The bully's redemption

The locker room felt suffocating.

Water dripped rhythmically from a distant pipe, its echoes bouncing off cold walls. The air hung heavy with sweat and silence, broken only by the scrape of a bench as Gilbert shifted slightly. Damon stood near the lockers, arms crossed, his eyes darting to Xavier, whose looming figure seemed to absorb all the light.

Xavier sat on the bench, head bowed, his bruised knuckles resting loosely against his knees. Dried blood cracked faintly against his skin. He flexed his fingers absently, his gaze vacant—except it wasn't really. It was caught somewhere else, somewhere darker.

"Monster."

The word echoed, sharp and relentless, carving its way through his thoughts like a blade. He could see her face so clearly—Kamsi's wide, shocked eyes, the way her lips trembled as the word left them. It wasn't the accusation that gutted him; it was the disbelief, the fear lingering in her expression.

His jaw tensed, and the vein at his temple throbbed.

"Bro, you don't have to leave." Gilbert's calm voice cut through the silence, almost cautious. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he studied Xavier's impassive face. "Just apologize. You can avoid the punishment. Two weeks suspension is bad enough, but you're missing the next game too."

Xavier exhaled slowly through his nose, his chest rising and falling like a storm barely held back. His silence answered for him.

Damon pushed off the lockers, his frustration palpable. "Xavier, seriously? Top schools are sending scouts to the next game! Do you know what you're sacrificing?" His voice rose, sharp-edged and urgent.

Xavier didn't move. His eyes lifted only slightly, like a predator uninterested in prey. "I don't regret it."

Damon threw up his hands. "Unbelievable." He let out a bitter laugh, pacing the narrow space. "All because of your pride?"

Gilbert's brows furrowed as he tried again, his tone softer now. "Listen, man. Jimmy's parents are lawyers. They threatened to sue— sue the school. That's the only reason they're coming down so hard on you. Apologize, and maybe the benching gets lifted."

Xavier's head turned slightly, his eyes finding Gilbert's. Something flickered there—a moment of hesitation before it vanished, buried beneath his usual mask.

"You don't get it," Xavier muttered, his voice low but jagged. He straightened slowly, his movements deliberate. The leather of his jacket creaked as he rose to his full height, the tension in his shoulders impossible to miss. "He deserved it."

"Did he?" Damon challenged, stepping closer. His voice was sharp now, edged with disbelief. "Or are you just hiding behind that excuse? What the hell's gotten into you?"

Xavier's eyes snapped to him, dark and unreadable. For a moment, the air seemed to vibrate with something dangerous, as if a storm might break at any second. His lips curled faintly—not quite a smile, but something colder.

"What would you have done if someone talked about your sister like that?" Xavier said quietly, his voice like a blade dragged over stone.

Damon froze. His expression faltered, the fire in his eyes dimming just enough for Xavier to see it.

The room fell silent again.

Gilbert exhaled heavily, his disappointment clear. "You're not just losing the game, Xavier. You're losing everything you've worked for. Think about that before it's too late."

Xavier slung his duffel bag over his shoulder, his movements rough, a sharp contrast to the stoic mask he wore. He walked to the door without a word, his steps slow, deliberate—like a man carrying a weight no one else could see.

Just before he pushed the door open, he paused, his back still to them.

"I've thought about it," he said, his voice soft but firm. "And I'd do it again."

Then he disappeared into the hallway, leaving Damon and Gilbert standing in the quiet.

Damon sank onto the bench with a frustrated groan, running a hand through his hair. "He's out of control," he muttered.

Gilbert shook his head, his gaze lingering on the spot where Xavier had stood. "No. He's just… angry," Gilbert said quietly, as if speaking the words aloud might bring clarity. "At everything."

The water kept dripping.

Xavier strode down the hall with his usual confidence, his backpack slung carelessly over one shoulder. The air around him seemed to part, as if the crowd instinctively made way for his presence. His steps were measured, almost deliberate, as if the rhythm of the school day could bend to his will. Kamsi stood at the side, leaning against the lockers, her fingers unconsciously tracing the cold metal. Her eyes locked on him the moment he entered her line of sight.

There was an unspoken tension between them now—one that wasn't there before. She knew it. He knew it. But neither acknowledged it.

Their gazes met for a fleeting moment, but Xavier's face remained as indifferent as the stone-cold expression that had become his shield. He didn't even slow down, his pace steady and unwavering. Kamsi's breath hitched, a flicker of something dark passing through her chest. Was it disappointment? Regret? A dull ache she couldn't quite place?

For a second, there was a brief hesitation in his step, a subtle shift of his posture as if he might break the silence with something—anything—but then it was gone. Xavier didn't acknowledge her, his eyes sliding past hers with calculated ease. He dismissed her without a glance, as if she were just another face in the crowd.

Kamsi's heart twisted, but she didn't flinch. She told herself not to care. He had made his choice, hadn't he? Yet her hands clenched by her sides, nails digging into her palms. Her thoughts raced, darting from the harshness of their last interaction to the crushing weight of her own words. "Monster." She hadn't meant it, not really, but now the memory of the way it had rolled off her tongue stung like an open wound.

The hallway seemed to narrow around her, the buzz of conversation fading into a muffled hum. Xavier's retreating figure only amplified the distance between them, leaving her feeling smaller, insignificant.

Did he even care?The question gnawed at her, pulling at the edge of her composure. She wanted to yell, to chase after him, to demand an answer, but something held her back. Maybe it was pride. Maybe it was fear. Either way, her feet stayed planted firmly against the cold tiles.

And then, just as she thought she would crumble under the weight of his indifference, something stirred inside her—something unfamiliar. Was this what it felt like to regret? To be on the other side of his cold, emotionless gaze?

Kamsi shook her head slightly, as if trying to shake off the feelings threatening to overwhelm her. But Xavier's indifference was like a weight, pressing on her chest, making it hard to breathe.

The echo of his footsteps faded into silence, leaving her standing alone in the hall, a small drop of water tracing the curve of her cheek—silent, unnoticed.

Kamsi's fingers loosened their grip on the locker, her shoulders slumping as she watched him disappear around the corner. She didn't chase him. She didn't know what she would have said. But a small, almost imperceptible ache settled in her chest, one that she wasn't ready to face just yet.