The hallway outside Jared's hospital room was silent, sterile, and dim. Mark stood frozen, his back to the wall, heart hammering against his ribs.
He could've left. He should've.
But he didn't.
Something about the way Jared's shoulders had curled inward after his father left—the way he didn't say a word, didn't even try to hold back the tears—left Mark standing there, unable to walk away.
So, he turned back.
Quietly, he pushed the door open again. The low light above Jared's bed cast a soft glow across his face. His fingers trembled as he wiped at his eyes.
He didn't see Mark enter.
"Hey…" Mark said gently.
Jared flinched, startled, and quickly looked away, wiping his face again. "Didn't think you'd still be here."
"I didn't either," Mark admitted, walking to the side of the bed. "But I couldn't leave you like that."
Jared let out a bitter chuckle. "Why? I've done nothing but treat you like crap."
"Yeah… you have," Mark said honestly, pulling up the chair. "But that doesn't mean I stopped caring."
Jared looked down at the blanket pooled over his lap. "You should."
Mark shook his head. "I can't."
For a moment, the only sound was the soft hum of machines and the rain still tapping at the window.
"I heard what your dad said," Mark added quietly. "And I know how that shit can get inside your head and eat at you."
Jared's jaw tightened. "It's not just that. It's… everything. The team. The rumors. The girls who won't look at me anymore. My dad saying I'll lose everything I've worked for. That it's just a 'phase' and if I don't end it, I'm out."
He finally looked at Mark, eyes glassy. "And he's right, isn't he? No one's ever gonna see me the same way."
"No," Mark said, voice firm. "They won't. But that's on them, not you."
Jared blinked. "Easy for you to say."
Mark sighed. "You think it's been easy for me?"
Jared frowned. "You've never said."
"I didn't think it would matter," Mark admitted. "After you called me a freak in front of the whole team."
Jared looked down again, guilt washing over his face.
"But just so you know…" Mark continued, voice quieter. "Someone graffitied my dorm door. Called me every slur in the book. I had to scrape it off myself because no one wanted to help. People avoid me in the locker room like I'm gonna infect them."
Jared's head snapped up. "Wait—what? When?"
"Few days after the rumors started. Right after that first party."
Jared swallowed hard. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Mark gave him a look. "You really think you were in the headspace to care?"
Jared winced.
"I'm not saying this to guilt you," Mark said. "I'm saying it because you're not alone. You think you're carrying this weight all by yourself, but you're not. I've been carrying mine, too. Maybe we both made mistakes."
Silence.
Then Jared whispered, "I didn't know it got that bad for you."
"Because you never asked," Mark said softly. "You pushed me away."
"I was scared," Jared admitted. "Still am."
"Me too," Mark said. "But being scared doesn't mean you get to hurt people who care about you."
Jared looked away again. "I don't know how to fix this."
"You start by not shutting people out," Mark said gently. "I'm not asking for anything else right now. I just want you to know that I'm here. If you want me to be."
Jared's lips trembled. "You'd still want to be friends? After everything?"
Mark nodded. "Yeah. Because no matter how much you try to hide it, I know you're not the guy who said those things in the locker room. You're the guy who helped me during tryouts. The guy who made fun of my stance until I got it right. The guy who kissed me and meant it."
Jared swallowed hard. "I did mean it."
"I know."
They both sat in silence again, but this time it was different—less suffocating. More like breathing room.
"So… friends?" Jared asked, almost hopeful.
Mark smiled softly. "Friends."
Jared let out a shaky breath. "Thanks."
Mark stood. "Get some rest. I'll come check on you tomorrow."
As he turned to leave, Jared's voice stopped him.
"Hey, Mark?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry."
Mark met his eyes and nodded. "I know."
He stepped out into the hallway, this time without hesitation. The rain had finally stopped.
--
The buzz of excitement hummed through the dorm lounge like the low growl of a crowd before a big game. The team had pulled together last minute—stringing up lights, pushing furniture to the walls, and setting out too many bags of chips—to celebrate Jared's return.
Mark stood near the back, sipping from a red plastic cup, trying to ignore the thump of music in his chest. He hadn't been sure if he should come. After everything that had happened, the last thing he wanted was another party.
