#jeeseth

megan’s wearing two different socks again.

you notice it halfway through class—her left foot has tiny cats doing yoga, and the right one has pineapples. not even trying to match. and somehow, you think that’s kind of cute.

she’s hunched over her desk, bangs in her eyes, poking at a calculator that looks like it was made in the early 90’s or sum.

"megan," you whisper, nudging her arm. "that’s a scientific calculator. we’re doing stats."

she looks up, blinking rapidly like a baby deer caught mid-crash.

"oh!" then she laughs quietly. "that explains a lot."

you didn’t mean to fall for her. she was just the quiet, weird girl in your class who asked too many questions and carried way too many pens. but then she offered you her last highlighter. and you both got locked out of the lab once and sat on the floor for an hour talking about which disney princess would survive a zombie apocalypse (she said mulan. you said anna. and she obviously judged you).

she wasn’t cool. she wasn’t smooth. but she made you laugh when your life felt flat. and when she finally kissed you under that sad-looking tree behind the science building, you knew. you were gone.

now it’s your third year.

and megan—your megan, is no longer the girl who forgets her id card every other day. she still snorts when she laughs and still can’t really do her eyeliner to save her life. but she’s hot now. confident. witty. everyone looks at her when she walks by. you pretend it doesn’t bother you. you pretend you’re used to it. until she shows up.

gabriela. the new transfer with perfect hair, smooth talker and suddenly, she’s everywhere. in the library where you and megan used to study alone. in your group chats. next to megan in the cafeteria, smiling like she owns the place. you don’t like how she looks at megan. and you hate how megan doesn’t seem to notice it.

"you’re staring again," megan says, bumping your shoulder with hers gently.

you blink, trying to pretend that you’re clearly not staring. "no i’m not."

"yes you are." megan grins, turning her head toward you. "what is it?"

you hesitate, the words catching in your throat before you finally let them out. "gabriela," you say quietly, like just saying her name might shift the mood. "i don’t trust her."

megan looks up from her phone, brows pulling together. you’re not sure what you expect her to say. maybe to agree. maybe to ask why or maybe even nothing at all. but right now, the only thing you do know is that something about gabriela makes your chest tighten and you need megan to know that.

"what? she’s just friendly." megan blink in confusion before she burst out laughing. you don’t laugh with her because why would you?

"she’s not. she wants something. and i think it’s you." megan’s smile fades a little upon hearing you say that, her smile softening into something you can’t quite read.

megan then reaches out and tucks your hair behind your ear. something she always do to calm you down. "then she’s already lost."

-

you try telling yourself that it’s fine. when it’s clearly not. you’re sitting across from megan at the library table. your laptop’s open, but you haven’t typed anything in ten minutes. why? because you’re too busy watching gabriela slide into the seat beside megan like she’s been doing it all semester.

"sorry." gabriela says, out of breath and smiling like she’s in a freaking romcom. "there were no seats left." that’s a lie. you literally passed by four empty tables on the way in.

megan only took a glance at gabriela before focusing back on her laptop. "you can sit." she says, friendly as ever. you clench your jaw but still nod. whatever. be positive, right?

the next day, gabriela shows up with two iced coffees and she places one in front of megan with a huge grin on her face.

"i noticed you always get oat milk." she says, biting her straw.

you don’t get a coffee. plus you weren’t even told they were meeting. like what? megan thanks her then laughs awkwardly, and then she shoots you a look across the table. one that says i swear i didn’t ask for this.

you nod, trying to stay calm and collected. and suddenly freezing in your own relationship.

day by day, it’s starting to get out of hands. gabriela starts tagging megan in memes. makes a private story and only adds you two. starts borrowing her pens, then her jacket, then you swear you saw her wearing one of megan’s hair clips.

and megan? sweet, clueless megan? she’s still trying to see the good in her.

"she’s lonely." she says one night while scrolling through her phone beside you. "i think she just wants to be friends."

"she clearly wants you." you reply almost immediately.

megan snorts before laughing softly. "stop."

the last straw for now, comes a week later.

you walk into the cafe near campus, holding your breath and a half nervous smile, ready to surprise megan after her class. maybe share a slice of cake, maybe just sit with her for a bit. cute right? but there she is.

megan. sitting by the window, sunlight catching the strands of her hair. and gabriela. leaning across the table her fingers brushing megan’s hand and whispering something that makes her laugh—her laugh. the real one. the one that reaches her eyes.

your heart immediately drops into your stomach. but you don’t storm in. instead, you just watch from the cafe door for a second too long. well, long enough to see the way gabriela looks at megan like she’s already won. like this is all a game.

and in that moment, you realise that this isn’t friendly anymore. gabriela? she’s not playing fair. and worse, she’s playing hella dirty.

-

it’s one random night where you just can’t seem to shut your brain off. you toss and turn then toss again. your pillow is too hot, the air is too still, and your thoughts won’t shut the fuck up.

you stare at your ceiling like it owes you an answer, but all you get is silence and that heavy, itchy feeling in your chest like something’s off or wrong, crawling under your skin and settling there like it belongs.

gabriela. you don’t even want to think her name, but it’s stuck in your brain like a bad song. you grab your phone and look at the time on your lockscreen. 2:04 a.m.

you hesitate for a second. then type. you don’t care anymore. you need megan.

you : you up meg?

meimei : always. what’s up??

you : can we meet? i can’t sleep.

meimei : see you in 10.

the wind bites a little as you sit on the chipped concrete ledge, pulling your hoodie tighter. you used to come here with megan all the time during your first year. at this skatepark back before things got weird. before gabriela smiled her way into your life like an infection you didn’t catch fast enough.

just then, megan’s headlights flash across the park before she turn off the engine.

"hey." she says, walking over with her usual stupid grin that makes you feel both better and worse.

"hi." you mumbles softly as megan sits beside you. she doesn’t ask why and doesn’t push. she just sits. you absolutely love that about her. but tonight, you need to say something.

"i don’t like the way she looks at you." you mumble quietly but it was loud enough for megan to hear and turns to look at you slowly. "who?"

"gabriela." you sighs before looking at megan.

megan laughs softly, like you just said something stupid like the sky is purple or something. "she’s just friendly."

"no, megan." you say, sharper than you mean to. "she’s not just friendly. she’s everywhere and it’s not normal."

"what are you talking about?" she frowns, a little confused and a little hurt.

"you really don’t see it?" you hate how desperate your voice sounds. but it’s 2 in the morning and you’re so tired and the words are just pouring out now.

"she flirts with you, she touches you, she buys you coffee, she posts about you like she’s already got you—and you let her. you smile and you thank her and it’s like i’m standing there like some background character."

megan looks at you, stunned like you just accused her of robbing a bank.

"i thought she was just being nice." megan says, voice small and soft and it tugs your heart.

"that’s the problem, megan." you whisper. "you always think everyone’s being nice. even when they’re not."

megan stays quiet for a while, picking at the sleeve of her hoodie. "i didn’t mean to make you feel like that."

"i know." you sigh. megan gently pulls you to her and make you leans your head on her shoulder. feels warm and familiar.

"i only want you," she says softly. "you know that, right?" you nod. you want to believe it. but in the dark, with her pressed against you and gabriela’s smirk haunting your memory, it still doesn’t feel like enough.

you’re quiet on the drive back. megan’s hand brushes yours a few times on the gear shift, and each time she smiles it’s like the world is still okay. like your heart isn’t pounding so hardly against your ribs with the weight of everything unsaid.

she parks in front of your dorm building and shifts into neutral. "i wish i could keep you longer." she says, eyes soft.

you smile, a little forced. "you could. just saying."

megan laughs softly. "tempting, but you have a class in six hours and i still have to finish my lab report."

you reach for the door handle—reluctant, tired, still tangled in thoughts. when suddenly megan’s phone, sitting face up in the cupholder, lights up. a text notification.

gabriela : hi pretty, you up? 🩷

then you feel like the time slows. your hand freezes. you don’t even mean to look. you really don’t. but there it is, glowing like a slap across the face.

megan doesn’t even notice it. she’s reaching to turn the engine off while humming under her breath.

you force a breath. "she has your number?"

"huh?" megan turns to looks at you, feeling confused.

you nod toward her phone. "gabriela. she texted you." megan glances down and momentarily freezes. you wait for her to say something else. explain. laugh. anything. but she doesn’t.

"did you give it to her?" you ask, trying to sound calm. your voice comes out small like you’re already bracing yourself for the answer.

megan runs a hand through her hair. "i-i yeah. she asked if we could work on econ stuff together. i didn’t think it was a big deal."

you nod slowly. "right. not a big deal."

"baby…" megan sighs, hands reaching out to caress your thigh. "please don’t do this. it’s not like that."

but your mind’s already going places. its spiraling. because damn it is a big deal. because now she can text her cute nicknames and send stupid pink hearts and megan might just smile at her phone and don’t even realise why it hurts.

you want to say something—something clear, something fair. but instead, your voice cracks "you know she wants you, right?"

silence. megan’s eyes flick down, feeling guilty now. "i didn’t reply." but the message is still there and it’s taunting you.

you open the passenger door quietly and step out. "goodnight." you mutter simply.

megan reaches out but you’re already stepping out, hoodie pulled tight with hands in your pockets.

you don’t slam the door and you don’t cry. you just walk away, trying not to think about how easy it is for someone else to call your girl pretty at 2 in the morning. and how easy it might be for her to answer.

-

megan’s eyes light up the second you walk into class. you see it. of course you do. that tiny lift of her shoulders, the way her pen stops mid scribble, like her entire body is quietly screaming finally.

but you don’t look at her. you walk past and take your seat two rows behind. no wave, no smile, not even a glance. if she notices, she doesn’t show it. but gabriela does. and that’s the part that really stings.

gabriela turns in her seat just slightly, her lips curving when she catches your cold silence. then of course she leans a little closer to megan. you look away before you have to see her stupid smirk.

megan tries again after class. she lingers outside the lecture hall, waiting to see your familiar face.

"y/n." megan calls once she spotted you. but you just keep walking.

you hear her footsteps behind you, quick and light, trying to catch up to you. but someone says her name. gabriela probably and megan stops. you don’t.

you ignore megan’s texts, leave her on read, respond with "👍" when she asks if you’ve eaten already. because yeah, maybe you’re being dramatic and maybe you’re hurting her. but it hurts to feel replaceable. to feel like someone else can call your girl pretty at 2 in the morning and you’re just supposed to laugh it off?

by lunchtime, megan’s getting way desperate.

you see her walking across the quad, squinting into the sun, scanning the crowd for you. you duck into the side hallway before she spots you. five minutes later, you hear her calling your name again. soft, almost confused. you keep walking.

you think you’ve escaped her for the day, but no. not megan. you’re halfway through washing your hands in the girls’ bathroom. just trying to breathe, honestly—when suddenly the door swings open.

"y/n." you look up and see megan standing in the doorway, clearly out of breath after finding you, her eyes wide and red-rimmed like she’s been holding it in all day. she walks in quietly.

"can you—" her voice cracks. "can you just stop running for one second?"

you don’t say anything. she moves closer, gently placing her hands on your shoulders. "please," she whispers. "talk to me, baby."

"what’s the point?" you shake your head slightly, no you’re not angry. just tired.

"because you won’t even look at me anymore."

"yeah." you snap, sharper than you meant to, but it’s too late to pull it back. "and you barely noticed until now."

megan flinches just slightly, but you see it. the way her shoulders tense. the way her eyes drop for a split second like your words hit exactly where they were meant to.

