“Nicko, as I said, there will always be assholes, you shouldn’t–”
“Yeah,someassholes! But this one Iknow!”
I frown and then look closer, squinting at his phone. He’s not just pointing at the post, but the likes under it.Liked by BadgerXL,it proclaims. I tilt my head. Nicko huffs and taps on the name, opening the guy’s profile, andnowI also feel a lot angrier than if they were just some nobodies. Linus Zollweg, clad in his orange Badgers uniform, smirks up from every other post on the profile.
“My freakingCaptain?!And after I–” Nicko interrupts himself, biting his lip so hard I’m worried he’ll break the skin. My stomach churns, and I close my eyes for a moment. It doesn’t hit me as personally, but I still feel queasy when I think about our last encounter. The guy who smiled in my face as I shook his hand before our match apparently spends his free time liking posts with shit emojis pasted over my face.
“Fuck!” Nicko squeezes his eyes shut. I take his phone before he throws it against the wall, locking the screen and putting it away on his nightstand. When I look back at him, Nicko has his arm draped over his forehead.
“I’m sorry, I know this sucks.”
“No. No, you don’t.” He takes a deep breath, then turns his head to look at me. “Remember that I barely told anyone? About me being bi?” he swallows thickly, hiding behind his hand again. “I told Linus.”
I bite my tongue, my heart aching for him. “I’m so sorry, Nicko.” I shift closer, even when I’m not sure if the contact will be welcome considering the topic. But he doesn’t move away, so I lay one arm over his middle.
“But,” I start, grasping at straws, “you’ll be rid of him in only a few months. We’ll be playing together for the Rebels, and you won’t have to deal with this Linus fucker ever again.”
“Will we though?”
“What do you mean?”
He doesn’t answer at first, just gnaws on his lower lip.
“Nicko?” I prompt, my chest squeezing with apprehension.
“What if the Rebels won’t sign me?”
I almost laugh at that. “Of course, they will! Nicko, you’re a Top Ten draft pick; the Rebels would be absolute idiots not to sign you!”
“I–” Nicko makes a noise like someone cut off his air. I push myself up onto my elbows to look at him, but he’s hidden behind his hands again.
“Hm?”
He makes the same noise again, and I sigh. Leaning down I press a short kiss against his knuckles. “You don’t have to tell me, but don’t…” I frown, weighing my words, “don’t let Zollweg get to you. Focus on finishing the season, play amazing games, and…” and then I don’t know what’s going to happen. Or rather, I knowexactlywhat will happen, but I don’t allow the thought to register.
“I haven’t heard from them since my surgery!” Nicko finally breaks out, his voice hoarse, strangled.
It’s not what I expected, so I have to blink a few times to orient myself around the new information. I can’t imagine how that must have built up in his head, dealing with his kneeandworrying that the Rebels might be ghosting him.
I swallow thickly. “That...that’s over a year ago.”
“No shit, Sherlock!”
I duck my head, but I just had to say the obvious out loud to sort it in my head.
“But you’ve been playing amazing games, Nicko! Maybe they’re just waiting until you’ve finished your season? I...I think that’s how it works?”
“You’ve had contact with them.”
“I...yes, some,” I admit, “but most of that was for the anniversary of Pride Night.”
We both wince at that.
Somehow, we keep making the loop back to that damn interview, where so many of our misunderstandings started. It’s a bitter pill to swallow that at least some accusations that Nicko flung my way weren’t entirely unfounded: Apparently, I do get more attention from the Rebels.
I bite my lip, carefully shifting onto my side, leaning my head into my hand. My other hand settles over his hip. “If they didn’t contact you, did you…?” I cut myself off when Nicko just raises his brows at me.
“Okay, yes, sorry. Your dad couldn’t get into contact with them either?”
