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High school hallways can turn secrets into storms overnight.
It didn't take much — one nosy cheerleader, a glimpse of a text on Brian's phone, a slip of a whisper in the boys' locker room.
By Monday morning, the entire building was buzzing: Brian Drake. Scott Henderson. Together?
---
Scott felt the shift the second he walked in.
He caught the sideways looks — the smirks, the muttered jokes slipping between lockers like smoke.
Every time someone laughed too loud, he felt it in his gut. The word "queer" stuck to the walls like gum under a desk.
CJ, Zeke, and Dylan flanked him at lunch like a protective pack.
"Dude, screw them," Zeke grumbled, cracking his soda open. "They've got nothing better to do."
CJ leaned over. "Seriously. You're the smartest guy here. You think they'd have the balls to say it to your face?"
Scott forced a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Doesn't matter. It's not even true — not anymore."
But the lie stung more than the truth.
Because the real truth was still raw — all those secret nights with Brian; the stolen moments that felt too big to be hidden.
---
It all blew up after practice.
Word spread that a few of the guys cornered Brian by the lockers.
"Hey Drake — that brainiac you hang with? You two swapping spit or what?"
Brian's ears went red. His fists clenched.
Someone snickered, "Damn, didn't know you liked 'em smart and squeaky clean."
---
Scott heard the rest secondhand — standing at his locker as Dylan read the text out loud.
Brian's voice, word for word: "He's just some school project. That kid's obsessed with me — thinks he's got a shot. He's nobody."
---
Scott felt it like a punch to the ribs.
He slammed his locker shut so hard the hallway fell quiet.
CJ's eyes were wide. "Dude… don't listen to them. He's just scared. You know that."
Scott swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth. "Yeah. I know."
He grabbed his bag, pushing past the stares, ignoring the hot burn behind his eyes.
He wasn't skinny. He wasn't fragile.
But in that moment, he'd never felt so small — or so used.
---
When he got home, he locked himself in his room, phone face down on his desk.
No texts from Brian. No apology.
Just silence.
Scott sat on his bed, remembering every secret smile — every "I love you" whispered in the dark — and wondered how it all turned into this.
He told himself he'd never let someone make him feel hidden again.
He deserved more than shadows.
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