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Xavier was staring intently at his locker, pretending to be deeply in thought over the organization of items inside it. The metal was painted white, as were many of the Away locker rooms he'd found himself in this year, and it didn't fit with the dull gold color of his jersey. He tugged at the hem of it, studying the bright red '3' on his chest. It was bulky in weird places, with his armour pieces beneath, and it seemed he'd spent years of his life adjusting it to look right.
He let his focus slip back to the ambient sounds of his teammates behind him, chattering away as they changed out. They sounded more cheerful than Xavier expected, considering that the Trojans had just lost their semifinal against Penn State. Their last game of the season would be against White Ridge, their old rivals, for third place in the championship. It hadn't been an easy loss; Xavier had watched his team fight consistently for most of the first half, subbing in for their freshman dealer Min at the end. She'd high-fived him as he'd headed for the court doors, and even though they were wearing gloves, Xavier hadn't been able to shake the tingling feeling in his hand ever since.
"–avier? Xavier?"
Xavier nearly jumped out of his skin when he recognised Jeremy's voice, saying his name like it was the third or fourth time he'd been calling. He turned sharply, nearly stumbling back a step in an attempt to act normal, and tripped over every ordinary greeting that tried to come out.
"Uh– yeah, yes? Yeah?"
Internally, Xavier cringed at the pitch of what finally came out, but Jeremy just smiled. It was that smile he always had– never like he'd just suffered a loss, but as if all the exhaustion and effort it'd taken to secure that loss had been just as worth it. Jeremy Knox never seemed to waste a game, or a day, in his life. It made sense that he was the Trojan's captain, made so in only his third year playing. He knew how to drive his team, he knew all the right words and the speeches, he knew how to soothe the wound after a game like tonight. He even looked the part.
"Can you stick around for a couple minutes? I want to talk to you about something."
Xavier tried to clear his throat as inconspicuously as possible, and forced out an "Okay" from his chest. It was at least closer to the pitch of Jeremy's, and his captain clapped his shoulder briefly before turning and heading back out of the locker room.
It wasn't until then that Xavier glanced around at the empty space around him. Penn State's Away locker room was deserted, exactly what Xavier had been waiting for all this time, and he finally shed his armour and gear. He left his jersey on as he headed for the showers, which were communal, but at least behind another set of doors. Routine set in, as he ditched his jersey and shorts on a bench and finally took off his binder. It left an imprint around the base of his ribcage, and he carefully pressed a hand to his diaphragm and took the deepest breath in he could manage. The ache would subside after a while, and once he felt a little closer to normal, Xavier headed for the shower.
He'd gotten a lot of practice in getting through this little ritual at speed, usually the last in the locker room to leave, but even as he stood under the hot spray, he allowed himself a brief moment to stare at the condensation droplets running down the tile.
June 3rd, he thought to himself.
One more year.
It had been the best that the Trojan's head nurse, Davis, could do, and while he'd been sympathetic in breaking the news, Xavier had been ecstatic. It was a year away. A whole other year of binding and layering t-shirts in the summer, of going to the gym as early or as late as possible, of adjusting his Exy gear and turning away from mirrors. But it was a date.
He shook himself out of his racing thoughts and finished up, gathering his discarded clothes and heading back to his locker. He didn't have time to replace the binder with tape, so he opted for his thick red hoodie, the one with his number in gold on the back, and a pair of grey sweatpants that would do for the plane flight home too. With all his gear finally packed up into his bag, Xavier braved the outside world once more.
The Trojans had a hotel to stay in overnight, before they flew back tomorrow, but Xavier had heard a couple people were going out for drinks, either to celebrate or to drown their sorrows. One of them included Shawn Anderson, Xavier's roommate for the night. Shawn was an okay guy, a year older, but one of the few members of the team Xavier had gradually gotten less anxiety-ridden around. Like the rest of them, it'd taken a few months for him to get Xavier's pronouns right, but he'd had the decency to completely forget his birthname, and even correct some of the others at times. Even so, Xavier appreciated the chance of solitude for at least the first half of the night.
This meant that there wasn't too much of a rush to get out of the Lions' stadium, but the lounge was empty when Xavier entered it. All save for one couch, occupied by Jeremy Knox.
He sat back on one of the couches, one ankle resting on his knee while his left hand propped up his head. He wore a red T-shirt bearing the Trojan's logo, and a pair of gold shorts that somehow didn't look weird with his tanned skin and white trainers. His gear bag sat beside the couch, bearing his name, number and the CAPTAIN brand.
He glanced up when Xavier entered, freckled face spreading into that smile once again. Jeremy sat up and patted the seat beside him.
