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beaureveries · 21 days ago

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ONESHOT : HOME TO YOU

paige x azzi

warning : light angst

(I had an inspiration to write this after I saw a heartwarming pazzi edit to this song 🥹)

hope you enjoy <3

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I. When I Came to You

Paige sat on the bench long after practice ended, watching the last of the training staff pack up loose balls and towels. Her legs ached, but not from running drills, more from doing extra cardio every first half games whenever her teammates decide to ball-hog rather than passing it when she was wide open.

Three games in a row. Three close losses. Three separate plays where she’d drawn the defense, dished a perfect assist, and watched her teammates miss wide-open layups like the basket had developed stage fright.

And every time, coach went on about “togetherness.”

Like togetherness would magically fix the fact that half the roster couldn’t finish a simple fast break. Like togetherness would somehow rewire her brain to not flinch every time she had to trust someone else to make the right play.

She hadn’t meant to snap.

She really hadn’t.

But during a simple five on five drill, when a teammate blew an easy reverse layup after Paige fed her with a slick no-look bounce pass, she muttered a tight “Jesus Christ,” under her breath and turned her back.

Of course, the coach heard.

“Paige you wanna lead, do it without the attitude” he chimed from the sideline.

She turned back and stared at him, jaw clenched.

“I’d like to lead with makes.”

The silence in the gym after that was louder than the whistle.

She didn’t speak to anyone for the rest of practice. Not even Arike, who gave her a knowing look and a pat on the back as they left the court. Paige just threw on her hoodie, tugged the strings tight, and walked out.

—

Her apartment felt cold in that way empty places do when you don’t even have the energy to turn on the lights. The TV was on low trying to fill in the void that was already too quiet, she stuck on some post-game analysis. She already knew the narrative.

Paige Bueckers not living up to the hype.

Paige Bueckers can’t carry this Dallas team on her own.

She knew all of it.

No one cared that she was already trying to carry them. She couldn’t say it out loud, but the weight was heavy. It was exhausting to always be the one expected to fix it, to lead it, to save it.

Paige let out a breath—sharp, bitter, almost like a laugh if it wasn’t so full of frustration. Togetherness? Sure. That would’ve been great… if someone, anyone, could finish a goddamn possession when she fed them the ball.

She sank onto the couch and stared at the ceiling. Her jaw clenched, her eyes burned.

She wasn’t trying to be a bad teammate. She knew that was the last thing she could afford to be right now. But she was tired, tired of giving everything and watching it unravel. Tired of being Paige Bueckers—the name everyone chanted when they needed saving but never the one allowed to be tired, or bitter, or disappointed.

She wasn’t built for losing. And right now, that’s all they were doing.

She shifted on the couch, resting her head between her knees as she faced down, smelling the scent she so dearly missed from the hoodie she was wearing, her hoodie that Azzi always wore whenever she visited. From the last time she’d stayed here. From the last time things didn’t feel so damn hard.

God, she missed her.

Not just the presence. But everything about her in general. The quiet calm that Azzi brought without even trying. The way she’d squeeze Paige’s knee during film sessions when coach said something frustrating, or how she always made sure Paige never falls too deep when she’s disoriented and thinks too much. She was the only one who always pulled her back when things get rough, when things get too heavy to handle all alone.

Paige blinked hard. Her phone buzzed on the table.

She almost didn’t reach for it.

But she did.

And it was her.

Az 💗

Hey baby. You okay?

That was all it said, simple.

Like Azzi knew that something had happened and she just had to check up on her.

And yet it cracked something wide open inside her.

Paige stared at the screen for a long time. She didn’t text back. Not yet, her thumb hovered over the keyboard, but instead she locked the screen, tossed the phone aside, and sat there.

Then slowly, almost like muscle memory, she reached for her Ipad. Opened the calendar.

There it was.

A four-day break. No games. No events. No shoots.

No obligations.

Just a stretch of time.

Time she hadn’t even realized she was desperate for until now.

And before she could talk herself out of it, before she could convince herself that she needed to “rest,” or “stay focused”.

She opened the flight app.

Typed in the destination.

Connenicut.

She clicked through the options, didn’t bother checking the prices and picked the earliest flight possible.

She just booked it.

Because the truth was…

She couldn’t breathe here.

And maybe, just maybe—

She’d finally be able to breathe again if she was next to her.

She knew she would.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆

The hallway was quiet. UConn’s campus was still asleep, just past five in the morning, and the air carried that strange softness of an in between hour—too late to still be night, too early to be morning. Paige stood in front of the door to Azzi’s dorm room, her duffel bag slung off one shoulder, her fingers hovering over the handle.

