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Crashies should’ve stopped two hours ago.
His wrist had started aching somewhere around the fourth set of aim drills, but he’d tightened his grip, rolled his shoulders, and told himself he’d push through one more round. Then another. And another. By the time the others arrived for scrims, the dull ache had sharpened into a constant throb every time he clicked.
He hides it well - keeps his expression neutral, movements composed - but when he flexes his fingers under the desk, pain flares up his forearm. He shakes it out quickly, pretending he was just warming up.
Boaster glances over once ; Crashies forces a small smile.
“Ready for scrims ?” Boaster asks.
Crashies nods. “Yeah. Let’s run it.”
But even putting his hand back on the mouse makes him wince.
The scrim is ugly from the start, but not on the scoreboard : FNC 10-3 KC.
Kaajak is popping off, Veqaj is laughing too loud, Alfa keeps calling mid-round jokes into comms - and Crashies is missing shots he could usually hit half-asleep. His reactions lag not because he is slow, but because every flick sends a spike of pain through his wrist. He tries to compensate by using his whole arm instead, but it only makes him clumsy.
“Yo, Crashies” Alfa teases after they lost a round, “mind turning the monitor on, please ?”
“Bottom fragging ?” Veqaj snorts. “Man, if you don't want to play with me on the team, just say it, you don't have to rush your retirement like that.”
Kaajak chimes in with a grin, “Blink twice if you need aim training.”
Crashies laughs with them - because that’s what you do, that's what they do and he usually loves it - but the sound feels thin. Forced. His fingers twitch over the mouse, and he discreetly shakes his wrist again under the desk.
Boaster says nothing at first.
But he keeps glancing at the scoreboard.
Then at Crashies’ hand.
Then at the way he keeps rubbing his thumb against his palm between rounds.
Jake always sees everything.
They call for a break. The others wander off toward the kitchen, still laughing and talking smack about the scrim. Austin lingers behind, flexing his hand slowly, trying to coax some life back into the numbing throb.
Jake shuts the door gently behind the last teammate and walks over.
“Austin,” he says, voice low enough to mean business, “what’s going on with your wrist ?”
Austin froze - damn, he thought he was hiding it well - then forces a shrug “Nothing. Just off today.”
Jake steps closer “Off is when you whiff one or two shots. Today you look like every flick physically hurt.”
Austin swallows “It’s fine.”
“Mate,” Boaster says softly, “you’re rubbing your wrist every five minutes. I’m not stupid.”
Crashies keeps his eyes on the floor, fighting a rising wave of embarrassment. Not only did he performed bad, now he also makes his friend, and IGL of all person, feel stupid - great job !
“It’s just a bit sore,” he mutters “No big deal.” He raises his eyes to look at Jake and tries to be reassuring "I can handle it."
Jake's gaze softens - but doesn't let go.
Jake doesn't push with anger - he never does. He pushes with care.
He reaches out, lightly touching Austin's forearm, right above where he is clearly guarding it. “How long has it been hurting?”
Austin hesitates. His voice drops “… Since last night. Maybe longer.” He tries to shrug it off "I'm telling you, it's fine, I can handle it."
"Why do you think you have to do everything alone ?" Jake whispers, then his eyes widens. “Wait, you’ve been practicing on it all day ? No wonder you’re dying in scrims.”
Austin flinches at the phrasing. Jake softens immediately.
“Hey, no - I didn't meant it like that. I just …” He lets out a slow breath “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Austin's throat feels tight. “I didn’t want to be a burden. Team shouldn't be disrupted, especially not because of me." A few seconds passes before he adds in a low voice "I didn't want to be a distraction."
Jake blinks hard, like the words hit deeper than Austin intended.
“A distraction ?” he repeats quietly “Austin … you’re part of the team. You’re part of my team.” He shakes his head “You don’t hide pain for my sake.”
Austin finally meets his eyes.
“… I didn’t want you to worry,” he says softly.
Jake's expression melts.
“Too late for that,” he says.
Jake guides him to sit at the edge of the couch in the practice room, moving with such care that it made Austin’s chest twist.
“Let me see” Jake whispers.
Austin doesn't give his hand immediately, still trying to fight the help. Silence gets louder, and the air is loaded with fear, anticipation and finally, acceptation.
He finally reluctantly offers his hand, palm up. Jake takes it gently, thumbs brushing along the swollen tendons just beneath the skin. Austin sucked in a breath - not from pain, but from the warmth of the touch.
“Oh, mate…” Jake mutters. “You’ve strained it badly.”
He shifts closer, cradling Austin’s wrist with both hands as if afraid to break him. His thumbs move in slow, deliberate circles, easing the tension in the forearm.
Austin exhales shakily “That… actually feels good.” A shiver run down his spine. He watches as his friend relaxes his own muscles, and he feels out of place for a second. He's learned to always deal with everything on his own - don't bother anyone, don't show your weaknesses, don't speak up, don't take too much place. He's had to do it all perfectly, all the time, to not mess up everything - career, relationships - he's learned through it all. Receiving help like right now is unusual for him, but this - this all feels right.
Jake glances up with a tiny, soft smile. “Good. Because you’re gonna let me fix this properly.”
Austin lets his shoulders drop, tension leaking away with every careful motion of Jake's hands, and he's releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding.
“… I’m not good at letting people help,” he admits quietly. "I'm sorry ..."
