Chapter 60: Fun and Mediocrity

Drew PoV

I spent the rest of the morning and all of the afternoon working out, only pausing to eat lunch and to clean up. Sylvester made lasagna for us. He loaded it up with tons of cheese and sauce, which looked delicious but also made me feel a twinge of guilt. I was trying to stick to my diet, but the smell wafting through the kitchen was tempting.

"This looks amazing," I said as I walked into the dining area, trying to sound enthusiastic while keeping my resolve.

"Thanks! I figured you'd be hungry after all that working out," he replied, grinning widely. "I made enough for both of us, so dig in!"

I hesitated, eyeing the heaping portion he'd put on my plate. "Uh, maybe just a small piece for me?"

"Come on, you need to fuel those muscles," he said, playfully nudging me. "One slice won't hurt. Plus, I put a lot of meat too! We need protein, don't we?"

"Yeah, yeah, fine," I relented, feeling a bit guilty for trying to avoid it. After all, Sylvester had gone through the trouble of making it. I took a bite, and as the flavors burst in my mouth, I couldn't help but admit it was worth breaking my diet.

"See? Delicious!" he said, looking pleased as I savored the bite.

"Okay, okay, you win this round," I said, rolling my eyes but smiling despite myself. "But don't expect me to make a habit of this."

Sylvester laughed, and we ate in comfortable silence for a moment. I couldn't help but notice how the atmosphere felt lighter today. Maybe it was just the food or the fact that I was finally going to hang out with him and the others later, but it felt nice to just enjoy the moment.

After finishing my plate, I leaned back in my chair, feeling a little more relaxed. "So, what's the plan for tonight?" I asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

"Well, I thought we'd head over to Wilt's around seven. He said he'd set everything up, and Loxus is renting the movie and Natasha is bringing a projector," Sylvester replied, his eyes lighting up at the thought. "It should be a fun night."

"Yeah, fun," I muttered, feeling a mix of excitement and anxiety. I wanted to enjoy the night, but the thought of ruining the moment for them still loomed in the back of my mind.

"Don't worry so much! Just be yourself, and everything will be fine," Sylvester said, sensing my hesitation. "Trust me, we're all just there to have a good time. And if you trip over your own feet, I'll be right there to laugh with you."

I couldn't help but chuckle at that. "You are oddly brave sometimes."

He blinked. "I am?"

"Yeah, you seem afraid of Loxus and me most of the time, but then you suddenly get the courage to talk back to us."

His cheeks turned pink. "Well, that's usually on the court."

I sighed. "You should consider quitting. It's not for you."

He lowered his head, his gloominess returning.

Drat, I did it again, didn't I?

"Hey, I didn't mean it like that," I said quickly, trying to backtrack. "You know I just think you could do something else."

He looked up at me, his eyes wide as if he was searching for reassurance. "I just… I like playing. It's fun, even if I'm not the best at it," he said softly, fiddling with his fork.

"Fun? Sylvester, you're supposed to compete. It's a game; you should want to win, not just play around," I replied, unable to hide my annoyance. "If you're not pushing yourself, then what's the point?"

He lowered his head, his expression turning serious. "I get that, but sometimes it's not all about winning. It's about enjoying the game, too."

"Enjoying it? That's just an excuse for those who can't keep up," I said, feeling a bit frustrated. "You should be aiming to improve and get better."

"Maybe, but I still want to have a good time while I'm doing it," he insisted, looking back at me with determination. "You can be competitive and still enjoy yourself."

I sighed, realizing I was being a bit harsh. "Look, I get that you want to enjoy it, but you can't let that hold you back. You have potential, and you should want to tap into that."

"I know, I know. But if I'm too focused on winning all the time, I'll miss out on the camaraderie," he replied, his tone softer. "That's what makes it worth it for me."

"Fine, but don't come crying to me when you're stuck on the sidelines," I said, shrugging. 

He gulped.

We finished our lunch, and I felt a renewed anxiety creeping in. I had my own views, and while I respected Sylvester's perspective on enjoying the game, it just didn't sit right with me. I wanted to push myself, to be the best I could be. The thought of settling for anything less made me uneasy.

"Look, Sylvester," I started, trying to find the right words. "I know camaraderie is important, but if you don't push yourself, how can you expect to grow? It's not just about having fun; it's about improving, too."

He glanced at me, his brow furrowed. "I get that, but not everyone plays sports to turn it into a job. Some people just want to enjoy it, even if they're not the best."

