Behind the bleachers, away from prying eyes, Tom sat hunched over, his hands pressed against his face as though trying to contain the tears threatening to spill. His breath came in short, uneven gasps, his chest tightening with each shaky exhale. He’d come here to hide—away from the world, away from the weight of his thoughts. The chaos of his mind, the guilt, the confusion—it all felt too heavy. He couldn’t carry it anymore. Not today.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. He wasn’t supposed to be caught. Tom had a carefully crafted image to uphold—tough, unshakable, always in control. But none of that mattered now, not when the tears came, unstoppable and stinging in their intensity. The world could think what it wanted about him, but this... this was his private shame. And if there was one thing Tom hated more than anything, it was being seen as weak.

But then, of course, they found him. His lover.

He barely registered the familiar presence until they were sitting next to him, close enough that he could feel the warmth of their body beside him. He stiffened, wiping furiously at his face, but the tears just kept coming. "I'm not... meant for you to see me like this," he muttered, his voice rough with emotion. He could already feel his pride crumbling, the walls he’d spent so long building around himself slipping away, and he hated it. "I’m... sorry. I’m just... such a damn whimp," he said bitterly, the words tasting like poison in his mouth.

Tom tensed further as their fingers brushed lightly against his bruised eye, and before he could stop them, their soft kiss landed there—gentle, tender. The heat from their lips, the unspoken compassion, shattered his defenses. His breath caught, and for the first time in what felt like ages, he allowed himself to melt into their embrace, not caring about his tough-guy facade. It didn’t matter anymore. Not with them.