Oasis
Part 2
Request: Yes or No
Divider by cafekitsune!
CW/TW: Violence, mentioned homophobia
~~~
"I know I was only gone a week, but it feels like I missed out on so many things."
The irritating thing about being friends with an ex was that once you were within each other's vicinity, everyone automatically assumed it meant the relationship had resumed.
It'd become routine to hear murmurs and whispers that he and Nunu were back together simply because they'd occasionally hang out alone in the halls or common rooms, never mind the fact that they remained at arm's length in an attempt to prevent the assumptions.
"Like, Diego and Roque?"
Nunu's short brown bob swayed with a shake of her head, the water nearly spilling from her open bottle when she made a vague, confused motion with her hands. Passing athletes glanced at them with small smiles, like they were watching a real-life romance movie play out.
"When did that happen?"
"No clue," (Y/N) replied, his head tilted back to watch the fluorescent lights overhead whilst they strolled down the hallway, the day's practice catching up to him and making his body feel as if someone stacked multiple weight plates on his shoulders. "One day, he just started talking about the fucker like he was god. He can't be that good in bed. He's a swimmer, though, so I bet he probably gives good enough head. You know, since he can hold his breath-"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Nunu slapped his arm playfully, a laugh falling from her lips and her cheeks reddening slightly. "I got it."
Nunu was the typical girl-next-door type: sweet, generous, and approachable with a shiny smile always on her face that could coax anyone into blabbering about their life story.
Her sweetness earned her the love of her fellow swimmers and a permanent spot in Amaia's heart, but it didn't make her any better at her sport. She was too casual about it, too laid back, and if she wasn't careful, she'd end up packing her things just like Cristian.
"Is Amaia okay? She seemed, I don't know..."
Nunu screwed the cap back on her bottle after finishing it and tossed it into the recycling bin when they passed by it, her lips twisting with a small frown. The corners of his mouth quirked.
Nunu wasn't Nunu if she wasn't thinking about swimming or Amaia's wellbeing.
"She didn't want me getting in the water with her today. I know I missed a week and- and the federation will be picking a duo for the duet, but come on. We're supposed to be a team."
"Nunu, you left for a week and barely responded to any of us. I mean, where'd you even go? Nobody leaves the center for a week because of a bad shoulder. Hell, nobody leaves for a broken bone. We've got nurses and doctors here, yet you get hurt and disappear?"
(Y/N) turned his head downward to look at his ex-girlfriend, but Nunu continued to stare forward, her jaw lightly moving as she rubbed her lips together.
She shook her head again, this time more faintly, and crossed her arms over her chest in childish defiance. "I'm here now, aren't I? I-I'm ready to do better, and I feel better. That's what should matter." She gave a little huff and turned her head to the side.
"That doesn't answer my question, Núria-"
"Joder." Nunu hissed softly, abruptly stopping by the glass panels of the main gym.
With training done for the day and dinner already having been served, most athletes were heading off to bed, spending time with their friends, or getting a few last workouts in.
It wasn't unusual to see Sebas and Charlie in the gym at a late hour; what was unusual was them hovering over one of the weight benches with taunting sneers.
He noticed the braids hanging over the bench and followed them up until he spotted Zoe's wincing face, a vein popping up along her temple when Charlie slid another weight onto the barbell her trembling arms were already struggling to hold up.
Bitter rivalries were usually between athletes competing in the same sport. They were competitive enough that they often led to someone getting hurt to prove a point or in hopes of remaining in the spot of their coach's favorite.
When it came to championships, rivalries ramped up, but with the Olympo sponsorships only choosing three athletes, it looked like the rivalries had spilled over to different sports, with Zoe having a permanent target on her back as the first one chosen.
(Y/N) himself couldn't understand it. It was her first day, and from what he'd heard, she hadn't even been that good in training... yet she'd been given an Olympo sponsorship by Hugo Teixeira. It was ridiculous. It made Olympo look like a joke. It made everyone else look like failures.
Nunu entered the gym swiftly, her lithe figure allowing her footsteps to be so gentle they were barely audible. "Now that Cristian's been kicked out, who do you think is going to be next, Sebas?" Nunu questioned sharply, her fingers curling into fists at her sides as she came to a stop a couple of feet away from them.
Sebas's head lifted to peer over his shoulder, his lips pursing in annoyance when his eyes landed on Nunu before his face fell slack into a neutral expression once he noticed (Y/N) beside her.
A desert and an oasis, Roque had said. He looked more like a little boy with a wounded pride to (Y/N).
Sebas took a small step back from Zoe and dropped his gaze onto the floor, seemingly opting out of a retort, but tilted his body to block them from reaching Zoe.
"Nah," (Y/N) drawled, his mouth curling into a smirk. "I think el pequeñito's going to be next, Nunu. Just look at him."
(Y/N) made a point of slowly casting his eyes over Charlie's shorter structure, all the way from his bleached blonde hair to his grass-stained shoes. Charlie fidgeted.
