Chapter Text
When Sean joined Sentinels, he had anticipated much backlash. From the fans saying he would never live up to Tyson, the so-called “critics” doubting his capabilities, the streamers with their watch parties and uneducated opinions. What he hadn't anticipated however, was how supportive the entire team was, and they never stopped believing in him. Therefore Sean quit doubting himself too.
Sean never really fit in anywhere. Even back when he first discovered the game and queued ranked for 15 hours a day, making new friends through Valorant, joining the community, harboring a dream to go pro. He loved the scene and what it brought him, but he couldn't say that he felt at home. 100T took him under their wings for two and a half years, and while he would always have a soft spot for them, his dream belonged to the world.
That was seventy percent of why he didn't renew his contract, the other thirty percent, was because of Peter. Sean, truthfully speaking, really thought him and Peter had a thing going on. All the playful banters, the back jabbing, the duo ranking late at night. Sean loved Peter, he really did, with everything he had. He once thought Peter felt the same too, and they would be a package deal forever.
Then Peter went and got himself a girlfriend. And Sean's dreams shattered like snowflakes, leaving him crestfallen.
So Sean left. He put all of that behind him and just… left. It wasn't an easy decision by all means, but sometimes leaving was the only thing you could do when nothing's holding you back.
Sean knew he was a prolific player, besides Sentinels he also received a lot of different offers. But there was something about Sen that really attracted him. Maybe it was his silly admiration for Tyson back in the day, maybe because Sen was the most successful org in all of North America, maybe because out of all the teams that reached out to him, Sen could really uphold their promises. Maybe.
Or, perhaps because the day he trialed for them was also the day he found out that Marshall Massey was going to Sen too.
Marshall was an enigma. The American player that went to Berlin, constantly on top of his game, out fragging all his teammates. Sean crossed paths with him briefly in their challenger days. It's weird to say this now, but all throughout the 2024 season, Sean kept up with Karmine Corp’s schedule, barely missing a match. Just to see Marshall and his ridiculous blond head on stage.
It's quite bizarre. Borderline psychopathic even. Sean didn't really care.
The end of an age was coming, indicating the start of a new era. Sean knew he could never live up to Tyson and the fans’ insane expectations, he didn't want to. However he performed in his new red jersey, they would have to deal with it. And if they were disappointed, that's on them.
Easier said than done, but he'd be okay.
So when he arrived at the Sen HQ to shoot the promo, seeing Marshall's lanky frame talking with Kaplan, Sean swallowed down the urge to cough. He smiled, nodded at Marshall, put down the box holding all his possessions. Marshall pulled him in for a hug, despite them barely knowing each other.
When they parted, Sean caught a hint of citrus and honey, and he knew, he would be okay.
Sean didn't really know when his impression of Marshall changed.
Change might be a strong word, it was more like he started opening his eyes a bit more, noticing a bit more.
Jordan was funny, caring, with a mean left hook (allegedly). Amine brought comfort, stability, grounding the team. Zach was beyond adorable, with the messy black hair and constantly hanging off of someone's back. Over the past few weeks Sean had gotten a good read on his friends, whom he would consider family soon.
However, Marshall remained an enigma. Sure he was outgoing, loud spoken, wearing his heart on his sleeves. But because Sean was crazy like that, he also noticed Marshall's quiet moments, when his face seemingly fell during a conversation, the crease on his eyebrows when he didn't perform well, the barely noticeable teeth gritting. Sean would love to get close to Marshall, seeing past the facade he carried, but Sean had never been good at making friends.
Marshall's room was across the hall from Sean, like a damn college dorm. Not that he would know, he never went. Sometimes he felt like he was lacking behind, who in their right mind would devote their time in an unstable career like esports pro? That was what everyone told him, friends at first, then his own family. Sean knew they were just being supportive, but.
But, every morning when he woke up to practice with the team, every evening when they went out for dinner, every time Marshall fist bumped him, every instance where Kaplan praised his performance. Sean's worries slowly withdrew. Maybe his future was unpredictable, but whose wasn't? What mattered was that he tried his best.
Long day today, they had four scrims with 2G, all on Sunset, then another three with Kru. It exhausted Sean immensely. Especially when he felt like his head wasn't in the right mindset. Kaplan spoke with him afterwards, telling him to take it slow and figure out his own strats approaching a game. Which wasn't his job, but alas.
