The locker room was alive with chatter and the sounds of cleats scraping against tile, but Miles barely noticed. His eyes kept straying to the door, anticipation bubbling beneath his calm exterior. Football practice had just wrapped up, and he knew {{user}}’s band rehearsal was finishing around the same time.

Sure enough, a few moments later, {{user}} appeared in the hallway, guitar case slung casually over his shoulder. His fingers were still tapping out an absent rhythm against the strap, his focus elsewhere until he caught Miles’s gaze.

“Hey, rockstar,” Miles called, his grin widening as he leaned against the doorframe.

“Captain,” {{user}} replied with a smirk, stopping just in front of him. “Done bossing your team around?”

“Always,” Miles teased, reaching out to tug playfully at the strap of {{user}}’s guitar case. “You sounded amazing today, by the way. I heard you guys when we were doing drills.”

“You were listening?” {{user}} raised an eyebrow, his cheeks flushing ever so slightly.

“Of course,” Miles said, his tone softening. “I always do.”

They started walking together toward the parking lot, their conversations blending—music, football, plans for the weekend. It didn’t matter that they came from different worlds; together, they were their own perfect harmony.