"Some luck you must have to still be here, Lago."
"Careful, (Y/N)," Charlie cooed, one finger pressing down on the barbell and eliciting a grunt from Zoe. His jaw flexed irritably despite the smile on his face. "I might start thinking you have a crush on me, and I'm sorry to say, but you're not my type, tío."
"I'd gouge out my eyes before ever looking at you naked."
(Y/N) cringed at the very idea, and Sebas huffed out a small laugh before he could stop himself. His eyes flickered up to meet (Y/N)'s, slightly widened, and the tips of his ears turned a light red.
"Are you two really that miserable at rugby that some chick from track is a threat to you? That's fucking pathetic. Why don't you quit already and spare us the humiliation when you cost us the game in Italy?"
Charlie's finger lifted off the barbell and clicked his tongue like a disappointed father. "C'mon, (Y/N), don't be like that."
With a roll of his eyes, (Y/N) strode forward, his focus on Zoe's trembling arms. They managed to lift the barbell a little higher, but the added weights kept her from lifting it high enough to put the barbell safely back in its place without the risk of her arms giving out.
Sebas's bare shoulder and collarbone blocked his view, his skin still gleaming with sweat from all the time he spent out in the sun. (Y/N) lifted his gaze and finally took note of the constellation of freckles scattered across his cheeks and nose.
Sebas was... obnoxiously pretty. (Y/N) never noticed that before.
Long lashes, big, dark brown eyes that were almost black-looking, wavy dark hair that reached down to the nape of his neck, naturally pinkish lips, sun-kissed skin from consistent time in the sun.
There were subtle tan lines on his biceps where the sleeves of his jersey typically ended, less noticeable on the bicep with the tattoo of the dove nestled amongst flowers.
"Why are you defending her?" Sebas asked, his voice low and seeped with genuine confusion instead of whiny annoyance like Charlie. He frowned, as if (Y/N) helping Zoe was a personal betrayal of some sort. "You don't know her. She's a nobody."
"Sebas, tell me you actually have a brain in this little head of yours, 'cause sometimes you make me wonder how you even managed to graduate high school, tío."
(Y/N) reached up, tapping his fingertip twice on Sebas's temple, and finding himself surprised when Sebas didn't immediately tilt his head away from his touch. His hand dropped to Sebas's shoulder, where he squeezed until the rugby player winced.
"Make fun of her, torment her, tease her, I don't really give a shit. You lay a hand on her, and it'll be Hugo you'll be answering to, not Isabel."
Using the hand on Sebas's shoulder, (Y/N) shoved him hard enough for his feet to stumble back out of his way. He walked around the bench toward where Charlie stood and grabbed one of the plates they had added to the end of the barbell.
He let it drop to the floor with a heavy thump and chuckled under his breath when Charlie just barely managed to jump back before his foot could get pinned beneath the plate. Charlie scowled at him and motioned for him and Sebas to get going.
"Are you okay?" Nunu asked once the other plate came off, and Zoe could set the barbell back into place.
"Of course not!" Zoe panted, twisting around to ensure the two had left before she slumped back on the bench and rubbed a hand over her sweat-covered forehead. "I don't know why anyone's here, unable to leave, unable to drink, unable to meet anyone. This obsession with winning- winning what? Who cares if you can run this way or jump that way?"
Nunu smiled, amused and a hint sympathetically. "I already told you, this place is a zoo. HPC is a bit like a cage. A cage with sharks, serpents, vultures.. but disguised with perfect bodies, claro. If they see you alone, they'll go after you. But if you have someone, this place is a fantasy. It happened to me when I met my best friend. My sister. She's... the love of my life." Her eyes flickered to (Y/N). "Sin ofender."
"None taken, Nunu. Amaia's the love of all our lives."
(Y/N) flashed a grin at her before he bent his knees and braced his hands against them to peer down at Zoe. Her eyes jumped to him, squinting with slight suspicion.
"You want my advice, tía? Make yourself a shark, a serpent, or a vulture, find a pack to watch your back, or get the hell out of here. You know what they say, if you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen. What Sebas and Charlie did is just the tip of the iceberg, sweetheart."
With a clenched jaw and flaring nostrils, Zoe got up from the bench and shoved past him, her footsteps heavy when she tossed the glass door open.
"I'm not your fucking sweetheart." She spat over her shoulder and proceeded to storm down the hallway, her hands curling into tight balls and her head shaking like she was cursing under her breath.
(Y/N)'s head rolled to the side, unbothered by the outburst. "If only she had that energy with Charlie and Sebas. They would've backed off without us getting involved."
"You just happen to bring out the worst in people, (Y/N)." Nunu's arms curled around his, her cheek pressing against his shoulder. "It's your best talent."
"Yeah," (Y/N) itched for something to smoke. "Ma says I get it from my grandfather."
