Elliot snorted. “You won. We know.”
Hale tilted his head, studying Elliot with those piercing blue eyes. “What’s this really about?”
“Just… let it go.”
Hale didn’t. Of course he didn’t. His gaze flicked to Elliot’s hand, then back to his face. Elliot flexed it without thinking, trying to prove everything was fine. Pain shot up his arm, sharp enough his breath caught.
Hale reached out and took Elliot’s wrist. The contact was—unexpected. Hale’s fingers wrapped around it, callused and tentative.
“Jesus,” Hale said. “You’re an idiot.”
Elliot stiffened.
Every instinct screamed at him to pull away. To shut this down, reclaim the space. But he stayed completely still.
Hale turned his hand, bending close to inspect the damage. Streaks of his light blond hair caught the fluorescent light. This close, Elliot saw the faint stubble along his jaw, the little scar by his left ear.
Hale’s thumb brushed over the reddening skin, light enough that Elliot almost thought he’d imagined it. Heat spread from the point of contact up his arm and he told himself it was the injury.
“I said I’m fine.”
“Mhm.” Hale didn’t let go. “Not sure your hand agrees.”
He swallowed, too aware of how close Hale was. How quiet the locker room felt with just the two of them in it. Of the fact Hale still held his wrist like it hadn’t occurred to him he shouldn’t, unaware of how perfectly motionless Elliot stayed.
“Let go,” Elliot said, almost a whisper.
Instead, Hale’s grip tightened a fraction.
“Is it because of your dad?”
The question hit clean, knocking the air out of Elliot’s lungs. “What?”
Hale met his eyes. His expression was open in a way Elliot hadn’t seen before—not playful, not smug. “General Shaw. I’m guessing ‘good enough’ wasn’t really a thing in your house.”
For a second Elliot considered lying like he always did. Just deflect and lock it all down. But Hale had his wrist in his hand.
“No. Coming in second was not an option.”
Hale stroked one of Elliot's bruised knuckles, so gentle it made his chest ache. “You trying to prove something to him?”
The question stayed unanswered, pressing too close to things he didn't want to admit, even to himself.
“Man.” Hale sighed under his breath.
Elliot let out a breath that had been stuck in his throat all week. He glanced down at their hands. Hale's fingers wrapped carefully around his wrist.
Hale followed his gaze. “Oh… Sorry.” He loosened his grip, but didn’t let go completely.
The loss was immediate.
Hale studied his face, searching for something Elliot couldn’t quite figure out. They remained like that for a moment, neither of them moving.
He couldn’t do this. Not here. Not like this.
He pulled his hand free and grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulders. "I gotta go."
"Yeah.” Hale took a step back. “Right."
