36 not fine
I hear it before I see anything.
That's how it starts.
Not a post. Not a message. Not Declan shoving his phone in my face like he usually does when something blows up.
Just voices.
Casual and offhand, like it's nothing.
"...did you read the comments?"
"Yeah. Not surprising."
"She just screams attention-seeker."
I keep walking.
At first.
Because this kind of thing isn't new. People talk. They always do. About me, about games, about whatever they think they understand from the outside.
It usually doesn't stick. But this-
This does.
"...he can do better."
"...she's just using him."
"...she was with someone else like two seconds ago-"
I slow down without meaning to, something in my chest tightening in a way that feels sharp and unfamiliar.
I don't turn around, I don't ask. I don't need to.
Because I know exactly who they're talking about.
?
By the time I reach the locker room, it's worse.
Phones out.
Smirks.
That specific kind of energy people get when they think they're in on something.
Declan's already there, leaning back against a locker like he's been waiting for this, his expression unreadable in a way that tells me he's already seen everything.
"Morning," he says.
I drop my bag onto the bench a little harder than necessary. "Yeah."
Across the room, someone lets out a quiet laugh.
"Didn't think he had that in him."
"Guess you don't really know people."
Another voice, louder this time-
"I mean, look at her. It's kind of obvious what she's doing."
Something in me snaps. Not loud, not visible, just... final.
I turn, slow and controlled. "Say it again."
The room shifts immediately. Not silent, but close enough.
The guy who said it straightens slightly, like he wasn't expecting to be called on it. "What?"
"What you just said," I repeat, my voice even. Too even. "Say it again."
There's a pause. A longer one this time.
Then he shrugs, trying to play it off. "I'm just saying-girls like that don't just randomly end up with guys like you. It's kind of obvious she's-"
"Careful."
I don't raise my voice, I don't move closer. I don't need to. Something in my tone does it for me.
He stops, mid-sentence. Because now it's not a joke anymore. Now it's not casual. Now it's-
clear.
"That's not how this works," I say, still calm, still controlled. "You don't get to talk about her like that."
A few guys glance at each other. One of them mutters something under his breath, but not loud enough for me to catch.
The guy in front of me lifts his hands slightly, like he's backing off. "Relax, man. It's not that serious."
It is.
That's the problem.
I hold his gaze for a second longer, just enough to make sure he understands. Then I turn away.
Because I'm not here to start something.
I'm here to end it.
?
The room doesn't go back to normal, not completely. It quiets in a different way now. Less bold, less confident.
Good.
I sit down, dragging a hand through my hair, trying to shake the tension that's still sitting under my skin.
It doesn't go anywhere. Because the comments are still there. Stuck, looping.
The words people used.
The way they said them so easily, like she's just-
something to talk about.
Something to tear apart.
My jaw tightens again.
I pull my phone out without thinking. Her name is already there at the top of the screen.
Of course it is.
I open the chat and stare at it for a second, then type.
I don't overthink it, I don't add anything else.
Just that. I hit send before I can second-guess it.
A few minutes pass. Then-
I stare at the message. It's immediate, too immediate, like she didn't even have to think about it, mike she's said it already. More than once.
I lean back slightly, exhaling through my nose.
She's not fine.
I know she's not.
Not after what I just heard.
Not after what people are saying.
My thumb hovers over the screen like I'm about to type something else.
I don't.
Because I don't know what to say that wouldn't make it worse.
So I lock my phone instead, tossing it onto the bench beside me.
Declan drops down next to me a second later, way too casual for someone who definitely saw all of that.
"You're in a mood," he says.
I don't answer.
"You shut that down real quick."
Still nothing.
He studies me for a second, then lets out a quiet breath that sounds a little too amused. "You've got it bad."
I glance at him.
He's not joking, not really. It's not the usual teasing. It's... observational, like he's already figured something out and I'm just catching up.
"I don't," I say automatically.
Declan just raises an eyebrow. He doesn't argue, doesn't push. Which somehow feels worse. Because he doesn't need to.
The silence stretches for a second. And I don't fill it. I don't deny it again, I don't explain. I just sit there, the weight of everything settling into something I don't have a name for yet.
It's not just annoyance anymore, not just obligation, not just part of the deal.
It's something else. Something that makes the comments hit harder than they should. Something that makes the idea of people talking about her like that-
unacceptable.
Declan huffs out a quiet laugh beside me.
"Yeah," he says under his breath. "You're done for."
I don't respond.
Because for the first time-
I don't actually have an argument against it.