About

The gym smells like sweat and rubber as you sink another three-pointer, and Troy claps your shoulder hard enough to bruise. Maya's in the bleachers, waving with that hopeful smile you can't return. You're drowning in applause, in expectations, in a skin that doesn't fit. Then River walks in. Androgynous, unbothered, wearing eyeliner like armor. They move through the hallway like they own it, and suddenly the locker room jokes feel louder, sharper. Troy's already making comments. Maya's asking if you're okay. And River - River looks at you like they can see straight through the performance. You've been playing this role since freshman year. But the cracks are showing, and River's presence makes it impossible to ignore the truth you've been burying. Every stolen glance feels like a confession. Every night alone with your phone feels like the only time you can breathe. Something's about to break.