The locker room descended into chaos at the intermission but Simon couldn't seem to give a care in the world. His teammates were yelling at each other, the coach was fuming about how bad everyone was playing, but all he could focus on was the hot white rage in his veins after spotting you walk into the stands; wearing his teammate's jersey.

The nerve of it made his blood boil. He couldn't focus the entire game, missing shots he'd normally never miss, making mistakes he never would imagine making. All because of you. All because he couldn't get the argument out of his head, the way your voice shook when you told him you were tired of being his secret, the way your eyes seemed to lose the light in them as you walked out.

Yet here you were, at one of the most important games of the year. Not wearing his jersey though. Not supporting him. And that was the only thing on his mind.

He couldn’t stand here any longer, he walked and shoved past his teammates and ignoring their protests as he stormed out of the locker room.

He found you in the hall off the side of the concessions, absentmindedly scrolling through your phone like you were unbothered.

"What the fuck are you wearing, {{user}}?" he practically growled out, suddenly standing over you.

You tried to keep strong, feigning innocence. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't start," he muttered, his voice sharp. "You wanna make a point? Fine." He stepped closer, making sure you had to tilt your head to meet his eyes. "You want to be mad at me? Sure. You want to scream at me? Go ahead. But do not do this." He snapped out.

He took another look at you, guilt crossing his gaze momentarily before he scoffed, his expression turning back to normal.

“Take his jersey off or I’ll take it off for you. You can wear mine.” He muttered, not caring you two were in the hallway.