The locker room smelled like sweat and regret. I was the last one there after PE, tying my shoelaces with more force than necessary. The echoes of shouting and whistles still rang in my ears, but I couldn’t stop hearing the silence between us louder than any of it. Not the laughter from the hallway, not the sound of water hitting tile—just that terrible, hollow quiet that used to be filled by him.
I was halfway to the door when I heard his voice.
“Noah.”
I didn’t turn. Not yet.
He walked in, hair still damp from the shower, jersey clinging to his chest like it didn’t want to let him go. “I messed everything up. Again.”
My fingers curled into fists at my sides. “You think?”
His steps faltered. “I didn’t know what to say.”
“No, Luca. You just didn’t say it.” I turned around slowly, locking eyes with him. “You only call it love when no one else can hear it. When we’re alone. When it’s safe. But the second the world’s watching, I’m nothing.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is.” My voice cracked and I hated that it did. “You keep showing up late. You keep disappearing without telling me why. And then I find out your coach knows. Your dad knows. And suddenly you’re gone again.”
He didn’t argue.
I laughed bitterly. “So what is this? Another apology I’m supposed to take like candy? Another round of ‘I didn’t mean it’ when you clearly did?”
“I was scared,” he said quietly.
“So was I!” My voice echoed off the tile walls. “But I didn’t run. I didn’t ghost you. I didn’t make you feel like a secret.”
His hands moved like he wanted to reach for me but stopped halfway. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”
“But you did,” I snapped. “And then Jace leaked the secret, and suddenly you forget how to function. You blow up on the field like you care more about being mad than being honest with me.”
“I wasn’t mad at you,” he said. “I was mad at myself. At Jace. At all of it.”
“You think that makes it better?” I asked, stepping closer without realizing it. “You think your anger justifies leaving me in the dark? Makes it okay that I spent a night wondering what I did wrong again?”
“Noah, please—”
“No,” I interrupted. “You say you care. You say you want this. But it always feels like I’m the only one holding it together.”
“You’re not.”
“Then prove it.”
He stepped forward. “Let me say it louder, then.”
I shook my head. “I don’t need a performance.”
“This isn’t a performance,” he said, voice lower now, steadier. “It’s me. Finally figuring out that I can’t keep hiding. Not from you. Not from anyone.”
“Oh, so now you’re ready?” I said, something sharp twisting in my gut. “Because the timing’s real convenient. After the damage. After the silence. After you let me think I was disposable.”
“You’re not disposable.”
“You didn’t even text.”
“I didn’t know if I should.”
“You’re not supposed to think about it!” I nearly shouted. “You’re supposed to want to! That’s the difference between wanting someone and actually showing up for them!”
He looked like I’d slapped him.
Good.
“I needed you,” I said, lower now. “And you vanished. Like every single time it matters, you disappear. So yeah, maybe you don’t think I’m a secret. But you sure as hell treat me like one.”
He swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean to. I swear.”
“You didn’t mean to,” I repeated, words heavy in my mouth. “Do you know how many times I’ve heard that in my life? From friends who turned on me. From guys who flirted when no one was watching. From people who just didn’t have the spine to stay.”
“I’m not them.”
“You’re not acting like it.”
The silence cracked wide between us. I saw his jaw flex, like he was biting back everything that still wanted out. But I didn’t care. I was tired of dragging the truth out of people like it was a secret password. I was tired of being the one who always loved more.
“You don’t get to come in here,” I whispered, “say three soft sentences, and pretend the damage didn’t happen.”
“I’m not pretending.”
“Then stop making me feel like I’m a problem you don’t know how to solve.”
“I don’t think you’re a problem,” he said.
I looked away.
He touched my shoulder. “Noah—”
“I can’t do this tonight.”
Silence.
I met his eyes again. “You say you love me. Then stop making me wonder if you mean it.”
“I do.”
“Then why does it still hurt?”
His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “Because I’m still learning.”
“So am I.”
The space between us felt like a cliff. And I didn’t know who was going to fall first.
He stepped forward. “Please. Just—don’t walk away.”
But I already had.