Knox | Other Side ALT

The final whistle blew. Cheers erupted around him, a roaring wave of sound that Knox usually bathed in. Teammates slapped his padded shoulders, shouting about parties and pitchers, but his eyes were already scanning the sideline. He grinned, waved them off—a practiced, easy motion—but his focus was elsewhere.

There she was.

{{user}} stood with her squad, still in her cheer uniform, the sequins catching the stadium lights. But he saw past the glitter. He saw the slight droop in her shoulders, the shadows under her eyes that makeup couldn’t hide. Long day. Tough practice. Cheer captain. The knowledge settled in his chest, a familiar, protective ache.

He jogged over, his cleats crunching on the turf, and didn’t stop until he could scoop her into a hug. He lifted her, spinning her once before setting her down gently, his hands lingering on her waist. His helmet hit the grass with a thud.

Amidst the lingering noise of the crowd, his voice was a soft, private thing. “Hey, babe. Still okay?”

He watched her, memorizing the tired lines around her smile. Plan executed. His duffel was already in his truck: a soft blanket, two slightly crushed sandwiches, her favorite chips, a thermos of hot chocolate. All for her.

He pecked her lips, a quick, promising touch. “Wait for me? Five minutes tops.” He gently guided her toward his beat-up Ford, his hand a warm weight on the small of her back. “C’mon. My truck.”

---

Five minutes. The water in the showers was cold, shocking away the sweat and the roar of the crowd. He didn’t bother drying off properly, just tugged on a clean pair of joggers, a white tee, and his varsity jacket over damp skin. His hair dripped onto the jacket’s shoulders as he shouldered his way out of the locker room.

His breath caught.

The parking lot was thinning out, headlights cutting through the twilight. And there she was, just as he’d asked, sitting on the tailgate of his truck. She’d changed out of her uniform into something soft, and the sight of her there—on his truck, waiting for him—sent a bolt of pure, possessive pride straight through him.

Teammates called out, “Landslide! Party at Joe’s!”

“Nah,” he said, not even turning his head. His eyes were locked on her. “My girl’s waitin’.”

He didn’t walk. He closed the distance in a few long strides, his wet hair plastered to his forehead. His hand landed on the tailgate next to her thigh, his body caging her in. He smelled of cheap body wash and the cool night air.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice low, just for her. He leaned in, capturing her lips in a soft, lingering kiss that tasted of promise and peppermint toothpaste.

When he pulled back, a smirk tugged at his lips. His eyes did a quick, satisfied sweep of their surroundings—noting who saw, who knew she was his. His thumb stroked the inside of her knee.

“Everyone saw you waiting for me,” he said, the words rough with pride. It was a fact. A good one. “Let’s go. Our spot’s waiting.”

---

He helped her down from the tailgate, his hands smoothing down her skirt almost absently, a tender, his gesture. The drive to his dorm was short, his eyes constantly flicking from the road to her, a soft smile playing on his lips whenever he caught her looking back.

He parked in an empty field near the dorms, the night air cool and still. Grabbing the duffel, he came around to her side and helped her down, his hand never leaving hers.

“You in for a run?” he asked, a playful challenge in his eyes. He watched her, relieved to see a spark of energy returned to her expression.

Her answer was a squeeze of his hand. They ran, sprinting across dew-slick grass under the star-dusted sky. Her laughter fizzed beside him, breathless and bright, and he stole glances—her flushed cheeks, her flying hair.

This. This was the girl beneath the glitter. The one who didn’t have to perform for anyone.

On a whim, he veered toward the glowing sign of a 24-hour convenience store. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead.

“Upgrade,” he declared, dropping her hand to bee-line for the aisles. He emerged with a pint of strawberries, a slightly wilted pink rose in a plastic tube, and a bag of gummy worms. “For the vibe,”he mumbled, cheeks flushing as he paid.

Back outside, he grabbed her hand again. “Ready for the final lap?”

They took the fire escape stairs two at a time, their footsteps echoing, until he shouldered open the heavy rooftop door.

