The locker room is mostly empty, guys finishing up from practice and dressing after showers. Mike and Matt are two of the last ones to remain, Matt laying out on the weight bench and Mike spotting him from above. Both boys are dressed in gym clothes, the gray material of their t-shirts sweat-soaked and clinging to their torsos.
Matt, puffing as he lifts, manages to find enough breath to berate Mike for the fifth time that day for his spectacular MarioKart fail during last night's guys' night in.
" You lost to *Finn*! The dude who usually gets so confused between his left and his right he goes backwards on the track." He lifts the weight again, his biceps trembling.
" I know, I know, I'm sorry. It's just - " Mike trails off, his hands ghosting the bar as Matt replaces it in the holder. He lets out a deep sigh, shaking his head and letting his shrug speak the words his mouth won't form.
The stockier boy sits up, wiping at his face with a towel and studying his friend with consternation. Because Mike's spent more time recently just trailing off, in his own head, words failing him. And as his best friend, Matt's rightly concerned. " Just *what*? Seriously, Mike, what's going on? I'm your bro, you can tell me."
" Nothing. Just stuff on my mind."
" What kind of stuff?" There's a long pause, and then Matt checks over his shoulder, making sure no one else is in the locker room, and lowers his voice. " Mike, we're friends right?"
Mike's frown is instant. " Yeah, of course."
" And you trust me, right?"
" Totally. Matt, what are you - "
Matt takes a deep breath, finally asking the question that has been on the tip of his tongue for weeks. " Are you gay?"
Mike's so shocked by the question that the words come out higher than he means them too. " What? No!"
Matt holds his hands up, " Seriously, dude, if that's what's going on, I'm totally cool. No judging here. Just tell me."
" I'm *not* gay. Not that there's anything wrong with being gay."
" That's what I'm saying."
" But I'm *not*. Why would you even - ?"
" What? You dress well and you spend a lot of time with your Mom. Coupled with the fact you've hung out with Brittany every Thursday since we were ten and haven't had sex with her...it wasn't like, out of this world unreasonable to ask."
Mike rubs his face with his hand, unable to stifle a laugh. " Firstly, Brittany's like my sister and so the idea of that is beyond weird. Secondly... " he takes a deep breath, buying himself a moment. " Do you know Tina?"
Matt thinks for a moment - Mike can see him scanning through the list of girls in his head - before he shrugs. " No?"
Rolling his eyes, Mike elaborates. " She sits behind you in World History. Dark hair. Korean. Hangs out with that Mercedes girl from your church."
" Gothika?" Matt finally hits a moment of recognition, but it causes something to tighten in Mike's stomach.
" Yes. No. I mean, yes, you're thinking of the right girl, but *no* that isn't her name. Her name's Tina. Cohen-Chang."
" Okay," Matt holds up his hands in submission. " Sorry. So I know who Tina is. What's the point?"
Mike feels a blush take over his features, and something knot in his stomach, and the words freeze in his throat. He pushes himself off the bench and towards the lockers. " Nothing. It doesn't even matter."
" What the hell?" Matt stands up as well, watching as Mike peels off his sweat-soaked t-shirt, grabbing his towel and things from his locker. " Since when can you not talk to me?"
" Since you called her Gothika," Mike throws back, slamming his locker shut with a loud metal bang. Even he is surprised by the sound of anger in his voice.
Mike stills when a large hand lands on his shoulder, and squeezes, just once. Matt's eyes are wide and his voice gentle. " Mike, I'm sorry. I honestly didn't know her name. I won't call her that again, I swear. Tell me what's going on."
" I'm crazy about her." The words tumble out of Mike's mouth before he even has the chance to think, and he blushes furiously when he realises what he's said.
Matt just looks at him curiously. " I didn't know you knew her that well. She doesn't exactly...hang in the same circles."
Sighing, Mike just shrugs. " Asian," he explains, and Matt nods in understanding. The Asian community in Lima has always been tight. " We went to Elementary and Middle School together. And she sits next to me in AP Calc. She's really cool," he shrugs again.
Leaning against the lockers, Matt nods his head, toying with a loose thread at the bottom of his t-shirt. " Okay," he says with a shrug. " So why is this eating you up? Just ask her out."
There's a long pause as Mike shuts his locker, and with a sigh, leans his forehead against the cold metal. " I can't."
" Why not?"
He turns his head just enough to see Matt staring at him, confused. He tries to explain. " She's like this... quirky, individual, amazingly cool girl who's really talented and super smart."
" You're pretty smart dude. I've never seen you get less than an A."
" Yeah, but I'm a nobody."
" You're a *football* player."
As Matt's voice can't conceal his surprise, neither can Mike hide his scoff. " And what does that make me? Just another guy who spends his days running laps and getting beaten every game we play. A guys whose so called 'friends' throw her friends into dumpsters." He sighs again. " She wouldn't give me a second look."