Night fell, soon Sean was the only one left in the practice room. He slumped in his seat, head thrown back, swirling thoughts consumed his mind. Like a vortex had opened beneath and swallowed him whole. He didn't coordinate well with the team today, much to his dismay, even if they kept reassuring him that he did well.
A sign slipped, low and tired, Sean stood and gathered his stuff. The team must've hit the hay by now, he thought as he walked the ten minutes back to his room.
Marshall's door was ajar when Sean arrived, just a small gap visible. Seemed like the blond was exhausted too, usually Marshall wouldn't forget to close the door. Curiosity got the better of Sean, he peered through the crack carefully to catch a glimpse.
Marshall's room was bare, not unlike Sean's, they hadn't had much time to unpack. Especially when Marshall had to fly over from Paris, uprooting his life instead of a few hours drive from the 100T place like Sean. A few boxes here and there, clothes on the floor, the PC fans thrummed systematically.
It was dark, only the RGB light draping over Marshall's frame. He held the strange flower-shaped pillow tightly, eyes closed, breath even, chest rising and lowering in a steady rhythm. Marshall's hair unkempt, sticking up in wild directions. Sean wanted to run his hand through, see if it was as soft as he imagined.
Sean stared, he didn't even realize he was staring like a creep, but Marshall looked so soft in this moment. So quiet and peaceful, nothing like him in broad daylight. Sean couldn't help the stomach butterflies, flapping their little wings all over.
Earlier, when Sean whiffed horrendously on a stationary enemy, he had cursed under his breath, claw-gripping the mouse like his life depended on it. Marshall had reached over, demanded a fist bump from Sean while smiling at him encouragingly. And somehow, it was enough to keep Sean from boiling over, his rage simmered down until it vanished.
It's not as if Sean didn't know he was gay. But staring at his friend like this was a new low. Yet he couldn't stop, his mind replaying every interaction he had with Marshall until then. Every little hug, back clap, high five. Every fist bump, inside joke, locking eyes from across the room.
They made him sick, but at the same time, weirdly giddy.
Sean didn't know why exactly, though he would find out later, when winter came. Marshall stirred gently in his sleep, turning back from the hallway light, breaking Sean's train of thought. Fumbling to catch his breath, he did Marshall a favor by closing the door, hurriedly retreating.
Sean turned on the bedside lamp, laying flat on his back. Something nagged at him, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. He twisted and turned a couple times, scrolling through social media mindlessly in a futile attempt to fall asleep. When he did, the only thing still prominent in his mind was Marshall's sleepy figure.
In this empty room, Sean heard his own heartbeat. A monotonous sound, as opposed to the wild thoughts running laps around his head.
What is happening to me?
New Year was fast approaching, Jordan had done his magic and convinced them to go out for team bonding. His words, not Sean's.
It was off season for the rest of the year, random matches that didn't matter and scrims practice took up Sean's days. Between decorating his room, acquainting with his new teammates and texting his old teammates—sans Peter—Sean was exhausted. He didn't even have time for ranked or streaming, though his followers kept asking. So when Jordan practically kicked his door down, dragging him out by the collar to go touch grass, Sean's muddled brain couldn't find the strength to protest.
They were in some kind of market, a building with ice spikes drooping down from the ledge to Sean's right, people huddling together on his left. Amine forbade him from consuming alcohol, Sean wasn't old enough to drink, even though it was literally the holiday, no one would bat an eye. He settled for a hot cocoa bomb instead, filled with marshmallows.
“Hey bro,” Jordan slapped Sean's back.
“Fuck you want?” Sean spat out, a little too venomous. He winced when Jordan jumped lightly. “Sorry, I'm just tired, I guess.”
“Uh, no worries man. That's why I dragged your ass out here in the first place. Relax, it's Christmas,” Jordan smiled.
“Of course.”
“Yeah! So here's a little challenge for you. Take this,” Jordan handed Sean a cup of hot chocolate, still steaming, two straws poking out. “Go over there and share it with Marshall.”
Sean eyed the cup skeptically, surely Jordan didn't drug this.
“Don't fucking look at it like that, I didn't spike it. Also you have to both drink out of it.”
