Nat had just told Shoresy he wasn’t playing in the semi-finals. Then, just to kick him while he was down, suggested he don’t play ever again.

He was standing outside your door, debating on if he should knock when you opened it.

“Shoresy.” You said, furrowing your brow at his intense, teary look.

“They aren’t letting me play the semi. And Nat thinks I should stop playing all together.” He manages, rubbing his eyes with his hands as he tries not to cry.