The locker room smelled like sweat.
Nick tugged the clean jeans over his hips, zipped up, then pulled a plain black hoodie over his head.
The bruises on his ribs throbbed in dull waves, but the ache felt good… like proof he didn't give up and actually chose to try today rather than get bullied.
It was a start.
He raked damp black hair back with his fingers, checked the mirror once, and decided that was it.
This game avatar didn't need hair products.
"Heh. Looks good as alwa—"
A heavy palm hit his back.
"Goddamn, pretty boy!"
"You sent my ass flying like crazy. Good shit."
It was his teammates who tried to "kill" him.
Another slap but lighter, from the kicker.
"Insane arm, bro. Welcome to the show."
Random hands kept finding his back.
Guys he barely knew grinned like they'd been brothers forever. Nick didn't have words ready; he just flashed the small, crooked smile that always worked when he didn't know what to say.
It seemed to be enough.