“Like a couple?” Sean questioned before he could comprehend what he actually said.
“Exactly, me and Amine are gonna do it too. Since we're single and all, the bromance must go on.”
Sean glanced over to Marshall, who was talking with Amine. Marshall had on a black hoodie today, little snowflakes adorning his hair, nose red from the cold, looking impossibly cute amidst the freezing temperature. Sean gulped, walked over, bumping Marshall's shoulder.
“Come here often?” Sean joked, keeping his cool.
Marshall stopped his conversation, smiling brightly at Sean. Amine raised a brow, face unreadable.
“Well lots of cuties around here,” Marshall grinned, a blinding grin, Sean couldn't help the jittering in his knees.
“Yeah right, Jordan wanted us to share this drink,” Sean rubbed the back of his neck.
Marshall stared at him, and before Sean regretted opening his mouth, Marshall wrapped his massive hand around Sean's, holding the weight of the cup. He took a sip, prompting Sean to do the same.
Do not make this weird Sean Bezerra, the voice in the back of Sean's head screamed at him, but his heart rate had spiked up significantly. He looked away from the guy standing next to him with no space between them, heat creeping up his back.
In front of Sean, Amine snatched the opportunity for a picture, Marshall held his fingers up in a peace sign. Somewhere to Sean's left he could vaguely make out Jordan doing the same as Amine. But all Sean's attention was in the warmth of Marshall's fingers around him—so real and raw —and he immediately realized something in that moment, something that would haunt him for days to come.
He was hopelessly, infuriatingly, in love with Marshall.
That epiphany hit him full force, he almost dropped the cup, almost. He didn't though, and when Marshall inevitably pulled away, Sean mourned the loss of that warmth.
Sean had thought he couldn't ever move on from Peter, apparently that wasn't the case. It had only been a few weeks since he met Marshall, and a few days since he first got comfortable with him around. Yet the blond had found a way through Sean's heart. Either Sean was going crazy from years of being single, or Marshall was just that loveable.
Later, after Jordan and Amine had had their turn of acting like a couple, and Marshall had laughed his ass off, Sean would eventually calm down. On his way back home, Marshall zoning out next to him in the car—head grazing Sean's shoulder—Sean knew one thing and one thing only.
He was so fucked.
Notes:
This isn't omegaverse but I firmly believe people have their own unique scent. Just a fun plot point to repeat.
Sean smells like blueberries and chocolate chip cookies, because in one of the vlogs he said blueberries, grapes and bananas were his go-to match day snacks. And he loves Insomnia cookies after a match, which Marshall knows.
Marshall smells like citrus and honey because his hair looks orange in certain lighting, and because he loves honey lemon tea. Coincidentally, Sean knows too.
Which could mean nothing *shrugs*.
Chapter 2: Candlepower.
Notes:
100T Asuna is in this chapter, I like the guy but the idea of him being Sean's ex crush was so entertaining that I kinda ran with it.
TW: smoking. Don't smoke guys.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
When Marshall started the 2025 season, he had expected many things. From himself first, obviously, and from others. Especially his team. He didn't expect to cry after a match because he played like shit though.
No one would ever say that to him directly, but they didn't need to. Marshall's own demons had them covered. Maybe it was an exaggeration, but getting a scoreline of 13-11 consecutively drained all his energy. Even though they won, Marshall couldn't help the tears from flowing.
Everything was a blur. Amine hugging Zach, Sean's bright grin, Jordan's attempt at comforting Marshall to which he brushed off. The staff ushered them to the front for the usual group photo. He was starting to hyperventilate already, head spinning, heart beating fast, somehow managed to keep his composure in front of the crowd. He placed his elbows on Sean and Amine's shoulders, spitting out a smile that didn't reach his eyes, tight lipped.
Sean rubbed his back soothingly, featherlight, Marshall almost didn't catch it. His vision was hazy, but the touch was not. It burned.
As soon as he ran off backstage, Marshall quite literally bawled like a baby.
Kaplan pulled him aside to have a heart-to-heart, telling him things he already knew. Amine gave him a rueful gaze, Jordan nodded along with the coach, Zach beamed at him a heartwarming smile; and Marshall wiped his tears with the bottom of his shirt. Not that he didn't appreciate them, but he would really like to be alone right now.
