The ball is hitting the polished floor, echoing sharply inside the quiet covered court. Dylan is alone, sweat dripping down his forehead as he plays basketball, trying to shake off the heavy thoughts crowding his mind. His hands move fast, gripping the ball tightly; each bounce a small release from the tension building inside him.
Unnoticed by Dylan, a familiar silhouette appears near the entrance of the court. Stephanie—his girlfriend—stands quietly in the dim light filtering through the metal roof. She has an effortless beauty that draws attention without effort: long, flowing hair that gently frames her face, eyes that hold a mix of warmth and strength, and a confident stance that is both graceful and undeniably sexy. Her casual outfit complements her natural glow, softening the sterile atmosphere of the empty court.
She doesn't rush to call his name. Instead, she watches him in silence, a gentle smile tugging at her lips, fully aware that he needs this moment. After a while, she quietly turns and walks over to the bench where Dylan's things are. Sitting down, she rests her hands on her lap, content to wait—present, calm, and patient.
After tiring himself out from playing, Dylan immediately headed to where Stephanie was. He was breathless, practically drenched in sweat, by the time he reached his girlfriend.
Stephanie handed him a towel to wipe off his sweat, along with a bottled water already waiting on the bench.
"I've been calling you but you didn't answer. I even went to your house, but you weren't there," Stephanie said, her lips slightly pouting, as if silently expressing a hint of frustration. "So I figured maybe you were here—and turns out, I was right."
"Sorry, babe. I'm just not in a good headspace these days. Everything just feels overwhelming, and I think I need some time to myself." Dylan replied.
He paused briefly, his tone flat as he continued, "Oh, and I forgot to mention—I've decided to stay at my apartment from now on. I just think it's for the best right now."
As he said this, Dylan peeled off his varsity T-shirt, revealing skin glistening with sweat.
He took the towel Stephanie handed him and wiped his face before grabbing his water bottle. As he tilted it to drink, Stephanie's eyes were drawn to the hypnotic movement of his Adam's apple rising and falling with every gulp. Water trickled down from the corners of his mouth, trailing down his chiseled neck and onto his sculpted chest, highlighting every defined muscle.
Standing tall at about 185 cm, his lean yet powerful frame radiated raw masculinity—those six-pack abs clearly etched from hours of hard work and dedication, tempting and impossible to ignore.
Stephanie was frozen, breath caught in her throat, utterly captivated by the sight before her. It wasn't just the way he looked; it was the raw, unguarded moment that made her pulse quicken.
The way the water dripped, the subtle flex of his muscles with each movement—it was like watching a living sculpture come to life. For a few seconds, she forgot everything else, lost in a silent admiration that bordered on awe and desire. Dylan, unaware of her gaze, continued drinking, but Stephanie's mind raced, caught in a moment she never wanted to end.
As Dylan finished drinking and started packing up, Stephanie quickly snapped back to reality.
After getting lost in her imagination, concern quickly replaced the look on her face.
"What happened?" she asked.
Dylan continued organizing his things and changed into a fresh shirt.
"Is this about your dad again?"
He paused mid-movement and let out a heavy sigh.
"Is there any other reason?" he muttered.
"What did your dad do this time that pissed you off?" Stephanie asked gently.
Dylan sat on the bench and leaned back against the wall.
"He came home—with his girlfriend. You know how much I hate him already, right? And now he brought her to the house. Worst part? They're actually staying there. And if that's not enough—" Dylan's voice cracked with bitterness, "—they're getting married soon."
His voice was irritated, and his hands gripped the edge of the bench tightly. His brows were furrowed in anger.
Stephanie sat beside him before speaking again—her voice calm, but firm, like a soft lecture.
"So what's your plan now? Don't tell me you're not enrolling again this year? Classes start next week, and you haven't even signed up. You've been doing nothing for a year now. Aren't you getting tired of just staying home? Your friends and I are graduating from senior high this year. You're already a year behind."
"Doing nothing? Who said I've been doing nothing? I help my cousin out with the business sometimes. And besides, school isn't a race. Honestly, I've been thinking about starting my own business instead," Dylan replied.
"And don't worry. I'll enroll this year. But I might transfer to a different school."
"What?" Stephanie turned to him with a frown. "Where would you even go?"
"I don't know yet. I'll figure it out," Dylan answered casually.
"But you're the varsity captain at your school," she reminded him.
"I've been out of the scene for a year. I don't even know if I can keep up with the team anymore. Besides, Jake and Cholo are still there. I know they can handle it."
