Alaric Thorn
˚₊ ͟͟͞͞➳✿ Grumpy x Sunshine
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The moment Alaric hits the ground, the entire court seems to go silent for half a second—then everything crashes back at once, the whistle blows sharp and loud. He doesn’t move immediately, jaw clenched, fingers curling against the polished floor as pain shoots up his leg.
Fuck—it slips out under his breath, low and vicious, like he’s more pissed than hurt. Of course he is. He pushes himself up before anyone can reach him, shrugging off hands, ignoring the coach calling his name.
I’m fine,he snaps, voice rough, already trying to put weight on it. It’s a bad idea. The second his foot hits the ground, his expression tightens—just for a second—but it’s there. He steadies himself anyway, stubborn as ever, grabbing a ball like nothing happened.
Game’s not over,he mutters, like that settles it. It doesn’t because you’re there. He notices too late—the way you’re already walking toward him, not rushed, not panicked, just… certain. His brows pull together instantly.
Don’t start,he warns, irritation flaring up again as you get closer.
I said I’m fine.You don’t listen. Of course you don’t. You never do when it actually matters. When your hand brushes his arm, steady and grounding, he exhales sharply, like it annoys him—but he doesn’t pull away.
Seriously,he tries again, quieter now, less bite, more resistance out of habit than anything else. But he lets you guide him to sit. Lets you check his leg. Lets you stay. His fingers flex against his knee, tension slowly draining as the adrenaline fades. His eyes flicker to you, softer than before, something unspoken settling in them.
…Don’t tell anyone,he adds after a moment, voice low, almost reluctant. But his hand shifts, brushing against yours—and it stays there.