The team slowly left, Marshall staggering behind, still faintly shaking. Someone tapped him, impossibly gentle, Marshall had half the mind to turn around.
“Didn't peg you for a cry baby,” Sean tried for a joke, it fell short when Marshall sniffled.
“I can't right now bro, leave me alone,” Marshall shook his head.
“Hey hey, didn't mean to upset you,” Sean furrowed his brow, extending a hand like a peace offering. “Look, I know you're sad, and I've never been good at comforting people. But you look like you could use a hug.”
Sean's hand, twice smaller than Marshall's, hovered in his proximity. Marshall looked at him, really looked at him, searching for signs of mockery or sarcasm. He found none, just Sean's chocolaty eyes beaming with sincerity. He didn't know whether to be glad or disappointed. Which was weird, but his emotions had been all over the place today.
Truthfully, Marshall didn't know what to make of Sean. He hit it off with Jordan and Zach not long after joining the team, Amine too. But Sean stayed a mystery. The guy was always awkward as hell, even hugging on stage was scattering and fast ending. Their coordination during scrims wasn't something to write home about either. Marshall wanted to get along with all his teammates—Sean though. Whenever they locked eyes, Sean always seemed to be uncomfortable, glancing away soon after.
But now, Sean was staring at him expectantly. Times were changing, rapidly, and you gotta lean on people sometimes—Kaplan had said.
So Marshall took Sean's hand, reeled him in for a hug. That same touch returned, Sean's fingers drumming on Marshall's back, in a soothing motion that left him breathless. He buried his head in the crook of Sean's neck, closed his eyes and tried to even his breath.
Sean smelled like blueberries and chocolate chip cookies, strangely enough. Marshall wasn't the one to sniff his friend, but the scent—it washed over him, drifting him ashore. Sean anchored him in a way nobody had ever done before.
This was definitely one of the weirdest hugs of his life, standing in the back hall, half hidden in the shadows, red lights flashing above their heads. But Marshall wasn't complaining. He almost didn't want to part, because this bubble that had enclosed them oddly quieted the voices in his head. Sean had a hand ruffling Marshall's hair, messing it up than it already was. He usually wouldn't let anyone touch his precious blond locks, but apparently Sean became an exception today. Whether because Marshall was too tired to protest, or because it felt so nice he didn't want Sean to stop—it didn't matter.
Someone called out for them, urging them to move, so Sean let go of Marshall. He didn't know how long they stood there, blocking the way, but Marshall was already grieving the hug that ended too soon.
Sean grinned sheepishly at him, tugging his shirt towards the exit. Marshall followed suit, his steps confident, unlike before.
The sun shone warmly, a wind passed by, drying Marshall's eyes completely. He was still following Sean to the car where everyone was waiting. They had a long way to go in this career, but if Sean kept giving him hugs like that, Marshall had a feeling he would be fine. They would be fine.
Kickoff was breakneck.
You wouldn't really know how fast time flew until the literal first quarter of the season passed you by, which was exactly what Sean went through. With a brand new roster and fresh faces, carrying the legacy of Tyson and Gustavo on their backs, Sentinels did surprisingly well. They made their choices, they could’ve made better ones, but time waited for no one.
Losing to G2 didn’t affect the team much, it was great that a Tier 2 team found their footing and fought tooth-and-nail for a spot in franchising. God knew how many other challenger teams came as close as them. Soon G2 would make a huge dent in history, being on the same level as giants.
(They still didn’t have an international trophy though.)
Marshall not playing up to his full potential was understandable, switching back and forth between different roles was bound to take a toll on him. Kaplan and Amine even debated at some point to have Marshall return to his roots, not Karmine Corp, but Mad Lions, as a duelist player. That discussion went nowhere, Sentinels had never been a double-duelist team even with Tyson—though the idea of Marshall on Yoru and Zach on Raze running down B long was quite entertaining.
As for Sean, boy did he have a lot of self-reflection to do. He was painfully aware of his underperformance. Contrary to popular beliefs, Valorant wasn’t the type of game you could just hop on and immediately resonate with four complete strangers. Compatibility mattered. Try as he might, Sean couldn’t quite erase his past with a different team. The lack of attention from looking at the minimap, the not comming because he was used to Peter reading his mind, the questionable dry swings cause Sean thought someone would swing with him. It’s the little things but it pointed to a bigger picture.
