#akira005

One short week between games is a brutal schedule for anyone. One short week between two rough games is even worse. The first went into overtime, ended with someone tackling Grant to the ground, and tonight he played an entire half, no matter how poorly it went. It’s no wonder he aches all over. No wonder the skin under his eyes feels almost swollen from exhaustion. Those are purely physical things though, easily ignored under the assumption that a reluctant rest day and some much needed sleep will help—and yet he still can’t bring himself to head back to Fox Tower. There will be teammates there, people he feels he needs to answer to for this loss, and he can’t yet. 

Even in the aftermath of tonight though, when he vaguely wants to hide, Grant wears a bright orange hoodie—because despite a 5-1 loss, he’s a Fox through and through. It makes him an easy target to spot, so he loiters in sidelines of the Court parking lot longer than necessarily, waiting until the Ravens and their fans have cleared out, and until scattered groups of journalists finally leave too. Maybe press duty is over too, then. Frankly, Grant doesn’t want to know how it went, but he can imagine there will be damage control needed in the morning, even with Akira in there. 

Grant’s finally on his way out when he spots another figure in the darkness. He squints, prepared to make the split second decision about how he needs to present himself to them: resolute if it’s a member of the press, hopeful if it’s somehow a fan, distant and undaunted if it’s a Raven. Instead though, he recognizes Akira—and for all the masks he’s cycled through in that moment, Grant doesn’t present any of them to his friend. There’s no point in hiding, not when Akira must be worse off than him anyway. Losing over and over again like this is draining, especially when he’s putting his everything into each of these games, and last week’s win is easily brushed aside in face of tonight’s game. Akira’s in the same boat, and injured on top of that.