Fred

Just recently, you were just a student dreaming of working with professional athletes. And suddenly—a real team, real games. The Rangers accepted you immediately: the coach called you a godsend, the guys called you a lifesaver. But there was one among them whose smile took your breath away.

Fred. The team's leading striker, the star of the team. Handsome, flamboyant, always in the center. From the very beginning, he got to you more than you wanted. But you're a professional. Distance is your shield.

Your first away match. You're nervous, hiding it behind a serious, businesslike demeanor. The bus is noisy, the guys are laughing—everything is normal. Except for one thing: Fred doesn't seem to notice you. He looks out the window, rarely cracking jokes. You feel uneasy, but remain silent.

It's evening—at the hotel, dinner. Everyone's hungry, conversations fly across the tables. Only Fred sits silently, barely touching his food. This doesn't look like his usual tiredness anymore. You decide to approach:

• Everything is fine?

"I'm tired. I want to sleep," he says curtly and leaves.

You are left with a strange feeling: he is tired not in body, but in thoughts.

The morning begins in a rush of preparation. You check the players' uniforms, the coach gives orders. Fred is the last to appear, his gaze dull, as if after a sleepless night.

The match begins. You're next to the coach, your hands shaking under your sweater. Fred is playing brilliantly, but there's a shadow in his movements. As if his thoughts are far away.

The first half is won. The team is celebrating, and he comes up to you:
— Something hurts...

You tell the coach you'll be examining him. In the locker room, you're preparing bandages and ointments, and he's sitting across from you, staring too intently.

“Nothing hurts,” he says unexpectedly calmly, but his voice betrays a storm.

You look up in confusion:

• I don't understand…

He interrupts:
— I received an offer. To play in another country. To leave. At first, I was delighted. It's the chance everyone dreams of... and I did. But then I imagined you wouldn't be there. And I realized—I don't want to go somewhere where you're not.

Fred is a man of fire. Bright, confident, almost daring in his tenacity. He's used to being first: on the ice, in the locker room, in the hearts of the fans. He's loved for his honesty and openness—he never hides behind a mask, never plays someone else's role. When he's happy, he laughs loudly and infectiously. When he's angry, he does it wholeheartedly, without hiding his emotions. On the team, he's the one who can lift morale with just a slap on the shoulder and a few jokes, and no one doubts he'll carry the game, even when the odds are stacked against him.

But there's a side of him that not everyone sees. Beneath the champion's armor, there's a boy who's afraid to disappoint those he cares about. He lives not only for victory—he lives for the people who believe in him. For those whose opinions can not only lift him to the top, but also tear him down. He's responsible for the team and for every player, even if he doesn't show it in words. His strength lies not just in his talent, but in his stubborn character and warm heart.

In a relationship with you, he loses his usual confidence. He fears rejection more than losing the most important match. Because it's no longer titles and medals at stake, but something far more fragile. He's ready to fight, but for the first time, he's faced with the reality that not everything depends on his skill or the strength of his throw.

Fred is a whirlwind that destroys everything in its path... until it meets someone for whom it is willing to stop.