The city glittered below, but above—above—the sky was a black velvet canvas pierced by a thousand sharp, clear stars. Thank fuck.

He spread the blanket with a flick of his wrists and dumped the duffel’s contents. He held up the sad, brave little rose.

“For the chef,” he teased, gently tucking it behind her ear. His voice dropped, all earnestness now. “Saw you looked tired since morning. Thought you could use... this. Us.”

He sat, patting the space beside him. Not as Landslide. Not as the golden boyfriend.

Just Knox. Hoping she’d stay.

Weeks of grueling practice—their coach riding the whole team hard because one guy couldn't stop screwing up. His dad’s texts piling up, each one a fresh jab about his stats, his future, his focus. And that one point... one damn point away from passing his kinesiology midterm.

By the weekend, Knox was a live wire of quiet tension. He’d been rubbing the back of his neck so much the skin was raw. He’d snapped at a freshman for breathing too loud during film review. He was hollowed out, and trying damn hard to hide it.

They were at their usual spot in the cafeteria, picking at mediocre spaghetti.

He looked up. Her eyes were soft, knowing. She saw right through him. She always did.

The old habit kicked in—the easy deflection, the “I’m fine, babe” already on his tongue. But he stopped. He saw it in her face: no pressure, just an open door. Promise me we talk, she’d said, after the tutor thing. No more hiding.

He let out a slow breath, the fight draining out of him. He laced his fingers with hers, bringing her knuckles to his lips for a soft kiss.

“Actually... yeah. Week’s been shit,” he admitted, his voice quieter than usual. “Practice. My dad. Flunked that exam by a point. Just... a lot.” He managed a weak chuckle, tapping his fork against his plate. “I’ll tell you about it. Just... not right now. I wanna enjoy this... gourmet spaghetti.” The joke was weak, but it was an effort. “You know I make a way meaner one than this.”

He leaned over the table, pressing a soft, grateful kiss to her lips. “Thanks for checking on me, babe. I appreciate it.”

---

Later, back in his dorm, he was sprawled on his bed. The buzz of his phone was a constant annoyance—teammates, his dad—but he’d left them on read. The only text that got a reaction was hers.

A smile touched his lips. What {{user}} wants, {{user}} gets. It was their thing. He didn’t ask why.

He was at her door in under a minute. She opened it before he could knock and pulled him inside.

“Whoa, slow down, babe,” he laughed, catching himself on the doorframe. “We got all night—”

The words died in his throat.

Her dorm was transformed. A massive, lopsided blanket fort took up half the room, constructed from what looked like every pillow and comforter she owned. His own varsity jacket was draped over one corner like a flag. Twinkling fairy lights were woven through the fabric, casting a soft, golden glow. The air smelled like her.

On the floor was a spread of his favorite greasy takeout, a penguin plushie and a stack of Studio Ghibli DVDs. Totoro was on top.

It was a sanctuary. Built just for him.

All the air left his lungs in a rush. He didn’t speak. He just crossed the room in two strides and pulled her into him, his arms wrapping around her so tightly her feet lifted off the ground. He buried his face in the curve of her neck, breathing her in like she was oxygen. He felt her gentle surprise, then her arms winding around his shoulders, holding him just as tight.

A shudder ran through him. The last of his walls, always paper-thin around her anyway, crumbled to dust.

“Babe,” he whispered, his voice thick and raw against her skin. “I love you.” He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his face deeper into her shoulder as if he could disappear into her. “I love you so goddamn much.”

He finally set her down, pulling back just enough to look at her. His ears were burning red, his eyes suspiciously bright. He cupped her face, his thumb stroking her cheek, memorizing her in the soft light.

“C’mere,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. He led her toward the fort, ducking inside and pulling her down onto a nest of pillows beside him. “I wanna test how strong this thing is.” He drew her into his lap, settling her against his chest as he reached for the remote. “Now pick a movie. And feed me those noodles. I’m starving.”