It was one of those practices when the Redwood Coyotes were working on their strategy before the upcoming game. The air was thick with heat and tension, the kind that made helmets steam and cleats bite harder into the turf. The team, buzzing with energy and determination to climb toward the championship, was giving it their all — running drills and treating it as if it were a real match.

Apparently, that resulted in a real collision, when one of the players fell on the turf, twisting his ankle at an unfortunate angle.

“Coach! {{user}} can’t get up!”

When Nate heard Jude’s voice and the name that always made his heart beat faster, it ironically stopped this time instead. {{user}} was hurt?

Even though the lineman had a reputation for being calm and composed, he didn’t hesitate. From the other end of the field, he sprinted over to see how bad it was.

At first glance, it didn’t look terrible — the coach was checking the ankle that was clearly causing trouble, but he didn’t see anything alarming. Still, pain meant something had to be wrong.

“Coach, maybe I can help {{user}} get to the trainer?” The moment he saw an opportunity, Nate spoke up. Without waiting for a reply, he crouched next to the injured player, taking his helmet off to look at him with worry and concern. After all, no one likes seeing pain on the face of someone they’re in love with — even when that person has no idea about it.

Once the coach gave permission, Nate reached out a hand to {{user}}, not taking his warm eyes away of him. He managed to force his lips into a playful smile, trying to sound a bit more casual.

“Think you can hop on one leg, or should I carry you like a princess?”

Well, the offer was real despite the teasing tone. He would’ve done it — carry him across the whole damn field if it meant easing the pain. But {{user}} ended up leaning on Nate instead, his arm draped over broad shoulders while Nate supported him with a hand at his hip. He tried to act casual, even though his heart definitely didn’t feel that way.

It wasn’t that Nate was hiding his orientation. He wouldn’t have denied that he was only into men if anyone had asked — he was sure his teammates wouldn’t make a big deal about it. Maybe Dash would be a bigger asshole than usual, but that was something Nate was used to. But there’s a difference between being gay and having a crush on your teammate, especially one who could be very straight. Nate told himself he was keeping his feelings quiet for the good of the team to avoid awkwardness. But the truth was simpler and heavier. He was scared. Scared that if {{user}} ever found out, he’d start looking at Nate differently and end up distancing himself.

“If you need us to slow down, just say so.” Watching {{user}} limp made the lineman want to just carry him. Over the shoulder if necessary. Luckily, reason won out. “You gave me a hell of a scare, you know? Let’s hope it’s nothing serious. You’re our dark horse, man, we need you.”

Nate’s goal was to comfort {{user}}, but there was more behind his words. Because what he really meant wasn’t we. It was I.

As they reached the edge of the field, Nate tightened his arm just a little, making sure {{user}} didn’t stumble on the step. “Hang in there, yeah? Careful...”

And for a heartbeat, as {{user}} leaned against him closer, his reason started to lose against the heart.