Her heart was beating in that slow, dull thump of exhaustion, not nerves. Just… weight. The kind that pressed down from the inside, that made it hard to breathe, hard to stand. It had been a long, sleepless flight. Even longer weeks.

She didn’t knock. She already told Azzi she booked the earliest flight. Azzi had already texted her when she saw the flight confirmation hours ago: “I’ll leave the door unlocked. Just come in, okay?” Followed by, “Be safe. I love you 💗”

Paige pressed the handle down and stepped inside.

The room was warm and dim. Soft light from a lamp near the window spilled across the wooden floor. And then—Azzi.

She was already up.

Wrapped in her loose, oversized dallas hoodie that she had stole multiple times, barefoot, curls tied back messily like she’d barely slept either, Azzi stood from where she was sitting by her desk and turned.

Their eyes met.

Azzi didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to.

Because from the second her gaze landed on Paige, her entire face changed. Whatever smile she was wearing melted into worry—real, heavy worry and then something else even deeper. Paige hadn’t said a word, but Azzi could see it.

In the slump of her shoulders. The way she wasn’t even pretending to smile. The way her eyes looked glassy but dry, like she’d already held back too much.

Azzi crossed the room in two quick steps.

“Paige—” she breathed, reaching out.

And that was it.

That was all it took.

One call of her name.

Paige dropped her bag. She didn’t try to speak. Didn’t even nod. She stepped into Azzi’s arms like her body had been searching for it all week—like her feet had been dragging just to get here, and the second she got there, something cracked inside her.

Azzi wrapped both arms around her, strong and sure, and Paige folded into her like she was collapsing.

She didn’t mean to cry. She hadn’t planned to. Paige rarely cried—at least not like this. Not the kind where your chest shakes and you can’t hold yourself upright. Not the kind where it’s silent at first, and then it comes in waves you can’t stop.

But once she felt Azzi’s hands that were warm, steady, cradling the back of her head, holding her close—once she smelled that familiar calming scent that had clung to Azzi since high school, her body gave out. Her arms clung tight around Azzi’s middle, and the first sob escaped, muffled against her chest.

And then another.

And another.

“Oh, baby…” Azzi whispered, barely audible. “You’re okay. You’re home now. I’ve got you.”

But Paige shook her head.

Because she wasn’t okay. Not really. And that scared her more than anything.

All she could do was hold on tighter. Her tears soaked into Azzi’s hoodie, her fingers curled into the fabric like letting go might make her fall apart completely.

Azzi didn’t rush it. She didn’t speak again for a long time. She just stood there—holding Paige, swaying gently back and forth, her cheek pressed to Paige’s hair. Letting her break. Letting her cry in the safety of her arms.

And Paige did break.

All the pressure. The silence. The expectations. The feeling like she had to hold it together for everyone, every day, all the time it all poured out in that room. With no fans watching. No cameras. No teammates. Just Azzi, the only person she could truly be herself with.

The only person she didn’t have to hide with.

The only person that would never judge her.

Just the only place that had ever felt like relief.

—.

Paige’s tears had slowed.

Her breathing was still uneven, soft little pulls of air, like she hadn’t quite remembered how to breathe normally again. Her eyes were red. Her body heavy. But the sobs had passed, leaving behind an aching silence. That kind of silence where you’re emptied out, but the hurt’s still there. Just quieter.

Azzi hadn’t let go. Not once.

She sat with Paige tucked against her, one hand moving in slow circles over the back of her neck, the other resting protectively over her side. Paige was leaning into her like she needed to feel that weight—that grounding.

And Azzi just held her. As long as Paige needed.

Eventually, in a voice that was barely above a whisper, Azzi said, “Come on, P. Let’s get you in the shower.”

Paige didn’t answer. She didn’t nod. She didn’t move.

But Azzi gently coaxed her to her feet, threading their fingers together and guiding her toward the bathroom. Paige followed like her limbs weren’t fully connected to her, like she wasn’t really here.

Azzi reached for the shower handle, turning the water warm, letting the steam begin to cloud the mirror. Then she turned to Paige, her eyes soft and steady. “Arms up baby.”

Paige didn’t speak, she just did what she was told.

Azzi peeled off the oversized hoodie, the shirt underneath. Then her sweats. Then her socks. One piece at a time, until Paige stood there bare, vulnerable, stripped down to nothing. And Azzi looked at her like she was still whole. Still her.

Azzi undressed, too—quietly, no rush. Just the soft rustle of cotton. Then, without a word, she stepped into the shower first, offering her hand for Paige to follow. Paige did.

The water hit her skin and it made her shiver—not from the temperature, but from the way it felt to stop for the first time in days. Azzi reached for the shampoo gently and began to lather it through Paige’s hair, fingertips moving through the strands with care.

Paige closed her eyes. Let her.

