— vingt-cinq ; twenty five —

WITH THE FIRST GAME of the season looming, tensions were running high and while the well-oiled machine that was the Ravens wasn't exactly falling apart, it wasn't running at the peak performance expected with the match tomorrow.

It wasn't that any of them were lacking in ability. Even as a sub, Henri had improved so drastically over the past couple of months he was almost good enough to play alongside the likes of Soren. It had gotten to the point where, when he wasn't being ragged on by Alixis  or KJ for not playing the dealer they wanted or being run into the ground for exhausting drills, he actually enjoyed Exy. He enjoyed the fast pace of scrimmages and the loud ricochet of the ball against plexiglass, echoing even through his helmet, and the fight for possession of the ball with slamming racquets and hard checks. Playing with the Ravens was fast, relentless and competitive down to the last breath.

However, the other Ravens weren't as excited as him. The upperclassmen were especially feeling the pressure of the match which the whole country would be watching to see whether the Ravens could rise to take their throne back, or if they'd fall to the gutters which they'd mocked not so long ago. There was no chance Henri would be playing this game but the starting line-up had the weight of the entire team's expectations on their shoulders. Soren's was heavier than anyone else's and Henri could tell it was finally cracking his cool act, because he was becoming even more intolerable than usual.

Henri watched from inner court as Soren slammed his racquet against the floor, bringing the scrimmage to a halt once again. Henri waited to see who'd be getting chewed out this time and winced a little when Soren stalked towards Alixis. The power play between them had never been more evident — Soren's harsh captaincy had become even harsher, his attempt at making sure the Ravens were good enough, and Alixis was chafing beneath the title she still wanted.

"This won't be pretty," Matthias commented, having similar thoughts to Henri. "Uh oh. Alixis is taking her helmet off. I think she might punch him."

"I hope she does," Aria huffed. "If she doesn't, I will. If he snaps at me one more time I will kill him. Or myself."

Kit looked at Henri in disbelief. "How do you survive rooming with him?"

Henri glanced back at the disagreement on court, just as Alixis gave Soren a shove to the shoulders. It was highly probable a punch would be coming. In all honesty, Soren's frustration at the team and pretty much everything meant he didn't hold back when he was alone with Henri, but not in a bad way. All the pent up energy from trying not to kill one of the Ravens during the day was fuelled into every hard kiss and forceful shove against the wall, never painful but always aggressive. Henri wasn't exempt from Soren's brutal criticism during practice but he was also the way Soren burnt off steam.

That felt a little too honest to give as an answer, so he went with, "We don't talk much." It wasn't a lie, and Loren seemed to understand what he meant by that judging from the look she sent him.

"Yeah," Xander said, low enough that only Henri would hear. "I'm sure." When Henri looked at him, puzzled, he just smiled.

When Soren finished tearing Alixis apart — and somehow escaped without getting punched in the face — and the scrimmage finally ended, Henri was swapped on for Alixis and Jude for one of the other strikers. "You don't talk much," Jude muttered, as the two of them walked on the court. "What do you do, then?"

"Oh, you're finally breaking your oath of silence?" Henri feigned surprise. "Please don't. My life was so much better when I didn't have to threaten to break your arm every ten seconds."

Jude stepped in front of him with a scowl. "Answer the question, asswipe."

"What do you think we do?" Henri said. "Use your imagination. I'm sure your pea brain can figure it out."

Jude apparently hadn't learnt how to take taunts he was asking for, because he took an angry step towards Henri. Luckily for him, before Henri could even consider a chokehold, Soren appeared and stuck a racquet between them. "Don't you dare waste your breath squabbling on my court," he warned. "Whatever the issue is, take it up in your free time."

Jude muttered, "This is my free time. You're the one forcing us into extra practice."

"Oh?" Soren's look could have melted steel. "If you have such a problem, then fucking leave. You don't deserve a position as starting striker if you don't want to improve your half-assed playing."

Henri raised his racquet to his mouth to hide his smile, but it didn't matter. Jude's furious words were directed at Soren when he said, "Half-assed playing? Fuck you, Soren. I've been playing on this team longer than you have and I sure as hell play better than you."

"Don't make me laugh," Soren said in icy voice, without a hint of amusement.

"You've always been arrogant," Jude growled, unaware of the attention their argument was drawing from the others. Only the upperclassmen and freshmen remained for Soren's optional practice, and the other Ravens had been smart enough to escape to the Nest while they had the chance. Henri would have pointed the hypocrisy in Soren's earlier comment about wasting time, but he was more interested in seeing how this would play out. "You really think you could beat me in a shootout?"

