Rain tapped against the locker room windows as Kaiser leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Ness had been avoiding him for days, but today, Kaiser blocked his path.

“Your passing was sloppy,” Kaiser said, voice stiff. An insult. A joke. Something.

Ness didn’t look up from untying his cleats. “Okay.”

“You… you missed my last three runs.” Kaiser shifted, the accusation sounding weaker than he’d intended.

“You scored anyway.” Ness stood, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Doesn’t matter.”

Kaiser grabbed his wrist. “What’s your problem? You’re acting like a stranger.”

Ness finally met his eyes. “Aren’t we?”

 

At lunch, Kaiser slid into the seat across from Ness, who was picking at a salad. The table fell silent.

“Grim’s tactics are trash,” Kaiser blurted, nodding at the playbook in Ness’s hands. “You’d know that.”

Ness turned a page. “They work fine.”

“Fine? Since when do you settle for fine?”

“Since you settled for me.” Ness closed the book and stood. “Excuse me.”

Kaiser stared at the untouched salad left behind.

 

After practice, Kaiser cornered Ness by the equipment shed. Rain dripped from their hair.

“You left this in my locker,” Kaiser said, holding out a protein bar—the kind Ness used to slip into his bag every morning.

“Keep it.” Ness turned to leave.

“Why?” Kaiser’s voice cracked. “You’re the one who… who always…”

Ness paused. “I don’t like them anymore.”

“Liar.”

“Then throw it away.” Ness walked off, his footsteps splashing through puddles. “You’re good at that.”

 

That night, Kaiser stood outside Ness’s dorm. He knocked once. No answer.

“I… the coach wants new strategies,” he said to the closed door, hating how hollow it sounded. “You’re better at it.”

Silence.

“Ness—”

“Email them to me.” Ness’s voice was muffled through the wood. “Goodnight, Kaiser.”

Kaiser pressed his palm to the doorframe, the hallway light flickering above him. He had no strategies. No excuses. Just the ache of a void he’d carved himself.