Date: June 1, 2021

Location: Boston, MA

Event: Days before Eastern Conference Finals – Boston vs. Milwaukee

The Celtics had won Game 7.

Barely.

And yet, the air in Boston wasn't victory—it was survival. There was no parade. No champagne. Just sore muscles and thin ice.

At the center of it all: Kyle Wilson. The rookie phenom who dropped 52 before collapsing. Who now sat in silence while his team prepared to battle Giannis and the Bucks.

Celtics Training Facility – 10:14 AMKyle's brace was off—for now—but his movements were still ginger. Every step reminded him he wasn't himself.

He sat on the baseline while the team went through shootaround. Jayson Tatum called out plays. Jaylen launched jumpers in rhythm. Coach Udoka huddled with assistants, already thinking about Antetokounmpo.

Kyle just watched.

"Try jogging laps," the trainer said quietly.

"I'm fine," Kyle replied.

He wasn't.

The swelling had gone down. But the medical staff was firm—no game action for the rest of the playoffs.

"Too much risk," they said.

"You're 19. You've got 15 years ahead of you."

That didn't help.

He didn't want 15 years. He wanted now.

Back in His Apartment – Later That NightKyle sat with his leg propped up on an ottoman, watching film of the Bucks' defense. Ari sat beside him, quietly scrolling through her phone, trying not to stare too long at how tightly his jaw was clenched.

"You're still the most dangerous player in the league," she said.

He didn't respond.

"I mean it, Kyle. This doesn't erase what you did."

"I know," he whispered. "But it feels like it does."

She took his hand, just for a moment. Then let go.

Kyonic HQ – June 2ndThe boardroom was sleek—black walls, LED lighting, mockups of new Kyonic models pinned to a moodboard behind the CEO's desk.

Kyle wore all black. Hoodie. Slides. Crutches leaning on the wall behind him.

"Our projections post-Game 6 are absurd," said Amaya, the CMO. "Kyonic Ones restocked three times and sold out in under five minutes. The colorway you wore in Game 5? Already going for four times retail."

Kyle looked at the data. Impressive. But hollow.

"I want the next drop to go toward Jamaica," he said.

"Toward what?"

"My mom's hometown. Start a community fund. Give it to Ari to manage."

Everyone in the room nodded.

"You sure you don't want to wait 'til the Finals?" one exec asked. "You're the story—even injured."

Kyle stood slowly.

"I don't wait anymore."

June 3 – TD Garden, Media DayThe Boston Celtics were underdogs. Milwaukee was rested, healthy, and built like a tank.

Reporters crowded Jayson, Jaylen, and Horford.

One of them turned to Kyle as he limped past with a Gatorade.

"Hey Kyle—what's it like watching this run from the bench?"

He stopped. Looked them dead in the eye.

"Like bleeding from the inside out."

Eastern Conference Finals – Game 1: Celtics vs. BucksThe TD Garden roared—but Kyle didn't hear it.

He heard his heartbeat.

He saw the way Jrue Holiday hounded Smart at halfcourt. The way Giannis bullied his way through defenders like gravity didn't apply to him. The way Khris Middleton floated corner threes like poetry.

Boston was fighting hard.

Jaylen had 26 by halftime.

Tatum was relentless.

But the Bucks kept countering.

Giannis slammed one home on Rob Williams and let out a guttural yell. Kyle flinched like he felt it himself.

Score:

Milwaukee 106 – Boston 99

Series: Bucks lead 1–0

Postgame – Inside the Locker RoomNo shouting.

No panic.

But you could feel it.

The Bucks were a different beast than Miami.

Kyle sat beside Jaylen.

"I should've been out there," he said.

Jaylen shook his head. "You were. Every time I drove the lane, I thought about your game ."

That made Kyle smile—barely.

Later That Night – AloneThe TD Garden was empty.

Just Kyle and the echoes.

He stood at center court, in the shadows of the rafters.

Looked around.

This was supposed to be his moment.

He whispered to himself:

"They're gonna remember me. Even if I don't take another step this year."

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