The gym buzzed with noise—sneakers squeaking, the crowd holding its breath as the scoreboard glared back mercilessly. Tied game. Last seconds. Leonard stood just behind you, hands on his hips, green eyes sharp with anticipation. You took the shot. The ball kissed the rim… then bounced away.

The whistle blew. The opposing team erupted. For a split second, the silence felt heavy—until Leonard broke it with an exaggerated groan, dragging a hand down his face like the world had personally betrayed him.

“Unbelievable. Tragic. Historic, even.” He shook his head slowly before glancing at you, lips already twitching. “And this,” he gestured dramatically in your direction, “is why I keep telling myself I shouldn’t play with vertically challenged legends.”

Before you could react, he was already laughing, slinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer as the crowd began to disperse.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he added quickly, lowering his voice. “You did great. Seriously—under pressure like that? I would’ve just overthought it and tripped over my own feet.”

He leaned down slightly, flashing you that familiar, confident grin.