---
Brian corners him two days later, after practice — like they didn't just spend a whole weekend pretending each other didn't exist.
Scott's alone by the benches, lacing his sneakers. He hears the footsteps before he sees the shadow — big, familiar, blocking the last strip of sunset from the open doors.
"Hey."
It's so casual. So Brian. Like they're going to pick up right where they left off — skin on skin, no one watching, no one knowing.
Scott doesn't look up. "What."
Brian shifts his weight from foot to foot. His hair's still damp from the shower, curls plastered to his forehead. His hoodie's too big, sleeves pushed up over those arms that once made Scott's whole body arch with just a touch.
It's stupid, how beautiful he is. How much Scott still wants him.
Brian shoves his hands in his pockets. "You've been ignoring me."
Scott snorts. "Yeah. I wonder why."
Brian glances around — the gym's mostly empty. Just a few stragglers. "Look, I just… we need to talk."
Scott snaps his head up. That gets him. "About what, Brian? About how you sneak around with me like you can't get enough, but out there I'm fucking invisible? Or about how you make me feel like some… some sex doll you tuck away when you're done?"
Brian flinches. "It's not like that."
Scott laughs — sharp, humorless. "Then what is it like, huh? You want me when you're hard and bored, but when we're in the halls you can't even look at me?"
Brian looks down, jaw flexing. "You know it's not that easy for me."
Scott's chest heaves. "No, you know what's not easy? Having someone's hands all over you — their mouth, their promises — and then watching them turn their back like you're just a mistake they're trying to scrub off."
Brian takes a step closer. "Scott, I do care about you."
"Then show me!" Scott explodes. His voice echoes off the walls, but he doesn't care. "Tell your friends! Tell someone! Or better yet, just fucking act like I exist outside of your bed."
Brian's eyes flick toward the door. His mouth opens, then closes. "I can't. Not yet."
Scott's face twists. He laughs, but it tastes like salt. "Of course you can't. You want the parts of me that feel good — the parts that make you forget you're scared. But the rest of me? The messy, public, real part? You don't want that."
Brian's eyes shine with something like guilt. "I'm trying."
"Try harder." Scott's voice drops, small but sharp. "Or don't bother."
---
Brian reaches for him — a hand on his wrist, the same way he's done a thousand times when they're alone and it's just them. For a second, Scott feels his skin buzz at the contact. The old him would've melted, let Brian kiss him until he forgot how mad he was.
But not now.
Scott jerks his arm back. "Don't touch me."
Brian's lips part — like he wants to say more, but the words die there, stuck in the same place all his courage does.
Scott slams his locker shut so hard the metal rattles. He shoulders past Brian without another word.
For the first time, he doesn't look back.
---
He doesn't see the way Brian's hand curls into a fist at his side — or the way his eyes follow him to the door like he's just lost something he doesn't know how to keep.
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