Hiding in the Bus-h

What was there to say about today's most recent game? Well, not much, other than the fact that it was completely terrible. Fumbles left and right, players staring into the void, and weak passes resulted in the worst game in the season. Bus would've done better, but recently, he's been distracted. He couldn't get that New Year's Eve kiss out of his mind, and as he was playing, he couldn't help but stare at Tired, her resting eyes staring right through him. Everything leading up to and after that point felt like a dream, unreal and staticky. It was almost like he was called to kiss her again…but how could he convince her to do that if there was a possibility that she was still in denial?

Just as he was about to come up with a plan, however, he suddenly got tackled by someone on the other team.

Let's just say that his teammates were a bit salty after that.

It wasn't often that Bus fumbled a game, so him getting tackled with little to no resistance raised suspicion, especially with the coach. He knew something was wrong, so he needed to fix it quickly. Problems lead to distractions, which lead to bad games, and so on. He could never let the reputation of his team get ruined, especially since his subscribers would never let him live it down. He needed to put an end to this immediately. He saw Bus walking away and called his name.

"Ay, Bus. C'mere. I need ta talk to ya."

Knowing where this was going, Bus's heart sank to his chest as he turned around. Bus walked to him and looked down. He was even taller than his coach, who was a mere 6"1. The coach walked with him, patting him on the back.

"Look, bud; I dunno what's been goin' on with you recently, but you've gotta step yer game up. You and I both know that the tackle back there could've been easily avoided if you'd just paid attention."

Bus slouched a bit and nodded.

"Yessir. I know."

"What's gotten into ya, man?"

"Nothing, nothing! It was just a tiny slip-up, but I'll get better, I promise!"

"Who were ya lookin' at in the stands, then?"

Bus stayed silent. He wasn't entirely sure whether or not to tell the coach about his predicament. He didn't need to, though. The coach made a remark a few seconds later, a smirk strewn on his face.

"Did ya drink before the game or somethin'? I know that you can want anytime you quit, but ya might need ta do that now."

Bus chuckled a bit at that, the tension immediately lightening enough for him to make up an excuse.

"Nah. I just didn't get enough sleep last night, so I was a bit Ti-"

He stopped himself and thought a bit about what he was going to say before clearing his throat.

"Anyways, I was just about to go home and get some rest."

"Good. Don't let this type of stuff happen ta ya again. Yer the best player on this team with the biggest fanbase I've ever seen, even compared to the Chads and Ben Diamond. Ya might not wanna let that title slip."

"Yessir."

"Good. You can go ahead and leave. I'll see ya next week."

Bus nodded and waved as he left. That was close…almost too close. He definitely couldn't let that happen again. What would his teammates think? What would his coach think? The Anti-Bus cult was not only Anti-Bus, but they were also Anti-Tits at times as well. It was like dating a Capulet as a Montague! It felt strictly forbidden. Yet, the more forbidden something was, the more attractive it was to turn to it…

And Bus definitely found Tired attractive.

Bus's day ended off with a nice walk. Yes, it was dark, but it was also peaceful. People say to not walk down any trails at night, but he wasn't worried at all. After all, who was going to attack a 6"10, buff football player with a fanbase that would kill the next person who looks at him wrong? If anything, walking at night like this felt safer for him. There was nobody around to take pictures, no shouting, and- overall- no noise. It was just him, his thoughts, the crickets chirping, meowing, the wind-

Wait…Meowing?

Bus looked down and heard the sound again. It was a small kitten, curled up on a tuft of grass in a bush. It was completely black from head to toe, making it very hard to see. The kitten was shaking, its eyes still closed as it kept meowing. Bus knelt down and picked it up gently, the fluffball fitting in the palm of his hand. For the past years that he's walked on this trail, he has never before had such an encounter.

With that being said, he had no idea what to do.

He knew whom to call

Despite Tired's name, she's a huge insomniac, so it was no surprise that she answered when Bus called. Even then, She was still a bit annoyed at him. There had better be a good reason for him to call her in the dead hours of the night. With a groggy voice, she answered him in a grumpy manner.

"What do you want?"

"Hey, Tired. Listen; I realize how late it is, but I'm gonna need you to come over real quick."

"Now?"

"Yeahhhh…"

He could hear her sigh on the phone and winced a bit. "Maybe, I shouldn't have done this…" He thought. Tired mustered up enough patience to roll her eyes and respond to him.

"Fxcking…fine. I'm on my way…"

Bus breathed a sigh of relief and thanked her real quick before hanging up. As he walked back with the kitten in hand, he looked closer at it and realized how malnourished it looked. He scratched its head gently and looked ahead.

God knows what Tired's reaction is going to be, but he is going to save this poor creature no matter what.