#it reminds me of that one line in ilitw that makes me think that noah marshall was meant to be a kind of li but it didn't work in ilitw

[puredoesnotmeankind]

Please, all the LIs are so gorgeous and are great characters and their individual dynamics with Bolas!MC (as well as the other members of the Party) are top-tier, they are wavering my will to romance Noah Marshall.02.

So actually it's exactly like ILITW

[livesbeneath]

six feet between.

pairing: noah x female mc (harley blanco)

summary: to be caught trespassing in a cemetery is bad enough without a preceding criminal record. he knows visiting westchester is risky, and that being out in the open isn’t the smartest idea, but he finds it somewhat therapeutic, maybe in a sickening way, to occasionally come full circle after his stops at the ruins. 

word count: 1.9k.

author’s note: after around a two(?) month hiatus of sorts?? i have written something i don’t actually HATE???  i had this idea last night at three am after playing a chapter of ilitw, and wrote a large portion of it then, so i apologize if it’s a little hard to follow!  i’m proud of how it turned out, especially when considering the way the noah / mc relationship ends as in ilb. all forms of feedback are appreciated! please try to leave a comment if you can!

disclaimer: i do not own these characters (except harley). creative liberty has been taken to make this story unique, and i do not intend to use it for profit in any way.

The oldest headstone in the Westchester Peace Cemetery dates back to the 1700s, specifically 1768. It honors a woman named Eliza Rosemund, who was thirty eight at the time of her death. The quote etched on her tomb is worn, but reads something like: “beloved mother and daughter, go gently.”. There is a noticeably large chunk missing from the top of the grave.

Noah Marshall has been by this plot so many times that he can rattle all this information with ease. A run of the mill bystander would think it was Ms. Rosemund he was visiting so often, but anyone who knows him would know that this isn’t the case.

That is, if they had mind that he was there at all.

As he makes his way over the fence, something he’s mastered by now, Noah takes note of the way fog seems confined only to the burial grounds. He shakes his head and plants his feet firm on the dirt below, then crouching down behind a headstone. Precautions are always taken to make sure he’s alone at times like this. Carefully, he turns back to inspect the way he came, relieved to see only the woods that normally guard him from the public eye staring back. To be caught trespassing in a cemetery is bad enough without a preceding criminal record. He knows visiting Westchester is risky, and that being out in the open isn’t the smartest idea, but he finds it somewhat therapeutic, maybe in a sickening way, to occasionally come full circle after his stops at the ruins.

Beyond Eliza Rosemund’s grave, still along the same path, but in the more modern part of the cemetery - sits the headstone of Harley Blanco.

Once he’s sure he’s alone, Noah hoists himself up, allowing himself to drift into the fog. Maybe at a young age, he would be afraid of trudging through a sea of tombs in the middle of the night. While the thought of countless dead, dusty, decomposed or decomposing bodies below his feet is still slightly unnerving, he is aware that he is currently the most terrible thing on the premises. Guilt is the reason he’s here at all. Guilt, and longing, one could say.

With Harley’s very being split in two, her body in one place, her soul in another - he thinks it only fair to honor all of her instead of a mere part of her. He knows nothing will ever make up for missing her funeral, but he figures he’s carried anguish similar to those who attended. If not similar, the fact that what he’s done eats him alive and spits him back out every night is enough to warrant a visit.

“Shoot!” he whispers briskly as he nearly trips over a twig, grip on the homemade present he’s brought nearly slipping out of his grasp.

While in the woods earlier, he stalled leaving the spiritual Harley behind by peeling moss patches off of logs. Now, along with a bundle of dandelions he picked from outside the gate, he’s used them to make a makeshift bouquet. The fact that they’re just weeds makes the weight of the offering even heavier in his fist. He knows she deserves something nicer, especially from him. There’s no doubt in her mind that her grave is pre-decorated, though. He’s deduced that her parents must visit often, because there’s always a replenished gaggle of gifts waiting at the base of the headstone whenever he arrives.

Her parents, he thinks. God, they must fucking hate him.

His footfalls grow slower, heavier as he approaches some of the newer plots. The more recent dates that decorate the slabs crowded around the area remind him that it hasn’t been that long since that fateful night in the grotto. Being on the run makes each day blur together, which means by the time he’s stepped back to give himself a reality check, months have passed. It’s been a year and a half, but Noah swears she’s been gone for an eternity.

He’s no stranger to this feeling, of course, as he’s been professionally trained in mind-numbing grief since Jane’s demise a decade or so prior. Still, he realizes now that there was some hope back then. Compared to how things are now, his sitting alone every day at school seems overwhelmingly trivial. Still, being acquainted with grief does not make the moment he sits down before her grave any easier. Each time he does so, the slap in the face that is the fact that she’s actually dead leaves a searing mark. He isn’t an openly affectionate person, but not having her strong arm to lean on, both physically and metaphorically, is something he’ll never get used to.

Harley Blanco’s headstone in the Westchester Peace Cemetery commemorates her death back in 2017, specifically October of that year. She was eighteen at the time of her death. The quote etched on her tomb is intricately done, and clearly reads: “beloved daughter and friend, we are together always, even in death.”. His offering of a bundle of dandelions pales in comparison to the fresh roses left by her parents.

As much as he wants a cigarette in that moment, Noah knows lighting one is a surefire way to be caught. The air around him has grown colder since planting himself six feet above Harley’s coffin. The feeling that he’s being watched from somewhere, by someone, gnaws at his stomach, and he peers around his peripheral vision, careful not to move his head. With the newly plunged temperature, everything around him seems to freeze. All until-

“Noah…?”

He jumps, whirling around so fast he almost cracks an elbow on the headstone near him. Noah doesn’t know what he expects to see, exactly. Maybe it’s his mother, and she’s known of his escapades back and forth to Westchester for some time now. Maybe it’s Stacy Green, and she’s finally tracked him down, hell-bent on making him pay. While his mind could create hypotheticals until sunrise, what he actually sees surprises him much more.

There, flanked by ornate gravestones, half fog and half shadow, is a pair of glowing blue eyes.

“Harley?” he breathes, splayed out like a spider before her. “Wh-What are you doing here? Did you follow me?”

As if playing a game, Harley moves with the mist hanging heavy in the air, curling around him and cheering “Found you! I win!”

Noah sits in her visceral grasp for a moment, glancing in disbelief between what’s left of Harley, and the slab of stone that marks her supposed final resting place. The feeling that she’s been beside him all along, traveling in his shadow to this spot, sinks in. Finally, he sighs.

“Harley, you can’t do this anymore. I’m gonna take you back to the ruins, okay?”

“Nooooooo…” she drawls, a tinge of orange in her eyes. “Stay with Noah!”

Slight dread pools in his stomach as he finds himself unable to stand, her lock on him too tight. The hardest part of every visit with Harley is leaving her at the end of the night. Noah is all too familiar with the fiery pain that sits in the embers of what are now her eyes. She’s gotten articulate enough over their course of their lessons to voice that she’s afraid that when he leaves, he won’t come back for her. While he’s thrilled she’s learning to feel again, he wishes he hadn’t taught her such distress.