" So show her we're not all like that," Matt says, grabbing his own stuff from his locker and peeling off his damp clothes. " Prove to her that some of us just like the game." Seeing his friend's despondent look, Matt can't help but grasp his shoulder again. " Dude, seriously, brighten the fuck up. If this girl's as awesome as you seem to think she is, then she's not going to judge you by another jerk's actions. And if you think all she sees you as is a football player...well then show her you're more than that."
Finally a smile breaks over Mike's face, and he nods his head. " You're right. Thanks."
Matt shuts his own locker with a click. " No problem." He turns to his best friend with a wink. " I'd hug you, but - you know - we're alone in the locker room and it might look kind of weird. And if you *say* you're not gay."
" I'm *not* gay."
" Exactly. So we'll forgo the hug."
Matt gets smacked square in the face with a sweaty t-shirt, and his laughter fills the room, and Mike feels some of the tension finally leave his shoulders as he heads towards the showers. Maybe there is hope after all.
XxX
The corridors are full of students milling about, some talking, collecting things from lockers, moving towards their next classes. Mike has just stopped to get a drink from the water fountain when he sees a letter jacket move in the periphery of his vision, and he straightens up just in time to see a waterfall of blue slushy crash into a very familiar face.
Tina stands, open-mouthed in shock as the ice drips down her long hair and off the end of her eyelashes. It seems to have stolen her breath away as it seeps into her shirt.
" Suck it, Stutterfly!" Karofsky grabs his crotch lewdly as he exits, throwing the now empty cup to the side and high-fiving Azimio, who walks next to him, laughing loudly.
Other kids stare at her as she stands there, frozen, but no one moves to help. Mike's just taken a step in her direction when he hears, " Oh my god, Tina!"
Kurt Hummel tears down the hallway, messenger back banging against his knees, before tenderly wrapping an arm around her shoulders. " Did they hurt you?"
She says nothing, but manages a small shake of her head as she finally reaches up and wipes the blue syrup from her eyes. They're red and puffy and Mike can only imagine how much it stings.
Gently, Kurt leads her to the ladies' room door, passing Mike on the way who cringes and tries to blend in with the locker. But he can hear their conversation plainly. " Who was it? Puck? Azimio?"
Again, she shakes her head, and slushy drips onto the floor like pattering raindrops in neon blue. " K-k-karofsky," she finally gets out as she pushes the door open. " F-fucking j-jocks."
The door swings shut behind them, and Mike has never felt worse.
He's sitting at their table in Calculus, moping, when she finally appears. Her hair has been rinsed out and tied back in a hasty braid, and her face washed free of dye, though her eyes still look red and cheeks bare tell-tale scratches from the shards of ice. Her blouse is gone - most likely ruined - leaving her only in a plain black tank top, and goosebumps are clearly evident on her arms as she sits down next to him.
" S-sorry I'm late," she says as she sits down, opening her notebook with her head held high.
Mike shrugs lightly, not taking his eyes from her wounded face. " That's okay." Watching as she takes out her pen and begins copying notes from the board, he can't help but ask, " Are you alright?"
The question makes her start, and she turns her head to him with a frown. " W-what?"
" Are you okay?" he asks again, feeling slightly uncomfortable as he adds, " I saw what happened in the hallway. With Karofsky."
She flinches at the sound of his name, and shutters seem to slam down behind her eyes. Her body tenses. " I'm f-fine," she insists, her back ram-rod straight and her eyes flashing darkly. " D-don't w-worry, your b-boy isn't going to be in any t-trouble."
" He's not my boy," Mike shoots back, and even he is shocked by how much his voice growls the words, dark and intense.
It seems to surprise Tina too, and she stares at him, hard. She must read something like truth in his face, because she relaxes, just slightly, and gives him a tiny, almost imperceptible nod before turning back to her notes.
They sit in silence for almost ten minutes, taking methodical notes for their quiz next class, until he notices her shivering beside him. He almost face-palms, because he can't believe it's taken him this long to notice. Because, seriously, it's like November and minus three degrees out, and being hit in the face with half a gallon of raspberry ice is enough to give anyone a chill. And now she's only wearing a tank top.
Shrugging out of his jacket, he starts to hold it out to her. " Here, have this would you? You look like you're going to freeze."
He's surprised when she leans away from him, pushing the material away as though it's infected with something hideous. " I d-don't want to wear th-that."
" You're shivering."
" I'll l-live. I'm not w-wearing a st-stupid letter jacket."
He stills his hand, laying the jacket across his lap. " You know, not all jocks are like Karofsky," he tells her, keeping his head down and his eyes focused on his paper. " We don't all think you're bad for being different. For being yourself. We don't all hit people in the face with slushies and throw kids into dumpsters, or beat them up steal their lunch money. Some of us just play sports."
His words seem to hit home, because a blush spreads over her cheeks, and when she holds her hand out her tone is almost apologetic. " F-fine. Give it to me." She takes the jacket, sliding her arms into it, and even though something inside her still protests her wearing it, she can't help but notice how warm it is, or that it still smells faintly like Mike's cologne.
" Better?"
She reaches out, smacking him lightly in the chest, and he can't help but notice how his skin tingles at the contact.
" S-shut up."