Sighing softly, Sloane closed her eyes and willed some sort of patience into her voice— and failed. "Why does it matter?" Why couldn't he just accept this so they could move on!? "I've got too much on my plate, adding OWLs in next year will only make it worse, it's the only thing I can drop so that I have more time." Time for friends, time for family, for him, why couldn't he see that? She'd been a terrible friend this year and it showed. The evidence was piling up all around her and she had to do something about it.

"Not to mention I've played abysmally lately." She said a little more matter-of-factly. She was distracted and entirely unfocused. There was so much going on around her that she didn't even know where to look. She already had a hard time in classes, now she couldn't find the concentration in practice or matches, it was just too much. Sloane didn't want to give it up, but she didn't know what else to do.

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He was getting closer to understanding, or so he thought. Something still didn't feel right. Clearly Sloane loved quidditch. He didn't doubt that. She went to the games, had spent the better part of their time as friends talking about quidditch with him, had always been reliable seeker (which she didn't seem to realize, as she only chose to focus on her recent performance), and more than anything it was one of her defining hobbies. Almost a personality trait.

"And you think leaving behind something you love will make you happier?" he asked, less because he didn't trust her to know herself and more because he couldn't imagine leaving quidditch behind. Even with the stress of looming OWL examinations serving as a backdrop for every class and every assignment, he relied on the sport to keep him steady. Merely the physicality of it was enough to help burn off steam, and the game itself did so much more.

He glanced towards the entrance to the pitch. The other players had left, and no one had come to watch practice today (it wasn't as if they were likely to win a championship at this point, so no one really bothered). Quickly he folded the resignation letter into the smallest square her could manage, and then grabbed her hand. He opened her palm, placed the parchment back inside, and closed her hand, but held onto her fist for a little longer. Touch was one of the ways they'd always communicated, the way they'd shown their affection. The lack of it was part of the tension, and he knew that.

"Don't make it official yet. Please. Just... give it the rest of the year and let me know how you feel at the beginning of next year." If she could give him that, he could try to figure out a way to change her mind. "For me—as your captain and your Cameron." He gave her a little smile and dropped his hand back to his side.

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All she could do was make a little non-committal shrug and noise. "I, I don't know, but something has to give." She couldn't look at him as she said it, it wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't the truth either. It wouldn't make her happier, no, probably not, but it wasn't as important as some of the other things in her life that she needed to focus on.

Looking up as as she felt his hand on hers, she sighed as he pressed the letter back into her hand. The little jolt of electricity wasn't any less than it had once been, in fact it felt magnified because it had been so long, but then it was over and she was left wanting more. Sloane tucked the paper back into her robes and took a shaky breath.

Casting a quick look over her shoulder to make sure nobody else was around, she took two quick steps forward and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face into his shoulder. "Fine." She mumbled against his robes.

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Sloane loved quidditch. She wasn't denying it, so clearly there had to be a reason she chose this. Whether or not she'd decided to pursue some career path with Ned (a thought that would haunt him later, he was sure) wasn't something he could or would even try to control, but it had come out of nowhere so quickly and alongside such intense emotions that he was certain there was something she wasn't mentioning.

But then her arms were around his torso and her face against his shoulder, totally distracting him from the questions that continued popping up in his head. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her shoulders in return, ducking his head down to press his cheek against the crown of her head.

"Thank you," he murmured, holding onto her for as long as he thought he could get away with. When he pulled away he didn't go far; he hovered above her, his fingertips brushing her wrists, brown eyes staring down into hers. "I - I miss you, you know. You didn't tell me about any of this."

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For the first time in a long time, Sloane felt almost whole. She'd needed exactly this more than she cared to admit. And it was over all too soon, leaving that familiar sort of ache that she knew she'd have to try and ignore until it could happen again.

"I'm sorry, I missed you too." She had missed him, even if he'd been giving her the space she'd asked for, but she'd been so frustrated and then she'd been such a mess of emotions that she didn't even know what to do with herself. It was why she'd clung to neutral parties like Hatch and Ned. They were easy to be around, they had zero expectations (except that she study) and she just needed the quiet of that steady friendship to quiet the buzzing in her head. Things were slowly starting to piece themselves together though, which was how she'd come to the quidditch decision.

"I didn't tell anyone, I knew everybody would try to talk me out of it." She'd come close to telling Maddy in their dorm after the last match, but even then couldn't find the words. Cam had already tried to talk her out of it, was probably going to keep trying until she broke, but at least that meant they were talking again.

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He wanted to cup her face in his hand, to kiss her, to do anything that would allow him to communicate in the way he knew best, especially in this situation where words were incredibly difficult to find. The last few months had been empty—no deep conversations at breakfast, no brushing hands as they walked in the corridors, no studying sessions in the far-off corners of the library where they could sit a little closer without anyone noticing. He missed that sort of closeness, even if he wasn't sure how to vocalize it without feeling silly.

"Of course everyone would try to talk you out of it. You're a good seeker," he said, passing her a look that dared her to question his assessment. She might not have been a star seeker this term, but no team won year after year. The only reason he'd been doing well was because, unlike Ned and Lester, who had both been studying hard for their OWLs, he'd been trying to avoid the subject whenever possible. He reached forward and grabbed a stray strand of hair, giving it a little tug in a signature Cam-like fashion. "And even if it wasn't a great season, there will be plenty more. Don't tell me you've forgotten the early years." He managed a grin for the first time in the conversation. When they'd joined the quidditch team, nearly their entire team had been comprised of second and third years, which made it difficult to outperform the comparatively older teams. Now it was their turn to be the older team.

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Sloane very nearly rolled her eyes; she knew this was coming, but she hadn't changed her mind. She also knew he wasn't going to give up and so she wasn't going to put on the effort of arguing now, that she would save for when it really mattered.

A weak chuckle escaped at the mention of their first couple years on the team and the tug on her hair. They had been a young team, but had players like herself and Maddy, who grew up with the sport, so it helped. Now they were pretty solid, even without her. She'd figure out a way to make everybody see though, in time. "We'll see." Was all she'd could say in response. She wouldn't be baited into the conversation now.

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He knew her well enough to know she was done talking about it, and Cameron wasn't in a place where he felt comfortable pushing. Glad enough to simply be with her again (even if moments ago he'd tried to break things off entirely), all he could do was smile at her.

"We'll see," he echoed, giving himself a moment to just look at her before he swooped down to grab his broom. "We should get back to the castle before the others start to worry." Somehow most of their teammates remained in the dark about their relationship, with Alice an Sisse being two non-quidditch-playing members of their friend group and the only two to figure it out. They didn't need to add Maddy or Alcyone to that list.

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