"Don't be sorry. Just let me in" Jake says softly while looking up at Austin ; he then huffs a gentle laugh. “And anyway, lucky for you,” he whispers, “I’m annoyingly persistent.”
Jake finishes massaging the wrist, then wraps it with a supportive band, fingers brushing Austin's skin with careful precision. Austin watches him work, something slow and warm settling in his chest.
“Better ?” Jake asks, settling beside him on the couch.
Austin flexes his fingers gently. “Yeah. A lot better.”
Jake nudges him lightly. “Next time it hurts, you tell me. Before you grind for five hours and play like you’ve never held a mouse in your life.”
Austin laughs - really laughs - for the first time that day.
“Okay. I’ll try.”
Jake leans back against the cushions, shoulder touching Austin's, voice soft in the quiet room.
“That’s all I want,” he says. “Just let me take care of you when you need it.”
Austin rests his hand - the uninjured one - against Jake's leg for balance.
“… Thanks” he whispers.
Jake squeezes his shoulder gently.
“Anytime.”
Austin finds Jake alone in the kitchen the next morning, leaning over a mug of tea while scrolling through strats on his phone. Sunlight spills through the blinds in thin stripes, catching the messy strands of Jake's hair and the soft curve of his smile when he glances up.
“Hey,” Jake says brightly. “How’s the wrist ? Still attached ?”
Austin rolls his eyes, but the joke doesn't fully land. He steps closer, his good hand fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve.
“It’s better,” he says quietly. “Way better, actually.”
Jake grins. “Told you my magical hands would fix everything.”
Austin huffs a tiny laugh - then goes still again, gaze dropping.
Jake's smile softens - he can see there's something deeper happening here. “Hey. What’s up ?”
Austin swallows. The words sit heavy in his chest, pressing against ribs that had held too much for too long. He takes a breath.
“I just… wanted to say thank you. Properly.”
Jake blinks, surprised. “Austin, you don’t have to-”
“No. I do.” Austin's voice cracks - not much, but enough. “I need to.”
Jake straightens slightly, phone forgotten on the counter.
Austin takes a slow breath, eyes fixed on the countertop between them.
“I know I don’t make it easy,” he said. "I know I am not easy" he adds under his breath “It's hard for me to ask for help. Or… to admit when something’s wrong. I’m used to just… handling it. Alone.” His jaw tightens. “I guess somewhere along the way I convinced myself that it was better that way. That I’d just get in the way if I didn’t.”
Jake's heart breaks a little at that, and the shift in his expression makes Austin look away faster.
“So yesterday… when you noticed ? And you didn’t make fun of me. Or get annoyed. You just… helped.” Austin shakes his head slowly, voice barely above a whisper. “It meant a lot. More than I know how to say.”
Jake steps forward before Austin can retreat into silence again. He places a gentle hand on Austin’s shoulder, thumb brushing the seam of his hoodie.
“Austin,” he says softly but firmly because he needs his friends to actually hear what he's about to say, “you’re never a burden. Not to me.”
Austin's breath hitches - an involuntary sound, raw and vulnerable.
Jake continues, voice warm and sure. “You help the team so much you forget you’re allowed to need things too. And taking care of you ? That doesn’t feel like work. It feels like-”
He cuts himself off, cheeks pinking faintly.
Austin’s eyes lift to his, wide and unguarded, and that look makes Jake's heart swell.
Jake clears his throat softly. “It feels good to be someone you trust.”
Austin blinks rapidly, chest tightening with something painful and sweet.
“I do trust you,” he whispers. “I just… don’t always trust myself not to be too much.”
Jake shakes his head immediately, stepping closer until their forearms brush. “You’re not too much. If anything, you’re not loud enough about what you need.”
That earns a small, breathy laugh from Austin. “Working on it.”
“Good,” Jake says, voice gentle but firm. “Because yesterday… I was really glad you let me help. Like-really glad.”
Austin feels warmth rise to his face, unfamiliar and grounding all at once.
“Thank you,” he says again, quieter this time, like the words carried real weight. “For noticing. For caring. For… seeing through me.”
Jake's answering smile is so full, so genuine, it made Austin's stomach flip.
“Anytime,” Jake whispers “Honestly ? It made me happy.”
Austin blinks “Happy?”
Jake nods. “Yeah. Knowing I could make you feel a little better. It’s nice. Feels like…” He shrugs, searching for the word. “Feels like I matter to you.”
Austin's breath leaves him in a soft, startled rush.
“You do,” he says instantly, voice thick with honesty. “More than you think.”
And that - that made Jake absolutely glow.
He reaches out to very lightly squeeze Austin's wrist - the uninjured one - a quiet, affectionate gesture.
“Good,” Jake whispers, almost shy. “Because you matter to me too.”
Austin's chest aches in the best way.
And for the first time in a long time, he doesn't feel like a weight, or a problem, or something to hide.
He feels wanted.
He feels cared for.
He feels … seen.
“Breakfast ?” Jake asks softly, giving him an easy out.
Austin nods, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. Breakfast sounds good.”
Jake bumps his shoulder gently. “Come on then, mate. I’ll even pour your tea for you. Don’t want you straining your wrist again.”
Austin groans “You’re never gonna let that go, are you ?”
Jake laughs, the sound bright and warm. “Not a chance.”
And Austin doesn't mind.
Not even a little.