Platonic.

34

A/N: I appreciate the love and patience in this book. It takes A LOT of time to edit and write amidst daily full-time adulting and momming so I really love those who wait for me.

-BB

A few weeks since homecoming......

Game 1 D-Day

The muffled voices and air horns ring louder than bombs in Taehyung's mind.

Even with his hands flat against his ears, nothing drowned out the sounds of his misery.

He sighed, pushing his hair back as he lifted his head and he winced at the volume of the amalgam of familiar chaos surrounding him. It all seems to drag out in slow motion to exaggerate the bleakness of his point of view.

The coaches yelling from the sidelines.

The echos of the heavy feet squeaking against the waxed wood of the court.

The synchronized chants from Bayfield's cheerleaders at courtside, accompanied by the big-headed dancing tiger mascot as it pop locked to Meek Mill.

The whistles from the refs screeched periodically and the crescendoing cheers and booing of the crowd behind him felt heavy on his neck.

All things he never had to endure this long from his seat on the bench while still wearing his warm-ups.

Being on a temporary probation from playing was torture and a straight blade to his pride and Taehyung had never felt smaller than he did now, sitting amongst the underclassmen to watch the starters kick off the season without him.

He considered not even showing up to the game but what message would that have sent to his coach and teammates?

That he was an even bigger bitch than he was expected to be?

What point would that prove to Yoongi and anyone else who knew Taehyung's main problem?

Himself.

"LETS GO TIGERS!"

*clap clap clapclapclap*

"LETS GO TIGERS!"

*clap clap clapclapclap*

An eruption of screams is almost deafening as the teams returned from the locker rooms after halftime, tension heating the stands with the scores tying every other play.

Taehyung's knee hadn't stopped bouncing since the start of the second half, his saltiness stowed as the intensity of the game kicked up.

There were now about 3 minutes left and the score was teetering between Bayfield and Richmond by 2 points.

His eyes find Yoongi immediately at center court, dribbling comfortably as he faces off with the lanky opposer with his arms spread.

He seems relaxed despite it being down to the wire, his lean muscles flexing under his black and gold uniform. His raven waves are pushed back from his face under a black headband, and his fair skin is flushed and glistening with sweat from running up and down the court.

Rightfully so since he'd pretty much been there the entire game.

The Richmond player he was squaring off with in red and white was broad in the chest and shoulders, and much taller than our shooting guard by at least 5 inches.