close enough, lynn loud

14, kryptonite

Today marked the day your first cheerleading practice would begin. You didn't know what to expect.

When you entered the gym, you were met with a tense but welcoming energy. Everyone seemingly forgetting about your tryouts fiasco. A few girls even say hi to you, a couple kids from Royal Woods middle school that you used to tutor, and some that you've worked with on school projects.

Luckily, training was straightforward. Stretching and warm-ups. They started teaching the classic routine that would be performed on games, which was easy enough to follow. The hour passed by quickly without you feeling as tired as you anticipated.

You make your way to the bathroom to change out of your sweaty clothes when you hear whispering from outside your stall.

"—got beat up!" you hear someone exclaim.

"No way?" another voice chimed in.

"Someone sent me a video." You hear shuffling of feet and rustling of bags from outside the stall. "It looks like the girl's football teams locker room."

Girl's football team? You were on edge now. You were truly hoping it wasn't what your gut was telling you to believe. Feeling the hairs on your arms stand and the beat of your heart quicken.

"How do you know what the girl's locker room looks like?" the second voice questioned.

"Uh, no reason," the first girl coughed out. "Just watch."

You hear clicking of a video playing, hearing the slamming of lockers and loud shouts from the incoherent audio. You've ceased moving completely, straining your ears to hear better, your senses on fire.

"Who is that?" the other voice asked, curiosity bursting through the seams.

You hear faint grunting and screaming from the audio.

"Isn't that Kiley Kennedy?" the other girl confirms.

Your heart drops. Reciting the same plea in your head, hoping the next name isn't who you think it is. Please, please, please.

"And... Lynn Loud!"

-

For the first time in her life, Lynn was holding back.

Not in practice, not in games, never in competitions does Lynn Loud Jr. hold back. She gives her all, her hundred percent, her whole being into everything she does. How else would she win if she didn't?

It was simple logic. Literal and common sense: to give your best so you won't regret the outcome. Go big or go home has been one of the many sayings that have defined her existence. Never would you catch her choosing the latter.

That being said, Lynn Loud was fighting the urge not to hold back right now. From the very moment she's left your car this morning, she's prayed to each and every God that existed that she would not run into Kiley fucking Kennedy. Because if she did, Lynn didn't know if she could manage holding back.

The universe granted her wish for most of the day. Not seeing her throughout lunch, and thankfully no classes with each other. Slowly but surely, Lynn had started to calm down, managing to keep her temper in check.

Unfortunately, the universe had other plans.

"She said yes." Lynn hears the blonde's voice gloat from behind her. She could feel the arrogance laced in those three lone words.

Lynn's fingers tightened around the edge of her locker. She fought the urge to slam it shut, instead choosing to organize it—anything to keep herself busy, to keep herself from losing it. Her breath came out in a deep, frustrated sigh.

Alya, the team captain, had been sensing tense energy from Lynn all of practice but had chosen to ignore it in hopes of ending the day with a productive and fruitful practice. Alya couldn't have been more wrong.

"Seriously? Man, you really can get anyone, huh?" A second voice from behind Lynn replies, flattery evident.

Kiley chuckles, clearly reveling in the attention before continuing, thoroughly emphasizing the next words that would come out of her mouth. "Oh, yeah. Actually, I was wondering if you could grant me your blessing, Lynn."

The locker room went completely still. Lynn shuts her eyes closed, further suppressing the burning, raging vexation she felt for the girl. She reminded herself why she didn't search for Kiley all of class, why she refrained from pushing her during training, and why Lynn was constantly choosing to control her emotions. For you, she would try.

But Kiley knew where to push and prod, and she knew exactly where it would hurt.

"Loud? You there?" The teasing tone felt like it was right up her ear. Crawling under her skin and infecting her every thought.

Lynn felt movement from her left.

"Kie, cut it out," Alya warned, her usual humorous voice nowhere to be found.

A beat passes.

"Relax, cap. Just jokes," Kiley replies, her grating voice sounding like sirens ringing in her ears.

Lynn was trembling, knuckles turning white, practically about to crush her locker doors handle if she kept going at this rate.

"I guess I shouldn't be asking you. After all, you don't own her." The blonde walked closer and whispered, her tone dripping with venom. "Face it... she chose me."

The words hit Lynn like a slap, and any thought of holding back evaporated in an instant.

-

You burst through the bathroom stall, ignoring the shocked gasps that came from the two girls that were gossiping just now. You pull out your phone to shoot a quick text to Lynn.

(Y/N)<3
lynn
where are you??
are you okay?
why did i hear you and kiley got in a fight?
delivered 5:44 PM

All three of your calls go unanswered. Heart racing, you head to the football field, hoping she's still there. Every step is tense, your mind running a mile a minute, turning corners, scanning hallways as you make your way toward the football field. You don't get there because when you reach the parking lot, it's there that you spot her.

