Chapter Text
Nox usually found this kind of reporting boring—especially when the guy he was trying to interview was gasping for breath, back bent, an utter mess where sweat gathers at his hairline.
With another awkward pause, Nox stalls on the edge of the plastic-grass field, waiting for Hollow #9, the center forward of Team Philippines, to recover from where he'd tackled his teammate again after they'd just won the game 2-1.
Nox holds the clip-on microphone, twisting it between his fingers and snapping the clasp, running his fingers over the fuzz covering the microphone. The rest of his equipment was in a large camera bag on the floor, and Nox had given up keeping the bag un-fake-plastic-grass-touched, static making it stick everywhere and anywhere it wanted.
Violet, his boss, had asked him to do a broadcast/social media story on Team Philippines, which was rapidly growing lately and had captured the attention of a bunch of soccer—sorry, football fans, especially international ones who decided to come to California just for this.
And since everyone else was busy with the juicier stories this week's press cycle in their area— from Pride Parades, federal policy changes, the disgusting AI obsession, their shitty president, local businesses, to heat waves in the area—Nox had no choice but to take this one, having no interesting story this time around.
He hated this. Hated sports more specifically, but he wouldn't tell Violet that, who would take it out of her way to smack him upside down for even insinuating he didn't want to do this.
Hollow #9 finally raises his head, and Nox now catches a whiff of the same warm brown eyes he'd noticed in the photographs he'd…found online for very very normal reasons— no seriously.
Every broadcast story needed color, it was the number 1 rule of reporting that was drilled into him since his undergrad to grad to now days.
So naturally, Nox had to hype himself up to write about this hardworking half-Filipino player going to his home country from his little Louisianan town to train for the FIFA World Cup.
And he had to hype himself up to write about Chase Hollow and his life. There was his viral culture shock when he'd come to California for the first time. It sounded like something straight of a k-pop idol's life, something stupid that the press had to exaggerate for the plot, or something. The angle, darling! It's always about the angle! Violet's voice sing-songs in his ear.
To be fair, if Nox lived in the deep south and then ended up in California out of all places, he would probably cry with joy too. He loved it here, and it seemed like Chase definitely did too.
Anyway, besides searching for the photos, stories, and other coverage, Nox had dug up that Chase seemed to be a good sport, a skilled offensive player, and sweet to those who weren't even on his team. A natural charm in interviews, he was made for the press. Now, Nox had to pretend he was just as enraptured with Chase as his fans were, tweeting about his baby face and his pretty brown eyes and—gross. This was gross, Nox hated this.
For most of the week, all Nox did was write op-eds, the usual. Obviously, Nox took up most stories, but usually something interesting like protests or local business coverage. Violet knew that even if they were a local news source, they had to cover some more national news as well—she predicted that Philippines would practically clear Finland in the game at the Veli Stadium in Santa Iralupe, California.
And she knew Chase Hollow, #9, the center forward was attractive among fans. Sadly, Violet was never wrong. And neither were the pictures.
She'd pulled some strings to get him a pass into the world cup post-game, and she'd already gotten Brontë, their photos editor, to come along too. And obviously, Nox had a reputation to uphold as a guy who'd only been at this office for two months, so of course he had no choice but to do this reporting out in 95 degree weather that plagued the inner coastline.
Now, Chase's blond hair falls over his eye as he looks up, and his cheeks are rosy like a subject of some warm-toned photo, but he was also being infuriatingly slow, and Nox didn't even care about any of the aforementioned factors, he was just here for the damn news story.
I should've just pretended this was a live broadcast, or something.
Brontë tugs at his braid and he won't stop side eyeing Nox with a similar hint of annoyance. "Excuse me, we've been waiting here for five minutes," Nox finally snaps, sweat gathering on his forehead.
"I just got back from the game, gimme a break!" Chase straightens his back before looking up at Nox, rolling his eyes. His light blue jersey has a stripe through it, and his matching knee-high blue socks are rolling down to his calf even as he stands up.
"Back from strangling your teammate in triumph? The game ended an hour ago."
Chase's hands are on his hips now, and he gasps in mock-offense. "Excuse me? You weren't this sassy when you called me. Are all you all this snooty?"
Nox walks forward, jaw ticking, pushing his reading glasses above his head. "Well, sweetie, you just ran out to punch your teammate in the arm to celebrate getting interviewed before running back here. My editor Brontë has been waiting here with a heavy bag of equipment, and it's way too hot to be in business casual."
For a moment, Chase's brown eyes look into Nox's own, swirling together.
A beat later, he smooths down his own jet-black hair, only now realizing he'd taken a step forward to snap back at this guy. Way to get on good terms with the guy I'm meant to interview.
Chase pauses and softens a little. "Sorry— I'm just fooling around, jus' got a little excited. I'll let y'all do your job."
