Practice had been brutal that day. Coach Martinez had run them through half-court sets for nearly an hour, drilling the offense until every movement was automatic, until the passes came without thought and the cuts happened on instinct. Khalil had run the first team offense flawlessly, his height giving him sight lines that let him see cutters Darius would have missed from his lower vantage point. Everyone on the first team had looked sharp. Connected. Like they'd been playing together for years instead of weeks.
Darius had gotten his minutes with the second string, and he'd been good. Really good. A steal that turned into a fast break. Three assists. A pulled-off three-pointer that had made the assistant coach nod approvingly. But good wasn't the same as being essential. Good wasn't the same as being needed.
That's what bothered him more than anything. Not that he wasn't playing. But that everyone seemed fine without him. Like the team didn't need him to function. Like Khalil being there was enough.
Walking home from school, Darius spotted Malik at the bus station. His cousin was standing alone, headphones in, eyes fixed on his phone. Darius jogged over to catch up.
"Yo, you heading home?" Darius asked, falling into step beside him.
Malik pulled one earbud out. "Yeah."
"Cool, I'll walk with you then." Darius started talking immediately, his mind already running through everything from practice. "Bro, today was insane. Coach had us running these new half-court sets and like, the timing has to be perfect or the whole thing breaks down. And I was watching Khalil run them and his height advantage is crazy because he can see over the defense and make passes that—"
"Darius."
"What?"
"Can we not talk about basketball right now?"
Darius looked at his cousin, confused by the interruption. "Why not? This is good stuff. I'm learning a lot watching Khalil, even though I'm not starting. Like, I can see how he—"
"See, this is what I'm talking about," Malik said, his voice carrying an edge that hadn't been there a moment ago. He stopped walking. "You're always talking about basketball. Always talking about yourself. About your training. About Khalil. About the team. About your position."
"Because that's what's going on with me right now," Darius said, still not quite grasping why this was a problem. "I'm trying to tell you what's happening in my life."
"Yeah, but that's all that's in your life," Malik said, and now there was frustration bleeding through his words. "You don't ask me about anything. You don't care what I'm doing or what I'm working on or what's going on with me. It's just basketball, basketball, basketball, Darius. That's all you ever talk about."
Darius felt something shift in his chest. "That's not true. I care about what you're doing."
"Do you?" Malik's voice had gotten quieter but somehow sharper. "Because I don't think you've asked me a single genuine question about my life in like two months. Every conversation we have, you find a way to turn it back to basketball. You do it with everyone, actually. It's like you're just using people as an audience for your basketball journey."
"That's not fair," Darius said, but even as the words came out, he was thinking back through conversations. Had he been doing that? He genuinely couldn't remember the last time he'd asked Malik about school or friends or anything that wasn't basketball-related.
"It is fair," Malik continued, starting to walk again toward the bus stop. "Look, I get it. Basketball is important to you. That's cool. But I'm your cousin, and I feel like I'm just background noise to you right now. I'm just someone you talk at, not someone you talk to."
They reached the bus station. The number 7 was pulling up.
"So I'm just telling you straight up," Malik said, turning to face Darius directly. "If you're gonna keep talking to me, we need to talk about real stuff. Not just you and basketball. Because honestly, I'm tired of hearing about it."
"Malik, come on—"
"I'm serious, D." Malik's expression was resolute in a way Darius hadn't seen before. "Don't talk to me if it's gonna be about you or basketball. That's it. That's the deal."
He stepped onto the bus before Darius could respond, the doors closing behind him with a pneumatic hiss. Darius stood there on the sidewalk, watching the bus pull away, watching his cousin disappear into the crowd of passengers.
He stood there for another minute, just processing what had just happened. The distance between them hadn't happened overnight. It had been building for weeks, maybe months, and Darius had been too focused on his own trajectory to notice it growing.
He'd been so consumed with proving himself, with making sure he stayed competitive, with analyzing every moment of basketball, that he'd let the person closest to him slip away. Not dramatically. Not with a huge fight or a clear breaking point. Just gradually, like watching someone walk away down a long hallway until they become a speck on the horizon.
The walk home felt longer than usual.