AVA'S POV
"Three. Two. One."
The music starts and the cheerleading team starts repeating behind me. It's afternoon when we decide to practice for an upcoming performance. My legs ache from the endless drills, but I push through, letting the rhythm of the music drown out the noise in my head. It's better this way—staying busy, staying distracted.
I count the beats, my movements automatic as the routine flows from memory. The synchronized stomps of sneakers on the polished floor echo through the space, sharp and precise. Every jump, every spin, every clap feels like a tether, pulling me back to solid ground, back to control. This is where I don't have to think, where I don't have to feel anything except the burn in my muscles and the pulse of the music.
"Focus, Aera," My voice cuts through the music, sharp and commanding when Aera stumbles and breaks the rhythm, her footwork slightly offbeat. She looks at me, wide-eyed, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment as the rest of the team falters for a brief second.
"Just because you're the captain doesn't mean you have to be so harsh," Aera snaps, her voice trembling but steady enough to land. The gym falls silent, the music still echoing faintly against the walls. The team exchanges glances, unsure if they should step in or let the tension unravel.
I blink, caught off guard. "Excuse me?" Aera's never challenged me like this before. She knows well not to get on my bad side, know how tightly I hold the reins, how carefully I keep the threads of this team woven together. But today, there's something different in her—some small spark of defiance that flickers in her eyes, daring me to push back.
"I said, you're being harsh," Se repeats, louder this time, her voice trembling less, her stance firmer. She squares her shoulders as though she's bracing for impact, for me to tear her apart in front of everyone. "You don't get to—" But I'm already grabbing her hand, pulling her outside before she can finish the sentence.
The gym doors slam shut behind us, muffling the echoes of the music and the murmur of curious whispers from the team. The hallway feels colder, quieter, the fluorescent lights casting harsh reflections on the polished floor. "What the hell are you doing?"
She jerks her hand away, her eyes blazing. "What am I doing? What are you doing? Treating us like we're machines, like we're not allowed to mess up. It's not fair." Her words spill out in a rush, unfiltered and sharp, and I feel them hit like tiny shards of glass. "We get it. You're the best at this, but that doesn't mean you get to treat us like we're beneath you. We're a team, not a bunch of props to make you look good."
The words hang between us, electric and volatile. My jaw tightens as I resist the urge to snap back, to unleash all the frustration bubbling under my skin. "This isn't about working hard, Aera, is it?" But I still hit her right where it hurts. "It's about your inferiority complex making you lash out at me." The words spill out before I can stop them, sharp and cutting, leaving no room for softness.
Her eyes widen, just a fraction, like I've struck a nerve. But then her jaw clenches, and the fire in her gaze flares even brighter, fierce enough to burn. "Don't you dare," She hisses, stepping closer, her voice trembling with anger. "Don't you dare make this about me, like I'm the only one with something to prove."
"No, but you are," I snap, my voice rising despite the small part of me that's telling me to back off, to stop before it spirals any further. "You're the one who started smoking even though you claimed those who did were just looking for attention. Why? Because I smoke. Because you thought if you could match me, maybe then you'd feel like you finally belong. Like you could catch up."