"I know I could do it with my hands tied behind my back."

"Fine," Jude snapped. "Let's go. Now."

Soren didn't even hesitate. "Gladly."

"Do you really think you can beat him?" Henri asked Soren, in French.

Jude demanded, "What did you just say to him?"

"That you have a small dick," Henri said without inflection.

"You little — "

"You don't think I can?" Soren returned in French, ignoring Jude. His voice held the same challenge that was blazing in his eyes. "Beat him?"

Henri considered it. Jude was good, that much was undeniable as much Henri wished he wasn't. He was one of the tallest players on the team at well over six foot and played with carefully controlled aggression, barrelling straight through the defence line as an unmovable force on court. But his style was very different to Soren's, and lacked the finesse and precision where it made up in power — Soren didn't have to barrel through defence, because he was skilled enough to slip straight past them. When it came to points, Soren probably had a slight upper hand due to a slimmer build facilitating his quick playing style and the stats didn't lie. In the past year, Soren had bagged more points than Jude.

"I think I'm not going to inflate your ego any further," Henri shrugged, which was answer enough.

Jude was looking between them, clearly thinking up a far more scandalous conversation than the one that was actually occurring, and glared at Henri. "Let's up the stakes," he said. "What does the winner get?"

"Besides getting to see you stripped of your dignity?" Soren said.

Jude gritted his teeth. "Winner gets to pick one person on the team to kiss. Anyone they want."

It was the most bizarre thing Henri had ever heard but he was glad he managed to keep his expression neutral, because Jude was looking straight at him when he said it. "Wow," Henri said. "You must be really desperate."

He left the court before Jude could reply to that, collecting the other confused Ravens waiting for a scrimmage. Soren and Jude remained on court, and must have explained their testosterone fuelled battle for dominance to Benjamin, because he stayed in position at goal and raised his racquet in a ready stance.

"What the hell is going on?" Alixis demanded, the moment Henri stepped back on inner court.

"Soren and Jude decided that practice was getting a little boring, so they're providing us with entertainment in the form on a shootout," Henri said, slamming the court door shut behind him and flicking the lock into place to stop any stray balls escaping.

"Idiots," Aria muttered. "Complete dumbasses."

"What?" Matthias gaped past Henri at the court. "Soren ignores him for months, and now this?"

"It was Jude's idea," Henri said. "Just like the reward he decided for the winner."

"What is it?" Kit asked curiously.

"Winner gets to kiss any person on the team they want to."

"Jeez," Matthias said, wincing a little. "Is that supposed to be Jude's attempt at winning Soren back? Dude could be a little more subtle about it."

Aria looked defensive. "Who said he would choose Soren?"

"Who else would be choose?" KJ said. "As if he hasn't been moping and pining after him ever since Championships."

Henri tuned out their debate on who would kiss who, more interested in seeing the outcome of the shootout. As he watched, Soren scored followed by Jude, and they scored on their next goals too. Then Benjamin blocked Jude' next shot with a quick slam of his racquet and Soren scored, only for his next one to be blocked by Benjamin's glove. Henri tried to keep count with who was winning but soon lost track. They were moving far too quickly, one shooting only seconds after the last just threw the ball, scooping up rolling balls and firing them in the same breath. Benjamin didn't let it slow him, twisting whichever way he needed to block the shot. 

"Who's winning?" Lucas wondered, sounding a little awed at the sight of the Ravens' top strikers duking it out.

"No clue," Xander said. "They're too fast."

Henri didn't know how much longer they tried to slam balls between the goal lines, but eventually, they called it quits. Soren marched towards the goal to Benjamin and Jude was on his heels, leading to a short yet heated discussion between the three of them. The only person who could possibly have kept count of the goals made and lost would be Benjamin. Finally, Benjamin made a gesture to cut them off and waved towards the doors, indicating the decision had been made.

"My money's on Soren," Matthias said.

"Fuck that," Alixis scowled. "I hope Jude kicked his ass."

Henri stepped aside as the court door opened and Benjamin walked on, his expression giving nothing away besides looking a little bored. Jude and Soren were right behind him but before anyone could say anything, Soren yanked off his helmet and curled his fingers in the front of Henri's shirt. Henri eyes widened in surprise but then Soren was kissing him, and despite their audience, it was no light peck on the lips. Henri felt his toes curl at the intensity but Soren pulled away before either of them could get carried away, pausing with his mouth at Henri's ear.

"Exclusive," he said, in a low voice only Henri would hear. "I kept my end of the deal."

