The gym had gone quiet, the air still carrying the faint echo of whistles and shouted plays from earlier, you’d been waiting by the entrance for nearly twenty minutes before spotting his captain heading out.

“He’s still in the locker room.” The teammate said with a tired chuckle. “Three hour scrimmage finally took him out. Good luck waking him.”

You pushed through the heavy doors, your footsteps echoing softly against the tile, the locker room was cool, smelling faintly of detergent and floor wax.

When you turned the corner to his locker, you stopped, your chest tightening at the sight.

He’d cleared a small space on the wooden bench, using his folded hoodie as a makeshift pillow, curled on his side, his long legs tucked in to fit the narrow space, he looked impossibly smaller like this, his chest rose and fell in slow, steady breaths, completely worn out.

“Hey,” You whispered, kneeling beside him, you brushed a damp curl away from his forehead. “Practice’s over, sleepyhead.”

He didn’t wake, but a soft hum slipped from him, his nose scrunching slightly as he burrowed deeper into the hoodie.