Chet Singh, the former head coach of NRG’s Valorant roster, paced the sidelines of the scrim room. He couldn’t help but feel the heat rising in his chest, a mix of frustration and jealousy. It had been a few weeks since he stepped down from his role, and already there was a new figure in the limelight: Bonkar.
He watched from the back of the room, arms crossed, as Bonkar took over the team's strategy session with a quiet confidence. The team seemed to hang on his every word, the atmosphere brimming with an energy that Chet couldn’t deny had been missing for a while. It grated on him—how quickly the players adapted, how effortlessly Bonkar stepped into his shoes.
During a break, Chet approached Bonkar, his voice sharper than he intended. “Think you can just waltz in and turn everything around, huh?”
Bonkar turned, surprised at the bitterness in Chet’s tone. He raised an eyebrow, crossing his own arms in a mirror of Chet's stance. “I didn’t ask for your approval, Chet. But I don’t mind the extra feedback.”
Chet scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Feedback? More like a reality check. This team has been through hell. They’re not just some up-and-coming squad you can mold overnight.”
Bonkar’s smile was infuriatingly calm. “I know what I’m doing, Singh. Maybe you should trust that, or... is this really about the team?”
Chet's breath caught for a second. He wasn’t expecting the directness, and Bonkar seemed to notice, taking a step closer, closing the distance between them. For a moment, the air thickened, the tension no longer entirely about the game. Bonkar’s voice dropped, quieter now. “You think I don’t understand how much you care about this team? I see it. But maybe, you could give me a chance too.”
Chet's heart skipped a beat, the annoyance giving way to something more vulnerable. He met Bonkar's eyes, realizing that beneath all the professional rivalry, there was respect—perhaps even admiration. His anger melted into a sigh, and he ran a hand through his hair, glancing away. “Yeah, well... I guess I never was good at letting go.”
Bonkar’s expression softened, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He reached out, a tentative hand brushing against Chet’s arm. “Maybe you don’t have to.”
Chet's breath hitched as he looked back at Bonkar, the words hanging between them like a risky callout. There, in the shadowed corner of the NRG scrim room, amidst strategy notes and tactical maps, the rivalry melted away, leaving a spark of something new. It wasn’t about who was the better coach anymore—it was about the strange, undeniable pull that had formed between them.
Chet couldn’t help but smile, a small, reluctant thing. “Yeah, okay. Maybe I’ll stick around. See what you’ve got.”
Bonkar chuckled, the sound low and warm, and for the first time, Chet didn’t mind that someone else was leading the team. As they stood together, shoulder to shoulder, it was clear that the next match wasn’t the only challenge they were ready to face.
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