He narrows his eyes, frowning. “Let me stand, Harley. You win.”

“I win!” the spectre cheers, twirling into the air, tail of shadow whipping past his face. Noah stands. As he dusts himself off, he takes a deep breath, attempting to look through the thick fog for unwelcome guests.

“Ssssshhh!” he hisses, finger to his lips. “You can’t be loud here!”

“Ssssshhh!” she parrots, mimicking his movements until they’re eye to eye. He notices hers are burning blue again.

A sigh. “That’s right, Harles. Nice and quiet. It’s time to get you home.”

The monster lowers her clawed hand, eyes wide, boring into his. For a moment, his blood runs cold. Noah watches as she slowly gazes away from him, off into the distance. Gradually, she floats away from him, higher than he can reach, staring out towards the exit of the cemetery. Not towards the woods, but towards town.

“Home…” she whispers. Wind carries her words to him, but the trees don’t move.

“Harley…” he realizes his mistake.

She turns to him again, eyes orange, wide as saucers. “Go home.” she states.

“No, not - not there. I meant back to the ruins. That’s your home now.”

“Nooooooo… not home! Not home! Not home!”

The wind begins to pick up, but it seems to touch him and nothing else. His jacket isn’t enough to shield him from the way the temperature drops. Harley’s eyes blaze as she grows more frantic, zipping from tombstone to tombstone, moaning the same two words over and over again. Noah holds a hand out to her, but finds himself using it to steady himself when the vortex she’s created amidst her panic threatens to knock him to the ground.

He watches in horror as the frantic ghoul grabs a headstone and pulls it from the ground, tossing it like a softball to the side. It hits the stone walkway with a sickening crunch. She makes her way to the next slab in line, repeating the process with ease.

“Harley! Harley, stop!” he shouts, holding his beanie to his head.

“Home!” she cries in return. “Want to go home!”

“We have to get out of here! Stop that! Stop it!”

Noah hits the ground as she prepares to swing again, scrambling up against the headstone dedicated to her. Harley rounds on him, desperate, but stops short when she sees his hand held out. He presses himself up against the headstone, breathing heavily. She stares, seemingly past him, back in the same trance from before.

“You’re okay, girl.” he assures her. “You’re okay.”

When she doesn’t respond, he moves to the side slightly, and she glides closer to the headstone. Noah lets out a deep breath, watching her eyes move as she scans the inscriptions on the stone. Carefully, as if touching it will burn her, Harley holds out a clawed hand to the marker.

“Harley…” she breathes.

Noah stays silent, head hung in remorse.

The monster coils back slightly, the hand that touched the stone now held over where her heart should be.

“I… Harley.” she looks to Noah and cocks her head to the side. “I Harley?”

“Yeah.” he mutters in response. “You are.”

Silence hangs between them. For a moment, he lets his reservations about being caught fade away. Harley sinks to the floor, sitting beside him as if she has legs to cross. The fact that her two forms, corporeal and spiritual, are only six feet between each other is not lost on him. It makes him nauseous to see. They were so close.

She mirrors him once again, this time looking desperately sad as she gazes from him, to the headstone. Noah watches as she reaches out to the flowers littering the base of the grave, and expects her to pick up the roses.

In a clawed hand, she presents him the dandelions.

“For me?”

He stares. The weeds look so small in her monstrous hand.

“Yeah.”

Harley looks down at the offering once more. Her eyes burn a subtle blue.

“For my cave.” she tells him.

Noah looks up at her, confused. “What?”

“For my cave.” she replies. Her free hand reaches out to him and hovers over his chest. “To… feel like home.”

He presses her claw to where his heart is.

“Let’s get out of here, yeah?”

[stayfallentasticc]

The Road That Leads to You

Pairing:  (Dan x MC)* x Noah  (It Lives In The Woods)

Words: 4,651 words

Summary: The development of Dan and MC’s relationship; a deeper look into how Dan falls for MC and MC as a whole. The green, red lights and stop signs of their relationship. 

Sneak peek: He didn’t know when the pieces started to form. All he knew was that the puzzle was her and he wanted to piece it together. Piece her together. What her dreams and hopes were; what she wanted to do when she got out of school. No one really asked her about her life, everyone was so consumed with letting her piece theirs - he figured she probably didn’t have the time to fix herself. Piece herself. 

Notes: This story took me such awhile to brainstorm. I didn’t know what direction I wanted to take this story. I really didn’t. I hope it has as much love that ‘In His Veins’ did. I wanted to look into MC’s storyline more. Deeper. ILITW MC is my favorite MC: so strong, charismatic, and loyal. Yet that’s just the surface. I wanted to see how Dan would view her. Fall for her as much as I did. See her trouble and how it breaks her down and with that everyone around her. You may hate me. Apologizes in advance. It sucks, I know. 

Masterlist 

It’s been awhile since they hung out together. A l o n e. It was right after school, the sun was nowhere to be seen, the clouds were gathered in the sky. Unwelcoming. The sky had turned from a bright blue to a gravel gray. It was pouring. She was standing under the safety of the building away from the rain. He would notice her silhouette anywhere. 

Dan cleared his throat, umbrella dangling from his wrist. He walks towards her, his footsteps light. She turns at the sound of his footsteps; her hair pulled in a sleek ponytail whipping her face. He holds his breath. 

“Don’t have an umbrella?” Dan asks, he pulls his mouth into a lopsided smile. She raises her shoulders before quickly dropping them.

“No.” She answers. “Did me standing under here for shelter gave it away?” She playfully rolls his eyes at him; reminding him of times when they used to hang out in his treehouse and how he would always jokingly tell her ‘no girls allowed’ which earned him a eye roll. He remembers her. He remembers it all.

He laughs. “Hm, maybe. Or it could be the fact that you always liked the rain….” Dan trails off, he’s well aware of how he sounds, instantly regretting saying the last sentence. 

She turns to get a better view of him, her head tilted to the side. He’s grateful for the rain hitting the building hard, grateful that it hides the sound of his own heart beating. Lately, he’s been grateful. So grateful. 

“Yeah, I-I used to like it.” She smiles weakly. He’s so familiar with lost of oneself. He’s been there. “I used to, but now rainy days just remind me of sad thoughts.” She laughs, but it doesn’t quite reach the pits of her stomach. He knows that she’s holding back from saying more - she’s biting her lips, a common practice she does.

“You’re biting your lips. You’re holding back.” Dan points out, he reaches forward and pulls at her cheeks. Her mouth opens in shock. It’s been awhile since he touched her. It’s been awhile. He drops his hand quickly and coughs. “What I meant to say is that you don’t have to hide anything from me, silly.” 

She smiles up at him. “Yeah, I wouldn’t want to upset our star quarterback. Don’t want coach to tell me to do fifty push-ups.”

“Mhm, rest assured I wouldn’t let him do that to you.”  He shakes his head, a smile still plastered on his face. Dan opens his umbrella, stepping out from underneath shelter. He holds out his free hand, gesturing her to step forward. “C’mon now, I don’t want someone as pretty as you to get rained on. I���ll drive you back home.” 

