Shattered Bonds

EPISODE 26

It's been a week since school resumed, and Tristan had only managed to speak with Drake that one time when they met in the corridor near the men's restroom. After that day, their paths never crossed again—until now.

Practice was intense, as always, especially with their coach around. The team was training hard for the upcoming tournament, pushing themselves to their limits. After practice, the team hit the showers. Tristan, however, couldn't resist sneaking into Drake's shower, wrapping his arms around him from behind.

Drake tensed at first but relaxed when he realized who it was. "Tristan… what are you doing?" he asked, his voice soft yet uncertain.

Tristan didn’t answer right away. Instead, he placed light, lingering kisses on Drake’s wet, delicate skin, trailing from his shoulder up to his neck. "Your body is beautiful," he murmured against his skin.

Drake turned around to face him, lips parted as if to say something, but Tristan crashed his lips against his in a fierce, hungry kiss. Drake couldn’t deny it—he had missed Tristan. He had missed this. And so, he kissed him back, pouring weeks of longing into it. Their bodies pressed together, heat radiating between them, but just as Tristan deepened the kiss, he forced himself to pull away. If he didn’t stop now, he wouldn’t be able to.

Tristan hugged him tightly, as if afraid to let go, but Drake, suddenly realizing what was happening, gently pulled away. His eyes searched Tristan’s, a mixture of frustration and pain evident in them.

"What am I to you, Tristan?" Drake asked, his voice low but firm. "A plaything? Someone you can just kiss when you feel like it and then ghost afterward?"

Tristan’s lips parted, but no words came out.

Drake let out a shaky breath. "If you aren't sure of your feelings, if you don't know what you want, then please... don't do this again. I can pretend none of this ever happened. We can go back to being friends. But please, don’t make me feel cheap and worthless. I deserve better than that."

He didn’t wait for a response. He turned and walked away, leaving Tristan standing there, the sound of the shower drowning out his own conflicted thoughts.

---

Walking out of the school building, Drake spotted Jersey sitting in his car, waiting for him. He quickened his pace and slid into the passenger seat.

"I thought you left," Drake said, throwing his bag in the backseat.

Jersey grinned. "And leave you stranded? No way. I knew you didn’t bring your car today. Besides, what kind of best friend would I be if I ditched you?"

Drake sighed and leaned back against the seat, rubbing his face. Jersey raised an eyebrow. "Rough practice?"

"More like a rough encounter," Drake muttered.

Jersey smirked. "Oh? Do tell."

Drake hesitated for a moment before finally speaking. "It was Tristan… in the shower. He hugged me from behind, kissed me, and—" He exhaled sharply. "I kissed him back."

Jersey whistled. "Damn, that’s hot."

Drake shot him a glare. "Jersey, I’m serious. It wasn’t just some casual thing. Right now, I feel like... like I’m just a hookup to him, a plaything."

Jersey’s playful smirk faded. "What did you say to him?"

"I told him if he doesn’t know what he wants, then we should just stay friends. That I refuse to be used or feel worthless."

Jersey nodded approvingly. "Good. You did the right thing. If Tristan can’t figure out his own damn feelings, then you shouldn’t be the one suffering for it. But be honest with me, Drake—can you really just be his friend?"

Drake swallowed hard. "Do I have a choice, Jay?" He let out a bitter laugh. "Rather than being used, I’d rather stay his friend and keep my feelings to myself."

Jersey looked at him for a moment before sighing. "You’re stronger than you think, but I know this isn’t easy. Just… don’t lose yourself in trying to hold onto something that isn’t fully yours yet."

---

Meanwhile, Tristan couldn’t get Drake’s words out of his head. What am I to you? The question echoed over and over. What was stopping him from just telling Drake he loved him? Why was it so difficult to say three simple words?

He drove home in a daze, only snapping out of it when he noticed Nathan waiting for him in his house.

"Hey, Nat. Where are my parents?"

"They went out, but they’ll be back soon." Nathan’s tone was different, serious.

Tristan frowned. "What’s wrong?"

Nathan hesitated before saying, "Let’s talk upstairs."

Up in Tristan’s room, Nathan paced back and forth, clearly anxious. Tristan sat on the edge of his bed, watching him. "Just say it, Nat. Whatever it is."

Nathan stopped pacing, exhaling heavily. "I don’t know how or when it happened, but... I’m in love with you."

Tristan shot up from the bed, eyes wide. "Wait, what? Nat, what are you saying? We’re best friends!"