Old habits died screaming, they said.
Coupled with his new infatuation with that blond guy, Sean was struggling all throughout the grand finals. Whenever Marshall did so much as glance at him, Sean’s stomach would do an aggravating backflip which led to him whiffing and a consequent round loss. It made worse when all everyone said was an nt, not blaming him. It was pathetic, multiple times Sean felt the need to call timeout to get his shit together and focus on the screen, instead of someone far away.
He didn’t, obviously. What he did do however, was bolting straight to the restroom at half-time. Hand gripping the sink like his life depended on it. People passed by, eyeing him curiously, before the door screeched open.
“You okay in there?”
Marshall. Of course the one source of Sean’s misery had to be the one to come and check up on him. Sean cursed internally, forcing out a brittle smile.
“Yeah bro. Probs ate something weird.”
“You sure? Do we need another timeout?” Marshall had concern written across his beautiful complexion, it did funny things to Sean’s heart.
“Positive. Let’s go back outside. They’re waiting for us.”
Sean brushed Marshall off with a flippant attitude, bumping the blond’s shoulders on his way out. If he felt holes in the back of his head, he didn’t dare mention it.
That night—after they’d gone through the VODs and fixed their mistakes—Marshall took Sean out for midnight cravings. Which meant ramen and ill-advised coffee. Just the two of them, sneaking past Kaplan’s still lit up office, giggling and shoving each other around. It almost felt like a date, especially when Marshall shook his head at Sean’s offer to invite the others. Sean had felt like a teenager again, subtly concealing his feelings.
The cool California air settled over them both, like a weighted blanket on winter solstice. Marshall put the car in reverse, Sean riding shotgun, speeding past two consecutive red lights. Rolling the window down, letting the breeze in and making Sean’s hair a mess, Marshall laughed and sang along to an anime opening. Sean merely grinned, looking at Marshall like he hung the moon.
Thirty minutes later, they stopped at a 7-Eleven, blinking billboards towering the highway.
The cashier was smoking indoors, paying no attention to the two boys disrupting her graveyard shift. Sean wandered around the aisle aimlessly—Marshall closed behind—picking up and putting down packages of foreign ramen. Eventually he got tired of Sean’s loitering, he told the other boy to find them a table while he scoured for the food.
Sean watched, as Marshall casually cooked up both of their ramens. The word boyfriend slipped past his defenses, guts twisting into knots. Thank god boyfriend material wasn’t in his dictionary.
Get a fucking grip, Sean thought, biting his knuckles. Marshall returned with two bags of chips as well.
“Y’know, Sentinels isn’t 100 Thieves,” Marshall said, sipping his steaming cappuccino, pushing a mocha towards Sean.
“I know.”
“I don’t think you do. I know how 100 Thieves work, they rely on either you or Asuna’s “hero play” a lot, which causes you to be an aggressive controller. It carries over to your gameplay on Sen. I’m not trying to shift the blame, because Valorant is a five-man game, but, uh…”
Sean nudged Marshall’s feet under the table. “Go on?”
“What I’m saying is, you don’t have to worry so much with us around,” Marshall beamed, stealing some of Sean’s chips. “100 Thieves can’t shoot for shit, but we can. Rely on your teammates, rely on me. Call for my utils, don’t dry swing, I’ll always swing with you if I can.”
Sean gulped, cheeks burned. Marshall probably didn’t realize the implication of what he just said, as far as Sean was concerned, it sounded like a marriage vow in Valorant terms.
“Is this you offering to be my duo?” Sean half-joked, a storm brewing underneath calm expression.
“If you’ll have me.”
Okay, Marshall was definitely messing with him now. Who the fuck says that. An awkward laugh was all Sean had left.
“Cheesy ass.”
“Your cheesy ass.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Sean tried for humor again, not able to help his guts twisting further. Unbelievable. Out of everything, Marshall never failed to say the most misleading words.
“Feel better now? We have an early meeting tomorrow.”
“You drove me here in the first place.”
“Yeah cause you look like someone kicked your puppy all day, I had to do something,” Marshall scoffed.
“I know,” And to top it all off. “Thanks.”
“Anytime. Now we’re partners in crime.”
