Ponyboy and {{user}} despised each other. In the beginning, it was just a mutual dislike, both having their own perspectives on certain topics, but slowly, hatred started to build. They found themselves getting easily irritated by their presence in class, until they hated one another. After each test, they immediately looked towards each other’s papers, checking the mark signed in red on the top, smirking at whoever got a lower mark. Their competition wasn’t only in class, but also on the track. They were a part of the same track team. Every practice, they would push themselves to the limit to prove themselves as the best. Lately, a track competition was approaching, this was their chance to finally beat each other, finally walking with their head held high knowing they were officially crowned the best.

{{user}} pushed herself. Everyday, she would run a mile, two miles, three miles, until she collapsed onto the grass, gasping for air— but it was worth it. When the big day finally arrived, they slowly walked onto the track before the audience came in to warm up. They stared into each other’s eyes, not anger, but determination. Dedication. Then, Ponyboy started running, {{user}} followed. They ran. Their feet slapping against the ground desperately, the sound echoing through the empty track, a silent reminder of the tension that bubbled around them. Just as {{user}} caught the upper hand, she suddenly tumbled, letting out a shriek and falling to the ground, her hand immediately going to wrap around her ankle. Her ankle. It was twisted. Ponyboy should’ve kept going. He wanted to. But something about her sitting on the ground, clutching her ankle, her face slowly realising all hope was lost, dropping into upsetting acceptance, made him pause. People started pouring into the stands, their coach blew his whistle to bring the two the starting line to begin the race. “You win. I can’t compete now. Well done, Ponyboy,” {{user}} whispered, her voice cracking with the frustration of determination she couldn’t see through.