Chapter 132 TOO LATE

Chapter 132 TOO LATE
The door clicked shut behind them.

Jay and Noah stood together in the middle of Jay’s room, the hush pressing down like thick fog. Jay shifted his weight, sneakers crunching against the stray papers and grit on the hardwood.

The walls stared back at them, all blank plaster, not even a poster for comfort.

The unmade bed sheets tangled, pillow leaning half-off looked like it had tried and failed to swallow up someone’s worries.

Afternoon light slipped in through the blinds, cutting the air into dusty gold ribbons. Floating motes drifted between them, glinting with every small movement.

The silence stretched. Noah’s palm stayed in Jay’s, cold enough for Jay to notice. His shoulders hunched, like he might fold right in on himself. Breath came shallow, just a thin tremble in his chest.

Noah blinked hard, staring at the floor, his lips pressed thin. He kept hearing the word suspended.

The sound of it banged around in his skull. Every game except the final. Only one left. His chest felt scooped out, empty.

Jay watched him. He tracked the anger tucked in Noah’s tense jaw, the curve of his spine as he curled forward, looking small. Noah’s thumb kept shifting back and forth across Jay’s skin, fidgeting, nervous.

Noah’s voice sounded like it came from far off. “We could’ve been expelled.” He tried to pull back, just a little, but Jay held onto his hand, grounding him.

Jay gave his hand a squeeze. “But we’re not.”

Noah shook his head. His hair fell into his eyes but he didn’t bother to push it aside. “That’s not what I’m thinking about.” His gaze dropped to their hands fingers intertwined, knuckles white.

Jay waited. He didn’t push. His own thumb kept making lazy loops over Noah’s hand, his breath slow.

Noah barely looked up. “What if we lose the final?”

Jay just sat, the mattress creaking under his weight. “Then we lose.”

Noah snapped his head up. There was a desperate edge in his voice. “That’s it?”

Jay shrugged. “What do you want me to say?”

“Something reassuring.” Noah’s lips twisted in a half-grimace. He leaned in a fraction, almost instinctively, looking for something sturdy.

Jay’s smile flickered, gentle and tired. “Okay.” He shifted, knees knocking against Noah’s. “We’re still here. We’re still together. We still have a team. We’ve still got a shot at that final.”

Noah stared at him; the hard lines around his eyes eased. He let out a shaky breath and pried his grip open, releasing some of the tension.

Jay reached up, brushing Noah’s knuckles. “And you still have me.”

Noah’s lips trembled before curling, almost laughing. “You’re annoyingly calm.”

Jay’s eyes darted away for just a second. “I’m terrified,” he admitted, voice so low it nearly vanished.

Noah blinked, surprised. His eyebrows tightened. “You are?”

Jay nodded. Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I’m just trying not to let you see it.”

Noah inched closer, his shoulder pressed into Jay’s. He found the hem of the blanket, fingers rubbing it back and forth like worry beads. “Why?”

Jay leaned in. “Because you were shaking in there.”

Noah looked down, his voice rough. “I thought they were going to take everything away.”

Jay took his hand again, locking their fingers. “They didn’t.”

Noah nodded, not quite looking convinced. “Because Coach fought for us.”

Jay squeezed his hand. “So we make sure he doesn’t regret it.”

Noah let himself lean in, head tucked into the curve of Jay’s shoulder. The steady sound of Jay’s breathing slow, even calmed him more than words.

Jay’s arm wrapped around him, warm hand on his waist, thumb tracing easy circles over the soft fabric.

Muffled against Jay’s shirt, Noah asked, “What are we going to do?”

Jay didn’t answer right away. “About what?”

Noah pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. “About watching everyone else play. Sitting on the bench. Seeing them on the ice. Knowing we should be out there.”

Jay raked his fingers through Noah’s hair, letting them settle at his nape. “It’s going to be strange.”

Noah stared at him, frustration flickering. “Strange?” His voice cracked. “It’s going to be torture.”

Jay almost smiled, shaking his head. “You’re dramatic.”

Noah shrugged. “I’m honest. I’ve never watched a game from the bench. Not like this.”

Jay’s fingers tangled in Noah’s hair, then went still. “Me neither.”

Noah studied Jay’s face, searching for something solid. “How’re you so calm?”

Jay paused, letting the silence hang as he picked at the hem of his own sleeve. “Because I’ve already lost things before.”

Noah’s face fell. “Jay…”

Jay looked at the floor. His voice ran thin. “I know what it feels like to have something taken from you. And you can’t do anything about it.”

Noah pressed his palm flat to Jay’s chest, right over his heart. The contact was grounding—solid. “You’re not losing me.”

Jay met his gaze—earnest, open. “I know.”

Noah watched, noting the tension in Jay’s jaw. “Then why do you look like you’re bracing for it?”

Jay’s hands curled into fists. “I can’t help it.”

Noah pressed his forehead to Jay’s, their breath mingling in the small space. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Jay let out a shaky breath, lips just inches away. “You don’t know that.”

Noah’s answer was steady. “Yes, I do. I’m right here. I’m not leaving.”

Jay’s hand found the back of Noah’s neck, fingers sliding into his hair. “Promise?”

Noah barely smiled, lips brushing Jay’s. “Promise.”

They kissed—slow, warm, deliberate, letting all their fear and hope pour out between them. Noah’s fingers traveled up to Jay’s cheek, tracing the line of his jaw. Jay’s hand tightened, holding him like he could anchor them both.

