"You all look like a bunch of stumbling buffoons out there!"
Hannah winces as Mamrie wraps her wrist, ignoring Coach’s red face and bulging eyes, instead opting to watch the darkening purple spots around her wrist.
"Sorry sweets." Mamrie mumbles the slightest to her, finishing her wrap and tightening it once before moving on to wrap John Doberman’s ankle.
"Front line, where the hell are you? And it’s like the receivers are just playing tag down-field! And Hart, where the hell are you?" Hannah’s eyes shoot up, taking in the full experience of the middle-aged man’s angered expression. "You haven’t completed a pass since the beginning of the fourth quarter! You’re killing us out there!" Complete silence is met with his outburst, the final word echoing throughout the locker room. Hannah holds his gaze, determined to not back down, to not look away; determined to show no weakness. Something in her gaze hits the Coach, his demeanor softening, his puffed-out chest deflating.
Taking off his worn baseball cap and rubbing a hand over his face and through his hair before replacing the cap, Coach Marks takes a moment to take in the ragged expressions of his players. Of his kids. A quiet man who’s lead a simple life, fulfilling his dream of settling down in his hometown and coaching at his alma mater, Brayden Marks has dedicated his entire life to this team. He has spent the last 15 years trying to win their school a championship.
And he is tired. He thought about giving up, until this team came to him. This specific group of kids, there was something about them. When you put them all together, it was like magic. Watching them play reminded him of why he loved the sport so much. And because he had so much faith in them, his disappointment was coming out in full force. But it was only because he wanted them to win so bad. Not just for himself, but for them. For these kids, for their friends, for the school. For the town.
But even that wasn’t worth discarding his integrity.
"Look, guys, I just….this life, it’s short. And you have so much of it ahead of you, so many incredible days to look forward to that you aren’t even aware of yet. And maybe someday, maybe even in the next 5 years, you won’t remember the players on the team, or the scores of the game. But you will remember how it felt. How this feels, to be so incredibly a part of something, to know that you can run full sprint and know each and every person in this room will be full speed behind you. That is a feeling that you won’t get too often after this time. I know it’s only the first game, but this game will determine how the rest of the season goes; how the playoffs will go, if they even happen." He takes a deep breath, watching on bated breath as new life begins to color each players face.
"Now. One in?"
"All in." Hannah states with finality, standing with meaning and meeting Coach Marks gaze. He nods at her with pride, the rest of the team standing not moments later and chanting "All in!" in unison, following the team of coaches back out onto the field to begin the second half.
Hannah watches them go, a sense of pride and obligation swelling in her chest. She can do this. She can help these guys. She has to help these guys. She has to push all of the shit filling her brain to the back of her brain and focus on the next 30 minutes.
"Well if that wasn’t the cheesiest Friday Night Lights moment I’ve ever heard, then I don’t know what is.” Tyler states off-handly over Mamrie’s shoulder as the check’s the quarterback’s bandage once more.
"Alright Harto, you ready for this? Those guys are gunning for ya."
"Not really helping Mames." Hannah replies, standing and adjusting the pads underneath her jersey. She looks back up to find Mamrie watching her with a careful, concerned eye. "What?"
"I’m honestly worried about you, Hart. You are always up in you head and completely distracted from the real world, so I’m used to it at this point. But now is the time to get you head outta the clouds kid! Those guys are huge out there and they will kill you if you are the least bit distracted!" Mamrie exclaims, Hannah reacting by rubbing at the back of her neck and shuffling her foot at the floor, the image of a scolded child.
Mamrie straightens and crosses her arms over her chest, shaking her head with the hint of a smile. “Well, we figured you would need this, so you’re welcome.” Hannah’s eyes shoot up to her in confusion, Mamrie responding in kind by smiling and squeezing her shoulder, walking past her to the door of the locker rooms.
Hannah turns to watch her, not noticing that Tyler had no only left the room but had returned with a certain blonde in tow. The troublesome twosome smile coyly at the pair, exiting the locker room without another word. Grace watches them leave, looking back at Hannah and giving a bit of a wave, laughing at herself and slowly crossing over to Hannah.
"You’re getting killed out there."
"Yeah, so I’ve heard." Hannah retorts, reaching over to pick her helmet up and meeting Grace halfway. Grace lets out a deep breath, putting both hands on the brunette’s shoulder.
"What is going on with you lately, Han? I mean, you are always distracted but this is happening on a whole ‘nother level. And you haven’t told me about it?"
Hannah breathes deeply, looking deep into Grace’s hazels, a privilege she doesn’t allow herself often; because when she does, she gets lost. Lost in what is, what could be, how she feels, the fact that she doesn’t want to feel the way she does about this girl but also that she has felt this way for so long, she doesn’t know another reality. This is the life she knows: being in love with someone with someone who will never feel the same and being completely at peace about it. And if she says something, if she tells Grace the truth, that reality is shattered. That peace is gone forever. She doesn’t know if she can do that, if she can push herself out of this blissful lie she’s grown so comfortable of living in.
Looking at Grace now, however, every fiber of her being is screaming at her to tell the blonde the truth and be done with it. How much longer can she go on without the truth?
"Have you ever wanted to tell someone something, something incredibly important, but you knew that the moment you said it, everything would change? Life would flip on its head?"
Grace’s brows scrunch in confusion, “Where are you going with this Hannah?”
Hannah stares at her a moment longer, then shakes her head, laughing without a trace of humor. “Doesn’t matter Gracie. I gotta go.”
Hannah slips out of Grace’s hands and the blonde watches her go, can feel the air of exhaustion surrounding her best friend. She is left standing in the middle of the locker room in utter confusion, hands still hanging in the air from where Hannah was standing. Mamrie and Tyler slip back into the room as Hannah is leaving, the cheers and announcements from the stadium filling the air for the few brief moments before the door closes.
The trio stands in silence for an extended period, each in their own separate state of confusion. Tyler is the first one to speak.
"Soooo…did you make her feel any better?"
"Do you guys know what the hell is going on with her?" Grace gestures towards the door, finally unfreezing from her stance.
Mamrie looks at her in disbelief, quietly questioning, “You really don’t see it, do you?”
"See what?" Grace asks, taking an unplanned step forward, getting exasperated by the whole situation.
Mamrie looks towards Tyler, who simply shakes his head and laughs, turning towards the door to exit.
"What?" Grace asks again, louder and less patient this time.
"Harto’s in love with you, Grace." Mamrie states plainly, as if they are talking about the weather. "Has been since forever."
The room sits in silence for a moment, the air suddenly heavy and thick. Mamrie raises her brows at Grace, before turning and following Tyler out the door and back out to the field.
Grace doesn’t register the two leave, doesn’t register the sounds the filter quickly through the room before disappearing all together, doesn’t register the fact that she is now alone, standing in the exact same position staring at the door.
She doesn’t register anything except for Mamrie’s words beating themselves repeatedly against her brain.
Harto’s in love with you. Has been since forever. In love with you. Since forever. In love with you. Forever. Harto’s in love with you. Forever.
"Hannah’s in love with me?"