She takes his hand and offers him the smile that takes him years back. A smile he always loved, especially when it was directed to him. He feels the weight of her hand against his, small and frail, nothing compared to his. 

They’re huddled underneath his umbrella; shoulder to shoulder. He can practically feel her warmth. He hears her giggle softly, he hears the sound of his car unlocking, and the opening of the passenger door as she slides in the seat. He hears it all. 

Dan wouldn’t have thought he would be here with her today; all events leading up to them not talking seemed permanent. Yet, here she was giving him another chance and allowing herself to be vulnerable with him. He was unable to open up and he hated it even more when he shut her out. 

He turns on the ignition, the car coming to life. He reverses out of the parking. He hates the silence that passes over them, he knows if he just kept in contact with her prior to him losing his insanity they wouldn’t be in this situation.  

“You okay?” She asks him, the color of streetlights blurring into the night. He briefly looks at her before diverting his attention back to the road. He offers her a small smile.  “Why wouldn’t I be? I’m with you. I’m fine. Better than what I’ve felt before.” His words come out in a rush, he lets out a slow breath. “I’m sorry, what I meant to say was that, I’m sorry that I didn’t….let you in. You were my best friend and….now we’re back to square one.” Dan’s grip on the steering wheel deepens, he sees her in the corner of his eyes shrink back into the seat. He gulps hard.

“I wished you had let me in.” She admits, she’s staring off to the distant. “But, I knew where you were coming from. A place of lost. Unfamiliarity.” She whispers. “I get it. It’s okay. We’re here with eachother right now?” She leans forward and Dan feels the weight of her hand against his shoulder and the squeeze that follows soon after. “In fact, I know a mean pizza place down around this area.” 

“You sure your parent’s won’t mind?” Dan asks, he raises a brow. “it’s getting pretty late.”

“No, I don’t think they would mind.” She answers, she runs her fingers through her ponytail. “They’re out for another cruise trip.” 

“Oh.” Dan frowns, his eyebrows furrows close together. He doesn’t know how it affects her, he hasn’t been around, but he’s pretty sure she gets a bit lonely. It would get lonely wouldn’t it? 

“Yeah.” She sighs softly. “I’m use to it, and make the turn on the next stop. The place should be on your left.” 

He nods his head and does as she asks, and sure enough it is. He parks the car and takes a good look at her, he takes her all in. He sees how her lips curl in a natural frown, he hopes maybe tonight she won’t go home sad. 

A l o n e. 

He leans forward and tucks a strand of her hair, and smiles. “Let’s go get ourselves a mean pizza, it’s on me. Okay?”

“Okay.”

As he rounds the corner to open her door, umbrella opened for cover from the rain. She greets him with a warm smile. He falters in his step a bit.  

The night was filled with two fools laughing. 

Dan finds himself holding his breath when he sees Her and Noah sitting on the bench. He had just turned the corner of the hallway and didn’t expect to see them. He tilts his head to get a better view of the scene. He watches how she blinks, her mouth wide opened and how Noah fiddles with his fingers. 

Despite, how his heart clenches just a bit from the sight of them. He can’t help but still be in awe from her beauty and presence. The thing is he didn’t expect to grow attached to her; sure they’ve been attached at the hip when they were kids. But, he figured, after everything that has happened - the traumatic experience -  they would just be friends that shared it and nothing more. But he knew he was wrong, at least on his part. he waited for her to reply back to his text. He waited for the days where she would agree to go out to eat. He waited for her. Waited patiently like a fool. 

“You’re so funny, Noah.” She shakes her head. “If you needed a friend, I’m right here.” She gestures for him to lay his head down on her lap to which he does. Dan figures Noah must have asked for her permission to do that. Noah’s face brightens, a flash of happiness that Dan hasn’t seen before evident in his face. 

It was a rather intimate moment in Noah’s part, Dan could see how much she meant to him. He couldn’t really blame Noah; he felt that exact same way too. He felt that way ever since they were kids. He felt things for her that he tried to bury. 

“Funny, huh?” Dan finds himself echoing in the hallway, he shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his sweats. He just gotten out of practice, but it really isn’t the heat or the exercise that got him sweating. It was this. 

He knew he didn’t have the right to feel jealous, they weren’t anything. He didn’t make her his, he didn’t make it official on those ‘friendly’ dates. He sees Noah hesitate just for a split second as he laid his head down. His face was red, stained with tears from crying. 

He didn’t know when the pieces started to form. All he knew was that the puzzle was her and he wanted to piece it together. Piece her together. What her dreams and hopes were; what she wanted to do when she got out of school. No one really asked her about her life, everyone was so consumed with letting her piece theirs - he figured she probably didn’t have the time to fix herself. 

Piece herself. 

It takes him a good minute to realize that she needs him. Now. She’s on the phone, her voice cracks and he swears he hears her sniff. His cellphone is pressed way too tight against his ear, he’s trying to read between the lines. 

Should he go to her? Should he? 

He blinks a good time, listens to her talk about how she’s just really tired. So tired. He tells her to take a quick nap, if she is, to which she laughs. She tells him she will and a goodbye ensues soon after. 

She doesn’t know that Dan has his keys in his hands ready to see her. He quickly rushes to the refrigerator and brings the leftover ice cream he has. He wants to be there for her. He hurriedly goes into his car and speeds to her house. 

He hesitates knocking on her door, he contemplates that maybe she’s already sleeping and that he’s just overreacting. He bites his lower lip, something in him urges him to. He knocks quietly at first, but soon after it becomes urgent. 

She opens it, her eyes widens at the realization it’s him. Her lips trembles and she pulls him into a hug; collapsing into his arm. He hugs her tightly and kisses the side of her face. It’s been awhile since he heard her cry. It’s been awhile since he so badly wanted to protect her. The ice cream on the porch long forgotten as long as she’s embracing him. 

“Shh, it’s going to be okay.” He cooes into her ear, swaying her back and forth. Her sobs getting quieter as time passes on, he lays his hand on the back of her hair and softly pats her head.

She pulls away, and holds him at arms length. He feels her grip and how it’s much weaker this time around, and takes in how her shirt is slightly drenched in tears. “Thank you for coming, Dan. I didn’t think you would. I know you’re - .”

“I would. For you.” He cuts her off and smooths her hair, beckoning her to go inside. “It’s really no problem.” Dan tries to keep his voice firm and strong as he bends down and shakes the ice cream out in front of her. “I brought you ice cream. I mean….ice cream from my house. I figured you would need it.”

She nods her head, and it’s the first smile he sees from her this whole week and he swears his heart is swelling at the sight. She’s so special, and she isn’t aware of it. 

He steps inside her house, taking in the pictures plastered on the wall. He feels his hand stretch out unconsciously, lightly outlining her face. A face that smiles back at him. A face that has yet to experience pain. He hears her call out to him, and he follows her quickly after to the kitchen. Two bowls are laid out in front of her, he watches intently as she scoops up small portion of the ice cream and places them onto the bowl. He takes it earnestly.

