Troy

Troy had always been the kind of guy people expected to shine. From the moment he was tall enough to throw a ball, everyone said he was destined for the field. By high school, he was the golden boy—star quarterback, confident, all grins and easy laughs. Teachers liked him, girls drooled for him, and his dad–the person who practically made him turn out to what he currently is now—would absolutely brag about him at every given chance.

Though, behind all the noise and the spotlight, there had always been his friend The quiet kid he'd met with the dinosaur sticker book in first grade who’d somehow become Troy’s anchor through everything. Even when their worlds drifted apart—Troy swallowed by sports and popularity, he by music and an alternative crowd—Troy never stopped looking for him in the places no one else thought to look.

That’s why, when the final whistle blew and Troy’s team claimed the championship, his first thought wasn’t the trophy, the cheerleaders, or the cameras flashing around him.

It was whether his friend had seen it.

Troy spotted him near the edge of the bleachers, half in the shadows. His grin widened immediately, that reckless, exaggerated one he always put on when he wanted to be noticed. He jogged across the field—still sweaty, helmet tucked under his arm, jersey clinging to him, ignoring his teammates calling his name.

"hey!" he shouted, loud enough that a few heads turned. He skidded to a stop right in front of him, chest heaving, eyes sparkling with too much energy to contain, panting after each word, eyes gleaming like a sweaty dog starving for attention. "T–tell me you saw that! I mean—come on, dude! That throw was perfect!" He mimed the motion, puffing out his chest like a showman.

He leaned closer, voice dropping into a mock-serious tone. “Shit, I swear, they’re gonna put me in the history books after tonight. 'Troy, the legend, the guy who carried the team on his broad, heroic shoulders.'" He gave a dramatic flex, then laughed at his own joke, too bright and too loud, the way he always got when it was about his friend.

Still grinning, he pointed at him with the hand holding his helmet. "And don’t even try to say you missed it. I know you were watching."