“Wait… what? You’re… glad?” he echoed, still reeling. The tight grip he’d had on his emotions loosened, the fear of judgment slowly lifting. Vulnerability replaced it, but oddly, he felt lighter.

“Oh. Oh, man.” He let out an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck as his blush deepened. “I… I mean, yeah. Of course. Who wouldn’t like you? You’re…”

His voice faltered. “…amazing, you know?” he stammered, mind blanking completely. A sheepish smile tugged at his lips as he glanced away, embarrassed. When he looked back, his gaze met Air’s—steady, bright, and full of sincerity.

“Seriously, Air. You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met.” He hesitated, biting his lip as his heart thudded wildly in his chest.

Air studied Julian for a moment. He looked vulnerable, almost innocent. Shaking his head, Air looked away. “No… you don’t know anything about me. Everybody has flaws. I’m not the best, okay?”

Julian frowned, feeling that distance between them. He stepped closer, wanting to close it.

“Hey, don’t say that. Of course I know stuff about you. We’re teammates, friends…” He caught himself before pushing too hard. “Everyone’s got flaws, yeah. But… you’re kind. And you’re an amazing player. And, uh… you’re easy to talk to.”

He shifted, uncomfortable with how exposed he suddenly felt. “So even if you don’t think you’re the best, you’re still really important to me.”

“Thanks, man. And you’re important too, okay?” Air replied, starting to dry his damp hair with a towel.

“Yeah… yeah, okay. Thanks, Air.” Julian exhaled slowly, a small weight lifting from his shoulders. He found himself watching as Air ran the towel through his hair, his gaze lingering longer than it should.

He cleared his throat, suddenly fascinated by the tile pattern on the floor. “You’re not gonna make fun of me, right? For… you know… yesterday?”

“No. Believe me—nothing happened yesterday.”

“R-right. Nothing happened. Got it.” Julian forced a nod, though doubt still lingered in his pink eyes. He scratched his arm, a nervous tic.

An awkward pause stretched between them, heavy enough to cut. Julian rolled his bare shoulders forward, still wrestling with himself.

“You should get home. It’s getting late,” Air said.

Julian blinked, realizing the time. He was stalling—he didn’t want to leave—but no good excuse came to mind.

“Yeah… you’re right.” He raked a hand through his hair, frustration simmering under the surface. “I should. I’ll… see you tomorrow?” His voice lifted uncertainly, almost like a question.

Air gave a small nod.

Julian forced a smile, a sharp pang hitting his chest. He was torn— he wanted to stay a little longer, but also wanted to respect Air’s boundaries. Taking a slow breath, he backed away, each step reluctant, as if turning his back would mean missing something… missing another chance. He lingered, studying Air’s face, trying to memorize every detail.

Air didn’t look at him, busy drying his neck with a towel. His damp hair clung to his temples, skin slick and glistening under the light.

Julian’s hands curled into fists, holding back the urge to reach out. God, why was it so hard to walk away? One bead of water slid down Air’s neck, vanishing beneath his collarbone. Julian’s throat tightened. He wanted to wipe it away—taste it, even.

Before he knew it, he was moving, closing the distance. His hand hovered, trembling, heat radiating from Air’s skin. The faint scent of shampoo and the steady sound of breathing drowned out everything else. He lowered his hand, but didn’t step back, eyes locked on that droplet’s path.

Then, in a sudden rush, he gripped Air’s shoulders and pinned him gently against the lockers. His breathing was heavy, his gaze fixed on Air’s neck.

“Julian, what are you doing?” Air asked, voice low in a panicked way.

“Shh…” Julian murmured, leaning in until his nose brushed Air’s skin. The scent was intoxicating. His lips hovered, parted, his body trembling.

Air stiffened, trying to push away. “Urgh… no…”

Julian didn’t move. His muscles were taut, his face inches from Air’s neck. He was trapped between reason and desire, his mind screaming at him to stop while his body refused to listen.

Air stilled, hoping he’d let go. But Julian stayed, breathing in deeply again and again, as though trying to imprint the scent forever.

“Take a deep breath. Calm down…” Air’s steady tone cut through the haze, loosening Julian’s grip for a fraction of a second.

He shook his head, eyes clouded, panic edging his movements. Air began to struggle, and Julian’s hold instinctively tightened.

“No. Don’t. Please.” His voice cracked.

“--Julian, you need to get a grip.”

His eyes dimmed from pink to a muted crimson, his voice breaking. “I… I… can’t.”

Air’s voice softened. “What do I need to do? Tell me.”

Julian’s head shook violently, tears gathering. He clung harder, trembling, unable to give an answer.

“I…I don’t…I just—” His voice dissolved into incoherent mumbling. Overwhelmed, he buried his face against Air’s neck, hiding there, seeking either comfort or escape.

The locker room, once a familiar place, now felt suffocating. Air glanced around frantically—discarded towels, empty bottles, the stale scent of sweat. The clock ticked at 5:47 PM, each second dragging. The silence between them pressed heavier than the lockers around them. Julian’s grip only tightened, his fingers digging into Air’s arms.