"Well," Matthias began, when Soren released his hold on Henri and stepped away, but he never got to finish. Henri turned at the slam of a door just in time to see Jude stalk out of inner court.

"So," Henri said, raising an eyebrow at Soren. "I'm guessing you won."

"By two points." Benjamin looked supremely done with the whole state of affairs. "Not worth the big deal everyone's making out of it. Are we done here?"

Everyone looked at Soren, who waved a dismissive hand. "Whatever. It's too late to fix any mistakes you might have now."

"Cocky shit," Alixis muttered under her breath.

"Uh, are we not going to talk about what just happened?" Matthias looked indignantly between Henri and Soren with wide eyes. "There's no way you can pull a stunt like that and think we're not going to talk about it."

"What's there to talk about?" Soren demanded, looking irritated. "We have a game tomorrow. You should all be in bed in half an hour."

"It's only half nine," Aria protested

"If a single one of you step on court tomorrow even remotely sleep deprived, I will personally make sure you suffer a painful death. Don't waste my time gossiping about stupid things, at least not until the game is over. Now get lost."

The others filed off inner court to the locker rooms, muttering colourful curses and grumbled death threats towards Soren, who just glared at them in response. "Such a ray of sunshine," Matthias mumbled, looking at Henri in disbelief as he passed him. "What do you see in him? He must be good in bed, right?"

"Get lost, Matthias," Soren repeated.

He raised his hands in surrender and winked at Henri before following the others off. Henri stayed behind to help Soren collect the balls scattered across the court, dragging the buckets into the storage cupboard along with the racquet case of all their racquets. Even though they'd already been checked last week, Soren insisted on testing the tightness of the racquet strings and looking over the handles for any signs of cracks or wear for all the racquets. Henri tolerated the overly pedantic attitude only because he knew Soren was doing it to calm the nerves he refused to admit he had.

Henri leant against the wall and watched Soren obsessively tug on every string of the racquets. "I think the whole team hates you now," he commented.

"Something you'd be familiar with."

"The only difference is they already hated me, on principle," Henri said. "Maybe I didn't exactly help with that, but I couldn't make their opinions regarding me much worse. You're making them hate you."

Soren flicked him an annoyed look. "I don't care. I'm here to play Exy, not make friends. If they hate me for trying to make them as good as possible, that's their problem, not mine."

"Says the solitary king alone at the top," Henri mused, and rolled his eyes when Soren glared at him. "Seriously, why are you so stressed about this match? Everyone knows we're going to win. It's a guarantee. The Lions are just the small fish we need to fry to get to the top."

Henri wasn't just bullshitting to make Soren feel better. The Cincinnati Lions weren't a terrible team but they certainly weren't high ranked, smack-dab in the middle of the league tables. There wasn't a chance that the Ravens, undefeated bar once, would ever fall to such a mediocre team and Henri knew that without even having to see the two teams go up against one another. Maybe it was overconfidence, maybe Soren's arrogance was rubbing off on him, but Henri didn't doubt the ability of the Ravens. They may be assholes but if there was one thing they could all do, it was play Exy.

"It isn't about this match." Soren curled his fingers in the netting of the racquet hard enough that his knuckles whitened. "Not this one, or the next or any other match in particular. It's about the eyes that will be watching us this entire season. The media, the public, the Class I teams of the country — they're all watching and waiting for us to fall. The last thing any of them will want to give us is success now that they can finally steal our spot. As captain, I won't allow a single misstep for our team."

"A single misstep doesn't mean automatic failure," Henri pointed out. "Sometimes, mistakes are inevitable and necessary."

"Mistakes are never an option."

"All humans make mistakes." Henri looked at him with raised eyebrows. "Do I need to remind you that, contrary to popular belief, you are human?"

"Whatever," Soren said dismissively, already turning his attention back to the racquets. "I wouldn't expect you to understand."

"I understand more than you think, Soren," Henri said, and something in his sharp tone made Soren look up at him. "You think they aren't watching and waiting for me to make a mistake too? Maybe I won't play in this game or the next five, but I'll play eventually, and I'll already have the expectations of being Jean Moreau's brother to live up to. Nothing I ever do will be good enough."

"It doesn't matter if you're not good enough for them," Soren said. "Just long as you're good enough to get us to Championships."

"Am I?"

"No," Soren answered, and Henri rolled his eyes at that usual blunt honesty. He wasn't sure what else he'd been expecting from that when Soren added, "Not yet, anyway. If you put in the effort and stop picking fights, you could be."

"Wow, words of true praise. And you can't say shit about picking fights," Henri reminded him. "What was that with Jude today?"

"No one threw a punch."

"Not all fights are physical."