They walk over to her sofa, they plop themselves down. She’s sitting opposite of him and they’re talking about everything and everything from her fears of Redfield and how she feels like her parent’s don’t care at all. She thanks him for the ice cream and he tells her it’s really nothing. He cracks jokes here and there that make her laugh and it’s these exact moments he has with her that he carries into his heart. It’s these moments he’ll carry to his grave.

She yawns, and rubs at her eyes. 

He places the bowl on the side, and pats the couch absentmindedly. “I’ll be here in the morning, now sleep.” Sleep. 

He removes his jacket and places it over her. Bobby pins falling out of her hair as she snuggles closer to the pillow on her sofa. He knows he should look away, but he can’t bring himself to. He feels if he just stayed a bit, he could look into her. 

See Her. 

Actually see her. 

Dan swears her laughter is his favorite sound, and how it’s that type of laughter that waters flowers. How her hair falls over her shoulder as she throws her head back and how that very image is his favorite sight and he can’t quite fathom how anyone could not fall for her. He can’t recall how many times his heart has leapt over his chest at the sight of her.

Her eyes flicks over to him, she’s no longer talking to Ava and he swears his eyes are staring back into her, lustfully. Lovingly. He can’t decide between the two: it’s too soon to be in love, yet the feeling he feels in his stomach it’s something different. Something he can’t exactly pinpoint.

He quickly looks away.

He feels Stacy gaze at him, eyebrow raised in curiosity before she casually gestures at Her from across the room. Stacy smirks at him and he flicks her the finger. She leans back and chuckles, waving her index finger in the air.

“She likes you,” Stacy pokes his shoulder, wiggling her eyebrows. He feels a bit flustered. He scratches the back of his neck, glad that his bangs seemed to cover a hint of his eyes.

“We’re just friends.” He mutters, he tugs at the strings of his hoodie; feeling the sudden urge to tie it back and just disappear for a good second or two. But when he lifts his gaze from Stacy to her, he finds that she’s staring bak at him.

He’s staring back at her.

He thinks that friends don’t usually look at the way that they’re both looking at each other. Granted, he knows he doesn’t look at Stacy like that. And he feels a bit hopeful that Stacy isn’t just saying things to say things.

He thinks maybe luck is on his side for once.

“What are you thinking of, Dan?” She asks, taking a deep breath. 

He thinks of the fact that when no one’s looking, he removes himself from the scene, closes the door quietly behind him and walks to her car. He thinks of how he waited by her passenger-side door and how his hands were cold for a split second from the night and his face numb. But how he knew he had to tell her. Let her know. He knew it wouldn’t be right to not tell her. 

That’s what he’s thinking, but he doesn’t say it out loud. Of course, he doesn’t. 

He shrugs his shoulders. “How you’re too good of a person and how none of us are lucky to call you their friend.” He says, his voice going higher as he continues. “How I really rather not call you a friend, but something more. How pretty you look in the moonlight.” He presses on, she lets out an easy smile. She looks so hopeful, and he so badly wants to hold her hand and kiss Her. 

“So, by that logic, does that mean you want to kiss me?” She adds on, grinning widely and he knows she’s playing around. But he isn’t. He really isn’t. 

Yes.

No. You might realize you don’t feel the same for me as I do you. 

Yes. It’s all I think about. 

So, he takes the leap of faith and tips his face to the side. Their lips touch and her lips feel like heaven. He thinks that if he dies right now. He would be okay. He would be fine, at least he managed to check something out of his bucket list — kiss a pretty girl, kiss the girl. His hand presses hard against her waist. Her hand grazes the delicate line of his jaw, reciprocating the kiss with just as much tenderness. 

He feels the tightening of his stomach and the realization that he’ll be able to kiss her again. 

Over.

And over. 

Dan figures it’s appropriate to tell everyone, and by everyone he means their closed friends, that they’re together ‘together’ at the coffee shop near their school. 

“So, we’re kinda a thing.” He announces, his voice comes out a bit hushed. Ava shifts in her seat, and leans forward, definitely a bit confused. Lily twirls a strand of her hair in her hands, nodding her head as if she knew all along. 

“Kinda? As in are? Or?” Ava questions, earning a pointed look from Lucas.

Lucas coughs. “What Ava meant to say was, so it’s official?”

“Mhm” He hears her says besides him, she entwines her fingers with his and smiles up at them. Dan feels the corner of his own mouth pull into a grin.

“Oh.” Is all Noah manages to say, he shifts his feet side to side. Dan notices how Noah clears his throat and takes account how his face looks almost pinched at the corners. Conflicted. 

Before Dan could say anything, Stacy chimes in. “I’m so happy for you both!” Stacy exclaims, pulling both Dan and Her into her arms. “I mean, I knew something was going on - you both seemed happier.”

Happier.

He takes a quick glance at her and hopes that’s the truth. He hopes that him being beside her could heal the wounds that the past has caused. Heal the very wounds that she healed for him. She notices him staring at her and punches his shoulders lightly, he lets out a laugh and holds her hand. Dan brings it to his lips. He presses a gentle kiss to it and hopes she knows that he’s everything he ever wanted. He puts everything he feels into it. 

Everything.

He didn’t think this would happen. 

He didn’t think he would have survived. 

He sees her in the corner of his eyes as he gets out of the house. He watches as she stumbles out, face blank, eyes wide open. Stunned. 

What happened back there? 

She has nightmares of Noah, some days when he’s sleeping over her place and when everything is a bit quieter than usual. He hears her choke back the tears and he feels her turn in her sleep. 

Dan wakes up and sits upright, he rubs at his eyes and pats her back; tries his best to soothe her back to sleep. He switches her light on and takes in how her eyebrow are furrowed close together, the sweat that is evident on her brow and how her lips twitches just slightly. It pains him. He seen her at her lowest, but this…..it’s something else. He kisses the top of her head and hums in her ear; hoping that his voice reaches her in her dreams.

Please reach her. 

The morning after, he brings her breakfast. She’s still asleep. He feels a bit better considering she looks this peaceful this time around. He touches her lightly on the legs. She groans softly, much to her protest she finally wakes up. Her eyes are opened and she’s staring up at him; a grin starts to form in the corner of her lips. He sits on her bed and hands her the plate. 

“This is my favorite.” Her words come out quiet. She leans forward and kisses him softly on the lips. He smiles despite himself before quickly ruffling her hair.

“Yeah, I know. I figured you needed it after your restless night.” 

“I’m really sorry about that Dan.” She apologizes, licking the bottom of her lips as her hand grabs the fork, it hovers on top of the pancake. He shakes his head and runs his finger up and down her back. 

“Hey, it’s fine. You never have to apologize to me.” Dan smirks, he bites his lower lip. “I have loved you far too long to not know when you’re sad. It’s fine.”  

Her cheeks turn pink at the mention of him loving her. He smiles sheepishly. “It’s the first time you told me out loud you loved me.” 

“Yeah, well, I do.” He mutters, he fiddles with his hand, feeling oddly embarrassed. 