Warm tears slid onto Air’s skin. Julian was crying.

His shoulders trembled, body wracked with quiet sobs. The usual mask of confidence was gone; he looked fragile, exposed. Tears mixed with sweat, dripping down his chest in uneven streams.

“Julian…?” Air’s voice was careful, almost pleading.

Julian flinched, muscles tensing. His nails bit into Air’s skin as if holding tighter would keep him grounded. “N-no,” he gasped, his voice breaking. His sobs swelled louder, cracking like a dam under too much pressure.

“Julian, let go of me.”

“N-no!” His grip hardened, his face blotched red, his palms slick with sweat. He clung stubbornly, desperate, unwilling to release him.

Air’s patience snapped. “I said, let go!” He shoved Julian back hard.

Julian stumbled, arms falling uselessly to his sides. His eyes burned with anguish and disbelief. His chest heaved, mouth twisting, fingers curling inward as if clawing at something already lost. He staggered again, nearly falling.

“Whoa, don’t fall,” Air said quickly, concerned about edging his voice.

Julian blinked rapidly, gripping a locker for balance, knuckles white. His whole body trembled like a leaf in a storm. Sobs tore through him again, raw and broken. It seemed he’d rather collapse than face Air’s rejection.

Air stepped forward. “Dude… are you okay?”

Julian didn’t answer. His pink eyes were glazed, unfocused, his lips parting with no words. His chest heaved in shallow, uneven breaths.

“Julian? Is this an emergency?” Air asked softly. Julian stared, baffled by the concern. Why wasn’t Air running? Why hadn’t he left him here to suffer alone?

Julian gave a shaky nod, whispering hoarsely, “Y-yeah…” He coughed, clearing his throat as though that would steady him. “I…I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

But his trembling betrayed him. He wasn’t fine. Not at all.

“I think you need help.”

Help?

Julian let out a weak, bitter laugh. His knees gave out, and he collapsed against the lockers, curling into himself. Arms wrapped tight around his body, rocking slightly. His head bowed, defeated, tears slipping freely once more.

“No one can help,” he whispered, voice hollow. “No one understands.”

Air crouched beside Julian, struggling to process the crumbling version of his teammate—his friend—curled up before him. Silence stretched, thick with everything Julian couldn’t say. He swallowed hard, his eyes fixed anywhere but Air’s.

Air hesitated, then said quietly, “Maybe…I should leave the team. That way you won’t have to see me every day. You’d have space to recover.”

“Recover?” Julian scoffed, brittle and broken. He shook his head, strands of hair falling into his face. “Don’t…don’t leave. Please.” His voice broke again. He clenched his jaw, eyes squeezing shut, fighting back fresh tears. “You’re the only one who—who cares, even a little.” He swiped at his face, his hand coming away wet. His voice grew frantic. “You’re not leaving, right? Right?”

Air’s chest tightened. “If it’s best for you, then I would.”

Julian’s head snapped up, panic flashing in his eyes. He grabbed Air’s arm, desperate. “No, no, no—it’s not. Don’t do that, please. I’m not gonna make it if you’re not here. Please, Air. Please.”

Air nodded quickly, trying to steady him. “Okay, okay—I was just making a suggestion.”

Julian nodded frantically, still clutching Air’s arm. His grip was weak, but he wouldn’t let go. His breathing began to slow, though his body still trembled.

“Promise,” he whispered. “Promise you won’t leave. You won’t abandon me.” His eyes searched Air’s face, begging for reassurance.

“Okay,” Air said softly. “But you need to have self-control.. You can’t just…you know, pin me against the wall like before.” His voice faltered at the memory.

Color flooded Julian’s cheeks. Shame burned across his face as he dropped his gaze. “I…” He buried his face in his hands, his words muffled. “I didn’t mean…I wasn’t thinking…” His voice broke into silence. His shoulders sagged.

Air’s tone is gentle. “It’s okay. I forgive you. Just don't do it anymore..” He checked the clock. “It’s getting late. You should head home.”

Julian nodded, face still hidden, then slowly lifted his head. His cheeks were streaked with tears, his eyes swollen but clearer than before. “Yeah…yeah, you’re right,” he whispered.

He pushed himself unsteadily to his feet, leaning heavily on the locker for support. He looked drained, hollowed out. Air watched as he staggered toward the door, his steps heavy.

At the exit, Julian paused, turning back with an expression so vulnerable it made Air’s chest tighten. “Air?”

Air glanced up. “Hm?”

Julian hesitated, fingers drumming against the doorframe. His lips parted, then closed again. “… See you tomorrow, yeah?”

He forced a weak smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. The desperation lingered, barely contained beneath the surface.

Air lifted a hand in farewell, turning away.

Julian lingered a moment longer, white-knuckled on the doorframe, watching him go. The ache in his chest deepened, a longing he didn’t know how to silence.

With a quiet sigh, he slipped into the empty hallway. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, their harsh glow casting long, fractured shadows across his face.