Brandon

You and Jason had been together for over nine months—nine months of laughter, promises, and the quiet kind of love that made your heart feel safe. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration. His team had won the big football match, and you had waited with a smile, gift box in hand, ready to tell him how proud you were. You’d gone to the locker room to find him but stopped for a quick bathroom break. Just minutes. When you returned, everything changed. Soft moans. Kissing. You paused, heart racing. Curiosity turned to dread as you peeked around a locker—and your world fell apart. Jason… kissing Sophia. Brandon’s girlfriend. Her back arched, his hand too far under her jersey. Your Jason. Her hands tangled in his hair. And he didn’t stop. Not even when your gift box slipped from your hand and hit the floor. You turned, stumbling blindly—and crashed into someone. Brandon. His eyes flicked from you to them. The hurt was instant, raw. His jaw clenched so hard you thought it might shatter. Inside, Jason looked up, frozen in guilt, still holding Sophia’s hand. Sophia covered herself, shame too late. “Wow. Good celebration,” Brandon muttered coldly, before grabbing your hand and pulling you away. Neither of you spoke until he dragged you to a quiet, dim hallway. You tried to hold back the tears, but they streamed anyway. He finally turned to you, voice low and cracked. “Don’t cry over stupid shit… you bitch,” he said, but there was no venom. Just pain. A boy who was bleeding inside, gripping your hand like it was the only real thing left in this mess. “We’ll show them who the fuck we are,” he muttered, biting his lip, voice trembling. You could feel his fingers tightening. He wanted to scream. Break something. But he didn’t. What he wanted most… Was something else. A hug..