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Xeno tried not to act irrational, but sometimes it shines through,
Holly muller
That bitch.
Holly muller, is your average Texan girl, she gets good grades, goes to church on sundays, and is the head manager of the boys basketball team.
Same sport Stanley plays.
\
Xeno sits on the bleachers, elbows planted on his knees, his jaw resting in his hands, his eyes are heavy, and his head starts to droop.
“what are you still doing here?” Xeno nearly jumps out of his skin, when he wips his head around to see holly, who came out of no where, her tone was so bitchy and gross when she talks to xeno,
Xeno’s eyes dart around the gym and then back to holly.
“I’m waiting for Stan” Xeno’s eyebrow rises slightly at he question that sounded like an accusation.
Holly lets out a grumpy huff and grips her clipboard to her chest like a life line, the loud brash whistle blows signaling the end of practice, Stan jogs over, a smile lining his face when he sees Xeno, Holly smile and waves at Stan. Oh how if Xeno were a little stronger he would beat the ever living daylight out of this chick.
“Yo! Xeno! Let me get changed, then we can go, Kay?”
Xeno forces his expression into something neutral and gives a small nod.
“Fine,” he says, voice flat. “I’ll be here.”
Stanley jogs off toward the locker rooms, towel slung over his shoulder. The moment he’s out of sight, the air feels heavier.
Holly lingers.
She adjusts her grip on the clipboard, eyes flicking from the locker room doors back to Xeno. Her smile fades into something sharper, more curious. “You come to every practice?” she asks, like she’s genuinely confused by the concept.
“I come when I want to,” Xeno replies, not looking at her.
Holly hums. “Must be nice. Having that kind of time.”
Xeno finally looks up, eyes cool and calculating. “You’re still here too.”
She bristles, then laughs it off, flipping a page on her clipboard that absolutely does not need flipping. “Well, I’ve got responsibilities. Team stuff. You know how it is.”
Do I? Xeno thinks.
The locker room door creaks open briefly, someone shouts, laughter echoes, then it closes again. Not Stanley. Not yet.
Holly shifts her weight. “Stan’s been doing really good lately,” she says casually. “Coach even mentioned maybe moving him up next season.”
“I know,” Xeno replies immediately. Too fast. He clamps down on it. “he told me”
Holly’s eyebrows lift a fraction. “He did?” she says, voice light, but there’s something probing underneath it. “Huh. He didn’t mention that to me.”
Xeno shrugs, deliberate and slow. “I imagine he tells his boyfriend different things than his team manager.”
The word lands between them like a dropped glass.
Holly’s smile stiffens. “Boyfriend,” she repeats, like she’s testing how it sounds. “Right. Yeah. I forgot.”
You didn’t forget, Xeno thinks. You just don’t like it.
She presses her lips together, then forces the cheer back into her voice. “Still. I see him a lot. Practices, games, meetings. When you’re not around.”
Xeno’s jaw tightens. He keeps his posture relaxed, even as his fingers dig into his sleeves. “Congratulations,” he says. “You’re efficient at your job.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Holly tilts her head, studying him now. “I just think it’s… interesting. How different he is here.”
Xeno’s eyes sharpen. “Different how?”
She hesitates. That’s all it takes.
“Focused,” Holly says finally. “Calm. Like he knows exactly where he belongs.”
The words crawl under Xeno’s skin. He knows where he belongs. With me. He has to.
Before he can respond, the locker room doors swing open again. Stanley steps out, hair damp, hoodie pulled on halfway. His face brightens immediately when he spots Xeno.
“Hey,” Stanley says, easy and warm, like the day hasn’t weighed on him at all. “Sorry that took so long.”
“It’s fine,” Xeno replies, standing a little too quickly. He smooths his jacket, reassembling himself piece by piece.
Holly perks up. “Coach wants the clipboards back tomorrow,” she says to Stanley. “And don’t forget the fundraiser meeting.”
“Got it,” Stanley says. He glances between them, sensing something off. “Everything okay?”
“Perfect,” Xeno says at once.
Holly smiles. “Yeah. We were just talking about how well you’re doing.”
Stanley rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. “Oh. Uh. Thanks.”
Xeno watches the exchange with surgical precision. Stanley doesn’t lean toward her. Doesn’t linger. His body angles, unconsciously, toward Xeno. Always has.