It only took fifteen minutes into another stroll around the center before they were interrupted again, this time by Fatima urging Nunu to speak to Amaia as she led them to the pool.
"She's been at it for hours, Nunu. And Svetlana knows nothing about it. I mean, look!"
Fatima led the way through the hallways, one of which overlooked the pool where they could see Amaia sitting at the pool's edge, tapping a metal pole and watching one of the swimmers go through the routine.
"She's testing all of us to replace you. How can she do this to you?"
(Y/N) opted to sit with Cristian and Roque, whom he assumed Fatima tracked down first before she went looking for him and Nunu. He plopped down beside Roque, and the rudby star lifted himself off his elbows to instead lie fully on his back with his head on (Y/N)'s lap.
Cristian failing at deterring Amaia wasn't surprising. She was his kyrponite. But Roque almost always managed to talk some common sense into her when she spiraled.
"Hey."
(Y/N) lifted his head to look at Zoe, and she pursed her lips when he arched a brow. She dropped her bags on the elevated stage a few inches above the pool and sat beside him with her arms propped up on her knees.
"I'm staying. I'll find a pack or.. become a serpent or whatever."
"It'll be your funeral, then."
"What he means to say is," Roque smiled at her, sweet and apologetic. "Welcome to HPC."
Nunu's voice echoed across the pool area when she spoke, "Is everyone trying out for the duet except for me or what?"
Her voice held a sharper edge than usual, and Amaia was quick to hop up onto her feet and meet her dormmate halfway. Nunu held Amaia's gaze as she unzipped her jacket and tossed it aside, before peeling her shoes and shorts off.
"Put on the music."
Truthfully, (Y/N) couldn't say he understood much about synchronized swimming, but he knew the amount of effort that went into it from watching Amaia. They had to have the strength to launch themselves out of the water and push against the water to do their dance moves, as well as have the ability to hold their breath for long periods.
Most of the time, their routines looked like a bunch of flailing to him.
Nunu went through the routine, launching and moving around the water with impressive speed before she held herself upside down while kicking her legs and spinning multiple times. She surfaced right when the music ended and gasped for air, but Amaia still looked uncertain.
"Happy?" She asked through heavy panting, peeling the nose clip off. Her brows briefly tightened in a wince.
Amaia pursed her lips. "Those spins are sad, Nunu. It's not at Olympic level." Nunu stared at her, dumbfounded, and still panting as if she'd run a marathon. "You're already tired? Well, shit, girl. I thought you'd last a little longer."
It was taunting, it was mocking, but favoritism never did anyone any favors. Amaia would never run the risk of being made out to be a fool in front of her mother and the judges.
"You want Olympic level?"
Nunu slipped her nose clip back on, and the boys immediately tensed. Roque pushed himself up into a sitting position, and Zoe turned her head to stare at them, aghast by their lack of initiative, but there was nothing they could do but watch.
Nunu and Amaia were equally stubborn and willing to do just about anything to prove themselves, even if it meant dancing on a tightrope that could land them in the infirmary for multiple days.
Amaia picked up the long metal pole and sat back down at the pool's edge, slipping the pole into the water. "Give me ten flying leg spins, and then we'll know if you're at my level." She instructed and gave the pole one loud tap.
Nunu pushed herself backward and pointed her legs up so they'd be above water while she was submerged. Amaia began the quick, rhythmic, metallic tapping, and Nunu's legs moved with each tap. She spun in circles, swung her legs in splits, and kicked her legs, all while holding her breath.
Coach Svetlana entered the room, her narrowed eyes locked on Nunu's form, but her mouth remained drawn shut. The rest of the swimmers exchanged horrified and gobsmacked looks.
"She's at what? Eleven?" Roque's lips pulled into a proud grin.
(Y/N) hummed. "Amaia's record is ten. You can bet she's going to spend the rest of her time trying to get to twelve or thirteen, just to get her record back."
Nunu continued, one flying leg spin, and then another, before her legs dipped beneath the water. They waited for her to resurface, to poke her head out of the water with an elated smile at her achievement, but her body moved with the little waves she'd created. Limply.
The metal pole fell from Amaia's hand, and she sprang up in position, her knees tight to her chest and hands braced along the edge. She waited a beat and then dove into the pool with a perfect enough form that it barely made a splash. The bright red of her swimsuit moved quickly through the water, darting forward like a seal at sea.
White noise filled the space between (Y/N)'s ears, and he barely registered Zoe tossing her phone aside and diving into the pool until his eyes flickered to her body swimming beneath the surface, distorted by the little waves.
He remained in his spot, motionless, frozen with frazzled uncertainty. Roque had to reach down and haul him onto his feet for him to finally blink.
Cristian almost toppled over into the pool in his haste to stand up, his brows scrunching together so tight (Y/N) thought he was going to burst into tears again. His breaths came out in short, panicked huffs, the bottom of his sneakers slapping along the stage until he hopped off it, once again nearly falling.