“Well, you know I love you too.” She says, her eyes twinkle and the way the light breaks through her curtain captures her features perfectly. He’s breathless. He’s always in awe when it comes to Her. Her. She coughs. “In that case, let me dig in and taste your masterpiece.” She winks and shoves the food into her mouth. A grin forms and his heart. Oh, his heart, feels like it’s about to explode. That smile it’s enough to bring him to his knees. 

He tells himself he’ll make her pancakes when she wants to. 

If it makes her smile that that.

If it makes her forget the pain. 

He’ll do it in the morning. Afternoon. Midnight.

Whenever. 

Again. 

Again.

And again. For her. 

Only Her. 

D            i              s             t             a         n          c        e

Dan notices she’s not herself. He feels it when she brushes him off. When she offers him a small smile and it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. He notices how she’s become irritable. How she catches herself from saying something before she shakes her head and tell him it’s ‘nothing’. He just hoped, he just wished that she would come around. Maybe. Just maybe. Why won’t she come around? 

He moves the apple around in his hand, he’s so lost in his thoughts. He doesn’t notice that she’s in front him, waving her hand timidly. 

It takes him a good minute or two. 

Dan smiles up at her, his words caught in his throat. He presses his hand against his lips, coughing. “How have you been? Restless nights still?” 

How can he put it down into words without breaking?”

He knows she’s slipping. Out of reach. 

“I’m just tired.” She whispers softly, Really tired.” 

“I know, but, honey you need to -” 

She cuts him off, he sees the dark circles underneath her eyes. His hand twitches at his side. “Don’t you want to kiss me?”

Always.

That sentence catches him off guard, it’s that very sentence that brought them together and now he’s wondering if it’ll be the same sentence that was - is - going to tear everything apart. Tear the home he built for them. The shelter he so desperately wanted to keep in tact for them. 

Them. 

“No,” Dan finds himself saying. He reaches out a hand out to touch her arm, the spot right above her elbow. Her face falters. His heart falls. “I mean, I do, it’s just not right now. Not when you’re like this.”  

She’s so close, and if he just put his hand on her hair and just lean a bit closer….he knows he wouldn’t turn back. No turning back. He would have forgot about the problem that was slowly creeping into their life. 

She was forgetting herself. 

“When I’m like this?” She frowns, she’s trembling. “Dan, I can’t, just let things go the way they do. It haunts me. Y-you should now.” She says between clenched teeth. 

“Are you out of your mind?” Dan whispers in disbelief, lines forming across his forehead. “I get that you were close with him, I do. I really do.” He leans forward and grabs her hand, her touch cold. “But….you need to let go. Everyone else has. It’s breaking you down. You’re not yourself” 

She winces, her lips quivers slightly. She pulls her hand away, her eyes dropping to the floor. “How can you say that, Dan? Maybe! Maybe I am out of my mind? It seems very apparent that everyone thinks I am….I just didn’t think you would too Dan!” She explodes, her face red. She’s out of breath at this point, her eyes rimmed with tears. 

No.

No. 

No.

He remembers how her hands touches his, not to hold him, but to pry him away from her. His throat tightens, and he swears he isn’t crying but the drops on his cheeks says otherwise. 

The words still remain in his lips. 

No. 

She doesn’t respond to his text messages. She doesn’t answer his calls. He’s clenching his phone tightly in his hand; his knuckles turning white. He feels the tears start to form in the corner of his eyes. He decides that she’s busy. He knows that’s far from it. 

Dan knew the feelings she felt, so why did he say that?

T h a t. 

He screams out of his window as he drives, his breathing uneven. He finds himself driving to her house. His cheeks are flushed, his heart is beating way too fast for his comfort, he presses his hand against her door. His hand grips onto the doorknob. Dan is taken aback when it’s unlocked. 

He curses under his breath, scenarios running through his head. A burglary? He runs to her room, he searches for her. Eyes scanning, trying his best to find something peculiar - out of place. Nothing. He’s about to leave when he sees her bathroom door left ajar. 

He stops in place. He swears his world is stopping. He clutches his chest and pushes the door open. 

S t o p. 

He finds her lifeless. 

Everything is a blur. 

“Please don’t leave me,” Dan pleads, his grip on her tightens. “I-I’m not that strong. Please come back. Please?” He peers down at her, his voice comes out weak and stiff. 

He feels her against his chest. He’s trying his best to hide the chills that are running through his body. He wonders….does she hear him? Does she hear his cries? 

Come back. 

He presses his head against the crook of her chest and cries. He’s trying his best to hear something - anything. A heartbeat. 

He failed her. 

And all he had left was the corpse of who she was. 

He tells everyone he met an angel once, but tells them she lost her wings. He tells the people he’s mentoring that she flew too high, and that the last time he saw her was on the bathroom floor. The mirror reflective of what happened: broken. 

She took his heart with her. 

Dropped it from where she flew. 

If you love someone set them free.

So he did. 

He really did. He let her go. Understood she must’ve been tormented, but understanding didn’t change how he felt. How he still feels. He had rehearsed his goodbye over and over again. He knew what he would say to her. But no words would be enough to say what he truly felt, his tongue didn’t feel right forming the words that meant she was gone.  

It lingers. It s t I n g s. It breaks him. 

She took the road he couldn’t follow: how he would’ve followed her. Dan would’ve held her for a minute longer. He would’ve convinced her to stay. Stay here with him. 

He knew an angel once. 

He knew an angel. 

He knew. 

[thekingkang]

The Triple Threat

Pairing: Andy x MC

Rating: Everyone

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of these characters. All rights go to pixelberry choices.

Because I have no original ideas, I decided to rewrite the “King Kang” scene from ILITW and give a little more perspective and detail. Enjoy!

—

Lucas’s rambling echoes over the microphone in the auditorium as I sit back in the folding chair and lean my head on Andy’s shoulder. “I love this kid to death,” Andy whispers to me, “but why do we need a twenty minute speech about yearbook pictures?” I link my arm with his and snuggle my chin into his collarbone, inhaling the deep vetiver and pinewood scent from his black bomber jacket and letting my eyes flutter shut. “I don’t know,” I murmur dreamily. “Just whatever you do, don’t get out of this seat. I’m so comfortable...” Andy chuckles softly and reaches up to tuck a stray hair behind my ear. “Don’t worry,” he whispers, cupping my cheek with his free hand. “This is heaven.” I open my eyes to see that our faces are now inches apart, and I stare into his jet-black gaze, mesmerized.

“You are a miracle, Andy Kang,” I say quietly. His lips curl into a smile and he strokes my cheek with his thumb. “I’m all yours,” he replies, before bringing his lips gently to meet mine. The tips of his fingers are warm as they trace down my jaw, and he lightly explores my mouth with his tongue before biting my bottom lip and pulling it gently towards him. I smile into his mouth, and before I know it, I feel him smiling back into mine. Soon we aren’t even kissing anymore; our foreheads pressed together, we simply sit in each other’s embrace as Lucas transitions to the topic of prom committee.

