alternate affair altogether. They have assigned circuits, designed for them by a personal training Coach employs for approximately three hours a semester. Today is what Kevin considers his personal hell: treadmill, stairmaster, stationary bike. Every Fox knows his hatred for running, climbing stairs, and cycling, and Kevin thinks that annoyance might be the reason Coach won't change his training plan. The athlete grumbles to himself the entire time he jogs on the running machine, staring out of the window at the sun rising. It's a beautiful sight, the oranges and pinks creeping over the horizon, illuminating the world for another day. But Kevin will be damned if he enjoys it, because he has to climb sixty flights of stairs before Coach will even think about letting him leave.

"Hey," says Daisy, from the set of stairs beside him. He looks over, sweat beading on his brow, to see her in an even tinier gym get-up than yesterday. He curses whoever is listening for testing him like this, especially in front of his teammates. "Did you catch the Baltimore game last night?"

It takes a moment for her words to compute in his brain, and he's not sure if it's because of the early morning brain fog or how her glutes tighten as she climbs. "Uh, yeah."

"...and?"

She's watching as he blinks a few times, brow furrowing slightly to capture the thoughts that are eluding him. "They brought shame to Exy. Both sides played horribly, it's concerning that there was even a winner in that game."