Zoe managed to get to Nunu first, but she dipped beneath the water from the added weight that only became more bearable when Amaia relieved some of it.
Svetlana spun around to look at her frozen athletes, her tight blonde ponytail swishing through the air and nearly grazing her flushed face. "Someone get the doctors! Now!"
There was nothing (Y/N) despised more than feeling out of control, whether it was with himself or the world around him. It made his skin itch, made his heart constrict until he felt breathless and weak, and it left him feeling aimless, even when he knew there were things that needed to be done that his brain simply refused to do.
He hated it. He needed to be in constant reassurance of himself, in constant control of every aspect of his life.
It was why he hesitated letting people in.
People were unpredictable variables. There was no way to know what they were thinking, what they were planning, what they were genuinely feeling. He couldn't read their minds or puppeteer them into acting a certain way to ensure things always happened how he wanted them to.
All he could do was observe and predict.
But no amount of observing could've predicted Nunu's accident in the pool. He had no idea how to react, what to do, other than watch the doctors wheel her away on a stretcher with Amaia chasing after them in tears.
He needed something to take the edge off— a fight, a little weed, stuffing his mouth with food until he vomited, or sex. His options were limited. Fatima and Roque would be too preoccupied worrying about Nunu, and he hardly felt like seeing who was attracted to him enough to ignore his reputation and the rumors surrounding him.
Gunter would need time to get him junk food and weed from the real world, and-
His eyes flickered up from the floor of the hallway at the sight of quick movement further down. There was Diego, his fists clenched and swinging at his sides, his head angled toward the hallway that led to the locker rooms.
(Y/N) let out a little breath and quickened his pace. A fight would do. It was precisely what he needed to get his mind to calm from the hurricane it was spinning.
He reached the doorway leading into the locker room just in time to catch Diego crossing the distance between him and Roque, one fist flying forward and connecting with the center of Roque's face hard enough for him to stagger back and fall against the bottom of the lockers.
Charlie, surprisingly, leaped between them, hands outstretched to keep them separated.
Sebas spotted (Y/N) and shook his head rapidly, strands of his hair falling over his face. "(Y/N), don't-"
Diego barely had time to process (Y/N)'s presence before the boxer returned the favor in the form of a punch, one that had Diego crying out in a half-yelp, half-groan of pain.
The force left his body twisting and his feet tangling up, forcing him to collide with the floor with a wheezy cry. Droplets of blood dripped onto the recently cleaned tiles, just as blood leaked from Roque's nose a few feet away.
(Y/N) could've stopped there, but he always found a little thrill in putting genuine fear in others to keep them in their place. Nunu always chastised him for being a bully, but there was a hierarchy to be maintained and enforced.
Diego was nowhere near the top of the food chain, and he needed to remember that.
The rest of the rugby team stood by with grimaces and winces, but nobody bothered to jump to Diego's defense as Charlie had done for Roque. Diego wasn't one of them, not worth sticking their necks out for an outsider who'd attacked one of their own.
They merely muttered their disapproval when the bottom of (Y/N)'s shoe collided with Diego's shoulder, shoving him back onto the floor when he tried to sit up until he was completely on his stomach. They remained in their spots like statues, like cowards.
"(Y/N)," Roque rasped from his spot on the floor, watery eyes staring at him pleadingly. Charlie offered him a roll of toilet paper, and he took it, pressing it against his nose with a soft grunt and brows drawn together in pain. "That's enough, man. Please.."
"Y-Yeah, tío, I mean, look at his nose." Charlie released a strangled, nervous chuckle, his hand outstretched toward (Y/N) like he was trying to calm a rabid animal. "It's fucked up. Joder, (Y/N), you probably broke-"
(Y/N)'s eyes shot up. "You wanna be next?"
Charlie kept his mouth shut after that.
(Y/N) ripped a washcloth from the hands of one of the nearby players and reached down, wrapping the towel around Diego's neck. The murmuring grew louder, protests and pleas to stop filling the locker room, followed by sharp curses and looks of cringed concern when
(Y/N) pulled on the towel and lifted Diego's chest an inch or two from the floor he'd stained with the blood dripping down his chin. (Y/N) pressed his foot harder into Diego's shoulder and smirked at the wheeze that followed.
"Who do you think you are, Sorokov? You think you're hot shit, for what? Swimming?"
(Y/N) felt a little delirious as he wondered how far he could take it before someone finally had the guts to intervene. Diego's face darkened with red, and a vein popped along his forehead when (Y/N) tugged a little harder and further forced his head to tilt back.
"If you die, at least you'll become a somebody. Keep breathing and you'll stay a useless nobody forever."
There was the familiar squeak of sneakers walking down the hallway. "What's all that noise?" A voice called out, one (Y/N) recognized immediately.
Swiftly, (Y/N) released one end of the washcloth and stepped back from the freestyle swimmer. Diego slumped back on the floor with a strangled cough, and the exhales of relief echoed.