—

“Okay, just hear me out.” Stacy walks briskly alongside me with several shopping bags in one hand and her purse in the other as we make our way though the shopping plaza after school. Her boot heels click on the pavement while she speaks. “There’s no way we’re beating Berry at the basketball game tonight. Have you seen their team?” I nod grimly. “That Caleb guy is a hell of a shot, and he’s basically ten feet tall. I think there’s something in the water over there,” I reply. She groans and slides her purse onto her shoulder, then shifts a few shopping bags into her free hand. “It’s just so unfair,” she says angrily. “I can’t believe they’re keeping Andy on the bench. If Coach would just let him play, he’d wipe the floor with the other team!”

We continue down to the corner of the boulevard and take a left, then head towards the cluster of shops at the end of the street. I remain silent, scuffing my heels on the ground with each step. “I don’t know,” Stacy continues. “Maybe they’re saving him for the game against Hearst high. As, like, our secret weapon or something.” Before she can say anything else, I stop walking and throw my bags to the ground furiously. Stacy takes a few more steps before realizing I’m not beside her, then turns to face me. Her eyes fall to the ground, where my shopping bags lay strewn across the sidewalk, then up to my eyes. Hers are wide with shock and confusion.

“Just stop it, okay?” I snap. I can feel the anger burning in my head and hands, so I clench my fingers. “You know damn well why they won’t put him on the court.” “Hannah,” she says quietly, giving me a pleading look and taking a small step towards me. I back away. “He works so hard, you know?” I say bitterly. “The second time they benched him, he went home and practiced all day and night that weekend, and his hands were so raw at school on Monday that he couldn’t even pick up his pencil. He passed out twice that day from exhaustion. Twice. And for what? Just to be called a faggot, just to be pushed around and laughed at, just to be benched every game of the season. But none of it means anything to those people.” My voice rises with each word; the rage bubbles out of my chest helplessly as I think about everything Andy has been through. “Everyone on the team treats him like crap because he’s a short transgender Asian, and the other guys are too fragile to admit that he has more talent than all of them put together!”

My words ring in the air around us and settle uneasily among the casual chatter of passersby. Stacy’s eyes dart sideways and she lowers her head slightly from embarrassment, so I follow her gaze and notice that my outburst has apparently attracted several stares from other shoppers, a few of whom even decided to cross to the other side of the street. My lip trembles slightly and I sniffle loudly, then lean down to start collecting my bags from the pavement.

After a few moments I feel Stacy’s hands on mine, but my eyes are so blurry with tears that I’m afraid to meet her gaze. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” she says quietly. “I know it’s unfair.” I quickly blink back the tears and gather my bags, then rise to my feet. “I’m sorry for making a scene,” I mumble. She pulls me into a tight hug and rubs my back, holding me closely. “Andy deserves better,” she says softly. “I had no idea that it was this bad.” I pull away from her embrace and hang my head, scowling at the ground, then start to kick a few rocks into the street. For a moment, neither one of us says anything; we just stand on the sidewalk and watch as the autumn breeze carries gold and scarlet leaves across the grass and onto the pavement. Then, Stacy takes my arm and links it through hers. “Let’s go home,” she says firmly. “I think we should relax before the game.”

•••

The gym is almost empty when we arrive. As we walk through the blue double doors to the basketball court, Stacy turns to me and gives me a sideways hug. “I should head to the cheer room,” she says. “Britney’s probably waiting for me. Are you gonna be okay?” I roll my eyes and heave a dramatic sigh, then shoot her a sly grin. “I’ll be fine, Stace. Thanks for taking care of me.” She flashes me a dazzling smile and turns on her heel, her long brunette ponytail swinging behind her as she heads towards the door leading out to the dance hall. “Get em, girl!” I call after her. She flashes me a peace sign over her shoulder and disappears into the hallway.

I turn to look at the bleachers, where a few people sit waiting for the game to start. My eyes skim the rows looking for a familiar face when I recognize Noah, who is sitting by himself on the bottom left-hand corner of the stands, all the way across the gym. “Classic Noah,” I say to myself. As I make my way towards him, he turns to look at me and I see his chest heave with a sigh.

I reach the other side of the gym and stop short in front of him, then ask, “Can I sit here?” He gestures to the bench next to him and says nonchalantly, “Knock yourself out.” I slide into the seat and turn to face him, crossing my legs under me. He hasn’t changed a bit since last year; same shaggy brown hair, same dark-wash jeans, same scuffed white converse. “I haven’t seen you in a while,” I say. He shrugs, and I raise my eyebrows. Without hesitation, I snatch off the beanie he’s wearing and ruffle his hair. “Hey!” He swats at my arms, trying to grab the hat from my hands - I hold it above his head for a while and endure a few playful punches in the arm before I finally give in and pull the beanie messily back onto his head. He takes it off again, smoothes his hair down with his hands, and sets the beanie on the bench next to him. “I see you’re still annoying as ever,” he says irritatedly while still attempting to tame his hair. “And you’re still a jerk,” I retort. He shoots me an angry sideways glance and I attempt to glare back at him, but his mouth creeps into a smile and I burst out laughing. “I really missed you,” I say in between giggles, then uncross my legs and let my feet touch the floor as I lean against his shoulder.

“Are you ready to watch our team lose horribly to Berry?” he asks. I let out a groan as I slouch forward in my seat and prop my elbows on my knees, then rest my chin in my hands. “Can’t wait,” I say, my voice matching his sarcasm. We sit and chat for a while, mostly about our classes and his family. As our conversation dwindles, more students begin to file into the gym and the buzzer lights up as the cheerleaders enter through the side hallway. As soon as I see her, I stand up and shout, “GO STACY!” She looks in my direction and waves, then blows me a kiss before turning back to the squad and grabbing a pair of blue and white pom poms. Soon after the cheer girls get set up in their first formation, the band bursts through the double doors and they form a line, running down past the front row of bleachers and high-fiving students as they make their way to their designated portion of the stands.

Because Noah and I are sitting closest to the exit, the band kids finish their grand entrance and begin to head into the stands without acknowledging us. The drum line starts to play an uplifting beat as the cheerleaders begin their first routine, and pretty soon all of the students are standing up in the bleachers and cheering for our school. “WEST-CHEST-ER! WEST-CHEST-ER!” I glance at Noah, whose face is scrunched up into a grimace. “Remind me why I came to this thing,” he shouts over the noise. I laugh and wrap my arm around his shoulder. “Because I’m your best friend and you love me!” I shout back. He shrugs, but I see the hint of a smile playing across his lips.

The Berry cheerleaders enter though the exit door next to us, marching in a uniform line and clad in red and gold outfits, followed by the Berry band. The group walks in two rows and is led by a tall, dark-skinned boy who carries a giant gold cymbal in each hand, and he gives me a warm smile as he passes by. The cheerleaders begin to form their first position, so the boy in the front blows a whistle and the band comes to a stop in order to make room for the routine. One of the kids who has stopped in front of me leans over to his friend and says, “Hey Aiden, check out the hottie at nine o’clock.” I raise an eyebrow as the boy named Aiden turns to stare at me. His long, dark hair is tucked messily under the red and gold uniform hat, and when I meet his gaze, his eyes widen and his face flushes bright pink. “I...um...didn’t mean to...I mean...you...” he stammers awkwardly, and I can see the other boy stifling his laughter behind him.

