The hum of whispers had grown louder over the past week, buzzing through the halls like static. Betty and Marcus. The bully and the victim, are now casual fuck buddies.
People exchanged knowing glances, whenever Betty walked past. She ignored it, but Brent couldn’t. The tension that only seemed to grow every time he spotted Marcus lounging near the cafeteria or texting on the quad, his usual smirk in place.
In the locker room, Marcus was leaning against a bench, scrolling idly on his phone, already out of uniform since quitting the team weeks ago. The sight of him so nonchalant, so completely unbothered, made Brent’s blood boil.
"What are you even doing with her?" Brent’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and accusatory.
Marcus glanced up, one eyebrow raising in lazy amusement. "Living my life," he said casually, slipping his phone into his pocket. "Unlike you."
Brent’s fists clenched at his sides as he took a step closer. "She deserves better than some burnout who gave up."
Marcus’s smirk faded. "She deserves someone who doesn’t lie to her face. And we both know that’s not you."
The words struck Brent like a slap. His face twisted with anger, and before he could think, his hand shot out, grabbing Marcus by the collar and shoving him back against the lockers.
"Say that again," he growled.
Marcus didn’t even flinch. "What’s the matter, Brent? Truth hurt?" His lips curled into a mocking smile.
He broke free with a shove. Brent stumbled but recovered quickly, his fists balling at his sides.
"You’re just using her," he spat. "She’s not some game for you to win, Marcus."
"Using her? At least I don’t have a secret girlfriend with a baby on the way."
Brent swung before he could understand it.
"Hey! Break it up!"
Coach’s voice barked through their fight, and the two turned to see him storming in, his face red with irritation.
"What’s going on here? You’re not even on this team anymore, Marcus," Coach snapped, pointing at him. "So unless you want to make this worse for yourself, I suggest you leave."
Marcus grabbed his jacket from the bench, tossing it over his shoulder. "Yeah, I’m starting to think quitting was the right call after all."
He walked out without a backward glance, leaving Brent standing there, fists still clenched and anger burning in his chest.