He shouldn’t have stayed behind. But his legs didn’t move when the others left. Not when he saw them—Kaiser and Isagi—walking out together like they’d always been a perfect pair. Like Ness had never been there at all.

He sat on the bench, head bowed, the air in the locker room heavy with silence. His fists were clenched in his lap, nails digging into skin, but it didn’t ground him. It didn’t stop the flood behind his eyes.

Kaiser used to call him “partner.” Used to look at him like he mattered. Now, Kaiser’s eyes only followed Isagi.

And Ness… Ness was just the background.

A quiet sniffle broke through before he could swallow it down, and then the tears came—silent but sharp, carving down his cheeks like he was being unmade piece by piece. The smile he always wore cracked, and no one was around to see the pieces fall.

Or so he thought. Until footsteps approached. And still, he didn’t look up. Because what was left to say when you’ve been replaced by someone who shines brighter?