"Yeah, but what's the point of playing if you're not trying to win?" I shot back, the competitive fire in me flaring up again. "You're wasting your time if you're not giving it your all."

He looked down at his plate, his expression thoughtful. "Maybe I'm okay with that. Maybe I don't want to put that kind of pressure on myself."

"Pressure? It's not pressure; it's motivation. You should want to be the best on the court. It's about respect, too," I replied, feeling my frustration rise. "If you don't aim high, how are you ever going to earn that respect?"

"Respect is great and all, but I'd rather enjoy my time with friends than be a lone wolf chasing after numbers," he said, looking back up at me with determination. "I'm not saying I don't want to improve, but I don't want it to consume me, either."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "I just don't get it. You have talent, Sylvester. Don't you want to see how far you can go?"

"Of course I do, but that doesn't mean I want to lose sight of what's really important," he replied, his voice firm. "There's more to life than just winning."

"Maybe so, but winning is a big part of it for me," I said, my tone a bit sharper than I intended. "I can't help but feel like if you don't take it seriously, you'll never reach your full potential."

"Maybe I don't want to reach that potential if it means sacrificing the fun," he countered, his eyes flashing with defiance. "I want to enjoy the journey, not just focus on the destination."

The tension hung in the air, and I felt a mix of frustration and confusion. I respected his commitment to enjoying the game, but it just didn't align with my own competitive nature. "Look, I just want you to be the best version of yourself," I said, trying to soften my tone. "And I think you can do that while still having fun."

He shrugged, looking away. "Maybe we just see things differently."

"Yeah, maybe," I said, feeling the weight of the conversation settle between us. "But I still think you're capable of so much more."

"Thanks, I guess," he replied quietly, his gaze drifting back to his plate. 

I wanted to change the subject, to lighten the mood again, but the air felt heavy with our unresolved argument. "So, uh, what do you want to wear tonight?" I asked, trying to steer us back to safer territory.

Sylvester looked up, his expression shifting a bit. "I don't know. Just something comfortable, I guess. Why?"

"Well, I just don't want you to show up looking like you rolled out of bed," I said, smirking. "I mean, come on, you might actually impress Natasha if you try a little."

"Impress Natasha?" he echoed, his cheeks flushing a bit. "I'm not trying to impress anyone!"

"Sure you're not," I teased, a grin breaking through my earlier frustration. "Just don't wear that old shirt you got on."

He stared at his shirt and frowned. "But it's my favorite."

I sighed. This guy really did everything based on whether he enjoyed it or not, didn't he? While that was fine and all, I came to learn at a young age that that's now how the world is.

"Sylvester, you need to leave that mindset behind," I whispered.

He sighed. "Mom has said the same thing, but... is it that bad to do what we like? I mean, not like it hurts others."

I paused, considering his words. Maybe he had a point about enjoying what you do, but I couldn't shake the feeling that settling for mediocrity was a waste.

"Look, I get it. Enjoying life is important. But so is making a name for yourself."

"Maybe, but when you're always chasing improvement, you miss out on the little things," Sylvester argued, his voice steady. "Like hanging out with friends or just playing for the sake of playing."

"You are doing that now, aren't you?"

He looked at me, his eyes searching for some kind of understanding. "But what if I'm okay with just being average and having fun? What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing, if that's what you really want," I replied, trying to keep my tone neutral. "But I don't want to see you waste your potential. You're capable of so much more, Sylvester."

He shrugged, looking frustrated. "Maybe I don't want to be the best. Maybe I just want to enjoy being part of the team. Isn't that enough?"

"Not for me," I said firmly. "I want to win. I want to prove myself and show everyone what I'm made of. I can't just sit back and settle for less."

"Fine. But don't expect everyone to share your mindset," he shot back, crossing his arms. "Not everyone is out to score the winning point or chase titles."

"I know," I said, feeling the weight of our conversation. "But we are teammates. If you don't push yourself, we all might lose."

He sighed again, looking a little defeated. "You really care about this, don't you?"

"Of course, I do. I care about you and your potential, too," I replied, trying to soften my tone. "I just want us to win."

"I appreciate the concern," he said quietly, "but I'm just trying to enjoy the ride. I don't want to be consumed by it."

I sighed and stood up. Seemed neither of us would budge on this subject. This was why we couldn't be friends. We were like oil and water.

"I'm going to go train again."

He nodded an began to clean the table, his face solemn. Why did he not see he could be better? Why did he want to settle for less?