Lynn was leaning against your car, a hand pressed to her forehead and her backpack hanging from one shoulder. You sprint towards her, panic rising, desperate to see if she's okay.

It's only when you stand before her do you realize you're out of breath, chest heaving from the sprint.

"Lynn," you gasp, barely able to get the word out.

Her eyes meet yours, lifting slowly. You notice the wounds instantly—one a deep cut on her left cheek, another darkening across her forehead. Without thinking, your hand moves to touch the cut, a reflex of concern. You scan her body, looking for other injuries. She wasn't limping; she doesn't seem to be struggling to breathe, but there's a large bruise forming on her upper arm.

The urge to scold her nearly overwhelms you. Why would she get into a fight? The thought is driving you to the edge, seeing her like this. But when you meet her eyes—those glistening green eyes in the dim light of the parking lot—you bite back the words. Green eyes half-lidded, face expression less, posture hunched.

Your heart melts. She looks exhausted.

"Are you okay, El?" The question comes out weaker than you expect.

You watch as her walls crumble, her eyes flickering with something like shame, her lips trembling. Gently, you place a hand on her cheek, brushing over the cut before leading her to the passenger seat.

At home, you guide her upstairs to your room and into your bathroom, sitting her on the sink counter. You rush to get the first aid kit you knew you had stored in your upper drawer. You never knew you would actually need it, much less on Lynn. But here you were.

Your mind is scrambling to remember the first aid training your class was forced to learn back in junior year. She watches you quietly as you work.

You want to ask so many things to demand answers, but how could you? She fought Kiley because of you.

"Stay here," you tell her, and run downstairs to grab an ice pack.

The house is silent. Lights out and quiet; with your parents gone, it's just you and Lynn. You open the fridge, the light stark in the darkness of the kitchen. You grab an old bag of frozen peas your father never ended up using. It'll have to do.

You rush back upstairs, pushing the cold bag into her hand and ordering her to hold it against the bruise on her arm. Then, you go about cleaning and dressing the wounds on her face, carefully taking your time to follow each step you could recall, even though your mind was spinning.

You tuck her hair behind her ear to get a better look at the bruise on her forehead. You tilt her head left and right, up and down. Under the harsh light of the bathroom, the injuries look worse.

"Why didn't you go to the clinic?" you whispered, you can't help but let out a groan as you gently clean the wounds with warm soap and water. The action makes her hiss.

You meet her gaze for a brief moment, giving her a silent you did this to yourself look.

She chuckles softly, her lips curling despite the pain. "Closed. I just wanted to go home." she replied, fidgeting with the bag of peas.

You look up at her and sigh. You suppose you're glad she waited for you instead of going off alone to who knows where.

As you finish dabbing ointment and wrapping the wounds in gauze, her gaze never leaves you. You try to focus, but her eyes—those eyes—make it hard to think straight. You catch her glancing at your lips, and suddenly the air feels thick and heavy.

In this small, quiet bathroom, with only the sound of her soft breathing, the space between you two feels charged. Electric.

She's so close. With you between her thighs and nothing in the way, nothing could stop you. She was less than a foot away, her face close enough to... If you wanted to, if you even dared to, it would be so easy to kiss her. Right here, right now.

Her skin is smooth against your fingers, her breath warm against the back of your hand, and her eyes a deeper shade of green. Not as dazzling as when they reflect like jewels in the sunlight, yet still utterly mesmerizing.

Her lips—fuck, her lips—look even more tempting, parted and glossy from her licking it a few seconds before. You realize then that you were shaking.

A hand reaches up to cup your working one against the uninjured part of her face to steady its trembling. It's warm, you think. Her hand is against yours, and your eyes lock. You try to say something, anything, but nothing comes.

She whispers your name, sounding so good coming from her lips. Your heart is beating out of your chest, and it almost hurts. Her voice—soft, delicate—makes you shiver. Your tongue flicks out, licking your lips, and her gaze follows, something unreadable in her eyes.

"Yeah?" you manage to breathe out, barely finding your voice.

"Thank you." Her words are quiet, sincere, and the calmness in her expression makes your heart race.

"O-okay," you stutter, fighting the rush of emotions surging inside you.

Then she flashes you that perfect, beautiful smile of hers that will forever be the death of you.

Moving on was gonna be harder than you thought.

-

idk what i jus did tbh. please feel free to comment your thoughts, good and bad. i truly appreciate and read each and every one😭 if you've made it this far, thank u so much! and to all the loyal ones that keep coming back, i appreciate u so much! hope u all have a nice day!