Nox sighs. "It's okay." It's really not. But even his editor-in-chief would go ballistic if he found out their newspaper pissed off Chase Hollow or anyone they were interviewing, really. He had to calm down.
Brontë reaches down for his tripod stand and adjusting his camera to face Chase.
Behind Chase, the camera backdrop captures the blur of lush green of the plastic grass sticking to everything in sight, as well as the San Paquito Bulls American football team logo taking up half the field. Luckily most of his teammates are out of the frame, or at least far enough away so that most of the camera focuses on Chase.
Nox steps back from Chase, a little further away so that the camera could get the dimming sunlight of the late afternoon. The camera captures his own messy hair and flushed face nicely from this side, Nox knows that much.
He looks back at Chase, his brown eyes caught in the sun. Nox is close enough to feel him smelling of sweat and something else slightly sweet, kind of like tropical flowers. For a moment, Nox's hands shake as he reaches for his pocket notebook, flipping to the observations and the questions he'd written earlier.
He scratches out a small sketch in the bottom left corner even though it's barely visible. Nox reads through the questions he'd prepared, suddenly a lot more nervous than he'd want to be about this. Chase tries to look over his notes, to which Nox immediately pulls back, rolling his eyes. The ink stains across his fingers, and him as he swallows.
He softens as he watches Nox a little, reaching for his arm. "Hey, you good?"
Nox retracts, suddenly way more nervous than he'd like to admit. "Sorry, just give me…a moment. The heat's making me a little frazzled, I think." Frazzled? He takes off his coat, reaching for inside his pant pocket and pulling out a comb to smooth down his hair a little, shaking his hair so it falls back over in its usual middle part.
Chase stares at him. "That's fair, yeah." Nox looks back at his pocket notebook before staring back to the front of the camera.
Brontë is looking down at his phone, a little uninterested again. "Sorry, Brontë, we can start now."
He snorts, adjusting the setup. "Still nervous?"
Nox chuckles. "Brontë, I've been practicing my craft for seven years. I'm not nervous." As if the words themselves have calmed him a little, he looks back to Chase as if to confirm his previous shaking was nothing.
Chase snorts, looking between them. Brontë looks between them before focusing back on adjusting another camera setting. "S-sorry. Are we starting or not?"
Nox wants to retaliate again, but the slight smile on Chase's face is making him a little dizzy. "Y-yeah." Get a grip. He sucks in a breath. "The first part of the broadcast is an introduction, so you'll have to wait a bit."
"Got it." Chase nods, leaning back a little, expectedly.
"3, 2, 1, action." Brontë declares in the same breath.
"Hello to the Gulf! I'm Nox Clavier, reporting here with The Jupiter News. Today we're interviewing Chase Hollow, player #9, the central offensive of Team Philippines." The camera pans on him, shining the focus on Chase, the practiced smile reflecting on his media training.
This isn't a live broadcast, Nox knows what he's talking about—he had to take an angle of admiration for Chase. He could do that—he knew what to say, knew how much this mattered to the Gulf, the fans.
Nox almost groans before he improvises the rest of his script, sounding a little too much like a parasocial fanboy as he continues. "His skills out during today's game in Veli Stadium, Finland v. Philippines, only show his determination and his commitment to his sport that we've seen in the past as well. Hollow was responsible for carrying one of two goals that led to the Philippines winning the game, and as we know, he has also been an internet sensation even before the game started.
"For this reason, The Jupiter News has decided to interview him today, as it's been around an hour since the game ended."—the camera moves to focus on Chase, grinning, as if ready for this interview and so, so excited to talk about himself.
Nox looks up at him, trying to calm himself. He's just a guy the press and football fans are obsessed with. Not you. You don't care. "Chase, we'd love to ask you what your attitude was before this game. Were there any specific things you did to train, anything that's motivated you?"
Chase straightens his jersey as he speaks. "Yeah! I think a big part of it was just my support system pushing me to be the best version of myself, my cousin, grandpa, neighbors, everyone back at home. Along with that, I think a big part of being a football player that's been so lucky to go so far is discipline. I wake up early to get ready, and I train a little each day."
A smile twitches at his mouth with how modest Chase is being in a way he hadn't quite expected. Chase shrugs at his training, at his accomplishments—was he really this humble? Or was it a random front he was putting on?
Brontë catches the little glint in his eyes, the way Nox chooses to flip the script completely.
"A little? For someone so successful in the football world?" He laughs, the camera capturing the shine of his forehead, the genuine question slipping out of his mouth. Nox must be smiling now, but he can't bring it in himself to care. It just gives the interview more of the flair it needs.
Chase laughs, leaning himself forward and brushing a hand through his hair. "Well, I mean it. A little every day helped me more than practicing for hours straight. I used to…burn myself out a lot to the point where I almost lost my entire career. I got a really bad sports injury a couple years back after I overworked myself. So…I really do mean it. It took me a good six months to recover. I think the sports world doesn't talk about taking it easy and building consistent, small habits, and taking care of your mental and physical health."
