Beyond The Court

8. The Breath We Share

*Kesley's POV*

The moment the final buzzer rings, the gym erupts into chaos. Izzi's team won, of course. They always win, but tonight was different. I saw it in the way she played—like she was fighting something that wasn't on the court. Even from my spot in the stands, I could feel her tension. She scored like she was running from something, driving herself harder than usual. Every time the ball left her hands, I held my breath.

And now, as her team surrounds her, celebrating another victory, something's wrong. For moment she seems to be thinking that's until I see her clutch her chest.

Her breathing is too fast. No one else seems to notice. They're too caught up in the excitement, but I see it. I've seen that look before.

My heart skips a beat. Not now, Izzi.

I watch her make a break for it, slipping through the crowd of teammates and students, her head down, hands clenched into fists. She's trying to hold it together, but I know it's only a matter of time before her body gives out.

Before she can have an asthma attack.

I'm on my feet before I can think, pushing my way through the crowd in the bleachers. No one's paying attention to me—why would they? I'm just one of the girls in the background these days. But I keep moving, weaving through the sea of people until I finally make it to the gym doors. The heavy metal doors swing open, and the cool night air hits me like a shock. It's a relief after the heat and noise inside.

I scan the area quickly, my eyes locking on her almost immediately. She's just outside the gym, leaning against the wall, her hands on top of her head, trying to get air into her lungs.

Damn it, Izzi.

I know I shouldn't. She doesn't want my help. We haven't even spoken in... I don't even know how long. But watching her struggle like that, her body fighting for breath, I can't just stand here. I can't let her deal with this alone.

Without a second thought, I slip my backpack off my shoulder, my fingers already searching for the familiar shape. It's still there, just like it's always been—the inhaler. The one I used to carry for her, back when we were inseparable. Back when we were...everything to each other.

My feet move before I can stop them. I approach slowly, careful not to startle her, but my heart is hammering in my chest. What if she pushes me away? What if she refuses my help?

But then she looks up, her eyes meeting mine, and for a split second, everything else falls away. It's like time slows down. She doesn't say anything, but the way she's looking at me... I can see the fear in her eyes. Fear and something else. Recognition, maybe. Like she's surprised I'm here but not entirely shocked. Almost like she knew I would come. Like a part of her was waiting for me.

"Izzi," I say softly, stepping closer, holding up the inhaler.

She doesn't move, but I can see the relief flicker across her face. She's still struggling, her breaths shallow and ragged, but she doesn't push me away. Her body is trembling, and I know she's on the edge of losing control. This has happened before, too many times to count. But back then, it was easy. I'd be there, and she'd calm down because she trusted me.

Now? I don't know.

"Here." I hold the inhaler out to her, my voice barely above a whisper.

Her hand moves slowly, trembling as she takes it from me. Our fingers brush, and I feel a jolt run through me, like the spark of something we both thought had burned out a long time ago.

For a moment, she just stands there, looking at the inhaler in her hand, like she's processing everything. Like she can't believe I'm actually standing in front of her. I can't believe it either. This wasn't supposed to happen. We were supposed to stay apart. We were supposed to keep pushing each other away.

But here we are.

"Breathe," I say softly, stepping just a little closer. "You know what to do."

She nods, shakily bringing the inhaler to her lips. I watch as she takes a slow, deliberate breath, and I count in my head, the way I used to do when we were younger. One, two, three... She exhales, and I can see her body starting to relax. Just a little, but it's enough.

"You're okay," I murmur. "Just breathe."

Izzi closes her eyes for a second, taking another breath with the inhaler. Her shoulders drop slightly as the medication starts to work, but she still looks... broken. Like everything she's been holding in for so long is finally starting to crack open. And I don't know what to do with that. I don't know how to help her anymore.

But I have to try.

She leans back against the wall, her chest still heaving, but the worst of the attack seems to have passed. I stand there, awkwardly, not sure what to do with my hands, not sure if I should say anything or just...leave. But before I can make a decision, Izzi speaks.

"Why... are you here?" Her voice is hoarse, like it hurts to get the words out.

I swallow hard, suddenly feeling exposed. I didn't expect her to ask that, even though I probably should have.

"I... I saw you," I admit, my voice barely audible. "I saw you run out, and... I knew."

Her eyes flicker with something, but she doesn't say anything. She just stares at me, her breathing still a little uneven but calmer now. There's a silence between us that feels heavy, loaded with all the things we've never said. The air feels thick, charged with the weight of everything we've been avoiding for so long.

"I still..." I hesitate, glancing down at my backpack, at the inhaler she's now clutching in her hand. "I still keep it with me. Just in case."

Izzi's eyes soften, just for a second, and I feel my chest tighten at the sight. She doesn't say thank you—she doesn't have to. There's something in the way she's looking at me that says it all. Something in the way our eyes meet, in the way our hands brushed earlier, in the way I'm standing here now, even though I promised myself I wouldn't get involved again.

But here I am. Here we are.

Without thinking, I reach out, placing a hand on her arm. I expect her to pull away, to flinch, but she doesn't. She just stands there, looking at me, and for the first time in a long time, I see the girl I used to know. The one who trusted me with everything. The one I promised I'd always be there for.

"Izzi..." I whisper, my voice catching in my throat. I don't know what else to say. I don't know if there's anything left to say.

But then, slowly, she nods. Just once. And it feels like something shifts between us. Like we've crossed some invisible line, a line we've been dancing around for years. It's not a full reconciliation. It's not forgiveness. But it's something.

It's enough. For now.

"I should... go," I say, even though I don't want to. I start to pull my hand away, but she catches it, her grip firm but gentle. She doesn't say anything, just looks at me with those dark, tired eyes. The eyes that used to be so full of life.

"Stay... just for a minute," she says quietly, her voice still strained.

And so I stay. Just for a minute. Just for her.