(Y/N) casually swung the washcloth around his shoulders and held the ends of it again, his lips stretching out into a smile when Coach Gonzalo stepped under the doorway. His steely, almost gray eyes fell onto Diego, and then flickered toward Roque.
"Diego had a nasty fall, Gonz," (Y/N) blew a raspberry in feigned displeasure. "The floors are pretty slippery. Worth mentioning to Isabel or the janitors, don't you think, Coach?"
Gonzalo pursed his lips, the skepticism heavy on his brow, but he only let out a heavy sigh. "Yeah, sure. Get to the infirmary, Diego." He rubbed a fingertip between his brows and squeezed his eyes shut. "You're late for training, (Y/N). Move your ass."
(Y/N) nodded and waited for Gonzalo to disappear down the hallway before he crouched down by Diego and cupped the underside of his chin. A small teardrop slid from the corner of his eye, and (Y/N) snorted, thumping it until the salty drop became a wet smear on his sweating face.
"In a few years, you'll simply be another name in the center's records because you failed at doing the one thing you're good at," (Y/N) told him, pressing the washcloth to Diego's nose and watching his body jerk with pain before his hand flew to hold the washcloth. "The only thing you'll have done of note here is.. getting the locker room floor dirty with your blood in front of half the rugby team."
"(Y/N)," Roque grunted. "Enough."
"There's a lesson to be learnt here, Diego." (Y/N) squeezed the bridge of Diego's nose and listened to the semi-muffled grunt. Roque squeezed his eyes shut in defeat. "Don't dish out what you can't take, you stupid fuck."
Rising off his hunches, (Y/N) stepped over Diego to get to Roque and reached down to grasp his biceps, pulling him up onto his unsteady feet.
Roque's squinted, glazed with salty tears gaze remained locked on his ex's trembling form. The sympathy and worry made (Y/N)'s blood boil, his fingers digging into Roque's flesh until it turned a soft red.
"Don't even think about apologizing to him, Roque." (Y/N) hissed quietly, to which Roque dipped his head like a scolded child, and then turned to Charlie. "Since you've been such a good sport, why don't you help him to the infirmary?"
"Y-Yeah, of course, come on, Roque." Charlie almost tripped over his feet to place a hand on Roque's back and lead him out of the locker room.
(Y/N) dropped his attention back onto Diego as the blond dragged himself up to sit, his hand still clutching the washcloth to his nose and staining the light blue fabric with his blood.
"I really needed that, Diego." He reached down, roughly patting the exact spot his shoe had been digging into. Diego winced, his shoulder naturally twitching away to escape his touch. "Thanks for being such a little bitch."
The locker room fell into quiet chatter once he stepped back into the hallway, and he finally took a look at his knuckles. Raw, throbbing, and prickling with pain. It was a feeling he was used to.
He'd have to open another pack of bandages, though, and risk a lecture from the nurses when he popped by to nab a few from them.
(Y/N) approached the nearest water fountain and pushed on the bar so he could dip his knuckles beneath the cold water, cleaning them of blood splatters and hoping it'd help tame any inflammation.
His mind felt steadier, less occupied by rushing thoughts and needless anxieties. He could think without the image of Zoe and Amaia heaving Nunu's limp body out of the pool flashing in his head first.
"You didn't have to do all that, (Y/N)."
He craned his head over his shoulder and drew his mouth into a line. "That's rich coming from the guy who was fine with letting some girl get crushed yesterday."
Sebas fell silent at that, choosing to focus on fiddling with the box of bandages until he got it opened. He let out a little exhale of relief, as if he'd been struggling with the box, and tugged out one of the beige bandage strips.
He looked it over like he'd never seen one before, and (Y/N)'s brows twitched together. Maybe he'd bought them as a precaution.
"I have my own-"
"I know."
Setting the box aside, Sebas reached out toward him, his hand twitching back in hesitation before he wrapped his fingers around (Y/N)'s wrist and raised it. He gently dabbed at his knuckles with the hem of his jersey, drying them as best he could.
"Roque should be more careful what he posts online," Sebas said quietly, taking a brief moment to study his knuckles. His thumb lightly dragged back and forth over the back of (Y/N)'s hand, thoughtfully. "He should know better, being.. you know."
"You can say gay, Sebas. You're not gonna get cooties just by saying the fucking word." (Y/N) snatched his hand away from Sebas's hold, and the rugby player flinched, his eyes widening in blinks.
"I didn't- I'm not homophobic, or anything. But what he does online reflects on us."
Sebas's arms slumped at his sides once (Y/N) plucked the strip from his pinched fingers. His lips vaguely resembled a pout while he watched (Y/N) wrap the bandage around his finger himself.
"Tío, I.. are you and Roque.."
"No, we're not together. You think I would've let Diego walk away if he'd punched my partner? I would've pummeled his face into the tile. Not even his mother would've recognized him." (Y/N) grabbed the box and took out two more strips before shoving it into Sebas's chest. "Roque and I hook up sometimes, everyone knows that. Don't worry, being queer isn't infectious either."