"Right." Nox just nods, tilting his head to the side like he does without noticing it, biting his lip as he listens to Chase. His heart feels a little warm, realizing there was so much he had assumed of him, so much he didn't know about. This interview doesn't really feel like a performance. "That must be difficult to see, then. I know we've seen a bit of chaos with sports injuries this Cup as well."
Chase looks a little downcast, but Nox had to dig up a lot on this game, and he isn't throwing away his research or this interview.
"It really is. It's the worst, to me. When I see athletes not taking care of themselves. 'Cause I've been there before. I really—I know how they feel." His voice cracks, something strange stirring in his expression. Nox can see it immediately, how he kind of caves into himself, looking shorter than he already was.
Nox motions for Brontë to stop the camera. He didn't realize it would get this emotional this fast, didn't mean for this conversation to take a completely different turn.
And he doesn't really know how to comfort people, either. As his EIC, Violet had always given Nox tremendous amounts of advice for making the interviewee feel comfortable.
Sure, Sports got emotional, but Nox had never asked Violet what to do if it did become like this. And sure, he'd been taught enough in grad school about ethical reporting and whatnot, but this was just…this was different! For one, because Nox forgot every single piece of advice he'd received, and because the bubbly Chase Hollow was close to falling apart right in front of him.
He barely even knew the guy.
Nox sighs, walking towards Chase. He takes his blazer off, irritated with the Gulf heat but also softening. "Hey man…we can take a break for a while."
Chase snorts. "No, it's…whatever. I didn't mean to get all stupid about this."
Nox leans a little closer to him, shaking his head. He places a sweaty, well-meant palm into his shoulder, trying his best to resist his impulsive thoughts and actively failing in the same moment.
—Nox, don't do it.
Shut up—
With one arm, he's looping Chase into a hug. It's sticky, gross, and sweaty, but it's a little sweet at the same time. Slowly, Chase turns his head and lets Nox bury his face into his hair, melting into it like the summer heat weakens him. "You're not stupid," Nox whispers, and he has no idea why the logical center of his brain is being overwritten by the emotional one, like his frontal lobe hasn't developed yet.
Which it definitely has by now.
—This is so unprofessional.
The clip-on microphone is still connected to the recorded audio from the front of Chase's shirt, which muffles the audio of them hugging as well behind Brontë's audio. This makes this awkward and a little more hilarious, at least to his coworker who's probably holding back a round of snickering.
Nox is still holding onto the larger mic as their embrace deepens. Chase sways a little, humming into his shoulder. He smells like the field and the faintest of sweat and something sweet, and that makes Nox wrinkle his nose, trying to force an exaggerated gag to pull him away from the moment he'd started.
He can't.
Nox feels warmer than usual—he's going to pass out, isn't he? He's going to turn into a puddle, melt out into the evaporating water vapor, right?
He wants to pass out in his arms, the strong arms outstretched from a short frame…
Did he mention how good it felt to have Chase's spikes of hair brushing against his jaw? To have his face in his neck? No? He probably should, because it feels so good.
There's a loud ahem from Brontë, and there's yelling and clamoring across the field from Chase's teammates, stares all around. Nox blinks, dazed from the heat and from…what the fuck.
They break apart abruptly, Nox coughing and looking away.
Did he just—this was so unprofessional. Did he actually do that? In front of everyone?
Great way to end a budding career before it even starts, Buddy. Great. Violet's going to murder you if some trashy magazine makes this a thing. N-not like a thing-thing, because Chase isn't gay, but the worst part is, Brontë is never going to stop making fun of you, because he knows you're pansexual and he'll use it against you forever. And he probably knows because he can see your face redder right now, which you'll tell him is from the heat, but then he'll ask why you're dazed in the car ride back to the office, and you'll tell him it's heat exhaustion, and he won't believe you.
So basically, you're fucked.
Nox's heart is pounding, uncomfortably so to the point where he reaches for his bag, grabbing his water bottle and chugging. He takes a bit of water into his hands and dumps it over his head, which provides little relief because it'll just dry off in less than a minute anyways.
Brontë coughs again, a smirk on his face. "Are we going to get the rest of the interview done or…?"
"Yeah," Nox manages at last, voice cracking. He has no idea what is wrong with him, and frankly, he doesn't want to think about the relentless scrutiny he's going to get for this. "Yeah, we can—start from where we left off, 'kay?"
"Um. Yeah, that's cool." Chase is staring at him, brown eyes a little wide and confused, just as much as Nox is. Nox just turns back to him, plastering a neutral smile onto his face, straightening himself out to continue this interview.
Guess the heat drives people crazy.