They broke apart, still breathing each other’s air, foreheads touching.

Jay whispered, “I love you.”

Noah’s eyes stung, tears threading his lashes. “I know.”

Noah kissed him again, soft and sure, needing Jay to feel it. Jay pulled him closer, hand strong at his waist, and Noah clung to his shirt, refusing to let go.

They sat like that for a long time. The fear faded to a low hum, the room golden and still, the world outside fading out.

Noah’s voice was tender at Jay’s lips. “I’m scared.”

Jay’s hand stroked his cheek. “I know.”

“But I’m not running.”

Jay leaned his forehead to Noah’s. “Neither am I.”

They held each other tight, silence pressing in but somehow—together—it was bearable.



Luca stepped through the door.

Jack was already there, perched on the edge of his bed, hunched over his phone. When he noticed Luca, his hands froze mid-scroll.

Luca let his bag drop to the floor, the sound more of a dull puff than a bang. He didn’t move for a moment, scanning the ceiling, the corners. He seemed tired, heavy.

The quiet between them grew thick and anxious. Jack swallowed, rubbing his palms on his jeans.

He stood, trying to shake out the tension, but it stuck to him. “Luca.”

Luca paused with one hand gripping the strap of his backpack. “Yeah?” His voice was flat.

Jack’s heart was slamming. “Can we talk?”

Luca looked up, eyes steady, not harsh—just tired to the bone. “About what?”

Jack’s gaze dropped to the space between them. He wished the words would come out smooth, confident. They didn’t. “Us.”

A flicker passed across Luca’s face. He searched Jack’s eyes for a second, maybe trying to find a lie, maybe just not expecting anything at all.

Then his answer, soft but final, “There’s no more us.”

Jack froze. He felt the words slam through his chest. His hands fell open at his side, muscles slack. When he spoke, his voice was barely hanging on. “Luca…”

Luca’s stare sharpened. “You ended it, Jack.”

Jack’s breath went shallow. “I know.”

“So there’s nothing left to talk about.” Luca didn’t raise his voice, but every syllable had weight.

Jack shuffled forward a step, and everything in him wanted to close the space. His hand twitched out. “Please.”

Luca recoiled, just a small step, but it said everything. His face paled, eyes going glassy. “Don’t.”

Jack’s hand dropped uselessly. The words got stuck in his throat, voice cracked. “I didn’t want to.”

Luca’s face crumpled as he forced out the words. “Then why did you?”

Jack’s lips parted, but nothing came out. The answer burned inside him, but it was too tangled and raw to push free. Photos. His father’s venom. Jamie’s shadow. All of it crowded out the space for speech.

Luca waited. His breaths were short, his knuckles whitening as his hands shook. “Jack.”

Jack’s cheeks went wet before he realized he was crying. “I don’t know.”

Luca’s face twisted in confusion and pain. “You don’t know?”

Jack sniffed back the tears. “I thought—” He closed his eyes, jaw clenched. “I thought it would be easier.”

Luca’s voice shattered. “Easier for who?”

Jack had no answer.

Luca stepped forward, desperation in every movement. “You broke my heart. And you didn’t even know why?”

Jack’s whole body shook. “I’m sorry.”

Luca’s shoulders hunched. “Sorry isn’t enough.” His voice trembled. “You left. You just walked away. Said you needed to focus, and I believed you.” Tears streaked his cheeks. “I stayed up crying, thinking it was because I wasn’t enough.”

Jack pressed his fists to his sides, the ache crawling up his arms. “Luca—”

Luca’s voice cracked, torn open. “I loved you. I loved you, and you didn’t even give me a reason.”

Jack’s words came out in a ragged gasp. “I’m so sorry.”

Luca stepped in, eyes searching Jack’s face for anything that could fix the hurt. “Why did you do it?”

Jack bit his lip. “I thought—” He faltered, voice hollow. “I thought I was protecting you.”

Luca blinked, lost. “From what?”

Jack’s eyes jumped away, corners of the room screaming with all the things he couldn’t say. The threats, the faces, the secrets pressing down on him.

“You can’t even tell me.” Luca’s voice trembled, turning away.

Jack made himself meet Luca’s eyes. “It’s complicated.”

Luca’s laugh was sharp and bitter. “You broke my heart and all you can say is it’s complicated?”

Jack surged forward, hand reaching for Luca’s arm. “Please.”

Luca flinched back, red-eyed. “No.”

Jack’s hand dropped. His chest hollowed out, air gone.

Luca’s next words barely made it out: “I can’t do this again.”

Jack tried to gather himself. “Luca—”

He shook his head, voice almost gone. “I can’t. I can’t keep waiting for you to leave.”

The distance between them stretched. Jack’s hands were shaking for real now, eyes stinging. He wanted to cut through the air, erase the gap, just hold him. Instead, he stood there, helpless.

Luca slipped onto his bed, back turned, shoulders hunched high. His hand covered his mouth, the trembling visible in his whole frame.

Jack didn’t move. He watched Luca shake, his own chest aching with the want to touch, to comfort, to explain everything swirling in his head but nothing would come.

The room felt too quiet. The city outside was all darkness.

Jack realized, suddenly and fiercely, that he’d spent the whole day rehearsing, bracing for this. And maybe he was already too late.