"you gave her your number, megan." you say, stepping back. "you let her call you pretty. and you think i’m just supposed to sit there and smile while she plays this whole innocent act in front of you?"

her voice trembles. "i didn’t reply."

"you didn’t stop her, either."

-

you don’t say let’s break up. you just say, "maybe we need space." and megan? her eyes red and shoulders trembling, just nods. no begging. no yelling. just silence. and that actually might hurt more.

she leaves the bathroom first. you wait until the door closes before letting yourself cry.

days pass.

you still see her across campus, in the shared classes you now sit far apart in. she looks smaller, almost like she’s folding in on herself.

you almost want to run to her. but you remember the text. the smirk. the way she looked confused when you told her it hurt. so you don’t.

gabriela, of course, notices. and now that you’re ‘on a break’ she turns it up. first, it’s subtle.

"oh sorry, didn’t know you two weren’t sitting together anymore." she says loudly in class, like it’s some kind of news.

then it’s the coffee. again. the same iced oat milk latte now with a little pink sticky note on it.

you looked pretty tired today, thought you could use this ☕❤️ - g

you don’t drink. for some very obvious reasons.

by the end of the week, gabriela starts worming into your friends. laughs with them too easily, shares inside jokes you’ve never heard before and suddenly, you’re not being tagged in the group’s stories anymore.

one day, you walk into the student union and see her sitting in your usual spot—your seat, laughing with people who used to sit beside you. one of them looks up, sees you, and hesitates. but they don’t say anything.

gabriela does. she waves and mouths "you okay?" so you just turn around and walk out.

-

it was one random day where you’re sitting alone on the campus bench near the main hall. you weren’t planning to be here. it’s just where your feet stopped walking.

the breeze is cool, but not enough to calm your thoughts. your phone’s been silent all day and even the birds seem to know you’re not really in the mood. you’ve been holding yourself together for weeks now. but today? it feels heavier and lonelier.

you scroll aimlessly on your phone. click your screen off and then on again. still nothing.

elsewhere, megan is watching gabriela laugh with your friends again. but it doesn’t feel so casual this time.

gabriela leans into one of them, whispering. they all laugh. megan watches one of them glance at her, then quickly look away. something twists in her chest.

later, gabriela catches up with megan after class. "megan!" she calls happily, like they’re best friends- no. like they’re lovers. megan stops walking.

"hey." gabriela says, touching megan’s arm. "are you free right now? i wanted to—" but megan isn’t listening.

her eyes flick past gabriela’s shoulder. and then they light up almost immediately upon seeing you’re sitting on that bench with your head down. and suddenly, nothing else matters.

"megan?" gabriela steps in front of her, trying to get her attention. "i said—" but megan doesn’t even look at her. she pushes past, literally brushing her shoulder and walks straight to you.

your heart stutters when you hear footsteps approaching fast. you look up and there she is. your sweet megan looking all winded and flushed. her hand holding her bag like she ran across campus just to get here.

"y/n." megan says, a bit out of breath.

"meg?" you blink, clearly stunned. she doesn’t wait for another word. she just sits beside you like it’s the only place she wants to be.

"i was so stupid." you open your mouth, but megan cuts you off. "no—listen. i thought she was just being nice. i wanted to believe that. but she wasn’t and now she’s trying to replace you. trying to replace us. and i let her get too close. i’m so sorry, baby."

you stare at her. megan’s breathing hard, eyes shining like she’s about to cry.

"i miss you." she says. land i don’t care if you hate me right now. i just need you to know that gabriela never even had a chance. it’s always been you."

you don’t say anything at first. you just look over her shoulder and see gabriela standing in the distance, watching and clearly stunned. exactly how you once felt. you turn back to megan. and for the first time in weeks, you smile again.

you don’t speak for a moment after she says it. megan’s eyes are locked on yours like she’s afraid if she looks away, you’ll disappear.

"you’re really late." you whisper softly to megan. she swallows hard. "i know."

you cross your arms over your chest while looking at megan. "you ignored me while she was crawling all over you."

megan nods quickly, fidgeting with the sleeve of her hoodie. "i did. i-i’m literally the worst."

"literally?" you raise an eyebrow. "scientifically." megan blurts out. "i ran the numbers."

she opens her tote bag and pulls out a folded piece of paper. you unfold it slowly. it’s a handwritten bar graph titled, ‘times i’ve been an idiot in the past three weeks.’ you snort at it.

"i was going to make it in excel." she says sheepishly, pushing her glasses up, "but you stopped answering my texts so i kind of panicked."

you cover your mouth, trying not to laugh. "you’re such a loser, mei." you mumble quietly but loud enough for megan to hear it.

then megan leans in, hopeful. "but like, your loser?" you look at her. messy hair. anxious eyes. notebook paper graphs and all. gosh.

"yeah. my loser." you says softly. megan grins so wide her whiskers dimples show.

then she reaches into her bag again. "i also made you this." she pulls out a keychain. it’s a tiny pixel heart. "it’s from that game we played last summer." she says, voice quieter now. "the one where you said if we were video game characters, you’d always pick me."

she hands it to you carefully. like it’s fragile. like it means everything.

"so… do you forgive me?" megan asks, her eyes filled with hope. you don’t answer right away though. instead, you loop the keychain onto your bag before standing up and hold out your hand.

"buy me a hot chocolate and maybe i’ll think about it." you say while looking at megan. she stumbles up so fast she almost drops her phone. "yes. absolutely. i brought my punch card. you get a free one if—"

"megan meiyok skiendiel."

"yeah. right. i’ll shut up now."

you take her hand. you’re walking away together when you glance over your shoulder, just once. and gabriela’s gone. and this time, you’re the one who won.

-

the campus is warm under the golden hour light. you’re walking beside megan, sipping the hot chocolate she bought you. extra whipped cream, because she said you deserved it and listening to her nerd out about something you don’t even fully understand.

"so technically." she says, pushing up her glasses, "the multiverse theory means there’s a version of me out there that never messed up, and we’ve been together the whole time."

you raise an eyebrow. "so you’re blaming parallel universe you for this entire mess?"

"i’m just saying. it’s possible." megan shrugs making you laugh. and she grins hearing that sweet sound of your laughter. and for the first time in what feels like forever—it’s easy and it’s light again. until.

"oh my god." you whisper, abruptly stopping in your tracks. megan follows your gaze and freezes. stupid gabriela turning the corner. with her perfect hair, her fake smile and her eyes locked right on megan.

"nope." you mutter. "same here." megan says. you waste no time and grab megan’s hand and bolt away.

"this is ridiculous." you gasp for air while ducking behind a vending machine with megan. then you spot the janitor’s closet. open and empty. you don’t need to think twice. so you dive in and pull megan with you.

the closet door barely clicks shut before your back hits the wall. you gasp when you feel megan’s already on you. her glasses fogged, her jaw tight and her eyes burning.

"you’ve been running." megan says lowly, bracing a hand beside your head.

your breath catches in your throat. "megan—"

"shut up." she whispers, tugging you in by the collar. "you owe me." her thigh slips between yours, and your knees almost give out.

"thought so." she grins. the dangerous type of grin. you try to answer, but her mouth silences yours, rough and desperate and starved. her hands swiftly slide up your thighs, taking her time. taking everything.

"you’re not walking out of here the same." she mutters, biting down on your lower lip. and damn she’s right.

when the door finally creaks open, the hallway’s quiet. you step out first with you cheeks flushed, skirt crumpled beyond saving. megan follows behind, hair a wreck, glasses crooked, lips pink and smug.

someone passes by and does a double take to make sure they’re not hallucinating or something.

"holy shit. chat. one more win and i’m entering radiant!" megan exclaimed before letting out a long breath to calm herself down.

it’s currently… two in the morning. the neighbourhood is quiet except for a certain house. megan has been live since the evening, wanting the world to see her entering the rank radiant in valorant.

you’re in megan’s bed just chilling and scrolling through your phone while absolutely pretending like the sound of megan’s keyboard isn’t making you insane by the second. it’s the clicky switches and you hate those the most. thus, megan kept groaning every time she got shot right in the head and it’s not helping you fall asleep either.

"FUCK!" megan shouted and ran a hand down her face while huffing in annoyance. you peek at her monitor from the bed, it seems like she lost her kill streak. again.

to be honest, you weren’t surprised anymore when megan cursed so damn loud. this is still in the okay level. because there was one time where megan legit threw her headset away when she got a bad teammate and oh boy. you were STUNNED. because you’ve never seen megan that mad before.

so here’s the thing. megan’s fans knew she had a girlfriend — which is you. but megan had never officially revealed you to her fans yet because megan said she wants you to be comfortable about it.

most of the times, you would just let the chat see your hands and a slight peek of your hair and maybe pinching megan’s cheeks too sometimes.

tonight was no exception. megan is taking a five minute break from her match before continuing. you’re on her side and the camera only catches your hand that is occasionally stealing megan’s chips.

"hey. stealing from me now?" megan asks in mock seriousness as she looks at you. you giggles innocently before taking another chips and making a happy sound towards megan.

"sooooo good." you smiled before licking off your fingers.

megan sighs as she adjusts her black beanie. you can see that twitch on the corner of her mouth, trying to fight back a smile.

chat : megan we see that smile

chat : GET A ROOM HELLO???

chat : u ain’t reaching radiant like this 😭

chat : gf reveals whennnnn

megan snickers as she leans closer to read the comments spamming in. "soon i swear." she chuckles before turning to look at you and send you a playful wink.

"okay. let’s go for one more game because i lost the previous one ugh." megan groans before putting on her headset again. but not before she steal a kiss from you off camera.

chat : I SAW THAT DISGUSTING PERVERT.

megan laughs when you read that comment out loud. she sticks out her tongue before enjoying the queue.

you look at megan before deciding it’s time to go wash your hands from all these chips you’ve eaten. you stand up but then you freeze.

from across the room you see it — your biggest enemy. walking around megan’s room. a big ass cockroach. and then it started flying as if it knew you’re staring at it.

and of course… you cling to megan. so tightly.

"MEGAN! COCKROACH!" you screamed in panic and hug megan by the neck, not realising the camera has now captured your scared expression.

megan flinched before tapping your arms because you’re lowkey choking this poor megan. "b-babe! i can’t breathe."

but then megan also freezes. because she has just realised that your face is on camera. and the chat is spamming so fast.

"fuck." megan muttered before quickly turning your face away from the camera. you’re too scared of the cockroach to realise it, but when you do, you look at megan. like really look at megan as the chat blew up.

chat : COCKROACHES??? 🪳

chat : wait— she’s so pretty??

chat : MEGAN HAVE BEEN GATEKEEPIN I SEE 😤

chat : together we say thank you cockroach

chat : this just proves how messy megan room is 😭

megan let out a giggle that also sounded like a sigh as she runs her hand up and down your back.

"well, here’s the reveal i guess." megan laughed as you smack her chest with your chips covered fingers.

you’re blushing so so badly now. you weren’t ready and you’re bare faced too. "megan!" you whines and hide your face in megan’s neck.

"it’s okay. chat thinks you’re very pretty."

"but still…" you murmured before smacking megan chest again. harder this time.

"CLEAN YOUR ROOM NEXT TIME."

your ex is glowing. and you absolutely hates it.

like, unfairly glowing — instagram filter level, post-breakup confidence, ‘just got a new girlfriend’ type of glowing. she’s tagged in a post that makes your heart skip and your stomach turn. a soft photo. coffee cups on a windowsill, your ex’s hand intertwined with someone else’s.

