Apolo has a lot of bandanas. Like a lot a lot. Not just a bunch, like JR’s mother has rooster plates, or his dad has Seahawk hats. But a LOT.
He buys them every single time he sees them, even years after he’s done competing he’ll go out for milk and come back with a blue and white one that he found for sale at the grocery store,
or he’ll go out to get the tires changed and come back with a Goodyear promotional bandana that JR knows he will never ever actually wear.
It’s not an obsession. He doesn’t need them. He doesn’t have them carefully organized and categorized. In fact it’s probably the most disorganized part of Apolo’s life, actually.
He’s a neat freak at the best of times, but when it comes to his bandanas he’s remarkably not so freakishly neat.
They drive JR crazy at first. He moves in with Apolo, and suddenly he’s finding them everywhere. They’re in every drawer in the dresser, both the nightstands, even the bathroom drawers.
He finds them in the bottom of the closet, under the kitchen sink, even stuffed down in the couch.
There is a stack of them kept piled up next to the bench press in the home gym, and an entire shopping bag full of them in the front hall closet.
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