Sebas scrambled to catch the box and squeezed his eyes shut, crinkles forming above the slope of his nose. "(Y/N), I didn't mean- never mind." His shoulders rose and fell with a heavy exhale, his fingers brushing through his hair in mild frustration. "You told Diego you 'needed that'. The hell does that mean?"
"It means my usual fuck buddies are unavailable, my cigarettes don't hit the same, and I smoked the last of my pot last week," (Y/N) answered, peeling the plaster from the bandage and expertly wrapping it around a second knuckle.
"So you punch the first asshole you come across until you, what? Feel better?"
Sebas swiped his tongue over his lips, his fingertip scratching the corner of his furrowed brow. Here came the subject everyone had been dancing around with him since the news broke.
"Is this about Núria? Listen, I'm sorry about what happened-"
The itch returned, and (Y/N) rolled his shoulders uncomfortably. It was the type of feeling that made him want to crawl out of his body, to claw at his skin until he could.
"Nunu should've thought things more clearly, instead of trying to impress everyone by outdoing Amaia. She went looking for trouble, and it found her."
(Y/N) wrapped the last bandage around his knuckle and swallowed. Sebas stared at him, surprised, maybe appalled.
"She's bright, but not that bright." (Y/N) turned his back on him and began to walk away. "Just like you, actually."
"No estás bien, tío." (Y/N) almost laughed. "I'm serious."
"The truth hurts, I know."
"But that's the thing, I think you're pretending."
(Y/N)'s stride halted, his lips rolling into his mouth, and nostrils flaring with an inhale. His finger bent so his thumb could press into one of the bandages, rubbing into it roughly until the prickling pain returned. His mind settled down again, stabilized, distracted.
"You don't know anything about me, Sebas." He spared the rugby player one last look over his shoulder, his jaw tense. A flicker of uncertainty went over Sebas's face. "So don't act like you do."
Another thing (Y/N) despised: strangers trying to climb past the walls he put up. He allowed Cristian and the others to do it because they wore their intentions on their sleeves for the world to see, whether the world liked them or not.
Cristian's emotions controlled him; Roque and Amaia told it like it was; Nunu was a terrible actress. They were easy to read, to understand. He'd heard enough forced laughter from Sebas to keep him at arm's length.
Oasis or not, (Y/N) couldn't stand pretenders.
(Y/N) managed to make up for his tardiness to Gonzalo by offering to help out one of the weaker boxers in their gym, which meant making the eighteen-year-old nearly burst into tears a couple of times until his punches were fueled by the turmoil he tried not to show on his face.
Sometimes, bringing out the worst in others was a necessary skill to have, as much as Cristian and Nunu would beg to differ.
"Work on that combination again, but remember to shorten your right hand," (Y/N) instructed him, his head lifting to eye the clock on the wall. Early afternoon was beginning to stroll around, and with it would come Cristian's departure. "And your form is shit. You're going to throw yourself off balance and make a fool of yourself if you don't work on keeping your footing."
The straggler nodded and looked down at his feet as he readjusted his stance. "R-Right."
(Y/N) hadn't bothered to learn his name, more preoccupied with watching the ring rattle when one of the guys sparring collapsed in exhaustion than caring for whichever poor idiot Gonzalo called over for him.
His physique left much to be desired, more bone than fat and muscle, but Gonzalo had faith he'd evolve with rigorous training and a good diet.
Gonzalo had gone with Isabel to encourage him to join them at the center after hearing of the rising star from a town none of them had even heard of, but that's what HPC liked: little, endless sob stories so they could pat themselves on the back like they were some make-a-wish company only to either kick them out when they proved to be underwhelming average or take half the credit for their success.
"Gonz-"
Gonzalo hardly looked up from his stopwatch, his thin lips all twisted up in concentration while the boxer beneath him began struggling to keep up their plank. "No."
(Y/N) made a vague motion to the straggler, one he assumed meant 'keep hitting the bag,' and strolled over to the coach. "When I first got here, you told me to make friends. I made some, and now one of them is leaving. From my understanding, it's common etiquette to say goodbye when one's friend-"
Gonzalo sighed, something that would've sounded exasperated to anyone passing by, but (Y/N) caught the ghost of a smile before his face smoothed over again.
"Just go already, smartass."
Gonzalo flicked his wrist, the usual move when he dismissed (Y/N) from the gym to do whatever he wanted. A privilege only his best students had. Everyone else remained stuck inside until lunchtime.
The hallways were quiet, save for the muffled noises coming from other training rooms, until he crossed the skywalk leading to the dorms and heard overlapping, ecstatic shouting and chanting.
When he turned the corner, there was the whole rugby team (save for Coach Javier, the grouch) huddled around Cristian to send him off with a proper, jockish goodbye of animal-like grunts, teasing shoves, and suffocating embraces.