"soft mornings with her 🤍"

ew. you blink at the screen. it’s not that you want her back. well not really. it’s just that she moved on so fast like you didn’t even leave a dent.

you’re halfway through doom-scrolling her profile when someone passes by your library table and nudges your charger off the edge. you lunge for it and absolutely miss it — and it clatters to the floor near a familiar pair of worn converse. oh boy. your stomach drops.

daniela avanzini.

she picks up the charger, holds it between two fingers like it might actually bite her, and places it silently back on the table without even glancing at you.

"um thanks," you mutter, barely making eye contact with daniela.

she hums and walks away. excuse me but what? she just hums? literally no words. no acknowledgment. no you’re welcome or anything. huh. classic.

-

daniela avanzini is everything you can’t stand. effortlessly cool, quiet. the kind of girl who rarely post on social media, doesn’t raise her hand in lectures, doesn’t care if professors mispronounce her name. and somehow, everyone still knows who she is. it’s like she’s carved out this unreachable space on campus where people talk about her like a myth.

you’ve only had a few classes with her, but in your head and you’d never say this out loud but, she’s your rival.

you always come in second. every time you get a test back, her name is right above yours. every time you answer a question in class, her bored "actually…" cuts through the room two minutes later and leaves yours in the dust. and the worst part? you’re pretty convinced that she doesn’t even know your name.

later that day, your ex passes you in the quad. she doesn’t look at you, but her new girlfriend does — with the same kind of polite pity people reserve for wet dogs and forgotten leftovers. yucks.

you turn around a little too quickly, almost trip over a freaking skateboard, and catch yourself on a bench. your roommate’s (lara) words from last night come screaming back.

"girl honestly? you need to make her jealous. like, get a hot girlfriend. someone unexpected. someone she’ll definitely hate seeing you with."

you laughed at that time but now, you’re still stinging from your ex’s perfect instagram life, you glance across the quad and see her again. daniela.

sitting under a tree, one headphone in, legs stretched out like she owns the earth beneath her. reading a book you know she won’t even annotate because she remembers everything. the only person your ex could never figure out and the only person you could never beat.

you don’t even realize it but you’re walking until you’re standing right in front of her, your heart pounding loudly like you’re about to make the worst decision of your life.

she looks up slowly and blinks once, doesn’t even take out her headphone.

"i need a favour." you say breathlessly. are you nervous? in front of your rival? daniela doesn’t answer so you press on.

"i told my ex I’m dating someone, and i kind of said it was you." you manage to say in one single breath. you pray to god that daniela won’t hear how fast your heart is beating from nervousness.

there’s a pause. you expect her to laugh, or roll her eyes, or walk away like this conversation never happened. but she just stares at you like a weirdo.

"okay." she mutters and it definitely caught you by surprise.

"wait- what?" you blinks in pure confusion and surprise.

"i’ll fake date you, only if you stop looking at me like you’re about to fight me in a parking lot." she shrugs and stands up from the grass. still doesn’t look directly into your eyes.

"why would you agree to this?" you asks, softer than intended.

she finally meets your eyes — and there’s the faintest twitch of a smirk at the corner of her mouth which makes you annoyed for some reasons.

"i’m bored."

and just like that, she walks away again, as if she didn’t just casually agree to change the entire trajectory of your college career.

-

you spend the next morning second-guessing every outfit in your closet and constantly telling yourself it’s not for her. it’s for the plan. the fake plan. the plan where you look convincingly in love so your ex gets jealous and maybe, for once, loses.

and definitely not because daniela avanzini is going to be walking next to you. definitely not because she looked you up and down yesterday and said "okay" like it didn’t mean anything. then suddenly your phone buzzes.

daniela

be outside in 10. you don’t need to dress up.

you stare at the message for a solid minute. you have so many questions. like how did she even get your number? but let’s put that aside because you are dressed up.

when you step outside, she’s already leaning against the bike rack, hoodie up, hands in her jacket pockets, looking like she hasn’t thought about anything once in her entire life. her eyes flick up when she sees you. then down. then back up. is she checking you out?

"you said i didn’t need to dress up," you say, trying to play it cool which lowkey doesn’t work.

"you didn’t. but you look good." daniela shrugs nonchalantly. you pretend that doesn’t make your chest do something weird.

"so how are we doing this?" you ask, sighing afterwards. "pda? couple walk? hand-holding?"

daniela looks at your hand for a beat. then, without a word, reaches over and laces her fingers through yours.

"we’ll walk," she says.

"that’s it?" you asks, dumbfounded.

"for now." she says and you swear you can see her smirking from the corner of your eyes.

the quad is too loud, too crowded. everyone’s outside. music from someone’s bluetooth speaker is bouncing off the walls, and you swear there’s a subtle shift in the air when you and daniela pass through. people notice and obviously they will whisper. a girl who you recognise from your chem lab literally nudges her friend and points.

"are they staring?" you whisper to daniela.

"mhm," daniela hums. like it’s nothing. like this is totally normal for her.

"okay. why are you so calm?"

"i’m always calm."

"i know and it’s annoying." you huffs before rolling your eyes mentally. you expect her to ignore you — like she usually does but she lets out a tiny laugh, low and quick.

"you’re funny when you’re panicking." daniela says quietly.

"i’m not panicking."

and then she squeezes your hand just slightly. not enough for anyone else to notice. just enough for you to feel it.

you’re passing the café when you suddenly hear it — your ex’s laugh. sharp. too loud. too familiar. you freeze up. and daniela notices. she follows your gaze. your ex is inside, tucked into a booth with her new girlfriend, all soft smiles and leaning in close. your throat tightens ever so slightly.

daniela shifts beside you. doesn’t say anything. just gently tugs your hand and keeps walking, guiding you away like it’s instinct.

"you wanna go in?" she asks quietly.

"no." you reply almost instantly.

"then keep your head up. don’t let her see you looking at her like she matters." daniela mutters softly but firmly. her words hit harder than you expect.

you stop outside your lecture hall a few minutes early. the crowd thins. people stop watching. technically, the act is over. but daniela doesn’t let go of your hand.

"you can let go now," you say as if you’re reminding her.

"i know." but she still doesn’t.

you glance over at daniela. she’s staring straight ahead, unreadable as always.

"that wasn’t horrible," you mumbles softly.

"high praise," she says, a tiny smirk ghosting her mouth.

then, daniela said something that almost makes you choke on your own saliva. she said it like it’s nothing.

"if you want to make her more jealous, i can kiss you next time."

"w-what?" you stutter, almost chokes upon hearing daniela’s words.

"i won’t do it unless you’re okay with it," daniela says, calm as ever. "but you looked like you were gonna disappear back there."

"that’s… actually really considerate." you said shakily. she looks at you then. really looks. and for the first time since this whole thing started, you can’t read her.

"see you later." she says, finally letting go of your hands. and she walks away without another word.

you stay there a moment too long, hand still warm, head still spinning from everything. this was your idea. this was supposed to be fake. so why does it feel like she’s playing the role a little too well?

-

it’s one of those rare days when the weather is nice and the sun hits the campus lawn just right — the kind of afternoon where students sprawl across the grass, half-studying, half-napping, pretending they’re not drowning in deadlines.

you’re at your usual spot as always — a bench tucked under a tree near the south building. it’s your unofficial recess place. far enough from the cafeteria noise, but close enough to eavesdrop on the chaos if you feel like it. you’ve got headphones in, open tabs on your laptop, snack in one hand and phone in the other. and you’re definitely not expecting some extra company. which is why, when someone drops their bag next to yours and sits down without saying anything, your heart jumps into your throat.

you yank one earbud out and glance to your side. daniela with her hood up, sleeves too long, bottle of water in her hand, thumb resting lightly on the cap. just sitting beside you. like this is totally normal.

"um hi???" you says, eloquent as ever.

"hi." daniela replies, tone so chill it sounds like she’s been here the whole time.

you stare at her for a second, waiting for the punchline. she doesn’t look at you. just leans back against the bench like it belongs to her. like you belong to her.

"do you usually sit here?" she asks after a moment, eyes still looking forward. "you’re always in this spot. i noticed."

"you noticed?" you blink upon hearing daniela’s words.

"yeah. you always snack during break. same brand of chips too." daniela says as she glances at the bag of chips in your hands.

you also look down at the bag in your hand. it’s the same one you eat basically every day. you didn’t think anyone paid attention. even you barely pay attention.

"i mean—yeah, i guess? i like this bench."

daniela hums and then opens her water and takes a slow sip. you want to ask her why she’s here, why she’s choosing to sit next to you now, with people literally walking by and noticing but you’re too scared that if you do, she’ll leave. so you just keep existing beside her.

twenty minutes pass. you’re still pretending to scroll through your notes, but you haven’t read a single sentence. and daniela? daniela is leaned back, legs stretched out, water bottle resting between her knees, like she’s never been more relaxed in her life.

a few students walk past and you hear one of them whisper, "wait, are they dating? like for real?" and your chest tightens when you heard that.

"people are talking." you mumble softly, not even dare looking up.

"let them." daniela replies, calm as anything.

"aren’t you worried they’ll think it’s real?" you asks and look over at daniela. and then she finally looks at you. lile really really looks.

"isn’t that the point?" daniela says nonchalantly. you open your mouth, then close it.

and then, just to completely ruin your brain she reaches over, takes a chip from your bag, pops it in her mouth, and smiles.

"these are good."

daniela stays until the bell rings and doesn’t move when it buzzes. doesn’t rush. just stands up slowly, throws her bag over her shoulder, and glances down at you.

"same spot tomorrow?" she asks causing you blink up at her in genuine surprise.

"um yeah sure." you mumbles softly.

she walks off like nothing happened. like this wasn’t weird. like she didn’t just publicly chill beside you for almost half an hour and steal your snacks like you’ve been doing this for weeks. and just before she disappears around the corner, she turns back and says something to you.

"bring extra chips yea?"

you sit there, staring after her, snack bag half-empty, heart half-lost. you’re in big trouble.

-

you’re not used to people watching you. at least not like this. not the way students glance in your direction when you walk into the quad now. not the way group chats whisper and spiral. not the way yunjin looks at you across the lawn like she just saw a ghost wearing her old hoodie.

daniela’s beside you again today. sitting under your tree like she owns the shade. legs stretched, hoodie sleeves half-covering her hands, thumb lazily scrolling through something on her phone. she doesn’t care that you’re being watched. doesn’t even pretend to. and you kind of like that.

"you’re quiet today." you say, nudging daniela’s knee.

"you’re talkative today." she glances up and smirks faintly at you. you smile despite yourself.

you’re sitting a little closer than yesterday. not on purpose. just gravity, maybe. hehe. the air’s warm. the quad’s buzzing. and you’re halfway through offering her another chip when you hear it. the sound that lowkey annoys you.

her laugh. you know that laugh. you freeze for a second, chip halfway to your mouth. then you glance up. yunjin.

ten feet away. hair tied back, sunglasses pushed up on her head, walking with that girl. her new girl. the one who took your place so fast you barely had time to breathe. and they’re headed toward the quad bench nearest yours. of course.

daniela must sense it. or maybe she just knows your body language too well already. well either way, she shifts closer, leans in slightly but not enough to make a scene, just enough for anyone watching to get the message. and then, she does it.

she reaches up and smooths a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. her fingers are gentle, her face unreadable. but her eyes? oh her eyes flicker just slightly toward where yunjin’s standing. you don’t even have time to process it before you hear footsteps stop.

