The gym smelled of sweat, rubber, and the faint tang of ozone from the lights overhead. Balls dribbled rhythmically against the polished hardwood, sneakers squeaked, and shouts of encouragement mixed with laughter. Ethan moved effortlessly across the court, demonstrating a play for Lucas, who mirrored every movement, their synchronization near flawless.
It was supposed to be a regular practice. But something in the air prickled at Coonie's skin, an unease that had been gnawing at him for days.
He shuffled at the edge of the court, hands shoved deep in his pockets. His eyes scanned the room: Louie's energetic antics at point guard, Brandon calmly positioning himself near the paint, Ryan cracking jokes between drills. The familiar chaos of his teammates should have comforted him. It didn't.
Coonie took a deep breath. He forced his feet forward, closing the distance between him and Ethan.
"Hey… Ethan," Coonie said, voice tight, almost too casual.