Dylan began gathering his things, ready to leave.
"Don't be mad anymore," he said as he gently pinched Stephanie's cheek.
"Let's grab dinner, then I'll drive you home," he added.
Stephanie smiled and nodded, her irritation quickly melting away in agreement.
---
The two ended up at a small restaurant just outside the city—one of those casual spots with dim lights, wooden tables, and the faint smell of grilled food in the air. The chatter of other customers blended with the soft music playing in the background, creating an oddly comforting atmosphere.
Stephanie ordered her usual—pasta and iced tea—while Dylan went for a hefty serving of burger steak and rice. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until the plate was placed in front of him.
For a while, they ate in silence. Stephanie twirled her fork absentmindedly, occasionally glancing at Dylan. He kept his head low, focusing on his food as though chewing could silence the noise in his mind.
Finally, Stephanie spoke.
"You know," she said softly, "I don't mind you having your own space at the apartment. But... I feel like you're slowly drifting away. Like you're trying to shut everyone out—including me."
Dylan paused mid-bite, his fork hovering just above his plate. He set it down, sighing.
"I'm not shutting you out. I just... I don't want to drag you into my problems. You have your own life, your own future. I don't want you weighed down by my mess."
"That's the thing, Dylan." Stephanie leaned forward, her voice firmer now. "Being with you means I want to share that weight. If you keep pushing me out, then what am I even here for?"
Her words struck something in him. He looked into her eyes—clear, unwavering, demanding honesty. For a moment, Dylan wanted to confess everything—the anger he felt toward his father, the fear of failure, the gnawing thought that he was wasting his life. But the words wouldn't come.
Instead, he forced a small smile. "I'm just trying to figure things out, babe. That's all."
Stephanie wasn't fully convinced, but she let it slide. She reached across the table, brushing her fingers against his.
"Then promise me one thing. Promise me you won't run away from school again."
Dylan met her gaze. "I promise."
---
After having dinner with his girlfriend, Dylan headed straight to his apartment. He quietly walked in, leaving his keys on the small table by the door. With a deep sigh, he made his way to the bathroom.
Soon, the sound of running water echoed as it cascaded down his hair and shoulders. He closed his eyes, letting the cold stream wash away the weight of the day. When he was done, he reached for a towel and slowly dried himself before finally stepping out of the bathroom.
He lay down on the bed, the cool blanket brushing against his skin. For a moment, he stared silently at the ceiling before closing his eyes, allowing exhaustion to pull him under.
But just before sleep could claim him, an important thought suddenly surfaced. Dylan's eyes fluttered open slightly. He reached for the phone on his bedside table and, without hesitation, dialed a number.
"Hey Nic, how have you been?" Dylan greeted warmly over the phone. "It's been a while since we last talked."
"I just found out that I actually need to enroll this year," he said, his voice carrying a hint of urgency. "Can you help me get into your school? I know you've got some connections there, and maybe you can still hook me up even if I'm kinda late with enrollment."
"I honestly don't mind which class or section I get placed in," he added. "I'll leave all that up to you. The most important thing for me is just to be able to enroll."
Nicole teased playfully, "Wow, you finally decided to reach out! And of course, you call me only when you need a favor. I was starting to think you forgot I exist, haha."
Dylan laughed. "Yeah, sorry about that. But thanks, Nic. I really need your help."
Nicole smiled. "Alright, alright. I'll handle it. You can leave it to me."
"Thanks, Nicole. I really appreciate it. Don't worry, I'll make it up to you when we finally meet at school," Dylan said warmly.
"HMP!" Nicole exclaimed teasingly before ending the call.
Nicole has been Dylan's classmate and childhood friend ever since they were in grade school. Since Nicole is the daughter of the dean at her current school, Dylan is confident that she can help him get admitted without much hassle.
After finishing his call with Nicole, Dylan suddenly felt awake and alert. He got up from where he was resting, walked over to his computer, and logged into an online game.
For the past year, Dylan hasn't been attending school. Aside from helping out with his cousin's small business, most of his time is spent immersed in computer games, escaping from reality.
But tonight felt different.
Now that he had a real shot at enrolling again, Dylan found himself thinking about what it would be like to be back in school — a new environment, new classmates, maybe even a fresh start. He didn't want to admit it out loud, but part of him was actually looking forward to it.
So he played until the sky turned pale outside his window. One last night of gaming. One last escape — before everything started to change.