"wow. so this is real huh?" yunjin says, her voice coated in sugar.

you blink and look up. she’s standing right in front of you and literally smiling tight. daniela doesn’t move. hence she doesn’t even look surprised at all.

"hey, didn’t think you’d move on this fast." yunjin mutters, her eyes dragging over daniela slowly.

"we’ve been talking for a while," daniela finally says, casually but yet dangerous. "just kept it quiet."

and clearly you almost choke from hearing that cause what the hell?

"didn’t think you were her type." yunjin says, eyes narrowing.

"good." daniela replies, still so calm it almost unnerves you. there’s a glint in her eyes—mischievous and unreadable.

"i don’t like being predictable anyway." daniela’s words hang in the air, cool and confident, leaving you unsure whether to be impressed or nervous. maybe both and then total silence.

yunjin’s jaw clenches. just a little. her hand tightens around her smoothie cup. and you really wonder if she’s about to throw it.

"well, good for you." yunjin says, and clearly its all bite now.

"thanks. we’re really happy." daniela says, giving yunjin a small smirk that surely pissed her off.

and then like she’s rehearsed this moment, daniela reaches over and rests her hand lightly on your knee. her thumb tracing lazy circles like it’s the most natural thing in the world. and your entire nervous system shuts down.

yunjin doesn’t say another word. she just turns and walks away, grip on her smoothie so tight you’re surprised it doesn’t explode. and when she’s out of earshot, you turn to daniela.

"okay. what the hell was that?"

"what?" daniela asks, shrugging like she did absolutely nothing afterwards.

"we’ve been talking for a while?’ daniela?!"

"sounded better than ‘we fake started dating yesterday.’" daniela smirks. well barely a smirk.

"you really don’t care if people believe this, huh?" you ask, staring at her, trying to read something. anything on her goddamn face.

daniela just shrugs, the corners of her mouth twitching like she’s fighting back a smirk. she leans back on her hands, glancing up at the sky.

"nah," she says. "but i care that she saw."

your heart skips a beat.

"that was evil."

"you smiled."

"i didn’t."

"you did."

you look away, biting the inside of your cheek to stop the grin forming. daniela is hella evil. but god. she’s too good at this.

-

you don’t plan to end up in her dorm. let’s say that it just happens. somehow, between daniela walking you halfway to class and you saying something dumb like "my phone’s about to die" and she just offers a casual

"you can charge it at mine."

like it’s nothing. like you are nothing. which, frankly, is a joke — because your heart is doing backflips and she’s acting like you just asked for a pen.

daniela’s room matches her energy: quiet, muted, somehow colder and warmer than you expect. the kind of space that doesn’t ask questions, just exists—still, steady. a hoodie is draped over the back of her chair, worn and faded. a cracked window lets in the soft hues of dusk, the breeze carrying in the scent of evening. a basketball is shoved carelessly under the desk, like she tossed it there without thinking.

you hesitate by the door, unsure if you should step in or stay put. she doesn’t say anything. doesn’t look up. just grabs your phone, plugs it in like it’s the most natural thing in the world, then tosses you a water bottle without missing a beat.

and here you are. you’re on her bed. the laptop rests between you, trail mix scattered in the space where your knees almost touch. there’s music playing—rnb, soft and slow. it hums in the background, setting a rhythm that neither of you really follow. but it fits.

you’re actually supposed to be working on your slides but oh well. your fingers hovering over the keyboard. daniela’s sketching something on a scrap of paper, focused, lines coming to life beneath her hand. she doesn’t explain what it is. doesn’t offer. you don’t ask.

but you keep stealing glances. and she keeps pretending not to notice. until she does. her eyes flick up, catching you mid-stare. you flinch, caught like a guilty secret. she doesn’t. she just raises an eyebrow at you, like really? your gaze drops immediately, heat crawling up your neck. the corner of her mouth twitches just barely but it’s there.

you end up there for hours and obviously you didn’t mean to. but she never tells you to leave. never acts like you’re taking up space. just lets you sit, lets you snack, lets you laugh at her handwriting and kick her ankle under the blanket when she says something sarcastic. and when you finally check your phone, it’s almost midnight. gosh.

"shit. i should go." you mutter as you eyes the time on your phone.

"you can stay."

"i mean, just to crash. if you want. i’ve got an extra hoodie. you look cold."

you don’t answer right away. and maybe that’s the answer in itself. dani gets up and throws you the hoodie. and she doesn’t even look at you while she does it. but when you slip it on, oversized and warm and still smelling like her shampoo, she says something that caught you off guard.

"looks good on you." daniela says like it’s nothing. but you’re starting to learn that when daniela says something like it’s nothing. it’s definitely something.

-

it’s ten minutes between lectures. your brain is foggy from note-taking, your fingers are cold from the library air, and your bag is slung too low on one shoulder. you barely hear anything as people file out around you. just chatter and sneaker-squeaks and someone dropping a water bottle that rolls past your feet.

you step into the hallway and as always, daniela’s already there leaning against the wall. arms crossed. earbuds in. one side of her hair tucked back. she’s looking at her phone but you can tell that she’s been waiting for you. and she doesn’t even look surprised when you walk up. just pulls one earbud out, glances up slow.

"hey." it’s so normal. so casual. like it’s a daily routine. maybe it’s becoming one.

"you’re early," you says softly, looking up at daniela.

"and you’re late." daniela says making you grin and bump her shoulder lightly.

"i was gonna say you missed me, but okay." you sighs dramatically causing daniela to snorts.

"i did."

"what?" you blink.

"what." but she’s smiling. just a little and just enough.

-

you don’t even remember how you ended up here. one minute, you were walking together after your last class and joking about something dumb, bumping shoulders. and the next, you were toeing off your shoes by her door, dropping your bag on her floor like this is routine. like you’ve done it a hundred times before. you haven’t. but it’s starting to feel like you could.

her dorm’s still the same. soft lighting that makes everything feel a little gentler. cracked window letting in the evening air. a half-zipped hoodie hanging from the corner of her bed, swaying slightly whenever you move. but this time, there’s no assignment. no project. no excuse. just you and her and the quiet space in between.

daniela’s in the desk chair, legs stretched out, socked feet crossed at the ankles. her head’s tilted slightly, like she’s listening to the soft music that hums low from her phone speaker—some mellow instrumental that doesn’t ask for attention, just fills the silence. but she keeps looking at you. not in a way that demands anything. just literally watching. like you’re something she’s trying to figure out, or maybe already has. and you keep pretending not to notice.

fiddling with the hem of your sleeve, suddenly very interested in the pattern on her blanket, the chipped nail on your thumb, anything that isn’t the heat rising in your cheeks under her gaze. but she doesn’t stop looking. and you don’t really want her to.

you really try to focus on something, anything. on your phone, but it’s hard when she’s just there. sitting like she owns the room. like the silence bends around her. like she knows you’re flustered and she likes it.

"you’re comfy," daniela says, breaking the silence.

"it’s your bed." you mumbles.

"yeah, but you’re still cute in it."

"excuse me?"

"just saying. you look good when you’re relaxed." dani shrugs, all casual. like she didn’t just lob a grenade into your chest.

"dani stop." you choke on your own breath and toss your phone onto the blanket.

"what?" she leans forward, resting her chin on her hand. eyes too steady. too smug and definitely too much.

"you’re blushing." she pauses.

"is it the ‘cute’ part or the ‘in my bed’ part that’s doing it for you?"

you stare at daniela. then you grab the nearest pillow and launch it right at her face. it hits with a soft whump and she bursts out laughing — the kind that makes her lean back in the chair, eyes squinting, mouth wide with actual joy. and how you wish it didn’t make your heart flip.

"you’re so annoying," you mumble, face hot, covering yourself with the blanket like it’ll undo the last thirty seconds.

"you didn’t deny it, though." she calls out, muffled through the pillow she’s now hugging to her chest. you groan and she just grins in satisfaction.

-

you’re half-asleep at your usual table. recess is loud and laughter echoing off walls, sneakers pounding pavement but it all feels distant, muffled by the fog in your head. your eyelids are heavy, textbook open in front of you but untouched.

daniela’s next to you. elbow propped on the table, cheek resting against her hand, posture lazy in that way only she can pull off. she’s quiet, letting you trace across the back of her other hand with your black pen. and she hasn’t said a word about it. just watches. barely blinking. her thumb twitches slightly when your finger accidentally brushes the inside of her wrist, but she doesn’t pull away.

you’re not even drawing anything good. just dumb little stars. uneven. shaky. some filled in, some not. you draw one right in the center of her hand. it’s a little crooked. off-balance. but who cares?

"that one’s you." you mumble, not really expecting her to hear.

"tilted?" dani gaze flicks up, one brow barely raised.

"shining." you correct, without looking up and she doesn’t respond but her hand stays still and so do you.

you forget about it. the next day slips by in pieces—notes you barely register, teachers talking like background noise, friends pulling you along through hallways you don’t fully remember walking. everything blurs.

until you’re halfway to your seat. and then you see her. daniela. already there with her hood up and sleeves rolled to her elbows like she always does when she’s tired or pretending she isn’t.

you stop mid-step. because on her hand right where you drew it yesterday is the star. your star. the tilted one. only now, it’s not in pen. it’s in ink. clean, sharp black lines. not smudged, not fading, permanent. your stomach drops.

"wait— you didn’t erase it?" you slide into the seat beside her, still staring.

"couldn’t." daniela shrugs like she doesn’t feel your panic.

"cause got it tattooed." daniela says that calmly and your throat dries.

"you’re joking."

"i’m not."

you blink. you wait for her to laugh, for the punchline but it just never comes.

"why would you—"

"because you drew it and because i didn’t want it to fade." daniela explains to you in a soft tone.

you don’t say anything. you’re so busy trying to process that you almost miss the way her hand finds yours under the table. her thumb brushes your knuckles and her voice drops.

"i like you, y/n." and then suddenly the world goes quiet.

like the air’s holding its breath with you. like everything else—the noise, the nerves, the chaos pauses just long enough to make room for her voice.

"not fake-like. not for the deal. not because it’s fun messing with you."

your heart’s hammering in your chest. your hand is shaking and dani notices so she holds it tighter.

"i like you for real. and i’m kinda hoping you like me back."

your eyes drop to the star on her skin. your star. on her. damn. what even is happening. and then they lift—to soft fabric and steady eyes and that stupid calm voice that’s always said more than it was supposed to.

"you’re actually insane," you whisper, breathless.

"is that a yes?"

you don’t answer her instead you just lean forward and kiss her quick, barely-there, more breath than touch. but it’s everything. and when you pull back, she’s already grinning like an idiot.

"so yes?"

"ugh, yes." you roll your eyes, heart still racing and cheeks burning.

you’re still close maybe a little too close. her hand’s still holding yours, thumb brushing soft over your knuckles like it’s the most natural thing in the world. you kissed her. you literally kissed her. and now she’s just sitting there, grinning like she just won something in life.

"you’re smiling way too much." you mumble, still a little breathless.

"am i?" daniela hums, tilting her head, her eyes flicking to your mouth again.

"you could kiss me again to make me stop."

"oh my god. you’re unbelievable." you mumbles as your face heats up at her words.

"and kissable." she adds helpfully. you throw your head back and groan, hand covering your face. dani’s laugh is low and smug and entirely too pleased with herself.

"daniela."

"what? you literally started it." she blinks innocently.

"you kissed me. on school property. during recess. and now i have expectations." you grab her sleeve and tug it over her face.

"you’re really insane."

