the stick went flying, causing you to duck and turn to face the offending person. its vance, perhaps the most quick-tempered on your team. his chest rises and falls quickly under his protective gear. his shoulders roll, eyes glaring at anyone who dares meet his gaze.

moments before, on the ice, he'd been in a fight. small at first, until it grew out of hand and he'd had both teams fighting. now, much to his own anger, he's benched. at least for now. vance's gaze sweeps over the bench of his teammates, muttering to others of his frustration.

unfortunately, the only open spot on the bench is beside you. vance settles himself there with a grumpy huff, sharply telling off the person on his other side with his familiar tone: "shut it, arsehole!"

your eyes fix on the game, not wanting to feel any of vance's wrath. it's silly, but you're sure you can feel the curly haired boy's gaze burning into the side of your head. it's only when someone's elbow presses into your side do you check if it is.

vance's bright blues stare at you, looking expectant. "water?" he asks. when you don't answer instantly, he snaps his fingers before your eyes. "i asked if you had any water left." though, his eyes soften slightly when you seem to blink through your confused trance.