Chapter Seventeen: The Aftermath
1128 Words
The morning after the tournament, the high school was a hive of noise.
Students swarmed the hallways, phones in hand, replaying shaky clips of the chaos. One thread showed Gabe lunging across the gym floor, another froze on Akari standing tall and shouting him down. Hashtags bloomed overnight: #TwinShowdown, #HeroAkari, #TobeVsGabe.
Aris walked through it all with her hood up, her stomach sour. Every whisper felt aimed at her, every glance a reminder that the entire school had seen her falter.
“They’re saying she didn’t even defend herself,” someone murmured as she passed.
“She looked scared. Totally unlike her.”
Her fists tightened. Of course I looked scared. He was burning everything down around me.
By contrast, Akari was met with wide-eyed admiration. A group of girls cornered her by her locker, smiles bright.
“That was amazing last night,” one said. “You were so brave.”
“Seriously,” another added, “the way you stood up to him? I don’t think anyone else could have done that.”
Akari forced a small smile. The praise felt like a sweater two sizes too tight. Brave? She hadn’t felt brave. She’d felt cornered, desperate, clinging to the only choice left.
Still, she nodded, murmured thanks, and let them bask in the version of her they wanted to see.
By mid-morning, announcements boomed over the intercom.
“Students, regarding the incident at last night’s tournament: Gabriel Knight has been suspended indefinitely. Disciplinary hearings are ongoing. We remind everyone to respect privacy and avoid spreading unverified information.”
Unverified information. As if the whole school hadn’t already seen it.
Tobe sat in the back row of history, fists clenched under his desk. The announcement did nothing to untangle the knot in his chest. Gabe was gone, sure—but the words he’d screamed in the gym still rang in his head.
She’ll never choose you.
He kept his eyes on Aris’s bowed head two rows forward. She hadn’t looked at him since walking into the room.
Gabe’s room was dim, curtains drawn. His phone buzzed with a hundred notifications, all of them poison. Clips of his outburst. Threads mocking him. Memes twisting his words into jokes.
But Gabe didn’t laugh.
He scrolled past them, eyes bloodshot, jaw tight. Each cruel comment etched itself deeper into his skin.
They don’t understand. She’ll understand. She has to.
He replayed the footage of Akari screaming at him, freezing on her face. For a second, the betrayal cut like glass. Then he rewound again, slower this time, whispering under his breath.
“She’s just scared. She didn’t mean it. She still wants me. She’ll see when I fix it.”
In his notebook, the scribbles grew darker, sharper. This wasn’t over. Not even close.
By the second day, Akari couldn’t cross the cafeteria without someone stopping her. Teachers praised her “maturity.” Students asked how it felt to “take down” Gabe.
Every pat on the back, every compliment, left her emptier. She wasn’t a hero. She was just someone who’d finally told the truth. But the school needed a symbol, and they’d chosen her.
Aris sat across the room, picking at her food, watching. The space between them felt wider than it ever had.
Finally, Akari stood, tray in hand, and crossed to her table. “Can I sit?”
Aris blinked, startled. For a moment, she wanted to say no—to keep her walls high. But then she saw the tremor in her sister’s hands, the quiet plea in her eyes.
“Yeah,” she said softly. “Sit.”
It wasn’t forgiveness, not yet. But it was something.
Two nights later, after study group cleared out, Tobe found himself walking Aris home. The winter air bit at their cheeks, but the silence between them was heavier than the cold.
She kept her eyes on the pavement. “You don’t have to keep doing this. Walking me home, guarding me like—like I can’t handle myself.”
“I know you can handle yourself,” Tobe said. His voice was low, steady. “That’s not why I’m here.”
She stopped at the corner, finally meeting his gaze. “Then why?”
The words burned in his throat. He’d buried them for weeks, maybe months. But the tournament had cracked something open in him.
“Because I care about you, Aris.” His voice was rough, but steady. “More than I should. More than I ever meant to. And I know you don’t have to choose me—I know I’m not… what people think you want. But I can’t stand here and pretend it isn’t true anymore.”
Her breath caught. The world tilted, the streetlight above buzzing faintly like it, too, was listening.
She wanted to answer, to push him away or pull him closer, but her chest was a storm.
“I…” She shook her head, fighting for air. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Then don’t say anything.” Tobe stepped back, giving her space. “Just know it’s there. I’ll still be here, whether you want me close or not.”
He turned then, shoving his hands into his pockets, walking off into the dark before she could stop him.
Aris stood at the corner, trembling. For the first time in weeks, her heart didn’t feel entirely broken. It felt raw, alive, terrifying.
By Friday, the story had settled into something permanent.
Akari was “the strong twin.” Aris was “the shaken one.” Tobe was “dangerous but loyal.” Gabe was “the psycho.”
Labels spread faster than truth ever could. And though they wore them differently, all four of their lives were tied together now tighter than ever.
Aris sat in her room that night, staring at the spare notebook Tobe had left behind weeks ago. Her fingers traced the cover, her chest tightening.
She remembered his words. More than I should. More than I ever meant to.
Her pulse quickened. Maybe she wasn’t ready to choose. But maybe she didn’t have to be—not yet.
Across town, Gabe sat hunched over his desk, pages scattered like a crime scene.
Every move Aris made was logged—where she sat at lunch, who she talked to, when she left school. Akari too.
His wall was a map now, threads connecting names and faces, arrows looping back to the twins.
“They don’t see it yet,” he whispered. “But I’ll make them see. She’ll understand when there’s no one left to confuse her. No one left to hide her from me.”
His eyes burned, fever-bright.
The storm wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
- Writer