"maybe. but you did draw a star on me and now it’s permanent. so i think we’re even."

you’re blushing. hard and you can feel it. she pulls her sleeve down just enough to look at you, voice quieter now softer but still teasing.

"just one more?" you look at her. she’s not pushing. not demanding. just there. waiting patiently.

you sighs as you lean in — not rushed, not dramatic. just a quiet, warm press of lips against hers again. longer this time, a little closer. her hand finds the side of your neck. your other one curls into the fabric of her hoodie. and when you pull back, her eyes flutter open, slow.

"okay," she whispers. "maybe two more."

"you’re such a pervert."

"yeah." daniela grins. "but i’m your pervert now."

you never meant to fall in love with sophia laforteza.

it just happened, somewhere between the way she laughed too loudly in the school hallways and the way she dribbled a basketball like it was her second nature. she had this effortless confidence about her, the kind that made people turn their heads when she walked past. and somehow, out of everyone, she had chosen you.

at first, it was everything you ever wanted. stolen kisses after practice, her arm draped lazily over your shoulders as she walked you to class, the warmth of her presence making your bad days feel a little more bearable. she was reckless, competitive, and frustratingly arrogant—but she was also yours.

or at least, you thought she was.

"she’s doing it again, isn’t she?"

you look up from your untouched lunch, blinking as your best friend, manon, raises an eyebrow at you.

"what?" you ask, even though you already know what she’s implying.

manon sighs, setting her utensils down as she looks at you straight in the eyes. "sophia. she ditched your plans again, didn’t she?"

your breath hitch as you hesitate. technically, sophia didn’t ditch you. she just—forgot. or maybe got caught up in something more important. basketball practice, or a meeting with her coach, or—

"y/n." manon’s stern voice pulls you back to reality. "you don’t have to defend her all the time y’know."

"i’m not," you mutter, stabbing at your untouched mac and cheese with your fork.

sitting across from you, lara scoffs. "yes, you are. you always do."

"i don’t—" you try to defend yourself but manon already cuts you off.

"you do," manon interrupts, crossing her arms over her chest. "look, we’re not saying you have to break up with her. but how much longer are you gonna let this go on?"

you stay quiet, suddenly losing your appetite to eat. because the thing is, you know they’re right. they’re absolutely right. you know you spend more time waiting for sophia than actually being with her. you know that most of your nights end with you sitting alone in a café or standing outside the gym, hoping she’ll remember that she promised to meet you. but you also know that when she’s there, when she’s looking at you like you’re the only person in the world, it’s enough to make you forget all the times she wasn’t.

that’s the problem.

"but i love her," you mumble quietly, though just loud enough for your best friends to hear.

lara lets out a sigh, her expression softening as she reaches across the table to take your hand in hers. she gives it a gentle squeeze, silently urging you to look at her. when your eyes finally meet hers, there’s nothing but concern in them.

“i know that, y/n. but she’s playing with your heart,” lara says softly, her voice gentle but firm. her words make your heart ache because you know she’s telling the truth. you’ve known it for a while now—maybe even from the very beginning. but no matter how much it hurts, no matter how many times she proves lara right, you can’t stop yourself from loving sophia.

and you will not.

-

later that night, you find yourself waiting for her again. seriously? you don’t know why but this is where your heart and feet led you to.

well here you are, outside the gym, leaning against the cool metal of the bleachers, scrolling mindlessly through your phone. practice was supposed to end half an hour ago. sophia had promised—actually promised—that she’d meet you after. yet the doors remain shut, the sound of sneakers squeaking against the polished floor still echoing from inside.

you sigh, tucking your hands into your sleeves as the sky darkens. the night stretches above you, vast and endless, with the stars shimmering like scattered diamonds. despite their brilliance, you can’t seem to find any comfort in them tonight.

you should leave. you should turn around, go home, and stop waiting for someone who never seems to wait for you. but you don’t. of course you don’t.

instead, you stay. because despite everything, despite all the times she’s let you down, a part of you still hopes. hopes that maybe, just maybe, this time will be different.

"you should leave."

that is exactly what manon would tell you to do. what lara would practically beg you to do. and honestly, it’s what you want to do. but your body won’t move. your feet feel glued to the pavement, your hands gripping your phone too tightly as if she’ll text any second now.

the gym doors finally swing open, and for a split second, your heart leaps. but it’s not sophia. just a few of her teammates walking out, laughing about something as they sling their bags over their shoulders.

you hesitate before calling out to one of them, "hey, is sophia still inside?"

one of them—megan, you think her name is—glances back at you, then shrugs. "yeah, coach is talking to her about something."

"oh. okay, thanks."

megan nods and jogs after the others, leaving you alone again. you check the time. forty-five minutes late. your fingers hover over your screen. should you text her? call her? or just leave? before you can even decide, the doors swing open again, and this time, it’s her. finally.

sophia steps out, her duffel bag slung over one shoulder, hair still damp from practice. she looks surprised to see you, her eyebrows lifting slightly. "oh. hey."

you blink, not even surprise anymore. oh. hey? that’s it?

"you forgot, didn’t you?" you ask, your voice quieter than you intended but hey can you blame yourself?

sophia’s expression shifts slightly, something guilty flashing across her face before she quickly covers it up with a sheepish smile. "babe, i didn’t forget. coach just kept me longer than i thought."

you let out a breath, forcing yourself to stay calm. "you said you’d meet me after practice."

"yeah, and i am meeting you after practice," she replies, like it’s not a big deal. like she hasn’t kept you waiting outside in the cold for almost an hour. "what’s the problem?"

the problem? the problem is that this isn’t the first time. the problem is that this keeps happening. the problem is that she never notices how much it hurts you. but instead of saying any of that, you just shake your head.

"never mind."

sophia tilts her head, stepping closer. "are you mad?"

you want to be. you should be. but the moment she reaches for your hand, her fingers warm against your cold skin, your resolve weakens.

"i’m just a bit tired," you murmur softly.

sophia’s grip on your hand tightens. "then let’s go get food or something. my treat."

and just like that, she reels you back in. like she always does.

the next day, manon and lara clearly isn’t impressed.

"girl, so you’re telling me you let her off the hook?"

you sigh, stirring your drink with your straw. "she was tired too."

manon groans, dropping her head onto the cafeteria table in disbelief. "you’re killing me, y/n."

lara leans back in her chair, crossing her arms over he chest. "no offense, but she’s literally playing you."

"she’s not—"

"yes, she is," manon interrupts before groaning afterwards. "and you’re letting her."

you frown. "she just has a lot going on with basketball. i get it."

manon lifts her head, staring at you like you just said the dumbest thing in the world. and it is the dumbest thing in the world. "and does she get you? does she even care that you waited for her last night?"

you open your mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. because the truth is, you don’t know. sophia never said sorry. she never even acknowledged how long you waited. and yet, when she smiled at you, when she held your hand, it made everything feel okay again. at least for a little while. but deep down, you know it’s not okay. it hasn’t been okay for a long time

-

the day after, sophia doesn’t text you. were you surprised? maybe a bit. just a tiny bit. but are you worried? absolutely.

not in the morning before class. not during lunch. not even between periods when she usually sends you something dumb—memes, random thoughts, anything just to let you know she’s thinking of you. you try not to let it bother you. she’s probably busy. maybe she forgot her phone in her locker, or maybe coach is running extra drills. it wouldn’t be the first time.

but then the afternoon rolls around, and there’s still nothing. you finally give in and text her.

you: hey, are you okay?

you: did something happen?

you: sophia?

nothing.

you sigh, shoving your phone into your pocket. maybe she just needs space. maybe you’re overthinking. and then, just as you turn the corner on your way to class, you see her.

sophia, standing by the lockers. laughing. with her.

you don’t know the girl’s name, but you’ve seen her before—one of the cheerleaders, pretty and confident, leaning in a little too close as she giggles at something sophia says. and sophia, your sophia, is looking at her like she’s the funniest person in the world. like she isn’t completely ignoring your texts.

your stomach twists at the unpleasant sight.

you could walk past them. pretend you didn’t see. pretend you don’t care. but you do. so you stop.

"sophia."

her head snaps up at the sound of your voice. for a second, she looks almost guilty. almost. but then it’s gone, replaced by the usual easy smile she always wears.

"hey, baby," she says, like nothing is wrong. like she didn’t just go the whole day ignoring you.

you glance at the girl next to her, who’s now eyeing you with mild curiosity. she doesn’t look embarrassed. doesn’t even bother stepping away. sophia doesn’t move either. you swallow the lump in your throat before talking again.

"i texted you."

sophia blinks, then reaches into her pocket, pulling out her phone like she’s just now remembering it exists and immediately checks her notifications. "oh. my bad. didn’t check."

didn’t check.

you stare at her, waiting for her to say more. to give you some kind of explanation. but she just shrugs, like it doesn’t matter. like you don’t matter. and suddenly, you feel stupid. stupid for waiting for her. stupid for making excuses. stupid for thinking she’d ever choose you first.

manon was right. lara was right. she’s playing you. but the worst part? you’re still letting her.

you don’t say anything as you walk away from them. you don’t wait for her to stop you. you just turn on your heel and go, leaving sophia standing there with that easy, careless smile still on her face. she doesn’t follow you. you don’t know why you expected her to.

the hallway feels too long, too crowded, too loud. voices blur together into a meaningless hum, bodies brushing past you as you keep walking, but you barely register any of it. all you can hear is your own heartbeat, hammering in your ears, and those two words repeating in your mind.

didn’t check. she could’ve said anything else. she could’ve lied, said her phone was dead, said she was caught up in something important, anything—but she didn’t. she just shrugged it off, like it didn’t matter. like you didn’t matter. your hands clench into fists at your sides.

how many times has this happened now? how many times have you been the one left waiting, left wondering, left hurting?

you think back to all the nights you spent staring at your phone, waiting for her name to light up your screen. the times you sat alone in a café, fingers wrapped around a drink that had gone cold, convincing yourself she’d show up. the way your friends looked at you, their pity disguised as concern, telling you over and over again that you deserved better. they were right. and yet, even as that thought settles into your chest like a weight, another one lingers behind it.

so why can’t you just let her go?

it should be easy. walk away and never look back. erase her from your life the way she erases you from hers. it’s what any rational person would do. but love isn’t rational.

and no matter how much she hurts you, no matter how many times she chooses basketball or her teammates or some random girl in the hallway over you—

you still love her.

you love her in a way that makes no sense. in a way that’s messy and desperate and one-sided. in a way that keeps you up at night, staring at the ceiling, wondering if she’s ever loved you at all. maybe she did, once. or maybe you were just fooling yourself the whole time. either way, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re still here. still hoping, still waiting. even now, as you walk away, as you try to convince yourself that this time is different—you know deep down, it’s not. and that’s the worst part.

you find yourself walking for what feels like hours, your footsteps echoing in the empty hallways as the world around you fades into a blur. everything feels distant, as if you’re disconnected from the reality around you.

how many times have you done this? how many times have you stood at a crossroads, knowing what you should do but too afraid to take that first step? too afraid of what happens when you let go?

you can hear manon’s voice in your head, the way she said it so many times before—you deserve better. but do you? do you really deserve someone who will choose you? or do you just need someone, anyone, to fill that empty space in your heart?

you glance down at your phone again, just to check. nothing. as always.

it’s been hours since you texted her. hours since you stood there in front of her, watching her laugh with that girl. it’s pathetic, you think. checking your phone like you expect her to suddenly make everything right, like she’ll send you a message and apologize for all of it. like she’ll change. but she won’t. and deep down, you know that. yet, you still stay. why? maybe you’re scared of being alone. maybe you’re scared of the silence that fills your room when you’re by yourself, the way the emptiness makes you feel like you’re not enough. maybe you’re scared of what it means if you stop loving her.

