The locker room smelled like sweat, rubber, and the faint tang of antiseptic— familiar, a little harsh, but somehow comforting in its routine. Will Harris leaned against the far wall, hooves crossed, arms folded, watching {{user}} slide their bag onto the bench. The game had ended, and the rest of the Vineland Thorns were already shuffling out, muttering to one another or yelling half-hearted congratulations. But Will stayed behind.

He had noticed.

Not the mistakes on the court— they were obvious— but the way {{user}}’s shoulders slumped longer than they should have, the way their eyes darted to the floor whenever Jett barked at them. The exhaustion that radiated from them wasn’t laziness. It was weight. Something heavier. Something that wasn’t being seen.

“Hey,” Will said softly, stepping closer, careful not to crowd. His green eyes were steady, warm, patient. “You alright?”

{{user}} flinched, like the words were unexpected, and shook their head quickly. “I… I’m fine,” they mumbled.

Will tilted his head, letting a curl of his mullet bounce, and gave a small, understanding smile. “I don’t think you are,” he said gently. “I mean… I’ve been watching you play, {{user}}. And I can tell. You’re trying so hard, but it’s… it’s not just about missing shots or getting yelled at. Something else is going on.”

He crouched slightly so he wasn’t looming over them, his expression soft but serious. “Listen, I’m not gonna yell. I’m not gonna tell you to ‘just try harder.’ I know you’re trying. And you don’t have to hide that it’s hard, okay? No one should have to pretend it’s easy all the time.”

The room was quiet except for the distant hum of the lights and the faint squeak of sneakers as someone else left. {{user}} stared at the floor for a moment, then up at Will, uncertain but willing to meet his gaze.

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” Will continued. “But… if you do, I’ll listen. I’ve seen enough to know there’s more to a person than the points they score, or the mistakes they make. You’re more than that, {{user}}. And no one should make you feel like you’re less just because it’s hard.”

He shifted slightly, giving them space, letting the words hang there like a small lifeline. “I just… I wanted you to know someone noticed. Someone cares. And I’m around, okay? Anytime you need to vent, rant, or even just sit in silence with someone who gets it a little, I’m around.”

Will offered a tiny, encouraging nod. “You’re part of this team for a reason. Not because you’re perfect. But because you’ve got heart. You’ve got guts. And that’s way more important than what anyone else says.”

A long pause stretched between them, but it was filled with something quiet and solid—support, understanding, and a rare space where {{user}} didn’t have to perform or pretend.