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Adjusting her cat-eye glasses over her monitor, Violet watches as one of her editors she likes to treat like her little sibling dramatically clutches his phone, putting a hand over their head as if they were faint.
As far as she was concerned, the AC was on full blast. She knew Rose, the entertainment editor who lived for drama, was not about to pass out.
He gasps once more, scrolling on his phone and fanning himself frantically with a hand. Violet raises an eyebrow when Rose meets her eyes. His own green eyes are bug-wide, motioning at her to come over. All the news editors are having a meeting outside of their little cubicles, short enough for them to see them fight between layouts. Violet watches as they go over the logistics of something again, and she decides that she'll leave them alone just for more important things.
Violet walks over, high heels tapping on the floor as she walks barely a few feet over. She walks to Rose's cubicle right across from her.
His desk is littered with so many heart motifs that it's as if he forgot to clean up after Valentine's day. There's papers neatly organized in the corner, a pink organizer for all of their pens, and best of all—at least in Violet's opinion—a teddy bear she had gifted them, sitting on the opposite corner of their desk. She sits right next to the teddy bear, right on top of his desk, and leans forward to see what he's looking at.
She sighs, lowers her voice a little. "What is it now, Rose?"
Rose makes a strangled noise, as if saying the words themselves is difficult. "Oh Violet, this is far too romantic for your ears." He sighs again, as if he's out of breath, and Violet knows damn well he doesn't have asthma because he had to fire one of their staff writers once and he did so in one, long yell, without any of whatever he's doing right now.
Rose taps his phone a few times before finally holding it up to Violet. She squints, and frowns at the headline displayed in front of her face. Clearly, it's from some trashy gossip magazine, the title far too hyperbolic for an actual newspaper.
Jupiter News Reporter and Team Philippines' Beloved Chase Hollow Caught Sharing A Wholesome Moment Post-Game!
Violet's thin eyebrows nearly reach her forehead as she stares at the headline. Then, her mouth drops open. "What?!" She yelps, Rose shushing her as the news editors having a pressing meeting turn around.
She covers her mouth in apology and looks back over.
Bang.
Nox and Brontë walk into the large office past the double doors, trailing after each other, both of them with vastly different expressions. Nox is tugging at the sleeve of the equipment bag, finally collapsing as he places it onto a stray desk to the side before walking to his own cubicle. Bronze looks similarly disgruntled, but there's a hint of amusement playing on his features.
Nox groans and falls into his cubicle next to Violet. She stares at him, trying to figure out if he already knows about the article, the photos probably circulating around as a local or even bigger story online.
Violet searches up the article—sure enough, it's only one site so far. But she knows it'll spread from here, which is what usually happens after. "Nox." She says, dead quiet. Her expression is unreadable.
"Vi…why are you looking at me like that?" Nox looks away as if he knows the answer already.
Rose is still laughing at his phone, scrolling through the very lackluster gossip article. "Oh Nox. You really did yourself in this time."
Nox audibly snatches Rose's phone to see the close-up picture of himself in his white button-up, hair barely tousled even in the humidity. He loudly groans. Oh, of course. Just like he'd remembered, his arms are around Chase #9, the center forward. Chase looks disgruntled in the photo but somehow glowing even in his soccer gear.
Just like Nox had remembered, and felt.
Worst of all, he was just Jupiter News Reporter. Just Reporter. Which was the lamest thing in the world.
Brontë's smug expression as he's surrounded by the equipment is captured in the photo. And amusingly, Chase's face into Nox's neck. Nox stares at the photo for a beat, and groans again, even though he knew this would happen.
Violet stares at him with another look. The meeting happening up front with all the news editors has since then died down, perfect to give the whole newsroom Violet's full attention as she screamed at him.
Nox winces. "Violet…this isn't—that bad. I swear! It's—"
Her voice is steady, but it is commanding and loud and Nox is a bit terrified as he sinks into his cubicle, even though Nox is getting stared at. "Oh, save it. This isn't that bad? This is insane."
"V-Vi—"
"I trusted you when I hired you. I mean, causing a scandal in broad daylight?! What the fuck, this is like—"
"—Violet, I know it sounds bad, I'm sor—"
"—like, so iconic of you."
Nox closes his mouth. Brontë, who's been pretending to work at his computer, spooning peanut butter into his mouth, pauses. He usually only keeps his stash for emergency days like this one, but he's already half-way through an entire jar as he pretends to be editing photos or whatever he normally does.
"What?" Brontë blurts at last. "That's the last thing I expected you to say."
Violet raises an eyebrow. This entire time, he's been staring off at his computer screen, which is why his interjection is a little ridiculous. "Well, what did you expect me to say?"
"That it was completely unprofessional?"
Silvia, the local news editor, sighs and sits down next to Violet. "Wait, what's unprofessional?" Her hair is in a perfect, neat bun as she pauses by their desks. Every time she walks into a room, she's put together, almost as much as Violet is. Even after an annoying meeting, she seems to be in a good mood, nosy, staring at all of them.
