---
The lie they told themselves was that they were over.
That they could stand on opposite sides of the cafeteria and pretend they were just two boys who used to share test answers and nothing more.
But jealousy has a way of rotting through every locked door — and both of them were already cracked wide open.
---
Scott saw him first — Brian, all big shoulders and fake smiles, letting Marissa trail her fingers over his chest like he was hers to claim.
Scott's throat burned.
It wasn't that he wanted Brian back — he didn't. Not after the secrets and the hiding and the way Brian used him in the dark then ignored him in the light.
But watching Marissa touch him — knowing she had no idea how he tasted when he was begging — made something hot and sick coil in Scott's gut.
---
They didn't say a word.
Not when Brian slipped away from her giggle and grabbed Scott's arm in the hall.
Not when Scott yanked free, shoving him toward the old storage room by the gym — the one with the half-broken lock that never stayed shut.
The door slammed behind them.
The air smelled like dust, old ropes, and rusted ladders.
They could barely breathe.
---
Brian backed Scott into the wall — rough, desperate.
Scott's hands clawed at Brian's hoodie, bunching the soft fabric up just to feel the heat of his skin.
"This what you want?" Scott hissed, his eyes wet and furious. "Use me again, Brian? Like your dirty secret?"
"Shut up," Brian growled, grabbing his face, kissing him hard enough to bruise. "Shut the fuck up."
---
They tore at each other's clothes like animals.
Shirts bunched under chins, jeans shoved halfway down. Brian's big hand wrapped around Scott's thigh, hauling him up against the wall.
When he pushed inside, it was rough — angry.
Scott bit down on his shoulder to keep from screaming.
Brian's hips snapped forward, hard enough to rattle the shelves behind them.
"I hate it—" Brian snarled against Scott's throat, teeth scraping skin. "I fucking hate it—hate that I love you—"
Scott choked out a laugh, half sob, fingers digging red half-moons into Brian's back. "Then don't. Just fuck me. That's what you want, right?"
Brian slammed deeper, each thrust a punishment — or maybe a confession.
Shelves clanked, boxes threatened to tumble.
Their sweat and curses soaked the air.
---
When it was too much, Brian pulled out — panting, eyes blown black with need.
Scott dropped to his knees without a word, yanking Brian's jeans the rest of the way down.
He looked up — saw Brian's jaw clenched so tight it trembled, his fists buried in Scott's hair.
Scott's mouth was hot, slick — angry tears rolling down his cheeks as he took Brian deep, messy, needy.
Brian bit down on his knuckles to keep from sobbing his name.
When he came, it was with a strangled gasp — one hand slapped flat against the wall like he'd collapse without it.
---
They stayed like that for one breath, two, three.
Scott's lips swollen, eyes red. Brian trembling, staring down like he'd carved out his own ribs and found them hollow.
---
"Don't call me again," Scott said, voice wrecked. He stood, pulling his jeans back up with shaking fingers.
Brian reached for him — fingertips brushing his wrist — but Scott yanked away.
"You don't get to love me in the dark," Scott spat, tears shining under the flickering light. "And hate me when the lights are on."
---
He slammed the door behind him.
Brian stayed there, pants half-open, hands braced on his knees, breath ragged.
He could still taste Scott on his tongue. Still feel him around him.
But this time — for the first time — there was no pretending they'd find their way back.
The goodbye was carved into their bones.
---