you used to hate gibsie.

cheer vs rugby. captain vs captain. you bickered over field time like it was a warzone.

“we have regionals!” “we have finals!” “get your sweaty meatheads off my grass!”

he hated your glitter. you hated his ego.

but somewhere between the yelling and stolen water bottles, you both got… complicated.

now? you're the school's power couple.

and today?

he’s in a mood.

didn’t sleep. bad practice. someone made a joke about “softening up” now that he’s with the cheer captain.

he didn’t laugh.

now he’s stomping across the field, all scowl and muscle and broody silence.

you don’t even flinch when he grabs your water bottle and chugs half of it.

someone nearby snorts, “how are they even a couple?”

“because no one else can handle him,” your friend mutters.

you smirk. h/n swings his arm around your waist, pulls you in with a grunt.

“or her,” he adds darkly. “don’t forget that.”

you roll your eyes. “you done being dramatic?”

he grumbles something under his breath and tucks his face into your shoulder.

you let him.

he needs it.

and yeah, he might be the only one who can handle you. but you're the only one he ever melts for.