Chapter BGM:
For the game & locker room build-up: "Remember the Name" – Fort Minor
For the slow-motion almost kiss scene: "Electric" – Alina Baraz ft. Khalid
—
Part I: Before the Storm
The day of the final match had finally arrived.
Laughter, sweat, tension—all of it had built up to this moment. Especially for the vice captain-Eli. This game was his ticket to university.
But for some reason... Celeste couldn't stop glancing at Nolan.
He looked calm. He always did.
But something about the way he sat alone in the locker room, head down, fingers fussing with already-tied laces—
Told her everything.
Jett noticed too. He leaned in and nudged her shoulder gently, voice low.
"He needs you," he murmured. "I'll handle the rest."
She hesitated at the door.
What could she even do? He probably didn't want to be bothered.
And yet—
She reached up and unhooked the little plush charm from her gym bag.
Then, with a soft knock, she leaned close to the door and heard a low, familiar "yeah?" from inside.
Smiling, she slipped just the toy through the crack. Only half her face was visible.
And then—came the worst singing in recorded human history:
"I see your master, I see your pain..
Tell me your problems, I'll chase them away...."
It was loud. It was off-key. And it was unmistakably deliberate.
He didn't react at first. But the corner of his mouth… moved.
Barely.
"…That was so off, it hurt," he muttered.
She huffed and jiggled the plush at him.
"Your court's waiting. And so am I."
He looked up.
His smile came slowly. But it came.
She stepped in, leaned close, and nudged his arm with her elbow.
"What's wrong?" she asked, eyes sparkling.
He let out a breath. "Just… nervous."
She nodded. "I used to get nervous too. Every single time."
"I could never tell if it was the noise… or just me freaking out because everyone expected me to keep it all together."
She paused. Then lifted her hand, palm open.
"Here. Give me your hand."
He blinked.Their eyes met.
She didn't look away. Just waited, calm and steady.That same quiet confidence she wore when calling plays or calming the team mid-match.
Finally, he placed his hand in hers.
She closed her fingers gently around his, warm and sure.
"Here," she said. "A little energy boost. You're welcome."
"You're gonna do better than you think." She smiled. "Because I believe in you."
He didn't say a word.But he didn't let go either.
Her hand was small—but it held him still.
And for the first time that day, his nerves quieted.
…His heartbeat didn't, though.
————————————————————————————————————
Part II: War Drums and Focused Eyes
Eli was still the one pushing the hardest.
His jumps were explosive, his landings sharp, sweat flying off his body like sparks from a blade. He was fast, precise, and the one who kept the entire team steady—like the ballast in a ship during a storm.
But Nolan—he was on fire.
Light on his feet. Deadly with every shot. Eyes sharp as a hawk's, locked in.
Every time he leapt for a shot, Celeste found herself holding her breath—not out of fear, but from pure instinct. From the thrill of watching him fly.
His threes? Flawless. His fakes? Elegant. He moved like a silent artist painting a masterpiece with nothing but movement and light.
And still, after every point, he'd glance to the sidelines. Always the same direction. Always toward her.
Like he was checking—Are you watching me?
Celeste would tilt her chin, raise a "perfect" hand gesture, and flash him that signature smirk.
They were always in sync. Always had been.
Right before every game, Coach and Celeste would pull the team into a tight huddle. It had become a ritual.
The boys leaned in shoulder to shoulder, heads lowered, breaths syncing. The air was thick with sweat, resin, and nerves.
She stood in the center, voice low—but steady like a drumbeat.
"Five percent pleasure—"
"Fifty percent pain—"
Their voices grew, sharper, stronger—
"And a hundred percent reason—to remember the name!"
That last line cracked through the court like lightning. Like fire in their veins.
It wasn't just a chant. It was a vow.
They weren't just here to win.
They were here to be remembered.
By the second half, the outcome was clear. But they kept playing to the final second—because this wasn't just about winning.
This was youth. This was legacy.
————————————————————————————————————
Part III: The Shot, The Smile, The Silence
Final two minutes. The gym pulsed with tension.
Nolan stood at the three-point line. The ball hadn't even left his hands—and yet, silence fell like a curtain.
Celeste's heart skipped. Not for the score—but for the look in his eyes.
She'd never seen it before. That kind of focus. That kind of fire. Like he wasn't just aiming for the basket—he was challenging fate itself.
And then—he shot.
Right before the release, he looked at her. Not a glance. Not a flicker. But a gaze that cut through the crowd, the chaos, the noise.
As if to say—Are you watching?
This is for you.
Swish. The ball sliced through the net. Game over.
The crowd erupted. It was deafening. People shouting, crying, laughing—confetti exploded from the rafters.
Nolan stood at center court, head tilted back as the glittering pieces rained down. He was drenched in sweat and light. His breath heavy. His smile unguarded.
He looked… free.
For once, not like someone carrying the weight of silence or shadows— But like a boy who'd just broken through it.
And Celeste just stood there, heart pounding, eyes stinging— completely, absolutely wrecked.
He looked straight at her. And smiled.
The kind of smile that lit up more than a scoreboard. It lit up her whole chest.
————————————————————————————————————
Part IV: A Kiss That Almost Happened
The team lifted the coach in celebration. And Nolan?
Without hesitation—swept Celeste up into his arms.
She gasped—half shock, half delight—as her feet left the ground, her arms instinctively wrapping around his neck.
The cheers around them roared, but the world... slowed.
Their eyes locked.
It was supposed to be just a happy lift, a post-victory moment, a harmless spin.
But they didn't let go.
Her breath caught.
His fingers pressed a little firmer at her waist.
Her cheeks flushed.
He leaned in. So did she. Their noses nearly touched—Lips just a breath away—
Too close. Too exposed.
And yet... neither moved.
The crowd blurred. The light shimmered. Confetti floated between them like suspended time.
She blinked, eyes wide.
He didn't blink.
His gaze was steady. Intense.
Like he was asking a question, silently.
"If it were just us... would you let me?"
She swallowed hard, face burning, fingers still curled at his shoulder.
And then—
Someone shouted behind them:
"Bro—if you're gonna propose, at least warn us first!"
Laughter exploded. The moment shattered.
Celeste dropped her head quickly, hiding the smile that was trying so hard to break free.
Nolan chuckled low under his breath, but his gaze never left her flushed cheeks.
Then—softly, so only she could hear—
He said,
"Next time... no crowd."
_______________________________________________________________________________
"At that moment, he finally understood:
He wasn't just someone others needed to protect.
He was becoming the one who could protect...her."