But Jared had asked him to.
That meant something.
When the door swung open, and Jared walked in—arm in a sling, still a little pale but smiling like he meant it—the room lit up with cheers.
"Hey! He's alive!" shouted Devon, their left fielder, pulling him into a careful, one-armed hug.
Jared chuckled. "Can't get rid of me that easy."
Several guys clapped him on the back. A few girls, including a couple who used to avoid him in the halls, came up and offered soft smiles.
"You okay now?" one of them asked. "That crash looked bad."
"I'm alright," Jared said. "Just sore."
Her eyes flicked to his arm. "Does it still hurt?"
Jared shrugged with his good shoulder. "Little bit. Nothing major."
But Mark noticed the way Jared's smile faltered when he said it.
"Gonna be out for a while?" another player asked, catching part of the conversation.
"Doctor said I should keep it in a sling for at least four weeks," Jared replied, trying to sound nonchalant.
That caught a few ears nearby.
"Four weeks?" one guy repeated. "That's the rest of the regular season."
"Playoffs too," someone else muttered.
Jared's smile faded completely now.
Mark saw the tension ripple through the room like a chill breeze. Some of the teammates shared glances, unspoken questions hanging heavy.
Can we make it without him?
Do we even stand a chance?
Jared didn't say anything. He just grabbed a soda from the table and drifted toward the back of the room.
Mark found him standing by the window a few minutes later, staring out at the quad. The party buzzed behind them, but Jared was in his own little world.
"Hey," Mark said softly.
Jared turned his head. "Didn't think you'd come."
"You asked."
Jared offered a small smile. "Thanks."
They stood in silence for a moment, the noise behind them fading into background static.
"You alright?" Mark asked.
Jared hesitated. "I don't know. Everyone's been nice tonight. Even the girls. But I can feel it, you know? Like they're wondering how we're supposed to win without me."
"You don't owe them a championship," Mark said gently.
"I owe the team something," Jared said. "They put their faith in me. Coach did. And now I'm benched for the rest of the season because I had a meltdown and crashed my truck."
Mark leaned against the wall beside him. "You're human, Jared. You made a mistake. Doesn't mean you don't matter anymore."
Jared looked over. "You always know what to say?"
Mark laughed softly. "Nope. Just winging it."
They shared a quiet moment before Jared added, "You think we can still make the playoffs?"
Mark thought for a second. "Not if we keep playing like we've been."
Jared winced.
"But," Mark continued, "if we pull together—get out of our own heads—I think we've still got a shot."
Jared nodded slowly. "Then maybe I'll learn to pitch with my left hand."
Mark grinned. "Please don't. Your fastball's scary enough as it is."
A laugh slipped from Jared's lips, genuine and soft.
"You wanna get out of here?" he asked. "Not like leave, but… just, I don't know. Talk somewhere quieter?"
Mark's chest warmed. "Yeah. I'd like that."
They slipped out the side exit, unnoticed by most of the partygoers. Jared led him down a quiet path between dorms, streetlights casting long shadows. The cool spring air brushed against their faces, and for the first time in days, things felt almost… normal.
"I missed this," Jared said after a while. "Talking to you."
"I did too," Mark admitted. "Even when you were being a jerk."
"Yeah," Jared said. "Especially then."
Mark nudged him playfully with his shoulder. "I should deck you for that 'freak' comment."
Jared's expression turned serious. "I'm sorry, Mark. I really am. Not just for that—but for all of it. For pushing you away. For not standing up. For pretending like what we had didn't matter."
Mark swallowed hard, eyes on the sidewalk. "It mattered to me."
"I know," Jared whispered. "It did to me too."
They stopped walking.
Jared looked down at his sling. "This sucks. I hate feeling helpless."
"You're not helpless," Mark said. "You've still got a team. And me. If you want me."
Jared looked up, searching his face. "I do."
Mark took a breath. "Then maybe… we can try again. Slowly."
Jared's smile returned, small but real. "Yeah. I'd like that."
They stood there for a while longer under the lamplight, just two boys in baseball jackets—still bruised, still figuring it out, but no longer alone.