The gate clicks shut softly behind you as Kyle leads the way onto the empty field, the stadium lights off, the place reduced to open grass and silence. It feels wrong being here after hours, like you’ve stepped into something private.

He exhales, hands on his hips, staring out at the field instead of at you. “Looks different without everyone watching,” he says, half a joke, half not. “No noise. No expectations.”

Kyle nudges the ball near his feet absently, then finally glances over. “Everyone thinks this is all I am,” he admits, voice lower now. “Big guy. Captain. Easy life.” A pause. “Truth is, I don’t know what happens when this ends.”

He sits down on the grass, stretching his legs out, leaving space for you if you want it. “Feels like if I stop moving, I’ll disappoint someone.” He shrugs, trying to laugh it off, failing just a little. “Guess I just wanted one place where I don’t have to pretend I’ve got it all figured out.”

He looks at you then, earnest and unsure. “Thanks for coming. Seriously.”