Nathan gave a weak smile. "I know. And I don’t understand it myself. But every time you talk about Drake, I feel sick. Jealous. Angry. At first, I thought it was just me being possessive, afraid he was replacing me in your life. But even after we got back to the way we were before, the feeling didn’t go away. That’s when I realized... I’ve developed feelings for you."

Tristan stared, speechless.

Nathan let out a nervous laugh. "I know it sounds ridiculous, but keeping it inside was driving me insane. I just needed to tell you. That’s all." He turned to leave. "I’ll get going now."

As Nathan walked out, Tristan remained frozen in place, mind spinning.

Tristan was drowning in confusion. He loved Nathan, but not in the way Nathan wanted. Their bond was strong, but it had never crossed the threshold into something romantic. Maybe if he hadn’t gotten so close to Drake, things could have been different. Maybe he could have learned to love Nathan the way Nathan loved him. But now? Now, he only saw Nathan as a dear friend, and Drake... Drake was the one who occupied his thoughts, the one he wanted, the one he needed. And this time, he was determined to do things the right way—to win Drake over properly.

----

The next day at school, the atmosphere between Tristan and Nathan was noticeably tense. Their usual ease had been replaced by an awkwardness neither of them could shake. Nathan avoided meeting Tristan’s eyes, and Tristan, unsure of what to say, let the silence stretch between them. Meanwhile, Drake, as always, was with Jersey, seemingly unaffected, but Tristan couldn’t shake the feeling that Drake was watching him when he wasn’t looking.

During lunch break, Dylan nudged Tristan and leaned in.

“Nathan wants to meet you at the rooftop,” he said.

Tristan frowned. “Did he say why?”

Dylan shrugged. “Not really, just said it was important.”

Sighing, Tristan stood and made his way to the rooftop. His heart felt heavy, knowing exactly what this was about.

Meanwhile, Drake and Jersey were heading toward the cafeteria when they crossed paths with Coach Randolph.

“Drake,” the coach called. “Do me a favor and find Tristan for me. I need to see him immediately.”

Drake, though confused, nodded. “Got it, Coach.”

He headed straight for Dylan, who casually pointed toward the rooftop. Without a second thought, Drake made his way there.

Up on the rooftop, Nathan stood with his hands in his pockets, eyes fixed on the skyline. He didn’t even turn when Tristan arrived, but Tristan cleared his throat anyway, announcing his presence.

“You called?” Tristan asked, his voice carefully neutral.

Nathan finally faced him, his expression unreadable. “Yeah... I need to ask you something.”

Tristan shifted uncomfortably. “Okay?”

Nathan took a deep breath, his voice barely above a whisper. “Can we try dating? Just for a week. If it doesn’t work out, I promise, I’ll let it go.”

Tristan’s heart clenched. He hated seeing Nathan like this. But giving him false hope? That would be worse.

“Nathan... how would that be possible when you know I like Drake?”

Nathan let out a humorless chuckle. “If you like him so much, then why haven’t you told him? If you’re so sure about your feelings, what’s stopping you?”

Tristan swallowed. “I will. Soon.”

Nathan studied him for a moment before stepping closer. “Then tell me this—do you find this weird?”

Before Tristan could react, Nathan leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against his lips. Tristan stiffened, his mind going blank. When Nathan pulled away, he searched Tristan’s face for any sign of something—anything.

Tristan remained frozen, his lips parted in shock.

Nathan sighed. “Nothing, huh?”

But before Tristan could respond, Nathan leaned in again—this time, deeper, more desperate. And that’s when—

“Tristan, the coach wants to see—”

Drake’s voice rang out, but the last word died on his tongue as his breath hitched. His body went rigid at the sight before him—Nathan kissing Tristan.

Tristan yanked himself back, eyes wide with horror. “Drake—”

But the damage was done.

Drake’s expression was unreadable. His lips parted slightly, but no words came out. Then, after a beat, he exhaled sharply and straightened. “Coach Randolph is looking for you,” he said, his voice forced and flat.

And with that, he turned on his heel and walked away.

“Drake, wait!” Tristan called, running after him. He caught up just outside the stairwell, grabbing his wrist. “It’s not what you think.”

Drake yanked his hand away. “You don’t need to explain anything, Tristan. Remember? We’re just friends.”

The words cut deeper than Tristan expected. Drake didn’t wait for a response. He just walked away.