“It’s okay,” I reassure him with a sympathetic nod. “But a word of advice? Maybe choose some nicer friends.” He smiles nervously and turns back to face the front of the line. “Aw, Aiden,” his friend wipes a tear from the corner of his eye. “You should’ve seen your face.” Aiden scowls. “Grow up, Michael,” he snaps. “You’re only here because you need service hours.” Michael opens his mouth to argue but before I can hear anything else, the line starts moving again. Noah turns to me with a bewildered expression. “Uh...what just happened?” I shake my head and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Guys are so weird,” I say to myself.

“Welcome to our sixth basketball game of the season,” Principal Flores’ voice rings over the microphone. A hush falls over the crowd and the cheerleaders finish their routines, then stand in a group huddle to listen. “Today, we are going to watch our very own Westchester Wolves go head to head against the Oliver M. Berry Tigers. Please remember, everyone; bad sportsmanship will not be tolerated. You will treat other team members with respect and play a nice, clean game.” Noah snorts, and I elbow him in the ribs. “Now,” she says excitedly. “Who’s ready to see some basketball?” The silence is broken as cheers and hollers erupt from the entire gym, and both teams enter through the double doors on the opposite side. Ben leads our team as the captain and is flanked by our two best offense players, with the rest of the boys following suit. I search their faces desperately and let out a groan when I see that Andy brings up the rear. I throw up my hands and say “Of course!” but my voice is swallowed by the drum line as they begin another cadence.

Once they reach the middle of the floor, both teams stop and turn to face each other and Ben steps forward to shake the Berry team captain’s hand. Andy is fidgeting nervously and shuffling his feet as the captains speak to the referee. “Hey, look,” calls a loud voice from somewhere in the stands behind me. “It’s the triple threat!” Andy turns toward the bleachers and shoots a furious glare over at the person behind me. “Hey!” he shouts, taking a step forward. “Why don’t you come down here and—“ One of our players, Tom, puts a hand on Andy’s chest and he shoves it off angrily. Tom says something to Andy, who in return rolls his eyes and retorts, “Yeah, whatever. I’m fine,” then turns and storms off towards the bench. I groan and bury my face in my hands. Noah leans forward and whispers into my ear, “Okay, this is not looking good,” and I reply in a muffled voice, “You’re telling me.”

•••

Fifteen minutes into the game and we’re already losing by twenty-three points. Caleb Mitchell, Berry’s forward, dunks basket after basket much to the dismay of the Westchester student section. I glance over to where our cheerleaders are forming a pyramid, and as usual Stacy balances delicately atop the mountain of girls, sporting a dazzling smile that gives me a headache; as the buzzer sounds again, I take a deep breath and scan the court for any sign of Andy. My heart sinks when I finally spot him on the bench next to Tom, slouched over with his head buried in his hands. He sits motionless, and Tom leans forward next to him, although it appears neither one of them is talking.

“This is ridiculous,” Noah grumbles next to me. “We don’t stand a chance without Andy. Coach’s stubbornness is just making us look like idiots.” Suddenly I hear an echo of gasps from the audience and my head snaps back towards the game; one of our players has gained control of the ball and begins furiously dribbling down the court towards the hoop to score. Everyone in the stands on either side of me leaps out of their seats and begins shouting and yelling in support of the player, whose jersey reads “6”. Number six sprints nimbly down the court, weaving around hordes of Berry offense and faking a pass that allows him to dodge the post. My heart pounds in my chest and I impulsively stand with the rest of the students to nervously cheer on our team.

“Go, go, go!” I shout to be heard over the peppy drumline cadence and the energetic routine that our cheerleaders have burst into on the sidelines. Six is only a few steps from the free-throw line and he prepares to take the shot when a Berry point guard slams into him from the side, knocking him to the ground. The crowd groans, and Noah leaps out of his seat. “Come on!” He shouts indignantly,

gesturing towards the court. “That’s gotta be a foul!” His voice carries over the commotion on either side of us and the ref shoots Noah a sideways glance before blowing his whistle. Noah throws himself back into his seat and crosses his arms.

“This is bull!” He mumbles. “These guys are playing dirty.” I look over at the benches to see that Andy is pacing in front of his seat. He suddenly turns and furiously kicks the wall, and Tom puts an arm over his shoulder, no doubt in an attempt to console him. I shake my head sadly and look down at my shoes. “This can’t be over fast enough,” I whisper.

Ten minutes later, we’re down another six points and the Westchester school spirit from earlier has basically dissipated into thin air. Ben is now in possession of the ball, but either everyone has stopped watching or no one seems to care because there is no commotion from the crowd as he dribbles down the court towards the basket. I sit up hopefully in my seat and nudge Noah, who has been staring at the floor in silence since our first missed point. Just as Noah lifts his head to look, Ben attempts to dodge a point guard and makes an uncoordinated turn at the last second when he twists his ankle. A sickening crack echoes through the gym as he crumples to the ground.

The audience lets out a groan of horror before Coach blows his whistle and the players head to the sidelines for a time out. “Did you see that?” I hear from behind me. “His ankle just snapped!” The entire gym is buzzing with whispers about Ben. Noah leans forward in his seat and puts his head between his knees. “I think I’m gonna puke,” he moans weakly. I feel the disappointment burning in my chest, but something out of the corner of my eye catches my attention so I follow the movement over to the benches...only to discover that Tom is sitting alone. Realization suddenly dawns on me. “Noah!” I gasp, reaching out to clutch his arm tightly. “What?” He says glumly. I scan the crowd eagerly just to be certain, and sure enough, Coach is standing at the sideline talking to Andy. “I think Andy’s gonna stand in for Ben!”

Noah perks up instantly and searches the room until he spots the two standing together. We watch their conversation with bated breath, and when I see Andy break into a grin, my heart soars. “Oh my god,” Noah says. “They’re putting him in the game.” Coach blows his whistle sharply and Andy jogs over to join the rest of the team, assuming Ben’s position as some sports-med students help Ben off the court and out of the gym. A few murmurs of confusion ripple through the Westchester bleachers. “Wait, they’re putting her in? What about Tom?” As soon as I hear it, my blood starts to boil and without thinking I leap from my seat and shout, “I love you, Andy Kang!” My voice rings throughout the court and almost everyone falls silent from surprise. Andy meets my eyes and shoots me a grateful smile, then turns to the team and claps his hands twice. “Okay, guys,” he says in an authoritative voice. “It’s go time.”

The boys exchange uneasy glances and one even shrugs his shoulders, but Andy doesn’t seem to care because he orders everyone into a huddle and begins calling plays. Some of the members of Berry’s team stare at ours while they talk, partly in shock from what happened to Ben and somewhat in awe of Andy, and everyone in the bleachers, Westchester and Berry students alike, are still so stunned by the events from tonight that we watch our teams silently, almost as if we’re waiting to see what crazy thing is going to happen next. The team breaks about a minute later and Andy gives the referee a curt nod, then gestures for our players to take their positions. Berry’s team snaps out of their trance and the boys immediately start jogging to their places on the court.