They parted ways in the Sen HQ. Before Marshall retreated back into his room, he’d persuaded Sean to buy him the newest bundle if he dropped a 40 bomb in their next match. If Sean had any self-respect left he would've feigned aloof, unfortunately he didn’t—those icy blue eyes were too alluring. So let’s just hope Marshall whiffed all his shots.
Sean slept soundly that night, for the first time since forever.
Peter texted Sean one day, out of the blue, after weeks of no contact. Well, no contact from Sean specifically, he was still nursing his broken heart. He didn't deliberately ignore Peter's increasingly impatient messages, ranging from asking him about his day to straight up wondering why Peter was being ghosted. Still, he gave Sean an ultimatum this time—if Sean didn't come then this friendship would truly be over.
So he put on his most presentable outfit, fist bumping Marshall in the communal area when he passed by. Marshall asked where he was going, dressed up like that, to which he cheekily responded with a date. If Marshall's face dropped, he didn't see it.
Peter said he'd be waiting at Olive Garden with his girlfriend. Olive Garden, hah. When Sean was younger he had thought the place was mad fancy. Now though, he could afford much better meals, and Olive Garden wouldn't even make top fifteen in the list of restaurants Sean would take his brother to, let alone a significant other.
Hindsight was 20/20, and Sean should've declined. Seeing Peter was painful enough, spending an evening watching the couple being all lovey dovey couldn't be much better.
The staff welcomed Sean in when he made it there. He gazed over the busy area, Peter was two tables over, already deep in conversation with his girlfriend.
Peter's girlfriend ain't so bad, kind and inviting, despite Sean's well-established dislike towards her. What surprised him most was when he saw Peter sitting there, talking animatedly with his girlfriend, Sean felt nothing. Nothing towards the man Sean held in his heart for two and a half years. It gave him whiplash, barely keeping his cool while waving at Peter awkwardly, sitting down across from the couple.
They chatted some, about how Sean was adjusting to a new team, how Zander fitted into his old team, mostly about Valorant too. Peter didn't bring up Sean's questionable period of ghosting him, which Sean was glad for. He picked at his food, avoiding Peter's eyes.
Peter's girlfriend excused herself to go to the restroom. Sean smiled and nodded at her, while Peter kept staring at him.
“So, you and that guy,” Peter began, smirking mischievously. Sean knew that smirk, it never meant anything good.
“What guy?” Sean absentmindedly answered.
“You know who. What's his name again? Narrate right?”
“It's Marshall. What about him?”
“Don't play dumb with me Bezerra, I watched your games with the gang and we all agreed you have a thing for him,” Peter smirked wider, if possible.
Sean flinched. He tried not to show it.
“I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about,” Sean put his chin on his palm, trying to look unbothered. He didn't think Peter bought it.
“I'm not stupid y'know,” Peter shrugged, gulping down a mouthful of spaghetti. “The way you look at him, all puppy eyes, it's so funny.”
Not stupid, what a joke. If Peter was more observant he would've known Sean's massive crush on him for over two years. Two years! Ridiculous.
“Watch your fucking mouth Mazuryk,” Sean said with no heat.
“Wow hey, didn't mean to touch a nerve,” Peter laughed nervously. “Seriously though, whatcha gonna do about it? Like can't you just tell him? You're gonna be the first gay couple in all of NA Valorant, heck in all of VCT.”
Sean gagged. He flicked a piece of corn in Peter's direction. “You're crazy, I'm not talking with you anymore.”
Fortunately, when Peter opened his mouth to spew out more bullshit, his girlfriend came back, cutting through the tense atmosphere. Peter turned his attention fully to her.
Tell Marshall? Sean didn't even know if Marshall was gay. He didn't show any signs of liking men anyway. And if he was, what were the chances he felt the same towards Sean?
He used to be jealous of Peter's girlfriend, such a dumb feeling, looking back at it now. He didn't anymore, but it was like his love for Peter carried over to Marshall, which was depressing. Was he doomed to always fall in love in the most unconventional way possible? Sean laughed pathetically at himself.
Somewhere to his left, the band marched on, the curtain raised and fell majestically. Furniture and people, inanimate objects and intangible forces blurred together. Everything in Sean’s vision seemed to be made up of shapes and colors.