Her phone pings to the gossip app she's usually notified to receive news from. As if on que, the article pops up on her screen, and Silvia laughs. "Ohhh. Nox, that is so unprofessional," she teases.
"Really?" Nox blurts. "Well, I had no idea, Sherlock."
"Wh— no! I think it's sweet! Like, we could make this into such a big story! It would give our reporters a good, friendly rep, and it would—ugh, guys! Come on, do you not see it?"
Rose shrugs. "Hey, I see it, Violet. This is beautiful, and oh so roma—"
Nox cuts in. "Okay, wait slow down. Do you guys care about my dignity at all? God, this is so embarrassing."
Violet grabs his shoulder. "Hey, you can't do that! Nox, are you serious? This is literally the opportunity of a lifetime. Like, you and Chase being best buds for us, we could do so much with this! It's great business, Nox!"
"Vi, you can't interview me for our newspaper."
"Okay, so just go up to the gossip mags? Do press conferences? I can arrange them."
Bronze hums, looking up from his computer. "The Gulf Side Talk Show would definitely take you guys for an interview. Like, you guys can work it out, get some coffee or something before…this is perfect!"
Nox smirks. "Well, too bad for you, they're not interviewing for a while."
"—two weeks, Nox, you know we have these talk shows on speed dial. You have two weeks to pretend to know this guy. Rose, call them and let them know we have a story going!"
He nods. "On it!"
Violet laughs. "This is actually crazy. I forgot that the original purpose was to do an interview for social media. Tell me you got a good interview…" She narrows her eyebrows, teasing.
Nox sighs. "Yeah, yeah. It was good. The guy talks too much, he gave me some pretty good answers for the questions we agreed on."
"Perfect," Violet gushes. "I'll tell Goldie to get it up and running for sports broadcast. Thank you, Nox. This is great for us."
"The interview, or the drama?" He laughs.
"Both." She laughs. "You're in touch with Chase, right? Text him."
"Already?"
"Or, I'll just text him…" Violet warns.
"Okay, okay!" Nox yelps, face going red.
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Chase's phone is buzzing in his pocket—not surprising, as his Instagram is usually occupied with DMs every so often.
He's turned his notifications off, though—it isn't his Instagram. It starts with his mom, calling him around 3PM. "Hello?" Next to Chase, his security guard pauses, and he motions for the both of them to stop walking.
"Hi sweetheart. Chase, see the article I sent you." She's snickering through the phone, her warm laughter familiar to hear. Though, Myra usually doesn't call him laughing like this, even if she was doing a lot better than she was a year ago.
He checks their Whatsapp group chat, opening an article with a title that cuts off. It doesn't matter, though, because Chase is rapidly clicking through until he lands upon the title.
Chase pauses in front of it, mouth dropping open—he blinks a few times, looking back to his security guard in shock. He raises a brow back at Chase.
People are staring at him, so he moves to the side of the sidewalk to process what's in front of him. "Hello?" Myra calls.
Chase jumps and nearly drops his phone. The gossip magazine posted this online, without context, mind you. Or, at least, with context that was so false it actually scared Chase a little and made his cheeks warm at the thought. "Sorry mom. What…what is this?!" He squawks.
"I just wanted to know if you were dating a nice boy without my knowledge."
"MOM! The article literally says "Caught Sharing A Wholesome Moment" and nothing else!" He shrieks, a little too loud. He gets some stares by people around him—people recognize him. They've probably seen the article too, huh?
He sighs, staring up ahead. They keep walking. Just so he doesn't have to be here—this is so awkward.
She shrugs, snorting easily. "I know. But knowing you…" She teases.
"Ma! Pakiusap, tigilan mo na ang pagsasalita." he groans. Please, stop talking.
"Sinasabi ko lang ang totoo," she snorts. Just saying the truth. "Just don't let the press get to your relationship."
"Ma," Chase snorts. "There is no relationship!"
"I know, I know. We can call later, I have to finish my lesson plans. I thought I'd let you know. Bye sweetie!"
"Bye," Chase says back weakly as he cuts the call.
Chase blinks up at the sky, squinting as the hot sun hits him square in the face. Today was a more evil day—he really wants to just get back to his hotel room and fall asleep. "What happened?" His security guard, Roy says, raising an eyebrow as they continue walking towards the parking garage.
Something tells Chase he already knows. He'd been waiting near the field to pick Chase up and escort them to the hotel he was momentarily staying in. And he'd definitely been around to witness whatever crap the gossip magazine had taken a picture of and put online without any time at all.
"There's a stupid gossip article about me and the reporter, Nox Clavier. 'Cause…he hugged me on the field for some stupid reason."