Andy steps forward to shake hands with Berry’s captain, then falls into position and waits for the signal. The suspense is practically tangible as the referee holds the basketball above his head, whistle perched between his lips, ready to determine the fate of our basketball team and Andy’s reputation all with a single movement. The cheerleaders and band kids from both schools remain utterly still in anticipation of the ball drop; I can see Stacy watching intently, her mouth hanging slightly open, eyes scrunched tightly like she is prepared for the worst. “Ow,” Noah whispers. I glance down and realize I’m still holding his arm from earlier, only now my fingernails are digging into his skin from the adrenaline. “Sorry,” I say absentmindedly, releasing my grip.

I see the ref take a deep breath and feel my heart skip a beat. Two sharp whistle blasts pierce the silence and I watch the ball fly into the air almost in slow motion.

•••

Three hundred pairs of eyes follow the ball as it arcs upwards, and it’s so quiet that I can almost hear the wind as it rushes through the air. My heart pounds in my throat and I can feel my stomach coiling and writhing from suspense. Time slows almost to a stop as I watch the ball fall down, down, down, and a pair of hands reaches to grab it out of the air, and all of a sudden everything is moving fast, much too quickly to see. All I can make out is a flash of blue and white streaking down the court, and then the sound of the buzzer, startlingly loud and explosive after the deafening silence. My eyes roam the players for a moment, then settle definitively on the scoreboard. Twenty-nine to five.

All of a sudden, cheers and screams erupt all around me as everyone leaps out of their seats. Our band kicks off an upbeat song and the cheerleaders start performing a series of complicated kicks and flips on the front sideline, grinning ear to ear, while the Westchester students begin to chant something. Still slightly dazed, I can’t quite recognize what they’re saying, but the voices grow louder and louder until I hear it: “Andy! Andy! Andy! Andy!” My stomach drops and without a moment’s hesitation I jump off my seat and pull Noah up with me, then join the chanting that continues all around me, shouting “Andy! Andy!” as loudly as my voice will permit. Overcome with emotion, my hands shake slightly as I hold tightly onto Noah’s hand and I feel a hot tear spill over my eyelashes and roll down my cheek.

Once the initial hype settles, the game is smooth sailing. Andy has almost constant possession of the ball, and the buzzer sounds every few minutes like clockwork as he zips past Berry posts and fakes passes left and right. About ten minutes in Coach calls a time out and Andy replaces one of our forwards with Tom, who instantly scores us another three point basket. One of Berry’s defense players passes by Noah and me on his way to get some water and he grumbles, “That guy’s gotta be on steroids.” I shoot Noah a sideways glance before shouting after him, “It’s called talent, maybe you should find some.” Noah barks out a curt laugh despite himself, and I smile so big that it makes my cheeks hurt but I don’t care. My heart is so full of pride and happiness for Andy that it feels like I’ll never stop smiling.

With only thirty seconds left on the clock, we’re neck and neck with Berry - the score reads twenty-nine to twenty-five, meaning that the only way we’ll win is if someone can make the free-throw shot; which wouldn’t be too difficult except for the fact that Caleb Mitchell has had possession of the ball for the past five minutes. I hear shouts of “You got this, Mitchell!” and “It’s almost over!” echoing from the Berry student section, causing my stomach to squirm from anticipation. Our posts pace back and forth in front of the hoop, their hips low to the ground, ready to block the ball, as Caleb dodges Tom’s interception and dribbles furiously while he jogs across the court. “Come on, Andy,” Noah mutters. “What are you doing?” I find Andy lingering towards the back of the group and watching the ball steadily, almost unblinking, as the Berry players pass it back and forth while making a zigzag towards the basket.

Our point guards form a crowd around Caleb as the ball is passed back to him when I notice Andy slowly making his way through the group, concealed by some of our taller players. They subtly shield him by standing shoulder-to-shoulder while keeping their eyes on Caleb. “He’s faking them out,” I whisper to Noah. The Berry students seem to realize it as soon as I do, because a wave of commotion rises up above the noise of the band playing. Caleb has almost reached the free-throw line when the sudden shouting catches him by surprise and he hesitates, turning his head slightly to look back at the court. Andy takes this opportunity to burst to the front of the team on Caleb’s opposite side and knock the ball out of his hands, then spins on his heel and takes off in the opposite direction towards our hoop, dribbling as he runs.

Caleb stands still for a moment, dazed, before turning over his shoulder and sprinting after Andy. Our posts form a tight circle around Berry’s defense and when they attempt to follow Caleb, we close in and block their exit. A few point guards escape and weave through the group to catch up with Andy, but for the most part, both teams are locked together as the forwards fight for the last basket. The entirety of the gym is in an uproar now, screaming and shouting various things at the players while both schools’ bands compete to be heard over the other, and the cheerleaders attempt to motivate each team in the final push of the game. When Andy reaches the free-throw line, there are five seconds left on the clock and Caleb is only a few steps away when Andy squats in preparation to take the shot. Four seconds. “I can’t look,” I groan, my palms moist with sweat, and I begin to feel shaky from all the tension. Noah is squeezing my hand so tightly that his knuckles are turning white. “Come on, come on,” he chants quietly. The band is playing so loudly that I think my ear drums might burst, and when Andy launches the ball out of his hands, Caleb jumps to block it and I flinch. Three seconds. The entire room takes a collective breath in and the band plays their final note as the ball flies; nothing but silence in the stands as we all watch apprehensively.

Caleb’s fingertips lightly brush the ball before it hits the rim, and students all around me gasp in shock. Two seconds. Andy stands completely still under the hoop, eyes locked dead on the ball, while Caleb’s feet hit the ground and he tilts his head back in awe to watch as the ball circles the rim, wobbling precariously and coming dangerously close to falling over the side. I can feel my breath hitch in my throat. One second. Every sound in the room is reduced to a dull pounding in my ears as I stare wide-eyed at the ball, still circling the rim like it’s trying to make up its mind. After what seems like an eternity of torturous spinning, the basketball slows almost to a stop and drops definitively through the hoop, hitting the ground with a thud a split second before the buzzer rings throughout the gym.

I instantly fly out of my seat and sprint across the court, making a beeline for Andy, and when I reach him I jump into his arms and he lifts me up by my waist, spinning me around. Deafening screams ring out from the Westchester stands as Andy brings his lips to mine and I kiss him desperately, tears filling my eyes once more. “I knew you could do it,” I say into his mouth. “I love you so much, Andy.” He sets me down gently and wraps his arms around my neck, grinning as he pulls me in for a tight hug. The other players are jumping around and cheering, giving each other high fives and taking turns shaking hands with Berry’s team. As he presses his chest against mine, I can feel a few droplets fall onto my shoulder and I pull back, holding him at arms length. Still smiling, I see tears streaming down his face. “Don’t cry, Andy,” my voice breaks. “Now I’m gonna cry!” He laughs through the tears and wraps me in another hug as the auditorium breaks out into one final chant: “King Kang! King Kang! King Kang!”