Location:Ā Greensboro Arboretum Date: Fri, August 31th Time: 11:00pm (closed to @jenbrookhartā)
Itās not the loss that bothers him. Hell, itās not even the red card. Graysonās a Fox, and heās not a good oneāthose things arenāt new. No one made him throw down his racket and put up his fists anyway. That was his own faulty wiring, and truth be told, he knows heād do it again. He can argue that it was better for him to get a card than Elior, but in the end, Graysonās selfish. The Jackals gave him an excuse, but heād been itching for a fight the moment heād stepped out onto that court.Ā
Itās only in the comedown that it sinks in. The inevitable red card means he wonāt be playing in their next gameāthe game his dadās coming to. ThatāsĀ what bothers him.Ā
Dubois is a long way from Palmetto. Itās always been hard for his dad to take trips, and harder still when Graysonās already gone for school, unable to help out around the ranch. Truth be told, heād been shockedĀ when his dad agreed to come to Parentsā Weekend this year. Theyāve never seen eye to eye about Exy, but somewhere, deep down, heād dreamed of playing well next time aroundāmaking his dad proud.Ā
But Grayson blew it. Already. His dadās going to travel all this way to see Grayson sitting on the fucking bench.Ā Heās got no one to blame but himself though, and itās a familiar feeling.
Greensboro isnāt crowded, but it still feels claustrophobic right now, especially in a hotel full of Foxes. Graysonās only in his hotel room for a few minutes before the restlessness sets in. He wants a cigarette. He wants another fight. He wantsāsomething. Cities make him homesick in the worst way, even if itās mostly for a version of his home that only exists in his head.Ā
Somehow, that translates into him dragging Jen out to the closet park he can find. Itās not nature, not even close, but even carefully groomed lawns are better than concrete and metal buildings right now. He shoves his bruised knuckles into his jacket pockets, glancing sidelong at them. The silence feels heavier than normal, because he knowsĀ theyāve got better things to do instead of trailing behind him here. Itās late, and the park is empty, and heās justāfuriousĀ at himself. Because, of course, it all comes back to anger in the end. Anger at himself, anger at everyone else. Thereās a reason why throwing punches on the court feels so goddamn satisfying, even if it always leaves him hollow in the aftermath.Ā
None of that is Jenās fault though, so he clears his throat. Heās off kilter tonight, and this isnāt their usual interaction. They spend time together in stables, on trails, and heās used to being more in control around Jen. āRough game,ā he says, and even his attempt at apathy canāt hide the extra bite in his tone.Ā āSorry they booed your team at halftime. I think that was our fault.ā












