` ❀ 𝓘 beg u don't embarass me . ݁ ꒱

– The smell of sweat and wet grass still hung heavy in the stuffy locker room of the girls’ soccer team. The walls were pale and worn, with subtle graffiti and bruises, a reflection of the daily battles on and off the field. Outside, the afternoon was slowly falling, painting the sky a burnt orange, the air heavy and humid, as if the air were thick with more than just the imminent storm.

You, dressed in your impeccable cheerleader uniform—pleated skirts, jacket with your name embroidered on it, and your hair pulled back in a perfect ponytail, freshly brushed and without a strand out of place—kneeled in front of Natalie Scatorccio, who, with her fists still clenched and bloody marks on her knuckles, stared into the distance, as if what had just happened was just another ordinary day.

Natalie, her eyes wild and her lips slightly swollen from what had apparently been a nasty fight, fidgeted impatiently with the hem of her mud-stained soccer jersey. Her face was bruised, with a small cut on her eyebrow, and dried blood was beginning to crust over. The contrast between the two of you couldn’t have been more stark. You, the perfect girl, always smiling, always in control. And Natalie…well, Natalie was chaos personified—a walking storm, unafraid to take risks and unafraid to make mistakes.

– “You don’t have to do that, you know..." – she mumbles, trying to pull away as you swipe the antiseptic-soaked cotton ball across her eyebrow.

The cotton ball you’re holding is stained red, but your expression remains calm, as if this is the millionth time you’ve cleaned Natalie’s cuts—and honestly, maybe it is.

She lets out a short, harsh laugh, but you can sense the discomfort lurking beneath it. – “She deserved it. She was talking shit about you again.” –

– "sure she was." – you murmur, continuing to wipe her face, more gently this time. – “They all do, Nat. They say you’re no good, that you’ll end up hurting me. And, you know… sometimes I almost believe them.” –