Chris wasn't supposed to care.
He told himself that again and again as he sat at the edge of the bench, his fists clenched so tight the veins in his arms were starting to show.
He wasn't supposed to care.
Not when she played like fire. Not when she taunted him with every pass, every shot, every furious glance that screamed, Look what you lost.
But then she fell.
And something in him cracked.
It wasn't the way she hit the ground. It was the silence that followed. The kind of silence that doesn't belong in a basketball court — it belongs in hospitals and heartbreaks and funerals.
He stood up before he could stop himself.
"Raven?"
She didn't answer.
The coach rushed in. Her teammates crowded. Someone called her name again, but her eyes were unfocused — like she wasn't here. Like her body was on the court, but her heart had shut the lights off.
Chris took a step forward.
Then another.
"You okay?" he asked — voice low, barely a whisper.
She blinked, slow. "Why do you care?"
The words hit him like a free throw to the chest. But she didn't wait for a response. She stood up on her own, brushing everyone off like the fall hadn't shaken her, like her knees weren't trembling from more than just the impact.
"I said I'm fine," she snapped, walking off.
Chris couldn't breathe right.
This was the same girl who used to whisper jokes during warm-ups. Who'd sneak him food from her lunchbox. Who kissed the back of his hand when no one was looking.
And now—she wouldn't even look him in the eye.
Later, when the match ended and everyone was leaving — laughing, stretching, shouting about who owed who a soda — he lingered behind. Pretended to fix his shoes. Waited until she walked past.
But Raven didn't stop.
"Hey," he said, grabbing her wrist.
She froze.
"Let go."
"Raven, wait—"
"No, you wait."
Her voice trembled. "You don't get to grab me like that. Not after you disappeared. Not after you shattered me and made me feel like I was the reason."
His hand dropped.
"You never even told me why," she whispered. "Why did you leave after my birthday? Why did you throw everything away like it was disposable?"
Chris didn't answer right away.
Because this was the moment he'd been running from for over a year. All the silence, all the excuses, all the fake smiles — they were just walls around one truth he never had the guts to admit.
"I was scared," he said finally.
She blinked. "Of what?"
"Of loving you too much."
Raven laughed, cold and cruel. "You don't run away from love."
"No, you don't. But I did. Because I didn't think I deserved you. Because I thought one day you'd wake up and realise I was just a phase."
Tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them away.
"So instead you made me feel like the phase."
"I know," he said, voice raw. "And I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."
She stared at him, like she was trying to see if the apology was real. If he was real.
And for the first time in months — maybe even years — Chris looked like the boy she once loved. Vulnerable. Cracked open. No defence. No pride.
Just a boy who messed up. And finally admitted it.
But she didn't say anything back.
She just walked away, slowly, leaving him with nothing but the sound of her footsteps and the weight of his own guilt.
And for the first time...
Chris didn't chase her.
But he turned around and whispered to no one—
"I still love you."