Azzi rinsed the shampoo out, then worked through the conditioner. Then soap. She washed Paige slowly, delicately. Her hands moved over every tired muscle—her back, her arms, the curve of her spine, treating her like something worth tending to. Every moment was quiet. Intimate. Nothing more than care.

Not once did Azzi rush.

And Paige didn’t say a word the whole time.

When they were done, Azzi reached for the towel, wrapping it around Paige first before grabbing one for herself. She dried her gently, guiding her back out, back into the bedroom, back into soft clean clothes. Paige didn’t even flinch when Azzi reached for one of her own sweaters and slipped it over her head. It smelled like Azzi, like home.

Azzi brushed her teeth next. Then handed Paige the toothbrush and toothpaste. Paige took them wordlessly. She didn’t protest. She didn’t try to act like she was fine. She just… followed Azzi. Let her take care of her.

And Azzi did. Without needing thanks. Without asking for anything in return.

Paige didn’t resist when Azzi pulled her toward the bed. She felt like she was floating through the motions but Azzi’s touch grounded her.

“Come here,” Azzi murmured, patting the pillow. “Lay down. You need sleep.”

Paige did.

She slid under the covers wordlessly, and the second her head hit the pillow, she felt her eyes begin to burn again—not from tears, but from how safe she felt. How it almost hurt to be seen this gently. Like Azzi knew every corner of her, even the parts she hadn’t said out loud.

Azzi climbed in beside her, lying on her side, facing Paige.

Her hand reached for Paige’s waist automatically, pulling her in just enough so that their foreheads nearly touched. The blanket slipped between their bodies.

But something held Paige back.

She lay there, frozen for a second, then whispered almost too quietly to hear, “Can I…?”

Azzi blinked. “Hmm?”

Paige’s eyes didn’t meet hers. “I just—” She paused. “I wanna take this off.”

Azzi looked at her gently.

Paige didn’t mean it like that. It wasn’t about sex or closeness in that way. It was about touch. About feeling human again. About not having anything between them—no layers, no clothes, no space. Just Azzi.

Azzi gave her the sweet smile that would always show up just for her, nodding.

Paige sat up slowly, pulled off the shirt Azzi had dressed her in, and slid out of the sweatpants too. She lay back down in just her boxers, facing Azzi, eyes still vulnerable but open now. Needing.

Azzi didn’t hesitate. She peeled off her own shirt. Let it fall beside the bed. Then she reached out and pulled Paige in close—skin to skin. Chest to chest. Nothing but warmth and silence between them.

Paige melted into her immediately, arms wrapping around Azzi’s bare waist, cheek resting on her collarbone. Her body finally, finally softening.

“I just didn’t wanna feel alone,” she whispered.

“You’re not,” Azzi said. “You’re never alone baby, I’m here always.”

Azzi kissed the top of her head.

They didn’t say anything else. The air was warm. The blankets heavy. Their legs tangled, chests rising together slowly.

And for the first time in too long, Paige let herself fall asleep feeling safe.

Finally back to where she’s supposed to be.

II. When I Came to You

Her head felt full all the time of plays, expectations, eyes that always watched her like she owed them something. Like she had to be perfect now, or she’d never be remembered. The weight of “UConn” on her chest wasn’t light anymore. It was suffocating.

It was March, her last March Madness.

Her last chance.

And in that day’s practice, it all crashed in one breath.

One minute, she was pushing through drills, barking out switches, chasing down every board, trying to keep her head clear. The next, her lungs felt like they were closing in, her knees like they were moving through mud. She missed a simple rotation. Then a pass. Then a layup that she would’ve made in her sleep.

Coach yelled something. Someone clapped at her to pick it up.

Azzi nodded, but her body didn’t move.

Everyone else kept running. She stood near the sideline, completely still. Her hands were gripping her shorts. Her head was bowed like she was catching her breath, but it wasn’t just her lungs. It was her heart. It was her chest. Her shoulders.

Something in her couldn’t keep going. Not today.

She swallowed hard. Her vision stung, but nothing fell. Not yet.

“Azzi—you good?”

KK’s voice from across the court. A couple teammates turned to glance.

Azzi didn’t answer. She just nodded once, tight and sharp.

She wasn’t good but she kept pushing through acting like nothing was wrong.

— .

The gym had long emptied, the echoes of bouncing balls and shouted plays fading into silence hours ago. But Azzi stayed.

She was alone now, the overhead lights casting a dull yellow glow over the hardwood, shadows curling behind every rack of basketballs and every folding chair that hadn’t been put away. Her legs burned, her arms ached, but her heart felt heavier than anything else.