His eyebrows raise to his forehead before he shrugs. They walk to where the parking garage starts, a little outside the Veli stadium. "Ohhhh. They actually published that?"
"Yes, Roy, they did. I'm going to die."
He walks next to Chase, pausing before he speaks again. Everyone's laughing at Chase today, even Roy as he opens his mouth to speak again. He lowers his voice. "They weren't like, romantic rumors, were they?"
Chase snorts, and leans to whisper back, because people are staring, "God no, it was a stupid bromance article, but I think they're going to make a big deal out of it anyway. The soccer world doesn't know about my sexuality, and I'd like to keep it that way."
"Yes. That'd be for the best." They walk up a few more steps, this section of the parking garage empty enough that they aren't getting any autograph requests or people following them like they were earlier.
When they get to Chase's car with the dark tinted windows, Chase collapses into the front seat. "Jeez," Chase groans. "Everything fuckin' hurts."
"I'd assume so. You were out on that field for almost two hours."
"Mm." He drives them back to Chase's hotel, where he's staying here for a while. Even though he isn't playing the next two days worth of matches, he still has to stick around with Team Philippines to show support. "Arnold Huttunen kicked me in the shin earlier, it has to be bruising."
"Oh jeez. Do you need that checked up on or—" He's driving them outside, where the sun is slowly setting, heat still sticking outside the car and everywhere, which is why Chase is grateful for the AC humming from the car.
"Nope," Chase snorts. "It'll go away. I don't care about that though. But like, why the hell did someone have to spread the picture of me and Nox around? And like, within an hour? How fast do these people work?"
Roy sighs. "I don't know man. I was waiting in the stands for you, and somehow missed whoever photographed y'all. Pretty fast, I-I should've known."
"Well, that wouldn't have done anything, honestly. I didn't realize they could spread it that quickly. What are they gonna do next, out me?" Chase exhales, kicking the front seat like he does when he's angry.
"I doubt it. But it's crazy, honestly." He trails off, driving a little past the stadium before taking the freeway down to Fairport, where they've been staying. It's big, but far enough away from most of the matches and crowds of fans. Roy looks over to Chase, face crumpling, angry—he knows Chase tries his best to be positive, he really does. He's been around Chase the past 2 years he's been growing in fame, knowing him well enough. "Hey dude? It'll be okay. You'll figure it out, 'cause you're Chase Hollow. You're stronger than a few stupid rumors."
He snorts like he can't believe it—and on some of his tired days, Chase definitely doesn't. "Pshh. Thanks Roy." The car keeps driving them through the traffic—surprisingly mild for California.
Chase leans his head against the window as they go, a little more calm as he looks out the window, the radio faintly playing Star Brigade's first album—calmer compared to their heavy pop ballads that have been coming out in the past few years.
never meant to let it get this far,
this far,
think 'bout you when I'm in the car
and baby, I dunno what to do about you
about youuuuuu—
Click.
Roy side eyes Chase who's turning away to stare at his phone. It's like he doesn't know what to do with his mind or himself except think and drive himself insane with it.
He can think about being kicked in the shin, the exhaustion post-game, the stupid press coverage that kept him behind for longer than he needed to be. That was just what a soccer player was about—a whole lot of scrambling and dealing with the real world.
It was fun sometimes—just inconvenient and embarrassing when it got like this.
His phone buzzes in his palm, and Chase lets it, probably an influx of messages loading as he speaks. Though— His phone keeps buzzing, over and over, and Chase finally decides to let his screen meet his eyes. Chase pauses at it, eyebrow furrowing. He's half-tempted to decline it, but something about the number does look familiar.
Just like the rest of this day, he's been doing stupid things—like crying during an interview. Not pulling away from a hug. Thinking about the reporter-guy for way too long.
He finally makes the very contemplative decision to click accept and hold the phone up to his ear. "Hello?" Chase blurts finally.
"Hello? Is this Chase Hollow?" He knows that voice—commanding, mellow, begrudgingly kind.
"Oh! H-hey. Nox. What's up?" His voice sounds strained, and he clears his throat before taking a deep breath.
"I…this is going to sound a bit abrupt. But ah, I'm certain you've seen the photos of us online."
Chase sighs. "I know. I'm so sorry. I probably should've known there'd be paparazzi post-game—"
"I'm a reporter. Of course I knew. There's no need to assign the blame, it was my fault for being unprofessional with you."
Chase chews on his lip, shifting the phone to his other ear. Roy's watching the road, and Chase knows he isn't listening in, but the sheer weight of a random phone call makes Chase a little uneasy and uncharacteristically shy.
"Right. I wasn't trying to—I hope you're doing okay."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay. My boss reacted differently than I expected, and I'm not quite sure what you'd think of it."
He shifts, pulling off a singular strand of his hair curling over his forehead as they finally drive past the Fairport - City Limit sign. "Oh?" Chase answers with a laugh. He can nearly feel Nox's breathing through the phone, the air crackling through the phone signal.