It felt like the end of the world.
But it wasn't. The world wouldn't end just because someone didn't love you back.
Not the first time Sean had a crush on someone, certainly not the last. However, he would actually jump off a cliff before he admitted to it. Fuck Peter and everyone else, this love belonged to him and him alone, Marshall didn't need to carry his burdens.
Peter paid for the meal, despite Sean repeatedly reaching for the tab. Sean wronged Peter first, he should've paid, but Peter's girlfriend pulled him back. Olive Garden is not worth all that, Peter said, so Sean shrugged and stood up to get his jacket.
Sean’s chest ached a little, watching Peter driving away in the opposite direction from him. Last year they would've sat side by side in the same vehicle, heading home. 100T’s performance had been less than so far, but it didn't concern him anymore. He had a new home now.
Driving past the highway, in the car that Sean stole from Jordan, he didn't bother to turn on the overhead light. Just gripped the wheel in darkness and mused over his silly “crush” on Marshall. Calling it a crush was quite childish—at his big age of twenty-one—but he digressed. He meant it, about not telling Marshall. If he was to be kidnapped they'd have to rip it out of him forcefully, along with Sentinels’ business secrets.
If Marshall turned him down, or God forbid be disgusted about it, Sean might have to move across the globe just to escape the scrutiny. Sean shuddered, biting his dry lips to keep from crying, a chill ran down his spine thinking about that scenario.
If Sean hadn't gotten into this career, if he was less of a coward, if they were normal people in every sense of the word. Perhaps he could entertain the idea of confessing to Marshall.
But there was no “what-if”, there is no “what-if,” like there is no “other universe.”
Being heartbroken in your twenties was just a canon event. Nothing more.
So yeah, Sean’s going to keep his mouth shut and carry on with his days. No matter how torturous that might be. He got Valorant to play, matches to win, new strats to learn. He would be fine. He would get over Marshall.
He had to.
Bangkok was a blur.
To Sean, he barely remembered anything other than their abomination 13-1 on Bind, mainly because they didn't get to spend much time here. They were going to leave soon for America, but the fresh wounds still hurt.
Kaplan gave them a very passionate speech after the match, Sean was too busy worrying about Marshall to care. He was unusually quiet, no humorous quips, no voicing his opinions, picking at his food during dinner, staying quiet all through the ride back to their hotel. It left a sour taste in Sean's mouth.
Late at night, the city's never ending noise blinded Sean, when he found Marshall leaning against the balcony in their shared area. The light was off, only the moonlight illuminating Marshall's lonely figure, eyes facing forward.
Marshall was smoking. A sight so unbelievable, it stung in a way that Sean couldn't describe.
Sean never thought Marshall was a smoker. In all their times together, Marshall didn't smoke, didn't do anything close to smoking. Yet here he was.
Here they were.
To say Sean was bewildered was an understatement. He ran a hand down his face, treading carefully towards Marshall. Everyone else had turned in, exhausted after a day of bad matches and endless interviews. Sean opted not to check social media, he didn't want to see people shit-talking them. He hoped Marshall had done the same.
Sean put his elbows on the balcony rail, and in a fit of bravery, he reached out and plucked the still burning cigarette from Marshall's hand. Marshall didn't react, he didn't even look at Sean. His eyes were hidden in the shadows so Sean couldn't read his face, only the smallest quivering of Marshall's lips visible.
“Shit’s bad for you, you know,” Sean started carefully.
Marshall didn't hear him, or if he did, he didn't show it. It broke Sean's heart, seeing Marshall so down. Reasonable he supposed. Only Sentinels could give people insanely high hopes during regionals, then bombed out of internationals in such a cruel manner.
“You don't have to carry this alone, I'm always here if you need me. As with the team,” Sean said again after a long period. The city had really died down, no more sounds surrounded them except for the occasional beeping cars and the millions of crickets.
Marshall turned to face Sean this time, red rimmed eyes wet with tears, lips pressed into a thin line.
“Fuck you,” Marshall mumbled.
“What did you say?” Sean jerked, involuntarily. Did Marshall just curse at him? The fuck?
“I said fuck you. Fuck me, fuck the team, fuck everything,” Marshall spoke, louder this time, pain evident in his voice. “We did bad, we played like shit. You don't have to sugarcoat it.”