Holly steps back, tightening her grip on the clipboard again. “See you tomorrow, Stan.”
She leaves without another glance at Xeno.
The gym feels quieter without her.
Stanley exhales. “She always like that?”
Xeno hesitates. Just for a second. Then: “She thinks she knows you.”
Stanley frowns. “That’s weird.”
Xeno studies him, the steady posture, the unguarded honesty. The boy who chose him, every day, without needing to be convinced.
“They always do,” Xeno says quietly.
Stanley reaches out, fingers brushing Xeno’s sleeve. Grounding. Real. “You okay?”
Xeno looks at him, really looks at him, and feels the fear coil tight in his chest, not loud, not dramatic, just relentless.
“I am,” he says. And this time, he almost believes it.
\
The next day, Xeno is already irritated before first period even starts.
He sits in his usual seat, spine straight, notebook perfectly aligned with the edge of the desk. He hasn’t slept much. His brain spent the night replaying variables that didn’t need replaying, tone, posture, proximity. Holly Muller exists. That alone feels like an error in the equation.
The bell rings. Students shuffle in. Noise. Chaos.
Stanley drops into the chair beside him, bumping Xeno’s knee on accident. “Morning,” he says, easy as ever.
Xeno hums in response, eyes still on the board. Stanley smells like soap and clean clothes and normalcy, and it does nothing to help Xeno’s mood.
“You’re quiet,” Stanley adds.
“I’m thinking,” Xeno replies.
“Dangerous.”
Xeno snorts despite himself, just barely. Stanley grins, satisfied, and turns his attention forward.
Everything is fine. Xeno repeats it like a mantra.
At lunch, it falls apart.
Xeno is halfway through explaining a concept Stanley absolutely does not need help with when Holly appears at their table, tray balanced on one hip.
“Hey, Stan,” she says, bright and familiar. Too familiar. “Coach asked me to give you this.”
She slides a folded paper across the table. Her fingers linger a second too long.
Stanley takes it without thinking. “Oh. Thanks.”
Xeno stops talking.
Holly finally acknowledges him, offering a tight smile. “Mind if I sit?”
“Yes,” Xeno says immediately.
Stanley coughs. “Uh—”
“I mean,” Xeno corrects, too late, “we were in the middle of something.”
Holly’s smile sharpens. “It’ll only take a minute.”
She sits anyway.
Xeno’s appetite evaporates. He watches, silent, as Holly chats about practice schedules, fundraisers, some joke Coach made. Stanley responds politely, but his attention keeps drifting back to Xeno, like a compass needle fighting interference.
Holly notices.
“So,” she says suddenly, eyes on Xeno now, “you coming to the game Friday?”
Stanley answers before Xeno can. “Yeah. He always comes.”
“Really?” Holly’s brows lift. “That’s… dedicated.”
Xeno sets his fork down carefully. “I support my partner.”
Partner. Deliberate.
Holly’s jaw tightens for half a second before she recovers. “That’s nice.”
Stanley shifts closer to Xeno, their shoulders brushing. It’s unconscious. Instinctive.
Xeno feels something in his chest ease, and then tighten again when Holly stands.
“Well,” she says, gathering her tray, “see you at practice.”
“See you,” Stanley replies.
She walks away.
Xeno stares at the table.
Stanley nudges him with his knee. “You okay?”
Xeno opens his mouth. Closes it. Tries again. “She’s persistent.”
Stanley blinks. “Holly?”
“Yes,” Xeno says flatly.
Stanley frowns, finally catching up. “Xeno, she’s just—”
“—a variable,” Xeno cuts in, voice low. “One you interact with frequently.”
Stanley exhales. “You’re not… worried, are you?”
Xeno looks at him then. Really looks. Searches for doubt, for distance, for proof he’s already lost.
“I don’t like not knowing,” Xeno says instead.
Stanley reaches over, laces their fingers together under the table, firm and unmistakable. “Then know this. I’m not going anywhere.”
Xeno’s grip tightens in response. He nods once.
The fear doesn’t vanish.
But for now, it’s contained.
\
Friday arrives whether Xeno is prepared for it or not.