Cristian spotted him, and his eyes lit up like a child's, wriggling himself free from muscular arms and big hands to reach him and pull him into a tight hug that left (Y/N)'s side throbbing lightly. (Y/N) slipped his arms around Cristian's waist, loose and uncertain, but he had half a mind to pat his back.
"I know I don't have to tell you this-" Cristian pulled back, taking (Y/N)'s hand and lightly swiping his thumb over the bandaged knuckles. "-but take care of Roque, Amaia, and- and Nunu, when she gets better."
"Yeah, 'course."
"And take care of yourself." The plea was evident on his face. "I mean it."
"I always do."
Being at HPC taught Sebas plenty of things, but most of all, how quickly life could change for someone. He'd seen perfectly healthy, young, driven athletes be forced to retire before their careers even began because of one single injury, or one wrong decision they made that nearly cost them their life.
It rattled him, of course. He could envision himself in their spots, especially with a contact-heavy sport like rugby, but it was a different type of startlement when it happened to someone he knew.
When he'd heard Núria Bórges had an accident in the pool, and her condition was widely unknown, he'd thought to himself, 'no fucking way'.
She'd been perfectly fine the last time he saw her, and their last interaction had been one riddled with tension over what he and Charlie had been doing to the new heptathlete. It was sobering.
Out of all the people in the HPC, Núria was the least deserving of a potentially career-ending accident.
His mind immediately turned to the person who often clouded it, his words from earlier in the day echoing in his head. She went looking for trouble, and it found her.
Sebas had almost laughed then and there at the irony of it all. If there was anyone who was constantly looking for trouble, it was (Y/N) (L/N) and his love for fighting. It was a miracle none of his outbursts landed him in the infirmary.
Sebas took in a breath and winced, lifting his hand to massage his shoulder. Javier decided to get the team in the wrestling center, something that usually involved some minor jests, but Roque took his demotion to heart and took it out on each of them, leaving half the team wheezing, wounded, and exhausted.
Sebas was certain his shoulder would be bruised come morning.
His fingers ran over his shoulder, pushing and prodding to feel out where exactly it hurt the most. "Joder."
He'd opted for an ice bath, but as he walked through the infirmary toward the back, where the sauna and ice baths were, he contemplated turning around and getting a massage instead.
It'd been a while since he'd received a good massage, but he doubted the masseuses would be all too pleased seeing him after the jokes he and Charlie exchanged when they'd last gone together. His skin prickled with embarrassment and mild shame before irritation settled in.
Maybe Charlie was as annoying as (Y/N) made him out to be. But he'd been Sebas's first friend in the center and the one to take him under his wing without hesitation, so for the sake of keeping peace, it was best to ignore the comments Charlie made under his breath about Roque.
Sebas casted away all thoughts about Charlie and raised his eyes off the floor as he turned the corner, passing the sauna and watching the pearly white tub come into view.
He halted, his breath hitching in his throat at the sight of the only other person sitting amongst the floating ice cubes. He stood there, stupidly, simply staring at (Y/N).
(Y/N) had his arms propped up along the edge of the tub with his head tilted back, eyes closed, and his bare upper body exposed to the world. Sebas had seen him shirtless plenty of times; it was a look (Y/N) thoroughly enjoyed to show off, but it was different seeing it up close and being able to make out the fading scars, the healing bruises, and the curves and grooves of his body.
Sebas swallowed down the saliva that flooded his mouth and took a step forward. "Do you mind?"
(Y/N) cracked his eyes open and lolled his head forward sluggishly, like he'd been on the cusp of dozing off before Sebas interrupted. There was a blank haze in his eyes that he blinked away once his mind caught up with his body.
His lips jutted out slightly, sleepy and shockingly endearing, and Sebas couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. (Y/N) raised his dripping fingers and rubbed them over his forehead, leaving a glistening trail of water behind.
"Whatever." He shrugged. "All yours."
Automatically, Sebas sucked in a sharp breath when he stepped into the tub and quickly lowered down into the water, the air he'd taken in coming out in a trembling exhale while he waited for his body to adjust to the needle-like feeling of the water digging into his skin.
He took in slow, deep breaths and focused on (Y/N) to distract himself before he could give in to the temptation of leaping out of the tub to escape the biting temperature.
He waited for (Y/N) to close his eyes again, to tilt his head back and resume his light dozing so Sebas could look at him without feeling meek or anxiously hyper-aware, but (Y/N) continued staring at him, the pout still on his lips and his eyes half-lidded.
Sebas felt tempted to reach out and touch his face. He always felt tempted to touch him, to have him close enough that his cologne invaded his nostrils and he could feel the warmth that always radiated off his body in its full glory. He hated it.
"Seems like Charlie's been letting you off the leash more," (Y/N) said after a beat, his gaze lingering behind him, waiting for Charlie to appear out of thin air like he usually did, but Sebas had (luckily) left Charlie in the locker room to continue his shit-talking of Roque. "But you always go back to him like the loyal little dog that you are." He laughed.