you never thought it would be this hard.

when you first met sophia, everything felt so easy. effortless. like you fit together in some perfect, unspoken way. she made you feel seen. but now? now, you feel invisible. and still, every part of you wants to go back to those moments. the way she would smile at you when no one else was looking, the soft way she would kiss you after a long day, the way you’d laugh together like the world didn’t exist.

you should be angry. you should be hurt. and you are. but you’re also in love with her. it’s a love that makes you want to scream, a love that feels like a heavy weight pressing down on your chest. it’s a love that makes you second-guess every decision, every moment, every word. but it’s still love. and no matter how much it hurts, no matter how many times you walk away and feel this gnawing emptiness, you can’t stop.

you can’t stop loving her.

you stop walking for a moment, your chest tight, your throat raw. the weight of everything—of the missed texts, of the promises she never kept, of the love that feels like it’s slipping away—hits you all at once.

you want to cry. you want to scream. you want to find a way out of this mess, to make it all go away. but you don’t. because no matter how much it hurts, you still want her. and that’s what scares you the most.

that night, you sit in your room, the dim light from your desk lamp casting long shadows on the walls. you try to distract yourself, scrolling aimlessly through your phone, but your thoughts keep circling back to her. to sophia.

you can still hear her laugh in your mind, still feel the warmth of her hand in yours, the softness of her lips on your skin. but it all feels distant now, like a memory you’re not sure is even real.

a sudden knock at the door pulls you from your thoughts, sharp and insistent. you freeze, your heart pounding in your chest. it’s late. who could it be? another knock, louder this time.

you get up and make your way to the door, your hand hovering over the handle. a thousand possibilities run through your mind, but nothing prepares you for what you see when you open it.

you stand there for a moment, the weight of her presence at your door sinking in. sophia’s drunk, and while it’s not the first time she’s stumbled to your house in a state like this, something about tonight feels different.

maybe it’s the hickies on her neck, dark and fresh, still angry with the clear mark of someone else’s hands. maybe it’s the way she stumbles against you as she walks into your house, like she’s forgotten all about the space between you two. or maybe it’s just the way she looks at you—half-empty eyes, lips slightly parted, the slur in her voice that’s just enough to remind you she doesn’t even know how messed up she is.

you can’t help but step aside, letting her into your home. every part of you wants to ask her what happened, why she’s standing in front of you like this, but you don’t. because, deep down, you already know.

"you okay?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper as you guide her to the couch.

"yeah. just needed to see my pretty girl," she mumbles, collapsing onto the cushions. she leans back, staring at the ceiling with unfocused eyes. her hand drifts to her neck, absentmindedly brushing over the marks.

you stand for a moment, unsure what to do next. she’s been in this state before—drunk, vulnerable, needing comfort. needing you.

without saying a word, you sit down next to her on the couch, the tension between you thick in the air, neither of you acknowledging the space that’s grown between you lately.

sophia, without hesitation, shifts toward you, resting her head on your lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world. her hair is warm, soft against your legs, and you freeze. she always does this. she always lays there, like it’s nothing. like you’re still the person she trusts to care for her, even when everything else seems to be falling apart. you breathe in deeply, trying to steady the swirl of emotions inside you. frustration. confusion. hurt.

but you don’t push her away. you never do.

her hand drifts over her neck, lazily brushing the hickies again as she mumbles to herself, "god, i’m such a mess."

you close your eyes, your chest tightening at the words, but you don’t say anything. instead, you run your fingers through her hair, the motion familiar, instinctual. it’s what you’ve always done when she’s like this. when she’s too drunk to make sense of anything. but tonight, you can’t ignore the heaviness in your heart. you can’t ignore how it feels like she’s using you, how it feels like she’s always coming back to you when it’s convenient, when she has no one else to turn to.

you want to pull away. to ask her what the hell is going on, to demand answers. but you don’t. because despite it all, despite the confusion and the anger and the hurt that’s eating away at you, you’re still in love with her. you still want to hold her. you still want to be the one she turns to.

and as she lays there, her soft breaths rising and falling against your legs, you can’t bring yourself to move her. because this—this moment, right here, with her resting against you like nothing ever happened—feels too familiar. feels too good. too hard to let go of.

you shift slightly, trying to get comfortable. she stirs but doesn’t wake up, still out of it from the alcohol, her fingers loosely gripping the hoodie you’re wearing as she sighs in her sleep.

you stare at the ceiling, the quiet in the room pressing down on you. it’s a hollow kind of quiet, the kind that comes when something unspoken lingers in the air, waiting to be addressed. you want to ask her where the hickies came from. you want to ask her why she hasn’t been answering your texts, why she’s been so distant, why it feels like you’re always the last thing on her mind.

but you don’t.

because if you did, you’d have to face the truth. you’d have to face the reality that maybe she doesn’t want you in the way you want her. maybe she’ll never love you the way you love her.

you swallow hard, pushing that thought aside, trying to focus on the present. you’re here, and she’s here, and for just this moment, that’s enough. but even as you hold her, even as you run your fingers through her hair and pretend like everything is fine, you can feel it deep inside you—it’s not enough.

you don’t know how long you sit there, hand gently combing through sophia’s hair as she sleeps soundly on your lap, the room still and silent. the weight of her head against you is both comforting and crushing. you used to think moments like this meant something. you used to think that every time she came to you—like this, half-broken, out of breath, drunk and dazed—was her choosing you. but you know better now.

this isn’t love.

this is convenience.

this is routine.

this is you being safe.

she shifts slightly, murmuring something incoherent under her breath. her fingers, still loosely tangled in the fabric of your shirt, twitch like she’s holding on in her sleep. it’s enough to send a shiver down your spine. it’s all so familiar.

you glance down at her, her lashes resting against flushed cheeks, lips slightly parted. she looks peaceful. like someone who hasn’t wrecked you over and over again. you wonder if she even remembers the things she does to you. does she know what it does to you every time she shows up at your door like this? does she know how many times you’ve cried yourself to sleep after she left the next morning without a word? does she know how many times you’ve begged the universe to make her see you—really see you?

you want to believe there’s meaning in her showing up tonight. you want to believe it’s not just muscle memory for her. but the hickies say otherwise. and yet, you’re still here. because loving her feels like standing on a cliff, knowing it’ll hurt when you fall but jumping anyway. and you always do.

her breathing slows, steady and soft, and you’re left with your thoughts, your regrets, and that aching ache behind your ribs that hasn’t left since the first time she missed your birthday.

you stare out the window. it’s dark outside, streetlights painting the walls in soft amber. the world keeps turning, indifferent to your heart slowly unraveling.

you wonder how long you can keep doing this. how many more nights like this you can survive. how many more pieces of yourself you’ll give to someone who never even asked to hold them. but then her body curls slightly closer to yours in her sleep, and something in your chest folds in on itself. because even if she doesn’t love you the way you love her, even if she never will—you’ll still be here.

every time she knocks. every time she calls. every time she stumbles into your arms, half-broken and lost.

and you’ll keep patching her back together, even if it breaks you in the process. because she’s your home. and you’re just her halfway house.

-

you’re tired. not the kind of tired that sleep can fix, but the kind that settles into your bones, heavy and constant.

you hadn’t slept much—not with sophia curled up on your couch, not with your mind spinning in circles, not with your heart still aching from truths you keep refusing to say out loud. when you woke up that morning, she was already gone.

no note. no text. not even a thank you. just silence. but you immediately knew where she’d be at.

the gym smells like sweat and echoing effort, the thud of basketballs pounding the court and the sharp squeak of sneakers filling the space. the sound bounces off the walls, relentless. focused. everything you’re not.

your hands are cold despite the heat in the room. your chest feels too tight as you sit there alone on the bleachers, watching her. sophia laforteza.

she moves across the court with ease, like she belongs there more than she ever belonged with you. confident, loud, commanding. her ponytail sways with every movement, her brows furrowed, all concentration. she’s beautiful like this. always has been.

but right now, it hurts to look at her. because last night, she was in your arms. last night, she was small and soft and broken on your couch. last night, she had someone else’s marks on her neck but still chose to lay her head on your lap. last night felt like a lie you let yourself live in for just a little longer. and now? now she’s back to being sophia on the court—untouchable.

you told yourself you came here just to watch. you didn’t plan to talk. you weren’t going to say anything. but when you woke up this morning and she was gone—just gone—without a word, without even a blanket folded on the couch where she slept, your heart did that stupid thing again. it reached for her. and now here you are.

you shift slightly on the bench, eyes tracing her movements. you don’t even realize how long you’ve been staring until one of her teammates jogs toward her mid-drill, pointing in your direction. they speak close to her ear.

sophia’s head turns. and her eyes meet yours. for the smallest moment—barely a breath—something flickers in her gaze. like guilt. or panic. or even regret. but it disappears before you can name it.

her expression hardens back into something neutral. she waves her teammate away with a sigh, says something you can’t hear, then jogs toward you slowly, like she’s not in a rush to deal with you. you feel that too.

she sits beside you without saying anything for a few seconds. her water bottle clicks open, and she takes a long sip before finally glancing at you.

"hey." sophia says, her voice is casual. too damn casual.

"hey," you reply, quieter than you meant to.

she leans back, stretching her legs, her eyes flicking back to the court like she’s more interested in the drills than in you.

you glance sideways at her—and there it is. the fading bruise just below her jaw. the mark you couldn’t unsee last night. it’s lighter now, but still there, a soft purple bloom beneath her skin.

you wonder if she even noticed you looking at it. if she even thought about hiding it from you. she doesn’t seem to care now.

"sorry if i… showed up like that last night," she mumbles eventually, eyes still on the court. you don’t respond right away. you don’t know how to.

"you okay?" you ask instead.

"wasn’t a big deal." sophia shrugs nonchalantly and your jaw clenches. wasn’t a big deal?

wasn’t a big deal that she stumbled into your home smelling like different types of alcohol and someone else’s perfume. wasn’t a big deal that she curled up into you like you still meant something. wasn’t a big deal that she left without a word this morning.

"you didn’t say anything before you left," you mumbles softly.

"figured you were asleep."

you nod slowly, staring straight ahead. there’s so much you want to say. so much trapped behind your teeth. but you’ve learned the hard way—when it comes to sophia, silence is easier. because words never change anything.

"you didn’t have to come," she adds, her tone flat.

