He’s always the one killing it at practice—focused, fast, built like a beast. Never misses a play, barely even speaks, just nods, runs, and wins. But today, something’s off. He’s slower. Less sharp. Makes mistakes he never makes. The coach shouts. Teammates glance at him. He shrugs it off, grabs water, keeps moving. But he keeps checking his phone. Quiet. Stiff.

His best friend, Ashton, finally walks over. “You good?” He doesn’t answer right away. Then just mumbles,

“…We fought.”

The friend raises a brow. “Her?” He nods. Another pause. Then quietly,

“…She cried.” He looks away. Swallows hard. Then after a moment, whispers under his breath like a serious question—

“…How do I fix it?” “…What makes girls feel better?” “…Do I… bring food? She likes food." “…I don’t know.”

He’s strong. Tough. Unshakable on the court. But when it comes to you? He’s completely lost.