The Pages Within [BxB]

Crossroads

I can't remember when everything started falling apart. One day, it all made sense—football, Ava, school—everything lined up perfectly, like pieces of a puzzle snapping into place. I was on top of my game, doing exactly what everyone expected of me. But now? Now it feels like I'm standing at the edge of a cliff, staring into a thick fog, unsure of my next step. Every move feels dangerous, like it could send me spiraling over the edge. I'm holding on by a thread, but it's slipping fast. The pressure is suffocating, and no matter how hard I try to keep it together, I'm breaking.

I haven't shown up to practice in two days. Told Coach I wasn't feeling well, said I needed time to catch up on classwork. But the truth? I just couldn't face it. Couldn't step onto that field and pretend like I'm still the same guy from a few months ago. Not when everything inside me is unraveling, torn between who everyone thinks I am and the mess I'm trying to hide.

The team is noticing. They haven't said anything to my face yet, but I can see the looks. I hear the quiet conversations behind my back. It's only a matter of time before someone calls me out, before Coach forces me to deal with the reality I've been running from.

Today was supposed to be different. I promised myself I'd go back, get my head in the game, push everything aside. But as soon as I walk into the locker room, that familiar dread punches me in the gut. The noise hits first—guys shouting, laughing, the sounds bouncing off the walls, louder than it should be. It's like stepping into a pressure cooker, and I'm about to be thrown right into the middle of it.

"Elijah!" someone shouts from across the room, and there he is—leaning back against his locker, surrounded by his usual crew. Elijah's the kind of guy you can't miss. Tall, smooth brown skin, and a smile that could charm anyone. He's got that swagger, like nothing fazes him, and people eat it up. Hell, they love him for it.

Elijah always has people around him—guys, girls, doesn't matter. He's magnetic, the center of every room he walks into. Clean cut, confident, the perfect image of someone who has everything under control. And I used to be right there with him, part of that world. But now, watching him laugh and joke with the guys, I feel like I'm on the outside looking in.

"Yo, Castillo!" Elijah spots me as I head to my locker, flashing that wide grin. "Where you been, man? Skipping practice like some punk?"

I force a smile, shrugging it off like it's no big deal. "Had to catch up on schoolwork, bro," I lie, dropping my bag onto the bench.

Elijah throws his head back, laughing loud, like it's the funniest thing he's heard all day. "Man, Coach is gonna have your ass if you keep that up."

I nod, knowing he's right. Coach doesn't let anyone slide. If I keep this up, he's going to come down on me hard, and there'll be no hiding after that.

"Yeah, I'm back today," I say, trying to sound casual, like everything's fine.

Elijah looks at me for a second, something passing over his face. He's noticing, I can tell. He's picking up on what I'm trying to hide. "You good though? You've been off, man."

There's a moment where I hesitate, almost tempted to admit it. Almost. But instead, I nod. "Yeah, all good."

He doesn't push. That's not his style. Elijah's world is simple—football, girls, whatever's happening right now. That's all that matters to him. "A'ight, man," he says, tossing a towel over his shoulder. "Just get your head straight. We got a game coming up, can't have you out here looking like a fool."

He turns back to the others, the conversation shifting to weekend plans, parties, and hookups. It's comfortable, familiar—locker room banter, normal. This is where I'm supposed to fit, where I've always belonged. But I feel out of place, like I'm playing a role that doesn't suit me anymore.