"My boss, Violet Chopra, Editor-in-Chief to the Jupiter News Group thinks we could be good for the press. A-as friends. To alleviate the social pressure on the both of us?"
"What?" Chase answers at last.
Nox repeats himself. "My boss, Violet, is suggesting we befriend each other for the press."
He pauses, face heating in spite of his annoyance. Obviously, he understood what Nox meant, he just sounds so unsure of it, almost more than Chase. And to make matters weirder, Nox is talking to him like it's his first day on Earth instead of the commanding, reporter's voice Chase remembered from a few hours ago.
"Isn't that just ingenuine?" Chase snorts.
"It's better than having adverse rumors or people making assumptions about the both of us! I'm not saying you have to agree to whatever this is, but…think about it."
At last, he considers. There's something strange twisting in his stomach—a weird feeling of nervousness at all of this. This is so random.
"I'll let you know." He can't deny something clawing at him to accept. Chase wants something fun, stupid. And this is just one of those situations where he can have that, can get closer to a random cool reporter guy.
Chase can think back to the multiple ear piercings, the business casual work attire, and the subtle care for him through the reporting. It didn't matter if that was his job, which of course, it was. But this was new and interesting and he wants to hear more.
"Alright." Nox sighs. "You have my number." At last, Chase cuts the call, drinking in the sound of his voice.
He sighs, loudly when he sets his phone down, looking past the setting sun and as the car continues to go on. "Roy."
"What's up?"
"Do you think…I should feed into the rumors?"
There's a long pause.
"What?"
"Nox just called me."
"What does that have to do anything? And why?" Roy looks to him, his hazel eyes full of confusion as he furrows a brow before looking back to the road.
"Well, he needed to be able to contact me in case he got the details for the interview wrong. But that's not why he called. He wants to…well, his boss thinks it would be interesting and good for the both of us if we played into the rumors."
Roy takes a turn, snorting loudly again. "I'm sorry, what? That makes no sense."
"I mean, he said something about how it would be good for press coverage, and how it could clear up assumptions and such?"
They finally take the exit towards Fairport, driving to the edge of the city where Chase and a few other soccer players were staying for future matches. Roy shrugs, like he isn't sure what to say to that, like he's considering it. "I mean, I guess? Have you talked to your social media team about this?"
"Not yet…I'll call them tonight." Roy gives him a skeptical glance as they keep driving, and Chase continues to justify his curiosity. "I mean, I don't have another match until next week, semi-finals, so I'll just be stuck here watching games anyway. Might as well do it for the plot." And not because he's cool and begrudging and something's begging me to know more. Like, not at all.
"Chase—for the plot—Everett Hollow." They finally pull up to take a turn to the hotel, Roy laughing.
"You know it." Sure enough, there's a crowd of reporters around the doors to the entrance. Chase groans, loudly, and Roy looks outside. "Dude!" Chase exclaims.
"Oh, they found you."
"Great!" Chase claps his hands together in mock happiness, laughing to himself. "Just amazing! I'm going to kill that reporter forreals, how the hell are people just finding me today?" Chase screeches.
"Well, you're famous now." Roy sighs, getting out of the car and locking it behind him, pulling Chase's duffel bag out of the back. There's people clamoring outside, and he pulls Chase out of the car.
"When was I no—"
"Chase! Is it true that you and Nox Clavier have a deeply rooted friendship?"
"Chase Hollow! The press wants to know, what is with everyone swooning over a new bromance?"
Roy shoves them past the crowd, Chase half-laughing. Just years ago, he'd lamented on the fact that he wasn't famous. Now, he kinda hated everyone being up in his business all the time. He had to admit, these stupid reporters were entertaining, kinda. Together, they pull past the crowd of reporters, loud and crazy, finally entering the hotel lobby.
Chase exhales. "I'm going to take the fattest nap when I get back." He smiles at the receptionist as they both take the elevator to their room. They intentionally decided to stay in a smaller hotel to hide from reporters, but it obviously didn't work.
"Ha. Well, I'm shocked they found you. Genuinely…maybe you should look into addressing the rumors subtly? I'm starting to think his boss' plan was not a bad one." The elevator dings as they arrive at the fifth floor.
"Yeah…"
Roy shakes his head as they walk past. "Hey, just go relax. We'll figure out all your famous-guy stuff later." He hands Chase his bag before walking across the hall to his own hotel room, leaving Chase behind.
The hotel room opens with a loud beep, and he closes the door behind him to the small yet sleek room he's been staying in. A few stories above the rest of the Gulf, the start of the water reveals itself from here. Chase walks to the side of the window to stare out at the twinkling lights across the smaller city, as well as the larger cities surrounding it.
