My Star || Delta x Dante fanfic

☆ Chapter 33 - Rematch

Delta’s POV

No messages. The screen stayed dark.

I checked once, then again. Then I told myself to stop but the phone was already in my hand, thumb hovering where Dante’s name sat in my contacts. Unopened. Silent.

I wasn’t waiting. That was what I told myself. I was being aware. Monitoring, staying informed. Those were reasonable, necessary things. There was a difference, a very clear one.

Training continued.

The stadium echoed with the familiar rhythm of launches and impacts, metal and plastic colliding in sharp, controlled bursts of sound. The air smelled faintly of dust and friction- heated stadium floor, overworked launchers.

“Three… two… one- Let it rip!!”

Launch. Spin. Impact.

Devolos hit the stadium floor like he belonged there. No hesitation. No imbalance. His rotation was clean, aggressive, and perfectly centered. Each movement responded precisely to my adjustments, as if he already knew what I wanted before I finished the thought.

Stronger. Sharper. Calmer.

The upgrade had done more than reinforce his structure. It stabilized him, anchoring him. Like he’d found his center and locked onto it without doubt. I envied that.

Between drills, my hand drifted back to my pocket on instinct alone, still nothing.

Pheng noticed first. For a jokester, he’s quite observant. “You know,” he said casually, not even looking up as he adjusted his launcher, “if you keep doing that, you’re gonna wear a hole straight through your pocket.”

“I’m fine,” I replied immediately. Too fast.

Arman glanced at me from the other side of the stadium. He didn’t say anything- just watched, eyes sharp, thoughtful. That somehow felt worse than Pheng’s comment.

I turned my focus back to Devolos, but my thoughts slipped anyway.

Trust him.

Devolos’s voice echoed in my mind, calm and unwavering, like it always was when he spoke of Dante.

I exhaled slowly through my nose and forced my hand away from my pocket.

Dante wasn’t fragile. He wasn’t a child who needed supervision or constant reassurance. If he wanted space, then I would respect that. I’d always respected strength and Dante had more of it than he realized.

That didn’t mean I’d stay silent.

I stepped away from the others, the stadium noise dulling slightly as distance grew. My phone was already in my hand when I stopped. I unlocked it, opened the messages.

Typed.

Deleted.

Typed again.

Haven’t heard from you.

I’m trusting you’re okay.

I stared at the words. Direct, neutral, and honest. No accusation. No concern spelled out too clearly.

I hesitated, then added another line.

My battle with Arthur is tomorrow.

My thumb hovered over the send button.

I stared at the message for a moment longer than necessary before sending it. No pressure. No demands. Just information. If Dante read it, he’d know. If he didn’t… then he didn’t.