"i know," you laugh softly under your breath. you didn’t have to. you could’ve stayed home. you could’ve chosen to protect your heart for once. but you never do. you’ll never do.

she leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees, hands clasped together as she watches her team run drills.

like you didn’t stay up all night wondering if she’d even remember being at your house. like she hadn’t fallen asleep with your name in her mouth. like her heart wasn’t somewhere else entirely.

the silence between you thickens, heavier by the second. it’s always like this after nights like that—her pretending nothing happened, and you pretending it doesn’t hurt. but it does.

you stare at the court, blinking rapidly, the sounds of whistles and bouncing balls blurring into the background. you try not to cry. not here. not in front of her. and still. your heart aches in its familiar rhythm. she’s here. she’s right beside you. and it’s still not enough.

you wonder if she’ll ever say what you need her to say. you wonder if she even remembers how tightly she held onto your shirt while she slept. you wonder if she’d even care if you stopped showing up.

later, you go to manon’s class like you planned, sit beside her like you always do, and pretend—just for a little while—that the ache in your chest isn’t swallowing you whole. you hug your books close as you turn the corner down the hallway, your eyes unfocused, your mind buzzing with leftover thoughts of last night and the quiet between you and sophia on the bleachers. and that’s when you see it.

you freeze. because there she is. sophia. her back pressed against the lockers, her hands gripping the girl’s slim waist. their mouths locked together in a mess of heat and breathlessness. it’s sloppy and rushed and urgent, the kind of kiss you used to dream of getting from her. and now you’re watching her give it to someone else.

your stomach drops. your throat goes dry. you don’t even realize you’ve stopped walking until the hallway noise fades into static. and then—she looks at you. just for a second. and she didn’t bother stopping whatever she was doing.

her lips still on the girl’s, her hand still curled around the girl’s waist. but her eyes meet yours, and something flashes across her face. recognition.

because in the next moment, she turns away like it never happened, grabbing the girl’s hand, and pulls her into an empty classroom slamming the door shuts.

and you’re left in the hallway, heart splintering like glass inside your chest. you stand there for a few seconds too long, the ringing in your ears louder than anything else around you. you don’t even try to hold the tears back.

you turn on your heel and walk, fast, almost stumbling, all the way down the corridor until you reach manon’s class. you don’t knock. you don’t wait. you open the door and see her seated in the back, headphones in, scribbling something on her notebook.

she looks up, her eyes widening the second she sees your face.

"girl, oh my god—hey, hey, what happened?"

you don’t answer. you just make your way to her, hand trembling as you drop your books on the desk and sit beside her. and then it hits you.

you fall into her arms, burying your face in her shoulder. and you cry. not soft, not quiet—no, this is the kind of cry that shakes your whole body. the kind that’s been sitting in your chest for weeks.

"she—" your voice cracks, "i saw her. sophia."

"what happened? what did she do?" manon’s arms tighten around you, gently holding you close.

"she was—she was making out with some girl. in the hallway. she saw me. and then she just—just went into a classroom like nothing happened." you shake your head, gasping between sobs.

manon doesn’t say anything at first. she just holds you, rubbing small circles on your back, letting you cry until your breaths come in stuttering hiccups.

"i knew it," you whisper, barely audible. "i knew it would happen. i just didn’t think it’d feel this—this bad."

"of course it feels bad," manon murmurs, voice soft and sharp all at once. "you loved her. you still love her."

you nod slowly against her shoulder, eyes squeezed shut. "i feel so stupid."

"you’re not stupid. she is."

you don’t say anything. because deep down, you still want sophia to knock on your door. you still want her to hold your hand, to kiss you like she means it, to choose you. but today, you saw it for what it was. you saw her choose someone else. and it broke something in you.

sophia knows you’re going to be in that hallway.

she doesn’t plan it, not exactly. but she knows your schedule—has it memorized like muscle memory, like the way she knows the court’s every squeak and corner. she knows you’ll be heading to manon’s class soon.

so when the girl—some sophomore with red lips and wandering hands—leans into her and whispers, "no one’s around," she doesn’t say no and let it happen. let her body take over. lets the girl pull her in. lets her lips crash against hers like she means something.

and all the while, sophia waits. waits for the familiar ache in her chest to go numb. waits for her mind to stop echoing your voice. waits for the sound of your footsteps. because she knows. you’re going to see this. and you do.

when she opens her eyes mid-kiss and sees you standing there—frozen, shattered—her heart doesn’t just sink, it crashes.

you don’t move. you just look at her, eyes wide and so heartbreakingly soft. and she wishes you would hate her already. wishes that you would scream and you’d finally walk away. because this? this is the only way she knows how to let you go.

the girl doesn’t notice the pause. she doesn’t notice anything, really, except sophia’s grip tightening on her arm as she pulls her toward the nearest empty classroom. the second the door clicks shut behind them, sophia steps away, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

the girl looks confused, about to speak, but sophia’s already walking past her.

"you can leave now."

"what?"

"i said you can go. i’m done."

"seriously? you just—are you joking?" the girl scoffs in disbelief.

sophia doesn’t answer which makes the girl scoffs and storms out, muttering something under her breath as the door slams shut behind her.

and then it’s quiet. sophia doesn’t move. she just stands there, her hand on the edge of the desk, breathing hard.

"what the hell was that?"

sophia turns slightly to see daniela and megan sitting on top of a desk in the back, both of them staring at her like she just committed a crime.

"you seriously did that in front of y/n?" dani asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

"that was low. even for you." megan shakes her head.

sophia doesn’t respond. because she knows it was low. she meant it to be anyway.

"i just want her to stop loving me," sophia says finally, her voice hoarse. quiet.

dani blinks, dumbfounded. "and you think that’s the fucking way to do it?"

"she keep showing up," sophia mutters, pacing now. "she keep forgiving me, keep staying. and i don’t—i don’t know how to make her leave unless i hurt her."

"maybe try being honest?" megan says, her voice softer.

but sophia just laughs bitterly. "honesty doesn’t make people stop loving you. damage does."

the silence that follows is heavy. sophia leans back against the wall, sliding down until she’s sitting on the floor, legs stretched out, arms resting limply at her sides.

"she looked at me like i broke her whole world," she whispers. "and i still don’t think that’s enough to make her walk away."

because deep down, a part of her wants you to stay. a part of her wants you to keep loving her, even when she knows she doesn’t deserve it. but the other part—the louder one—is scared of how much she needs you. of how much she’s already broken. of how much more she’ll ruin you if you keep staying.

"i thought if she saw that, she’d finally stop."

"or maybe you just made her hurt worse." dani exhales, rubbing her face with her hand.

sophia leans her head back against the wall, closing her eyes. she doesn’t respond. because she knows they’re right. and she knows it’s too late.

-

sophia thought that it’s over.

after the kiss, after the door, after the silence—she thinks that’s it. that maybe you’ve finally had enough. maybe now you’ll finally stop showing up. maybe you’ll finally look at her the way she deserves to be looked at: like someone who doesn’t care. but sophia’s not as heartless as she pretends to be.

the image of you standing in the hallway hasn’t left her mind all day. the way your mouth parted slightly in shock, the way your eyes shimmered with unshed tears, the way you didn’t even try to confront her—just turned away and vanished. she tells herself she did you a favor. that this was mercy. that this was what you needed. but mercy doesn’t feel like this. it’s after practice when she hears it.

the gym is nearly empty, the echo of bouncing basketballs finally gone. she’s sitting on the floor with a water bottle pressed to her forehead, sweat still clinging to her skin, when she hears daniela and another girl whispering by the bleachers.

"i passed by miss jennifer’s class earlier. y/n was crying. like—like actually sobbing into manon’s shoulder. i’ve never seen them like that."

her breath catches.

"that manon looked pissed as fuck," the other girl mutters. "she kept glaring at anyone who came near them."

"well, can you blame her?" dani says, not even trying to whisper now. "after what sophia did? that was brutal."

sophia feels her stomach twist, cold crawling up her spine like a warning. she turns away, hoping they’ll stop. they don’t.

"i mean, y/n’s always been soft, but she’s not stupid," dani continues. "you can only get pushed around so many times before something in you snaps."

"think this was the last straw?"

sophia stands up. too fast. her head spins, but she pushes through it.

"you okay?" megan asks beside her, clearly concerned but sophia doesn’t answer. she walks toward the locker room, pretending she didn’t hear a word. pretending she didn’t just picture your face crumpled in manon’s arms. pretending she didn’t feel something in her crack wide open.

in the silence of the locker room, she leans against the wall and finally lets herself breathe. and then she punches the metal locker door. once. hard. because she thought this would fix it. thought that this would make it easier. but now all she can see is the image of you sobbing into someone else’s arms. not hers. not anymore.

and for the first time in a long time—she wonders if maybe she didn’t just push you away. maybe she lost you. for good…?

-

you did it. one whole day. a whole freaking day.

no texts. no glances. not even the slightest shift of your head when sophia passed by in the hallway. you kept your eyes forward, fingers clutched tightly around the strap of your backpack like it was the only thing holding you together.

it took everything in you not to look. not to wonder if she was looking at you. not to check if she was sitting in her usual spot in the gym or laughing with her friends during lunch. but you didn’t. you didn’t give in. you didn’t smile at her. didn’t send your usual “did you eat?” text. didn’t wait outside the locker room like you used to. instead, you sat beside manon all day. let her distract you with her sharp sarcasm and soft concern. you even smiled once or twice—tight-lipped, but still. you made it through your classes, kept your head down, and didn’t cry. not once. and that was something.

you didn’t feel proud, exactly. it still hurt. god, it still hurt so damn bad. but surviving without her? it felt like proof that you could. even if part of you was still hoping she’d chase after you. still waiting for her to knock on your door again. still aching when your phone buzzed—and it wasn’t her. but you stayed strong. even if it was only for one day.

and sophia? of course sophia noticed.

she watched from across the hallway when you passed her by without a glance. when your face didn’t light up. when your gaze stayed locked on the floor, or the wall, or anywhere that wasn’t her. and it stung her deep.

it should’ve felt like success. like her plan was finally working. but all it felt like was loss. for the first time in a long time, she sat on the gym bench and didn’t feel like the strongest person in the room. because you weren’t looking at her, weren’t waiting on her, weren’t holding out hope. and she didn’t know if that made her relieved—or if it’s broke her heart.

night time always made it ten times worse.

during the day, you had distractions. people. noise. movement. something to keep your hands busy and your heart distracted. but now? it’s just you, your bed and your thoughts swirling nonstop.

you’re lying there, blanket pulled up to your chin like it could somehow protect you from your own mind. your room’s dark, the only light coming from the soft blue glow of your phone screen across the room—face down, untouched since you got home. and you almost made it. you almost believed yourself when you said you didn’t care anymore. but your heart still flinches every time you replay it. the hallway. the kiss. the way she looked at you—or worse, how she didn’t look sorry.

you close your eyes and try to forget it. you try to focus on the fact that you survived today. you didn’t text her. you didn’t check if she viewed your story. you didn’t give her anything. but even in your silence, she’s still everywhere. in the playlist you accidentally played while showering. in the hoodie still hanging on the back of your chair and the fact that it still smells like her. in the ache in your chest that never fully goes away.

you turn over in bed, your back to the window. your chest is tight. your throat burns. you hate that you still want her. hate that after everything, you’d still open the door for her if she showed up tonight. you’d still let her in. you’d still hold her while she falls asleep in your lap like none of it ever happened. and that’s the part that hurts the most. not the kiss. not the silence. not even the hickies you pretended not to notice. but the fact that you’d still choose her. over and over again. even when she doesn’t choose you.

you press your face into your pillow, blinking up at the ceiling through glassy eyes. you tell yourself that tomorrow, you’ll be stronger. you’ll do it again. no texts. no glances. no hope. you’re not sure if you believe it. but you say it anyway. because it’s better than saying:

i miss you. please come back.

you’re still curled up in bed when there’s a soft knock at your door.

"hey," yoonchae whispers, poking her head in. her hair’s tied up messily, keys already jingling in her hand. "i’m heading out to buy pringles. want anything?"

you barely lift your head from the pillow, voice rough from not talking for hours. "nah. not hungry."

she hesitates in the doorway, watching you for a second too long. you don’t notice. or maybe you do—but you’re too exhausted to care.

"be safe," you mumble before turning to face the wall again.