It's nice, the view and the cold of the window pressed against his forehead. He sighs to himself, his phone feeling oddly heavy in his pocket. The faint hotel room lights, as well as his unmade bed he had from staying here for a night.
Turning away from the setting sun and the twinkling of the lights, he moves to fall into bed. Having showered and changed earlier, he can't help but feel exhausted from the whole ordeal that was today.
Chase immediately turns back to his phone, the dull light of it flickering across his face as he turns it on. He clicks on the rest of the article that his mom had sent him, not bothering to read it until now. It feels almost hard to ignore how weird he feels about the whole ordeal he's gotten himself into.
It was the jerk's fault, honestly. Nox was kinda annoying over the phone, and even in the beginning of the interview—but they'd just…randomly hugged later. And Chase had no idea why the hell that had happened. Or why he'd gotten emotional, or why Nox felt bad and hugged him, either. Everything was so weird.
He falls back to his recent calls, finger hovering over Nox's number. It wouldn't take too much effort to call him back and admit he wanted to go through with operation let's become friends for the press because why the hell not.
Chase turns in the bed that suddenly feels more uncomfortable and suffocating by the minute. Shakily, he takes a deep breath, unsure of why he's so nervous. It's literally not that deep. He'll rent out an AirBNB for this, stay back in the gulf for a while to figure out whatever this is.
He'll talk to Nox, and it won't be scary and maybe he'll be cool with the guy and land some cool PR coverage, whatever. After what seems like a week's-span of just thinking, he's calling Nox again, heart slamming in his ears.
Immediately, he hears the familiar yet more casual voice. "What's up?"
"Hey," Chase says, voice shaky. He sits up against the pillows, dim lighting falling across his blond hair as he pulls it behind his ears. "Um…I'd be okay with it. With being friends for the press, I mean. I'll ask my social media team, obviously, but they usually listen to me. I think it's a good idea."
Across the other end of the phone, a surprised hum slips from him. "Oh? Well, I'll let my boss know. Um, she has a whole schedule planned out for us and everything, which I thought was kinda funny…p-point being. Yeah."
"Yeah. Go on." Chase shifts on the bed, turning to rest his cheek against the pillow and to press his phone against his ear, as if it gets him any closer to Nox somehow. "I like your voice."
Nox bites his tongue before he can let out a flustered laugh. He wasn't this weird when they were on the phone for the past few days, before this interview. Or even if he was, he was too busy being annoyed at taking on this random story to do so. This feels like fate somehow.
He's a soccer player, not gay. "Ha. She has a schedule for us…for the next few months. And obviously, Violet gets that you're busy, but she'd love this. She's asking Goldie to coordinate something that matches up with your schedule."
"How do you know—"
"Goldie, my sports editor does. He gets insider info."
Chase presses his hair off his forehead. "Huh. Weird. Okay…"
"Pfft. We're journalists. This is normal, getting the scoop."
"Yeah, yeah. I'll see, but for the most part we could just do events and I'd go back around to Socal and to Pittsburgh and wherever and then back to the Gulf, wherever we have to go." And then to himself, a little quieter, Nox hears Chase say, "Am I really doing this? Yeah. Yeah I am."
Nox almost laughs. He feels so easy to talk to, despite how infuriating he was in person, a little full of himself and prouder than he sounds over the phone. Now that his exhaustion wore out, presence stuck wherever he was in between rest instead of a rushed call while Chase was in the airport, waiting for a connecting flight…he almost sounds normal. He likes that—he'd never admit it. The spell would be broken the moment he would meet Chase all over again.
They have conflicting backgrounds, jobs, they're nowhere near friends.
It's why Violet's plan feels even more ridiculous.
But she has a plan, and it usually works out, because she's incredible and on top of things all the time. Goldie and everyone else would definitely leach onto this as well…and it was good for their newspaper, honestly. Better funding, bribing their newspaper to interview their own reporter, get them traction…maybe Vi is a genius.
"So…" Nox trails off. He's sitting on his couch, staring off at the wordless TV, the way the light dips across creases of light and emits a deeper glow. It's funny, how mundane his life can be sometimes, the fact that he's cutting into it. "You're up to it, yeah?"
"Yeah. I'll give you my social media manager's number too and let him know…sorry, I'm going to sleep early. I have another match to attend. Not really playing, but y'know. Moral support for Spain."
"Yeah, I should make dinner. I hope to see you at a future game, maybe?"
"Whatever the schedule says, silly. Bye." Chase teases, cutting the call. He smirks at his ceiling, failing to hide how a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. How exhausted he feels.
Slowly, Chase forces himself out of bed, finding his way over to his suitcase and digging through his clothes to find his pajamas.
A moment later, he's trudging to the bathroom, exhaustion wrinkling his every step. Regardless, he can't ignore the excitement seeping out of the corners of his mouth, spilling itself out like beams of sunlight. It's stupid, but Chase loves suspense…could you blame him?