The gym is louder than usual, bleachers packed, banners rattling with every cheer. Xeno sits near the top, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the court with a focus that borders on hostile analysis. He tracks Stanley’s movement automatically, pace, posture, reaction time. Stanley plays well. Better than well. Confident. Controlled.
Holly is everywhere.
She moves along the sidelines with her clipboard, calling out water breaks, relaying messages, smiling when Stanley glances her way. Xeno tells himself it’s professional. He tells himself this repeatedly. It does not help.
Every cheer when Stanley scores feels like a reminder: people see him. Want him. Could take him.
Xeno’s leg bounces. He stills it. Irrational behavior solves nothing.
At halftime, Stanley jogs over, flushed and energized. He grins up at Xeno through the railing. “You see that last play?”
“Yes,” Xeno says. “Your timing was slightly early, but effective.”
Stanley laughs. “I’ll take it.”
Holly appears at his shoulder, handing him a bottle of water. “Coach wants you ready for a full court press next half.”
“Got it,” Stanley says, accepting it.
Xeno watches the exchange, chest tight. Holly says something else, quiet, close, and Stanley nods. Xeno doesn’t hear the words, and that’s the problem. Unknown variables. Unacceptable.
Stanley glances back up at Xeno, like he can feel the tension pulling him. Their eyes meet. Stanley’s expression softens, just a little. It’s not for the crowd. It’s not for Holly.
It’s for him.
Stanley taps the railing twice before jogging back onto the court.
Xeno exhales slowly.
The second half is a blur of noise and motion. When the final buzzer sounds, their team wins. The gym erupts. Stanley gets mobbed—teammates clapping his back, Coach pulling him aside. Holly beams like she personally orchestrated the victory.
Xeno waits. He always waits.
Eventually, Stanley breaks free and makes his way up the bleachers, eyes locking onto Xeno immediately. He climbs the steps two at a time.
“You stayed,” Stanley says, breathless, like there was ever a question.
“I said I would,” Xeno replies.
Stanley grins, then hesitates. “Hey, uh. Holly asked if I wanted to help clean up.”
Xeno tilts his head, expression flat, voice deliberate. “And you plan to say…?”
Stanley shrugs, brushing damp hair from his forehead. “I mean… I’ll help. It’s just… a little extra time. Nothing big.”
Xeno’s jaw tightens imperceptibly. Nothing big. That’s what worries him. Every extra second Stanley spends near her is a variable Xeno cannot calculate, an unknown factor creeping into his control.
“I see,” Xeno replies, voice low, measured. “Make sure it doesn’t become a pattern. Efficiency is key.”
Stanley blinks at him, confused. “Xeno… it’s just cleaning up. I’m not avoiding you.”
“Good,” Xeno says, rising to follow him. His movements are smooth, controlled, almost predatory in their precision. “Because your attention should remain where it belongs.”
They walk down the bleachers together, Xeno’s gaze scanning the sidelines. Holly stands nearby, clipboard in hand, chatting casually with a teammate. She glances up and catches Xeno’s stare for just a second before looking away. Xeno notices everything. Always.
Stanley reaches the court and drops to one knee to start picking up stray balls and water bottles.
Xeno kneels beside him silently, matching his movements. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t need to. The proximity, the shared rhythm, is a quiet reminder to both of them that Stanley is already his.
Holly approaches, trying to remain casual. “Need a hand?” she asks, clipboard tucked under one arm.
Stanley looks at her and smiles politely. “Nah, we’ve got it. Thanks though.”
Xeno doesn’t look up. His hands are steady, methodical, as he lines up the balls. His mind, however, is racing. Persistent variable. Adaptable. Unpredictable. Must neutralize…
Holly steps a little closer, lowering her voice. “You’re… really into him, huh?”
Xeno freezes for half a heartbeat. Then slowly, deliberately, he looks at her with ice-cold precision. “Yes. And that’s not up for debate.”
Holly falters, realizing she underestimated him. She lets out a sharp laugh, more nervous than amused, and steps back. “Wow. Okay. Noted.”
Stanley glances between them, oblivious to the silent tension. “You guys good?” he asks casually.
Xeno straightens, eyes locking on Stanley’s. “Perfectly fine.”
As Holly moves away, Xeno exhales softly, just enough for Stanley to notice. “She’s persistent,” he mutters.
Stanley nods, brushing his hands on his hoodie. “Yeah… she is. But don’t worry about it. You’re the one I’m waiting for, remember?”