"i will," yoonchae says softly. and then the door shuts with a quiet click, and you’re alone again.

you don’t know it, but she never even heads toward the convenience store.

the court is quiet. the kind of quiet that feels unnatural, like it’s waiting for something to be said. sophia’s sitting on the edge of the bench, elbows on her knees, grey hoodie pulled over her head like she’s trying to disappear into it. she looks up when yoonchae walks over. her expression doesn’t soften—doesn’t harden either. she just looks tired.

"thanks for coming," sophia says.

"you told me it was important." yoonchae sighs as she took a seat next to sophia on the bench.

sophia nods, glancing down at her hands. they’re clenched, knuckles pale. she doesn’t know how to say it. doesn’t know where to start.

"you’re probably wondering why i asked you, of all people."

yoonchae raises a brow. "yeah. considering you broke my sister’s heart and kissed some girl in front of her, i was a little confused i must say."

sophia flinches at yoonchae’s words. "i know. i deserved that."

"why? why would you do that to her?" yoonchae asks, her voice barely above a whisper as she stares up at the night sky. the silence that follows is heavy, pressing down on both of them. yoonchae doesn’t look at sophia—not yet. she wants the truth, raw and unfiltered. she needs to understand why sophia broke your heart like it meant nothing.

sophia stays quiet for a moment, the weight of yoonchae’s question settling heavily on her shoulders. she stares at the ground, trying to find the right words—something honest. she can’t bring herself to lie. not to your younger sister.

"i just want her to stop loving me," sophia says finally, her voice low and almost broken. her eyes stay fixed on the pavement, and her fingers fidget nervously in her lap, like maybe if she keeps moving, the guilt won’t catch up to her.

"sophia, you’ve changed. what happened, exactly?" yoonchae’s voice is steady, but there’s a crack beneath it—a hint of frustration mixed with genuine concern. she shifts her gaze from the stars to sophia, watching her closely, waiting for something—anything—that could explain the coldness, the distance, the way sophia had let you fall without ever trying to catch you. there had to be a reason. people don’t just stop caring for no reason. not like this.

"let me correct myself. you’ve changed ever since my parents said they don’t trust you to love my sister." yoonchae’s words cut through the silence, sharp and deliberate. and for the first time that night, sophia flinches—visibly.

sophia looks up, stunned, her lips parting slightly as if to speak, but no words come out. she hadn’t expected that. hadn’t expected yoonchae to know so much, to see through the cracks she’d tried so hard to cover up.

"how—how did you know that?" sophia finally whispers, voice barely audible, eyes wide with something that looks a lot like guilt.

yoonchae sighs, leaning back against the bench as she gazes up at the night sky, her arms crossed over her chest.

"i was there too, y’know? i heard everything. and i can clearly see how hurt you looked when they said that right in front of your face."

yoonchae snickers to herself, the memory of that moment lingering. she remembers how sophia had tried to keep her composure, but it was obvious. the tension, the sting of rejection from your parents—it had hit her hard.

"but y/n still defended your name," yoonchae continues, her voice growing more serious, her gaze shifting back to sophia. "so i don’t understand why you want her to stop loving you when you know too damn well how much she loves you."

there’s no judgment in her voice, only confusion and frustration. the words hang in the air, waiting for sophia to answer.

sophia looks at yoonchae, her gaze intense for a moment before it drifts back to the ground. her jaw clenches as the memory rushes back, sharp and painful. it’s a bittersweet recollection—except there’s no sweetness in it.

"she shouldn’t love me. i’m an asshole."

sophia mutters the words quietly, almost to herself, before tucking her hands into the pockets of her hoodie. the weight of her own admission seems to settle heavy on her shoulders.

"‘you’re a bad influence to my daughter.’" she continues, her voice cracking just slightly, betraying the calm facade she’s trying to hold up. "i know that, but damn, it still stings like hell."

a bitter chuckle escapes sophia’s lips, hollow and humorless. it’s clear that the words from your parents still haunt her, and no matter how much she tries to push them away, they never quite fade.

"but you still love her don’t you?" yoonchae asks softly.

"yeah," sophia mumbles, her voice quiet but loud enough for yoonchae to hear.

there’s a heaviness to the word, a weight that hangs between them. it’s as if she’s finally admitting something she’s been carrying in silence for far too long, but she can’t bring herself to say more. the pain, the regret—it’s all there in that one simple word.

"then that’s all that matters," yoonchae says, her tone firm as she stands up from the bench.

sophia looks at her, confusion clouding her expression. she’s not sure what yoonchae means, or why she’s saying that now, after everything.

"what do you mean?" sophia asks, her voice hesitant, as if searching for some clarity in the midst of the storm that’s been swirling around them.

"you two still love each other. so i don’t see why my parents disliking you would stop you from loving y/n." yoonchae states, her words clear and unwavering.

she looks down at sophia, eyes filled with something like resolve. it’s almost as if she’s saying all the things sophia has been too afraid to admit, pushing past the walls she’s built up. for a moment, the tension between them eases, and sophia finds herself at a loss for words, staring back at yoonchae, unsure of how to respond.

"see you later. i gotta get going before the girl we’re talking about smack my ass." yoonchae bid sophia goodbye before disappearing into the street, leaving sophia all alone in the basketball court. the place where the two of you would always hangs out every single night.

-

the gym is empty, just like it always is after practice. the lights overhead hum softly, and the quiet stillness settles in like a weight you can’t shake off.

you’re standing near the entrance, watching her. sophia is sitting on the bench, wiping sweat off her brow, shoulders slumped as she stares down at the floor. she’s exhausted—physically, emotionally, you can see it in the way she moves.

you’ve waited long enough. it’s time.

you walk toward her, each step heavy with the weight of everything that’s been left unsaid. she doesn’t look up when you approach. it’s almost like she’s afraid to. like she knows the inevitable conversation is coming, and she’s too tired to pretend it doesn’t matter. when you stop in front of her, there’s a brief moment of silence. sophia looks up slowly, meeting your eyes.

"you don’t have to do this," she says softly, her voice almost a plea. "i hurt you too many times. you shouldn’t be here."

but you’re not leaving. you’ve spent too long pretending you didn’t care, and you’re done hiding from the truth.

"why do you keep doing this?" you ask, your voice raw. "why do you keep hurting me and pushing me away, only for me to come running back?"

sophia stares at you, her lips pressed together in a thin line. she opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out. so you decide to say it for her.

"because i still love you."

the confession hangs in the air between you both. the weight of it is almost suffocating.

sophia flinches at the words. "you shouldn’t," she mutters, looking down. "i don’t deserve it. i never did."

but you won’t let her deflect this time. you step closer, close enough to feel the heat of her skin, the tension still thick between you two.

"you’ve made me feel like i’m not enough for you," you continue. "you’ve used me, ignored me, kissed other people in front of me. but i still love you. and i don’t even know why."

sophia’s eyes shimmer with something—guilt? regret?—but she doesn’t speak, so you keep going.

"i don’t understand it. i don’t understand why i still care about you when you don’t even seem to care about me. but i can’t stop loving you, baby."

there’s a long pause before she speaks, her voice low, barely audible. she leaves you broken and hurt yet you still call her baby?

"tell me why do you still love me?" sophia asks.

the words hit you like a punch to the gut. it’s what you’ve been wondering all along. why do you still love her? why, after everything? you close your eyes for a moment, searching for an answer. but the truth is, there isn’t one. you just do.

"because i always will," you say quietly. "i’m not sure if i’ll ever stop. and i hate that. i hate that you’ve got this hold on me and i can’t let go, no matter how many times you hurt me."

sophia’s gaze softens, her hands trembling as they fall to her lap. she looks as if she wants to say something, but the words don’t come. she doesn’t have an answer. you both stand there in silence, and for the first time, you see the real weight of her actions in her eyes. the pain she’s caused. the hurt she never meant to hurt but did anyway.

"i didn’t mean for it to go this far. i never meant to break you." sophia swallows hard.

you shake your head, feeling the sting of it all. "i know you didn’t. but it doesn’t change anything. you still hurt me."

there’s nothing left to say. nothing that hasn’t already been said. but despite all the pain, all the broken promises, you still reach for her. you always will.

"i don’t know what happens now," you whisper. "but i’m still here."

sophia looks at you, eyes full of apology and something else—something deeper.

"i don’t deserve you," she says, her voice thick with emotion.

"but i’m here anyway," you reply, a soft, bitter smile pulling at your lips.

she looks away for a second, as if she can’t meet your gaze anymore. but she doesn’t leave. she doesn’t walk away. and for once, you both just stand there. two broken people trying to figure out if there’s still a chance to fix what’s been shattered. but neither of you knows the answer. and maybe that’s okay.

the silence between you and sophia lingers for what feels like forever, but there’s something different now. it’s no longer the suffocating kind of silence—the kind that crushes you, leaves you broken. no, this one feels more like possibility. the quiet isn’t just the weight of unspoken words, but the space where you both can finally breathe.

sophia takes a deep breath, lifting her eyes to meet yours. there’s a vulnerability there, something raw that she’s never shown you before.

"maybe we don’t have to figure everything out tonight," sophia says quietly, her voice hoarse but steady. "but, i want to try. together. i can’t promise it’ll be perfect. i can’t promise i won’t mess up. but i don’t want to keep hurting you."

you feel a strange warmth spread in your chest. her words are a balm to a wound that’s been open for far too long.

"it don’t need perfect," you reply softly. "i just need you to try. we need to try."

sophia nods, a small, unsure smile playing at the corners of her lips. "i can do that," she says, her voice growing more certain with each word. "i’ll try. for you. for us."

there’s a flicker of hope in your chest, something you haven’t allowed yourself to feel in so long. and then, just like that, she reaches out—tentatively at first, but then her hand finds yours, warm and familiar. the contact is electric. it’s like coming home.

you feel it. the gentle squeeze of her fingers wrapping around yours, as if she’s trying to hold on to something that’s slipping through her fingers, but she refuses to let go. you don’t let go either. in fact, you think you’ll never let go.

-

time passes. it’s been a few weeks since that night. things aren’t perfect, but they’re better. you’re both learning to rebuild the trust that was lost, one step at a time. sophia’s more open with you now, and you’ve seen a side of her that’s raw and vulnerable, a side that she never allowed you to see before. she listens to you more. she makes time for you.

and you? you’ve started healing. slowly, but surely. you’re not waiting around for her to fix everything. you’re fixing yourself, too. you’ve learned that your worth isn’t tied to her, but that doesn’t mean you can’t love her.

today, you’re sitting in the bleachers after one of her practices. sophia plops down beside you, sweaty and out of breath, but there’s a genuine smile on her face.

"how’d i do today?" she asks, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand.

"pretty great. but maybe next time, try not to break the backboard with your slam dunk." you grin.

"no promises." she laughs, nudging your shoulder playfully.

you smile, your heart lighter than it’s been in a long time. everything isn’t perfect, but it’s real. it’s messy. and it’s worth it.

"hey," sophia says suddenly, turning to look at you seriously. "i know i’ve messed up a lot. but i’m not going anywhere. i promise you that."

your eyes meet hers, and for the first time, you see nothing but sincerity.

"me neither," you reply softly, squeezing her hand, the one she still hasn’t let go of. "i’m here. and i’m not going anywhere either."

the future is still uncertain, but together, you feel like you can face whatever comes. and for once, you don’t feel afraid.

sophia clears her throat, glancing around nervously before turning her full attention back to you.

"can i kiss you, honey? i miss your lips," she asks, her voice low and teasing, already leaning in like she knows the answer.

you laugh softly, cheeks warming at her boldness, and playfully hit her chest.

"you’re so dramatic." you mumble, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips—one you can’t hide, not when she’s looking at you like that.