striker-brayden‌:
“What part of that was lovey dovey?” Brayden tries to argue, words muffled by the pillow that landed on his face. He shoves it off before sprawling out on the bed, letting out a contented sigh. For him, that was borderline mushy. He’s still so used to keeping everything to himself, even his feelings for his boyfriend. There’s nothing to hide though, pictures of them with their tongues shoved down each other’s throats were plastered all over FoxWatch a few days after they got together, so there’s no point in pretending he’s too cool to be in love or whatever.Â
Still, he’s not sure if he’ll ever get over that fear of letting his emotions show, of having too much hope and letting himself have things. Brayden spent so many years alone. He pushed his family away to the point where he just came in and out of his home like a ghost, spending the majority of his time underneath the bleachers or wandering around Pasadena. He never thought he’d have any of this–a coach who for some reason believes in him, a boyfriend, or friends like Leo where he can do shit like this with. It scares him still, like one wrong move and he’ll be eighteen and lost all over again.Â
Brayden snorts as he lazily looks over at Leo, noticing that he doesn’t deny it, just kind of talks his way around it. “I’m pretty sure if you dumped her you would be dead, not here drinking with me,” He points out. Brayden doesn’t make a habit of talking to Sasha more than she has to, mostly because he’s seen her throw herself in enough fights to steer him away,, but also because the few times they do talk, she reminds him how gross she thinks he is. How Leo ended up with her, he has no fucking clue. He can’t imagine her in a girlfriend role, going on dates and calling him pet names.Â
“It’s okay, man. You don’t gotta lie to me. I’m already helping you drink away your sorrows,” He gives Leo a sarcastic grin, mostly joking. If he did get dumped, he doesn’t seem too heartbroken over it–unless that’s the reason he isn’t downstairs with the party.
“You know what you did,” he sniffs, but it’s mostly for show. He likes the gossip: likes knowing who’s getting together and who’s breaking up—(and yes, likes to narrate his teammates’ exploits if they’re involving the team by having them on the team’s bus)—but he doesn’t take it much more seriously than that. His own relationships are flings more than anything else, and if they last longer than that it’s more out of convenience than any kind of seriousness.Â
He knows that his teammates aren’t necessarily the same way, that Brayden and Arlo are probably like gay swans who have mated for life, but for the most part it’s their business.Â
And, honestly, it’s boring. He’d be way more invested if they were fighting all the time, breaking up and then making up.Â
It’s funny, then, that he and Sasha are ending their own not-relationship without all of that drama. But in drama like that there’s always a winner and a loser, and when both of them had agreed to put on a public spectacle to save face, that didn’t seem quite fair. So, instead, they’re fizzling out. And they’re doing a good job of it: if their teammates are wondering, then the next step is the more public rumor mill.Â
“Nah, she’s not as bad as all that,” he protests. He’s not sure why: he’s sure that Sasha loves her maneater reputation—even moreso now that he knows what else she’s deflecting from—but he still wants people to believe that they’re broken up without damage to his person. And, well, she’d been a good fake girlfriend. And they’re friends, so he feels like he’s sticking up for her, her ability to be a good real girlfriend to someone else.  “And we’re friends, still. So it’s, like, mutual.”
He feels antsy now. Maybe it’s the lying. But he rolls to his feet, extricating himself from the blankets with the bottle still clutched in his hand. He spares a glance for his discarded shirt, before deciding it’s more trouble than it’s worth, and holds out his hand to Brayden instead. “We done feeling sorry for ourselves? Because there’s a party out there.”