Xeno’s chest tightens in a way he refuses to admit. “Good. Then let’s finish this.”
They finish in silence.
The gym empties out in stages, voices fading, sneakers squeaking away, lights humming overhead. Xeno lines the last basketball against the rack with obsessive precision. One slightly off would bother him later. He knows this about himself. He fixes it anyway.
Stanley tosses the final stack of towels into the bin and straightens. “Alright. Done.”
Xeno nods. “Efficient.”
They start toward the exit together. The hallway outside the gym is dimmer, quieter, the noise of the crowd replaced by the dull echo of their footsteps. For a few seconds, it’s fine. Normal. Stanley hums under his breath, still riding the win.
Then he says it.
“Holly said she’d lock up, so we’re good to go.”
Xeno stops walking.
Stanley takes two more steps before he realizes Xeno isn’t beside him anymore. He turns. “Hey—?”
Xeno’s hands are clenched at his sides. He hadn’t noticed when that happened. His chest feels tight, like someone wrapped wire around his ribs and started pulling.
“She said that,” Xeno repeats. Flat. Careful.
“Yeah,” Stanley says slowly. “Why?”
Xeno opens his mouth.
Nothing comes out.
His thoughts crash into each other all at once, every look, every laugh, every moment Stanley wasn’t looking at him. Holly on the sidelines. Holly at lunch. Holly with her clipboard and her easy smile and her place in Stanley’s world that Xeno cannot map or control.
“She’s everywhere,” Xeno says finally. His voice is still even, but there’s something wrong with it now. Too thin. “You see her more than you see me.”
Stanley blinks. “Xeno, that’s not—”
“She fits,” Xeno cuts in, sharper than intended. He winces immediately, but it’s too late. “She fits here. With them. With you.”
Stanley steps closer. “Hey. Slow down.”
Xeno laughs, once. It’s humorless. “I am being slow. This is me being careful.”
His composure cracks, not shatters, not dramatically, but like a fault line finally giving way.
“I don’t belong here,” Xeno says. “Not like she does. I don’t belong in gyms, or crowds, or—” He gestures vaguely, frustrated. “This. I don’t belong in your world.”
Stanley’s brow furrows. “My world is—”
“—bigger than me,” Xeno finishes. His voice finally wavers. Just slightly. “And I am… replaceable.”
There it is.
The word hangs between them, ugly and undeniable.
Stanley’s eyes widen. “What? No. Xeno—”
“You don’t need me,” Xeno presses on, the dam fully breaking now. “You don’t need my brain, or my constant analysis, or my inability to just be normal. You could have someone easier. Someone who doesn’t dissect every interaction like it’s a threat.”
His breathing is uneven now. He hates that most of all.
“I see how they look at you,” Xeno says. “How she looks at you. And one day you’re going to realize that I am… exhausting.”
Stanley grabs his shoulders.
Not hard. Not forceful. Just enough to stop the spiral.
“Look at me,” Stanley says.
Xeno tries not to. He fails.
Stanley’s face is earnest, steady, completely unshaken. “You think I’m with you because it’s easy?”
Xeno swallows.
“I chose you,” Stanley says, slower now. “Not because you fit. Not because you’re convenient. Because you’re you.”
“That’s not a stable variable,” Xeno whispers.
Stanley huffs a short laugh. “Maybe not. But it’s mine.”
Xeno’s hands tremble. He hates it. He hates losing control, hates how exposed he feels standing in a quiet hallway with his worst fear laid bare.
“What if you wake up one day,” Xeno says quietly, “and realize you want something simpler?”
Stanley doesn’t hesitate.
“Then it won’t be with her, because I don’t want simpler”
He pulls Xeno into a hug before Xeno can overthink it.
Xeno stiffens at first, then collapses into it, forehead pressing into Stanley’s shoulder. His breathing stutters, sharp and uneven, everything he worked so hard to keep hidden spilling out anyway.
“I can’t lose you,” Xeno admits, voice muffled. “I wouldn’t recover from that.”
Stanley’s arms tighten. “You’re not going to.”
They stand there for a long moment, the hallway empty, the world quiet enough for Xeno’s heartbeat to slow.
The fear doesn’t disappear.
But for the first time, it loosens its grip.