While it should've been a biting, harsh laugh, a small giggle followed the end of it, and the defensiveness that bubbled up in Sebas died. (Y/N) laughed a whole lot more than Sebas had expected when Charlie first warned him about the boxer and his violent tendencies.
He laughed, he chuckled, he giggled, but he never smiled. There was always a smirk or a grin at the end of his laughter, cruelly taunting or playfully teasing.
It bothered him how much he knew about (Y/N) just from simply watching him. It bothered him to be accused of not knowing anything about him, too.
"What? You've got nothing to say to that?"
"I'm not going to play into your games, tío."
"Juegos," (Y/N) repeated with a soft scoff, and his arms dipped beneath the water.
Sebas watched in amusement when his mouth twisted up, his nose threatening to crinkle, and his arms flexing until he adjusted to the temperature all over again.
"You wanna know what I think?" His voice sounded tight, strained from trying not to make it obvious that the cold had gotten to him.
Sebas wanted nothing more than to keep him talking, even if it meant being insulted. (Y/N) barely acknowledged him most days, sometimes outright pretended he and Charlie weren't there the few times Charlie made vain attempts at conversation.
"Go ahead." He encouraged, attempting to add a challenging tone to his voice, but it almost cracked instead.
"I think you're not like Charlie, Sebastián." His heart did a little leap. He'd never heard his name in (Y/N)'s voice before. "You're the sheep, the follower, the minion, the sidekick. Charlie says jump, you ask how high. It's always Charlie and Sebas, Sebas and Charlie. I mean, tío, who are you without him?"
Sebas shrugged, despite how his chest constricted with knowing.
He loved Charlie. His best friend, his dormmate, the guy who took him in with open arms and demanded that the team act nice without being asked.
He could get on board with some things, like bothering Zoe for the hell of it or making some stupid, sleazy comment to a pretty girl just for laughs. But sometimes, some of the things Charlie murmured when he thought Sebas was the only one listening made his stomach prickle with unease.
His safety net, the one guy he viewed as his ride-or-die. He hoped the feeling was mutual.
"I'm Sebas Sendón." He outstretched his hand toward (Y/N), who unsurprisingly simply looked at him with a jaded stare. "I love rugby, I enjoy a good work-out, I drink protein shakes more than water, sometimes I can get down to watch cheesy romcoms, I'm always down for a beer, and I like flirting with pretty chicks-"
Sebas paused when the stare broke with a snort and felt his face warm, first with dismay at being laughed at and then with familiar, gnawing panic.
"What?"
"Ay, nothing, tío." (Y/N) bowed his head, shoulders shaking with a little laugh, and it only made the warmth spread across his neck to his collarbone. When he lifted his head, his eyes drifted elsewhere, tired. "I just really need a smoke." He muttered, sighing and rubbing his forehead again like he had a headache that refused to go away.
"Who's your guy?"
"Gunter."
(Y/N) abruptly moved across the tub toward him, the water sloshing away from him and then pulling back to curl around him. Sebas tensed, his eyes immediately darting elsewhere to avoid looking like he was ogling, but they slowly slid back when (Y/N) pushed himself up onto the tub's rim right beside him.
There was notable bruising on his side, purplish with tints of green. It looked rough.
"But he barely gives me any, to start with." (Y/N) sighed, a whiny thing, reaching out toward the hooks on the wall where the warm towels waited to be plucked.
His abdomen flexed, and the corner of his mouth twitched downward. Sebas looked back at the bruise with a frown, almost glared at it for existing.
"Maybe it's for the better." Sebas offered, his arm rising out of the water and fingers ghosting over the bruise, mindful not to press and risk (Y/N)'s flares of irritation. (Y/N) tilted his head downward to watch him, his abdomen flexing and twitching each time Sebas's fingers brushed over his skin. "You could get expelled."
"If breaking someone's nose doesn't get me expelled, a little weed won't, either, Sebas."
(Y/N) swung his legs over the tub, water and melting ice cubes spilling across the floor. It gave Sebas a little thrill each time (Y/N) spoke his name, and then he'd feel childish for it once the moment passed.
"If you find any, I'd be willing to take it off your hands. You know, so you don't get expelled." He flashed a grin (that sometimes looked more like a threatening snarl), and Sebas gave a huff of amusement.
"Nah." Sebas puckered his lips playfully and shook his head. "I don't think so."
(Y/N)'s jaw shifted, and he dipped his hand back into the tub. In one swift flick, he splashed the cold water on Sebas's face and gave a light laugh that mixed with Sebas's startled yelp. Sebas wiped a quick hand over his face and did the only thing he could think of: splash a big wave back at him.
(Y/N) laughed again, the spilled water falling over his drenched legs, and it was then that Sebas realized his cheeks were beginning to hurt from how hard he was smiling.