“I'm not?” Sean croaked weakly, the agony on Marshall's face persisted.
“I don't know why it's so hard,” Marshall laughed wetly. Sobbed? No difference. “So many people bet on us to go far, my family, my mom. They all stayed up, just to watch us put out such a fucking stinker. I played so fucking bad, whiffed so many free kills, it's a miracle I'm not already kicked out of tier 1.”
Sean was stunned. He had no idea Marshall was harboring so much, keeping it to himself just to relieve by smoking after-hours. The blond wasn't done though.
“You wanna know something? KC was my first franchised team. I love them, but I was also a dumbass and didn't expect much from them. Or me honestly,” Marshall palmed his eyes, voice cracking at the seams. “I was so happy to come back, like EMEA is great, but it's not my home. Sentinels brought out something in me that I thought I had lost. So I feel like I let you guys down, I let myself down. I'm sorry. I don't even know what I'm apologizing for, but I'm sorry.”
“... Are you done?” Sean asked, Marshall sniffed and nodded, wiping his snots.
It seemed like all the rage Marshall bottled down had bursted. Sean didn't know if Marshall just wanted to vent, or he deemed Sean important enough to share the deepest part of his soul. Marshall looked vulnerable, and at that moment, Sean wanted to do nothing more than engulf him in a hug, soothing the big guy.
So he did, because they're way past being awkward about hugs by now.
“Don’t say sorry. It's not your fault. Well, it's not only your fault. I know you feel really shitty right now,” Sean tentatively scratched Marshall's back, thankfully he didn't move, just clinging onto Sean firmly. “Look, I mean what I said, I'm always here. I'm not going anywhere. Sometimes you might feel like you've got nobody, but that's wrong. We're family, and you're my friend. So you don't have to suffer like this or resort to smoking, just text me and I'll duo with you.”
Sean giggled quietly to himself, how funny it was that despite all their differences, the one thing they had in common was an online game. And Sean couldn't think of anything better than duo ranking to cheer someone up. Marshall must've seen something on Sean's face, because he laughed too.
“Do you even play ranked anymore?” Marshall pulled away from the hug, still fisting Sean's shirt.
“Hey, I could grind to top 1 Radiant any day.”
“Sure you can bro,” Marshall shook his head.
Marshall's eyes were raw from crying, Sean's hand twitched slightly, and it felt like the beginning of something beautiful.
“I'm so tired,” Sean yawned.
“Shit it's this late already? Amine is gonna kill us if we miss the flight tomorrow,” Marshall checked his phone frantically. “Let's call it a day.”
A nod from Sean. They walked side by side back to their respective rooms, waving goodbye to each other.
“You’re lucky I'm the one who caught you smoking. If it was Kaplan he'll lowkey be frothing at the mouth,” Sean said, standing at the threshold. “Don't smoke anymore, seriously, it's bad.”
“Yes mommm,” Marshall rolled his eyes, drawing out the last syllable. “Good night Sean.”
“Night, sleep well.”
Tomorrow they would have to leave soon for the airport, leaving this exotic Asian land and all their dreams behind. But for now, Sean could finally rest.
Notes:
That hurt/comfort is gonna be a recurring theme cause I'm crazy and I eat that shit up haha.
Writing about Bangkok pained me, felt like a lifetime ago.
kwomie24 (quomie) on Chapter 1 Sat 06 Sep 2025 12:07AM UTC
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leowcairo on Chapter 1 Sat 06 Sep 2025 03:06AM UTC
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AdagioKim on Chapter 1 Sun 07 Sep 2025 07:03PM UTC
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leowcairo on Chapter 1 Mon 08 Sep 2025 03:36AM UTC
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AdagioKim on Chapter 2 Sun 07 Sep 2025 07:40PM UTC
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leowcairo on Chapter 2 Mon 08 Sep 2025 03:40AM UTC
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kwomie24 (quomie) on Chapter 2 Mon 08 Sep 2025 02:53AM UTC
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leowcairo on Chapter 2 Mon 08 Sep 2025 03:45AM UTC
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veemin on Chapter 2 Mon 08 Sep 2025 06:57AM UTC
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leowcairo on Chapter 2 Mon 08 Sep 2025 09:43AM UTC
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