She glanced up at the UConn championship banners. The lights reflected off the gold lettering. So many legends had walked through these halls. So many names etched in memory. Would hers be forgotten if she failed now? Winning last year was one of the best feelings ever. But will she be able to maintain that title this year? without Paige leading her…

The pressure twisted in her chest. Her throat felt tight. She grabbed another ball and shot again. Missed. The sound of the rim rejecting her echoed louder than it should’ve.

She kept shooting.

And missing.

But not stopping.

Back in her dorm, Paige had already showered and changed into one of Azzi’s hoodies which was technically hers cause Azzi steals her clothes all the time. She was curled up on Azzi’s bed, one hand scrolling absently through her phone, the other tapping her knee. The clock on the wall read 11:48 PM.

She’d been waiting.

Paige had called twice. No answer.

She texted:

P 💗

Baby where are you?

Practice ended three hours ago.

kk said you wanted to practice a bit longer

Still nothing.

She called again. Finally, Azzi picked up.

“Hey,” Azzi’s voice was soft. Strained.

Paige sat up immediately. “Where are you?”

“Still at the gym,” Azzi replied. There was the echo of a bouncing ball behind her. “I’m just… getting a few more shots in.”

“Az…” Paige frowned. “It’s almost midnight.”

“I know, I just— I needed to stay a little longer...” A long pause. “You don’t have to wait up. You should sleep P.”

But Paige knew that voice. She knew the tiny tremble buried beneath the calm. The way Azzi’s spoke stretched too far, too slow. The way she wouldn’t say why she needed to stay. Paige had seen that version of Azzi before… too composed to ask for help, too scared to admit she was unraveling.

“I’m coming to you,” Paige said, already walking through the door.

“No—Paige, you don’t have to.”

“What’s the point of me staying at my girlfriend’s dorm in Connenicut if my girlfriend is not even here. I’m coming to pick you up mama.”

then she ended the call.

—.

Paige didn’t call her name right away.

She just stood by the edge of the gym, silent, eyes fixed on Azzi.

Azzi hadn’t noticed her yet— or maybe she had, and was pretending not to. Her back was to Paige, legs bent in a familiar stance, arms lifting the ball. She took another three.

Clang.

Miss.

She didn’t even flinch. Just grabbed another ball from the rack beside her, repositioned her feet, and shot again.

Clang.

Miss.

Paige watched her inhale sharply, reset. Sweat stuck to her shirt. Her ponytail hung limp against her neck. The muscles in her shoulders were tight — not from work ethic, but from frustration. From fear.

Azzi took another.

Clang.

Still no reaction. No curse. No groan. Just… reload.

Paige finally stepped forward, slowly, voice barely above a whisper.

“Az.”

No answer.

Another shot.

Clang.

Miss.

Paige’s heart squeezed.

“Azzi.”

Azzi exhaled roughly through her nose. Her stance shifted again, readying for another shot. Paige moved closer, her steps echoing quietly in the empty gym.

Then she said it, soft but certain. “Azzi. Look at me.”

No movement.

Azzi didn’t speak. Didn’t flinch. She just froze with the ball in her hands, and after a moment, her head turned the slightest bit, not toward Paige, but away. Not dramatically. Just a small, subtle shake, like a quiet no. A refusal.

“I can’t” she spoke out, barely audiable.

Paige’s voice broke softer this time. “Please. Just look at me.”

Azzi’s grip loosened. The ball slipped from her fingers and rolled slowly toward the baseline. Her shoulders dropped as if gravity had finally won.

And then, finally— she turned.

Her eyes were already glassy. Red at the edges. Like the tears had been waiting for hours, and the moment Paige’s eyes met hers, they spilled without warning.

She didn’t even fall into Paige’s arms, not at first. She just stood there, trembling, lips trembling worse, like she was ashamed for breaking.

Paige crossed the distance and wrapped her arms around her gently, protectively, pulling her in like she’d been waiting to hold her all night.

And that’s when Azzi collapsed into her. Body first. Then voice.

“I’m so tired,” she whispered through the tears. “I’m trying, I swear I’m trying, but it’s like—it’s like no matter how much I shoot, I keep missing. And if I lose this March…”

She couldn’t finish.

Paige just held her closer, one hand stroking the back of her head.

“It’s okay,” she murmured. “You don’t have to do it all. You don’t have to be perfect.”

“But what if we lose, what if i let the team down?” Azzi finally said it— the real fear as her voice cracked all the way through.

Paige kissed her temple softly. “Azzi win or lose, the team knows you tried your absolute best this season, we all saw it” whispering like soft murmurs.

Azzi let herself sob, this time for real. Because there was nothing left to hold in. Not when Paige was here. Not when she was finally safe to fall apart.

And Paige never let go.

Azzi was there for her, and she’ll always be there for Azzi.

Cause as long as they both found each other, they knew everything was gonna be okay.

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