we don’t say it, but we feel it
still not us (pt3)
Description: They try to act normal after everything falls apart, but pretending starts to hurt more than honesty.
The hallway feels too bright.
Paige notices that first.
Not the people. Not the noise. Not even the way everything is already moving without her fully being in it yet.
Just the light.
Harsh in a way it shouldn’t be this early.
She pulls her hoodie sleeves over her hands without thinking, fingers disappearing into the fabric like she needs something to hold onto before she even realizes she’s searching for it.
Her chest already feels tight.
Not painful.
Just… aware.
Like something is sitting there that didn’t fully leave after last night.
She doesn’t want to think about it.
But she does anyway.
She always does.
Azzi is there when she turns the corner.
Leaning against the lockers.
Same place she’s always been.
That’s what makes it worse.
She looks normal.
Too normal.
Hair slightly messy like she just ran a hand through it. Bag hanging off one shoulder. Phone in her hand, screen lighting her face for a second before she locks it again.
Like nothing changed.
Like nothing cracked open between them and stayed open.
Paige slows without meaning to.
Just for a second.
Then keeps walking anyway.
Azzi looks up.
Immediately.
Like she felt it.
Their eyes meet.
And there it is again.
That pause.
That thing neither of them says anything about anymore because saying it would make it real.
“…hey,” Azzi says.
Not light.
Not distant.
Just careful.
Paige swallows.
Her throat feels dry.
“…hey.”
It comes out smaller than she wants.
She hates that she notices that too.
Silence settles between them instantly.
Not peaceful.
Not clean.
Just full.
Azzi shifts slightly on her feet.
Like she wants to say something else.
But doesn’t.
Paige looks at her bag strap instead.
Then the floor.
Then anywhere that isn’t her face.
Because looking too long feels dangerous now.
Like it pulls something out of her she doesn’t know how to put back.
“…you good?” Azzi asks.
Same question as always.
Different weight now.
Paige almost laughs.
Almost.
But it dies before it forms.
She nods too quickly.
“…yeah.”
Too automatic.
Too practiced.
Azzi doesn’t believe it.
Paige can feel it without looking.
The silence that follows is worse than the question.
Because it lingers.
Because it doesn’t move on.
Azzi exhales slowly.
“…you sure?”
Paige finally looks at her.
And something in her chest shifts at how tired Azzi looks.
Not dramatic tired.
Just… real.
Like she didn’t sleep properly either.
Like something followed her too.
Paige’s voice comes quieter.
“…yeah.”
A beat.
Then—
“…you?”
Azzi hesitates.
Just for a second.
“…yeah.”
But it doesn’t land right.
It never does anymore.
They stand there too long.
Long enough that it starts to feel like something they’re both avoiding but neither of them knows how to leave first.
Azzi breaks it eventually.
Not fully.
Just enough.
“…practice.”
Paige nods.
“…yeah.”
Still nothing smooth about it.
They walk.
Not together.
Not apart.
Just… parallel.
Like there used to be something holding them in sync and now it’s missing but neither of them knows how to fix the timing.
The gym is louder than Paige remembers.
Or maybe she’s just more aware of it now.
Shoes squeaking.
Balls hitting the floor.
Voices overlapping into something that should feel normal.
But doesn’t.
Not for her.
Azzi moves through warmups like she always does.
Focused.
Quiet in her own way.
Paige keeps catching herself looking.
Then stopping.
Then looking again anyway.
It’s not intentional anymore.
It’s reflex.
Azzi laughs at something someone says during a drill.
Not loud.
Just enough.
Paige feels it immediately.
That tight thing in her chest again.
She forces her eyes away.
Too late.
She already saw it.
There’s a moment during a transition drill where they almost collide.
Not really.
Just close enough that Paige feels the heat of her presence before she even processes it.
Azzi doesn’t react.
Paige does.
Barely.
A shift in her breathing.
A pause in her step that no one else would notice.
But she does.
Of course she does.
And it stays with her longer than it should.
⸻
Break comes quietly.
The kind of pause that doesn’t actually feel like rest.
Paige bends slightly, hands on her knees, eyes down.
Just trying to reset her breathing.
Reset herself.
Footsteps approach.
She already knows.
Azzi stops close.
Not touching.
But close enough that Paige feels it without looking up.
“…you’ve been quiet,” Azzi says.
Paige exhales slowly.
“…I’m always quiet.”
It’s automatic.
But it feels wrong immediately after she says it.
Because it’s not about that.
Azzi doesn’t respond right away.
That silence again.
Different this time.
Heavier.
Paige finally looks up.
Azzi is already looking at her.
Not accusing.
Not soft.
Just—
there.
Present in a way that feels too honest.
“…not like this,” Azzi says.
Paige swallows.
Something tight moves in her chest again.
“…we’re still weird.”
The words come out before she can stop them.
Because there’s no point pretending anymore.
Azzi doesn’t deny it.
Doesn’t soften it.
Just nods slightly.
“…yeah.”
A pause.
Longer this time.
Then—
“…I don’t know how to fix it.”
Paige feels that immediately.
Not just in her head.
In her whole body.
Because neither does she.
That’s the part she keeps running into.
Every time she tries to think around it.
Every time she tries to ignore it.
Every time she tells herself it’s fine.
It’s not.
Azzi shifts slightly.
Like she’s considering stepping closer.
But doesn’t.
Paige notices everything.
Too much.
Always too much.
“…me neither,” Paige says finally.
And it’s quieter than everything else.
But it’s real.
Azzi nods once.
Like that’s all there is to say about it for now.
The whistle cuts through the space again.
Practice resumes like nothing happened.
Like something didn’t just sit between them and refuse to move.
Azzi turns first.
Paige follows a second later.
But it feels delayed.
Like she’s catching up to something she can’t fully reach anymore.
And as they move again—
Paige realizes something she doesn’t want to.
They’re still close.
Still here.
Still existing in the same space.
But whatever used to make it easy…
isn’t there anymore.
And neither of them knows how to get it back.