"Hey. Come on, sit down, we've got a few minutes."
Xavier sat down, putting his bag on the floor by his feet like Jeremy's was, and tried to will his knee not to bounce uncontrollably.
"So, I'll cut to the chase," Jeremy started, shifting to face Xavier as he did so.
"I've been thinking about our season next year. If we want to bring it back to Penn State and make finals, we need to have a more cohesive approach. I've talked to James, and we both agree that our strongest shot next year is closing that gap between our offense and our defense, you know?"
Xavier nodded, even though his mind was just a little to fuzzy to focus on what Jeremy was saying.
"Part of that, we think means expanding our leadership a little bit. Having a singular captain for a team this big, especially when I'm solely on offense, isn't the best strategy moving forward."
Xavier nodded again, not entirely sure where this conversation was heading. The adrenaline spike from the game was starting to wear off, and now he was mostly just looking forward to sleeping as much as possible.
"The long and short of it is, I'm going to need a vice-captain next year. And I'd like it to be you."
Xavier froze. He could feel the neurons in his brain tangle themselves together as they tried to process that simple sentence. All his words tried to jumble out at the same time, a weird mixture of what the fuck and holy shit and are you serious and do you have the right person, but it all coalesced into one, dumb syllable.
"Huh?"
Jeremy smiled again.
"It's true. Coach asked me to think about it, so I did, and I think you're the best choice."
"Coach?" Xavier said, and it came out as almost a whisper. His neurons tangled themselves even tighter.
"I've discussed it with him, and he agrees with me. Your position as a dealer overlaps with both defense and offense, which is the cohesion we're looking for, and I've seen how well you work with the team, both off and on the court. All the coaches have signed off on it. It's yours if you want it."
"Yes," Xavier said immediately, almost before Jeremy could finish.
"Yes, I want it."
Jeremy smiled again, but this time it was different. This time there was pride in it, like he'd genuinely been hoping Xavier would say yes.
"I'm glad to hear that."
The euphoria of it all was suddenly shattered by a very simple realisation, one that felt like a semi truck when it hit.
"What about Julian?" he asked. Jeremy's face fell.
Julian Saunders was Jeremy's year, and one of the main gunners for captainship. It was obvious he'd never forgiven Jeremy for getting the title over him, but he was a solid player, with something of a sovereignty over the defensive side of the team. He also happened to be one of the biggest assholes Xavier had ever met. It wasn't like he hadn't heard all the slurs and names by now, but Julian seemed to excel at getting them under his skin. Even thinking about it, Xavier could feel himself shrinking away from Jeremy.
"Julian has been transferred," Jeremy said quietly. Xavier blinked, not sure he'd heard right. Transferred.
"To where?"
Jeremy shrugged. "I don't know all the details. I asked Coach Rhemann the same thing, and that was all he told me."
Julian. Transferred. Gone. No longer part of the Trojan line, or, maybe, even part of the school. Gone.
"Xavier?" Jeremy said gently.
"You okay?"
Xavier nodded, more out of instinct than anything else, and forced a neutral expression onto his face.
"Yeah, fine."
"Alright," Jeremy said, though he didn't seem entirely convinced.
"Well, we should probably head out of here. They'll be waiting to do a headcount back at the hotel."
He stood, shouldered his bag and started to make for the door, but Xavier didn't move for a moment.
"One more thing," he said.
Jeremy turned. "Sure."
"Why me? I mean, there's three other dealers you could've picked, or you could've just gone with Julian, I mean I know he's a dick but he's–"
Probably better than me.
Jeremy looked at him for a long time.
"I wanted it to be you. It's maybe thirty percent about your place on court. You're a damn good player, Xavier. And you might not realise it, but you have the respect of a lot of people here. You've come a long way in a couple of years, and I think you're going to make a great captain in a couple more."
"But–"
"Do you trust me?"
Xavier thought about it for a minute. Jeremy Knox was an easy man to trust. The first time they'd met, Jeremy had almost tripped over him, when Xavier had been hiding out in the hallway after his first ever practice. Jeremy had sat down next to him and asked him what he'd thought of the team so far. Xavier's answer had been stammered and the sound of his own voice had nearly made him cry harder, but Jeremy pretended not to notice. Talking about Exy was easy, so they'd sat and talked about Exy, until the tear tracks on Xavier's face had dried and every word out of Julian's mouth had faded into memory. Jeremy offered him a hand to get up.
"Yeah," Xavier said, finally.
"Yeah, I trust you."
Jeremy grinned.
"Then come be my vice captain next year."
Xavier couldn't stop his own smile.