EPISODE 14
1102 Words
Nathan sat in class, drumming his fingers against the desk as his mind swirled with thoughts he couldn't quite grasp. He had just seen Tristan and Drake together—again. He had seen the way Tristan leaned in, the way Drake's eyes widened slightly, the way their bodies seemed to move toward each other without a second thought. Was Tristan about to kiss Drake? Was Tristan into Drake?
His chest tightened, and he clenched his jaw. It shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. Tristan is his best friend—was his best friend. Whoever Tristan liked or dated had nothing to do with their friendship. And yet, that gnawing sensation in his gut told a different story.
“Why does this bother me?” Nathan muttered under his breath.
Carl, who had been sitting beside him, raised a brow. “What?”
Nathan shook his head. “Nothing. Just talking to myself.”
Carl studied him for a moment before smirking. “You jealous?”
Nathan scoffed, turning away. “Jealous? Of what?”
Carl chuckled, crossing his arms. “You tell me. You’ve been acting weird ever since Tristan started hanging around Drake more. And now you’re sitting here looking like you just swallowed a lemon.”
“I’m not jealous,” Nathan snapped, more to himself than to Carl. “Tristan can do whatever he wants. It has nothing to do with me.”
Carl shrugged. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
Nathan stared blankly at his desk, his heart hammering. If he wasn’t jealous, then why did it feel like something inside him was breaking?
---
Finally, school was over, but the basketball team still had a long practice session ahead. Tristan walked beside Drake to the locker room, their easy conversation making the walk feel shorter than usual. As they changed into their practice uniforms, Tristan found himself paying more attention to Drake than ever before—the way his fingers fumbled with the hem of his shirt, the little furrow of his brows as he concentrated on tying his shoelaces, the way his lips parted slightly when he was lost in thought.
He was noticing everything about him.
They stepped onto the basketball court, greeted by the rest of the team. The coach wasted no time, blowing his whistle sharply. “Alright, boys! We’re going hard today. I want precision, I want teamwork, and most of all, I want focus.”
Practice began, and the energy on the court was electric. Tristan played like he always did—with effortless skill and confidence. He made a clean shot from beyond the arc, the ball swishing perfectly through the net. Instinctively, he made his signature celebratory sign—a small flick of his wrist followed by pointing two fingers to the sky. It was something he had done for years, but today, it seemed to have an unexpected effect.
Drake, watching from across the court, felt his breath hitch. There was something about the way Tristan moved, the sharp intensity in his eyes, the raw passion in his game. He was so mesmerized that he didn't see the ball flying toward him until it was too late.
The impact sent him sprawling to the ground.
“Drake!” Andrew was the first to reach him, dropping to his knees beside him. “You okay, man?”
Before Drake could answer, Tristan was there, shoving Andrew aside as he crouched next to him. “Drake? Are you hurt?” His voice was tight with worry, his hands hovering over him, unsure of where to touch.
Drake blinked up at him, still slightly dazed. “I… I think I’m fine—”
Tristan didn’t wait for him to finish. In one swift motion, he scooped Drake up into his arms, carrying him bridal-style toward the infirmary. The entire court went silent, every pair of eyes locked onto them in disbelief.
“Uh…” Andrew scratched his head. “Did Tristan just—”
“Yep,” Sam confirmed, still staring after them.
The coach folded his arms. “Dylan, what’s going on with those two?”
Dylan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Honestly, Coach? I have no clue.”
The coach shook his head. “Alright, practice is over. We’ll pick this up tomorrow.”
---
In the locker room, the team was buzzing with speculation.
Andrew threw his hands in the air. “There is no way Tristan doesn’t have a thing for Drake. Did you see the way he shoved me aside to get to him?”
“You’re definitely right,” Sam added. “And let’s not forget how fast he carried him out of there. Like, come on. If that’s not something, I don’t know what is.”
Dylan, who had been unusually quiet, finally spoke. “If Tristan is into Drake… I support it.”
The team turned to him in surprise.
Dylan shrugged. “Drake’s a good guy. He won’t hurt Tristan. Not like…” He trailed off, unwilling to finish the sentence.
Not like Carl did.
The team fell into silence, understanding unspoken between them.
---
At the infirmary, the doctor finished his examination and gave Drake a reassuring nod. “You’ll be fine. Just take some painkillers and get some rest.”
Drake turned to Tristan with a small smile. “See? I told you I’m okay.”
Tristan exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair. “I was worried, idiot.”
Drake chuckled. “You don’t have to be. It’s just a little hit.”
Tristan hesitated before reaching out, his fingers brushing lightly through Drake’s hair in a comforting gesture. It was only when Drake looked up at him in surprise that he realized what he was doing. He pulled back quickly, clearing his throat. He also realized that he had actually not thought of Nathan for a long time now, and for the first time in months, he wondered how he was doing. He knew they couldn’t go back to the way they were—he had made that clear—but a part of him still wanted to know if Nathan was doing well. It was ironic, considering they were in the same class, yet they felt like strangers now.
“Get some rest. I’m going to freshen up, then I’ll take you home.” he said
Drake nodded, watching as Tristan walked away. His heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing with a single thought.
Tristan cared. Really cared.
And that realization made his stomach flip in the best way possible.
- Writer