"He was getting cocky," Soren said.

Henri snorted a laugh. "That's rich coming from you."

"If you're just going to stand there and be a nuisance, make yourself useful." Soren grabbed one of the racquets from the case and shoved it into Henri's hands. "Check the racquets."

"Yes, sir," Henri said sarcastically.

Henri sank down to the floor cross-legged next to Soren and they worked their way through the racquets of the entire team, which took time considering each player had a spare along with their main racquet. It wasn't a mentally strenuous task and Henri's thoughts wandered as he worked with his hands, thinking about what Soren had said. Because he constantly acted like he owned the place, it was a little too easy to forget he was just a nineteen year old kid trying to make older teammates toe the lines.

"Why did you start playing Exy?" Henri asked.

Soren's fingers paused on the net. "What?"

"Exy wasn't a choice for me," Henri admitted, keeping his eyes on the racquet beneath his hands so the small confession of the truth was easier to give. "My future was already planned out for me before I was even old enough to think for myself and the only ball I was allowed to touch was an Exy ball. I grew to love it, but when I was younger, I hated it for the sake of it. I was not a child who liked to do what he was told."

"You still aren't," Soren said, but he was studying Henri with thoughtful green eyes. "What would you have chosen?"

"Huh?"

"If you had a choice, which sport would you have chosen?"

"None of them, probably," Henri said. "I thought organised sports was stupid. Kicking a muddy ball around or hitting pucks across ice, pretending my teammates weren't complete idiots I had to play along with? I preferred colouring books and music. Now, I couldn't imagine playing anything other than Exy. I love the fast pace and bloodthirsty competition."

"Organised sports is stupid." Soren shook his head but his lips were twitching into a reluctant smile. "Why are you such a problem child?"

"I suppose I was just born that way."

They fell into a comfortable silence and Henri managed to check another two racquets before Soren spoke again. "I started playing because I wanted to get out of the house," he said, keeping his voice neutral when Henri looked at him. "Both me and Loren. Exy was the only co-ed sport offered in our high school, with two positions available — striker and goalkeeper. I took what I could get."

"Why did you want to get out of the house?"

"My aunt was already stuck with a daughter. The last thing she wanted to deal with was a nephew she'd never asked for." Soren tugged carefully at the netting and placed it back in the case when he deemed it satisfactory. "Exy practice meant we were out of the house early and only came back late. It was an arrangement that worked best for all three of us."

Henri was burning up with curiosity about the details of Soren's aunt, and how that childhood had left him like this, but he knew that would shut down the conversation for good. Instead, he stuck with the safe topic of Exy.

"So I guess Exy wasn't really a choice for you either," Henri said. "If it was the only sport you and Loren could play."

"I would have chosen it anyway."

"Why?"

"I don't know." Soren's gaze skimmed over the court, the black and red seats stacked up all the way to the impossibly high rafters, the huge scoreboard that would be glowing with numbers tomorrow night. Henri could only imagine how amazing this place would look on game nights. "It's fun, I guess. What?" he said defensively, when Henri laughed. "How is that funny?"

"Because I didn't think you knew that word meant," Henri grinned. "Fun, huh? Maybe there is hope for you yet."

Soren jabbed him in the shoulder with a racquet. "Shut the hell up."

"But that's the whole point, isn't it? That it's fun," Henri said, when Soren just looked at him blankly. "Who cares what the cameras and reporters say about us? So what if the other teams think we're a disgraced mess who can't come back from this? Exy with my team back home was boring, because they just played it as a hobby. Even though the Ravens hate me, playing with them showed me just how fun Exy can be when you play it like you really mean it." Henri twirled the racquet between his hands. "Like you do."

Soren slowly set his racquet off to the side. "Sometimes, you say really stupid shit."

"Unbelievable," Henri grumbled. "That thing I said about you being human? I take it back. You're a stone cold robot who — "

"Sometimes," Soren repeated, taking the racquet from Henri's hands and placing it alongside the other one. "Other times, you actually say things that make me think you might be somewhat intelligent after all."

Soren leant forward and kissed Henri, making him forget the match and the media and everything apart from Soren's lips. Henri tugged him closer by the front of his shirt, wanting him closer — no, needing him closer, and then he was sitting in Soren's lap with his legs straddling his thighs. He pressed a hand flat against Soren's chest, relishing the wild pounding that beat in time to Henri's own heart, and smiled. Soren must have felt the curve of his lips against his own because he drew back, resting his forehead against Henri's.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," Henri said, already leaning back in to recapture his mouth. "Just ready to destroy the Cincinnati Lions tomorrow."