brainrotting 24/7

Okay I did the math for Wills age based purely on visuals and stuff.

I wanna say Will is about 8 at the beginning of the movie, because he sounds and acts REALLY young. Jett is well established at that point, because Will said it was Jetts NEW billboard. In the flashback to his birthday, I think there’s about 7/8 candles on the pie and he looks the same as the beginning of the film (so maybe the roarball game was a birthday present?)

Jett probably got drafted right out of high school, so probably at 18/19. Plus five to account for her being champion at the game child Will went to, that would make her 23/24 at the time plus another ten to account for the time skip would make her 33/34.

So with the 10 year time skip, that would put him AT MOST 19, maybe 20 if we’re really pushing it.

and in the flashback when he’s talking about his moms death he looks similar to how he does in the present, so I’m assuming it was recent event, maybe a couple years prior at most given he’s paying rent and has a job, but still young.

The first thing people noticed about you was how quiet you were.

Not shy, exactly… just… contained. You moved through campus like a ghost with a schedule. Books hugged to your chest, eyes focused, mind always somewhere a little deeper than whatever conversations were happening around you.

The second thing people noticed about you was your boyfriend, the star player of the schools roarball team... Will Harris. Or more specifically, how odd it was that someone like him was with someone like you. Their judgment wasn’t subtle. The looks, the whispers, the not-so-quiet comments that followed you down the hallway like an echo. They’d say things like:

“That’s his girlfriend?”

“He could literally have anyone.”

“What does he even see in her?”

You’d gotten used to it. Or at least, you told yourself you had. Because none of them saw what you saw.

They didn’t see the way Will’s hoof would automatically find yours in crowded hallways. They didn’t hear the softness in his voice when he said your name like it meant something more than just a label. They didn’t know that the star player of the roarball team had a habit of falling asleep on your shoulder during late-night study sessions...

Right now, though, all anyone saw was him walking toward you across the quad.

Practice had just ended. You could tell from the way his curly hair was damp and pushed back, his jersey slung over his shoulder. Conversations dimmed as he passed, like the world itself leaned in a little closer whenever he moved... You tried to keep your eyes on your book.

Tried.

“Hey,” his voice came, low and familiar, cutting straight through your concentration. You looked up despite yourself. Will was already smiling. Not the cocky grin everyone else got. Not the one he wore on the field or around his teammates. This one was softer. Real.

“Hi,” you said, closing your book, your voice quieter but steady. Without hesitation, he dropped down onto the bench beside you, close enough that your shoulders brushed. His arm slid around you like it belonged there, like it always had. “You’ve been out here the whole time?” he asked.

You nodded. “Had reading to finish.”

He huffed a small laugh. “You always have reading to finish.”

“And you always have practice,” you shot back, glancing at him.

“Yeah,” he said, but his attention was already fully on you, like the rest of the world had faded out. “But I’d rather be here.”

You felt the familiar warmth creep up your neck. “You say that now.”

“I say that always.”

That earned a small smile from you, one you tried to hide, but he caught it anyway. He always did. For a moment, everything felt simple. Just you and him, like the whispers didn’t exist.

Until someone nearby snorted.

“Dude,” a voice muttered to one of Will’s teammates, just loud enough to carry, “I still don’t get it.”

Your chest tightened instinctively, your gaze dropping back to your book even though you weren’t reading anymore. Then, slowly, his arm around you tightened. Not possessive, not showy. But protective. Grounding.

He didn’t look at them. He looked at you.

“Hey,” he murmured, softer now. “Ignore them.”

You swallowed. “I am.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying your face like he could read every thought you didn’t say out loud. “Good,” he said, though his voice carried an edge now. “Because they don’t know anything.”

Your fingers curled slightly into the fabric of your sleeve. “It’s fine, Will. Really.”

“It’s not,” he said quietly.

That made you look at him again. There was something different in his expression now. not anger, exactly, but something close. Something protective, and stubborn, and very, very sure.

“They think I could have anyone,” he continued, his voice low enough that it was just for you. “They’re right.”

Your heart dipped slightly at that, even though you knew he wasn’t finished.

“But I don’t want anyone,” he said, meeting your eyes. “I want you.”

The world went very still. And for once, the whispers didn’t matter.

Because the way he looked at you like you were something rare, something worth choosing over and over again, was louder than anything else. Your voice came out softer than you intended.

“Why?”

It slipped out before you could stop it. A simple question. One you’d never ask out loud.

Will blinked, caught off guard for half a second... then he smiled, slower this time.

“Guess you’re gonna have to stick around,” he said, his hoof brushing absent circles against your arm, “and let me prove it.”

And just like that, your quiet, carefully structured world shifted just a little.