Aly ran the conversation they just had through her head again and again. She walked back to the Village with her shoulders sagged and her head hung low. The tips of her ears grew warm and her face turned hot as she fought back tears.

We become Russia and America, Mustafina and Raisman – not Aliya and Aly.She scratched at her left thumb and bit on her bottom lip to stop the tears from falling again.

We are not friends. We have to be like that, enemies. Aly's heart throbbed, and sank further into the pit of her stomach. Aliya was wrong. Aliya was so wrong. They weren't enemies. They were friends. They were Aliya and Aly.

I like you, Aly, but enough. Aly wrapped her arms around herself and dug her fingers into her waist. She wanted to throw up. Her pace quickened as she felt the tears pool in her eyes. Aliya, please, come get me.

I like you, Aly, but enough.

She walked more quickly, increasing her pace every time that line popped into her head. She broke into a sprint back to the Village. Her lungs burned for air, her eyes were misty with tears, and her heart throbbed ardently for Aliya. How could her heart still yearn for that vile Russian? She had held Aly's heart on a leash and tightened the grip, before releasing it again – exposed, raw, and helpless. Aly had sworn that she loved Aliya, but after this, how could she face the girl again, let alone keep chasing her?

The Russian had torn her limb from limb, flayed her soul and left her for dead. She'd done it so easily and mercilessly, that Aly cringed at the thought of ever falling for her again. I like you, Aly, but enough. How could she just do that? What gave her the right to make Aly's heart soar, her temperature to rise, and goose bumps to erupt all over her skin? What gave her the right to have such a profound impact on Aly? What gave her the right to keep doing it after she rubbed Aly raw?

Aly pushed past the doors into the Village and started to dash back to her room. Her surroundings were reduced to a blur and time seemed to slow down. All she could hear were her staccato breaths and pounding heart. Blood rushed to her head and her tears flowed freely down her flushed cheeks. She didn't want to do anything or see anyone that day – no training, no Fierce Five, no Olympics, no stupid Russian. No, she needed some time for herself, and she was jolly well going to get some, regardless of the consequences.

Aly bolted upright at the sound of a timid knock at the door. She groaned as she planted her face back onto her pillow. She didn't have time for anyone or their sympathy. The person knocked again. Heaving herself back upright, Aly glanced at the mirror. Yikes. Her hair had fallen out of her bun and wily strands framed her tear-stricken and pillow-creased face. Her eyes were sore and bloodshot, her nose was bright red and her entire appearance screamed 'hermit'. She wet her dry lips and squinted her eyes. I guess it's not as bad when you squint. She really didn't want to unlock the door, but being cooped up alone in her room moping about a certain Russian heartbreaker wouldn't do much good to her ailing heart. Besides, there was no way Jordyn could survive without her secret stash of chocolate pudding in the room.

"Aly, um, are you alright?" a timid voice piped. Kyla. Aly's spirit perked up a little at that thought. She always had a soft spot for Kyla. After all, Kyla, their little Mighty Mouse, was the baby of the team, and Aly always assumed the role of mother hen to her. Smiling a little to herself, Aly heaved herself off of the bed and walked up to the door.

She wasn't sure if she expected the gulp from Kyla, but she pretended it didn't happen and invited her in. "The team sent me here to check up on- What happ- Why do you look like shi- I mean, are you okay?" Kyla stuttered, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth to suppress a gasp.

"I look like shit, I know," Aly said drily as she rolled her eyes.

"I'm sorry, you just really do look terrible," Kyla sat on the bed and pulled Aly's arm along, "You've got pillow creases on your face and all, and your eyes are so red. Have you been drinking?"

Kyla looks so serious, and Aly couldn't help but laugh. This was what she loved about Kyla. She was so compassionate, and if there was one person in the entire world that was genuine and hadn't let the fame of the Fierce Five get to her, it was Kyla. Aly loved her for being so down-to-earth. She made sure Aly's feet were always planted firmly on the ground, regardless of what success they've made over the past couple of years.

"No, I haven't, Ky," Aly sighed, "It's just that, you know, shit happens. People stomp all over you sometimes, and make you angry and upset, and all you can do is watch. There isn't much you can do about it, so you just watch in shock and that feeling of betrayal creeps up on you, and you can't do shit about it. One day you'll feel like that too, but you just have to take it in your stride."

"Gosh, Aly. I'm turning 16, and you're barely older than me. You think you're all that, huh, being philosophical and intelligent-sounding," Kyla laughed, and punched Aly's arm, eliciting a chuckle from her, "So, I'm guessing your Russian princess has something to do with this?"

Aly leaned her head on Kyla's shoulder, and sighed, "Yeah, that beautiful, hazel-eyed, Russian bitch."

Kyla ran her fingers through Aly's messy hair and hugged her, burying her face in Aly's neck. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, her voice muffled by Aly's skin.

Aly sighed, peeling away from the hug. She wasn't ready to talk about it with anyone just yet, but it was Kyla. She would listen. "Long story short, I spoke to her today and stuff and she told me that she didn't want to be with me or even remain friends, which is pretty stupid if you ask me. I mean, she knows that I think she's pretty cool and stuff, you know? And she likes spending time with me, I hope. I mean, she always looks happier with me than with her team. Do you notice that? Like how her eyes sparkle when we're together, and how she smiles a lot more. I notice it. Then today she tells me that and I don't know what to make of it. Then she starts rubbing all up against this Natasha girl, I don't know, the French one-"

"Nichole."

"Right, okay, Nichole, and she just, I don't know. She's just horrible. I really like her, and that sucks the most. I can't seem to stop thinking about her. After what she said today, I just want her more. I want to make her happy. I want to be the only one who makes her smile. I want her to want me back. I think I might love her. Am I being stupid?"

"You said the same things about Keira, you know that," Kyla mused.

"I know, but this time, it's real. I know it is," Aly sighed and fell backwards onto the bed, "I just want her to feed me chocolate and stroke my hair as we watch Flipped or something, is that too much to ask?"

Kyla remained silent for a while. A look of disappointment flitted across her face at Aly's soliloquy. Her forehead wrinkled and her nose was scrunched up, as they always did while she was deep in thought. Aly couldn't help but smile at how adorable Kyla was. She pursed her lips and finally spoke, "I'll help you win her back."

Aly stared at her.A smile crept across her face as she processed Kyla's statement. Yes, yes. A thousand times, yes! Her heart swelled as she looked at her Mighty Mouse, who was so eager to help. She nodded her head and enveloped Kyla in a tight hug, "I love you, Ky."

She felt Kyla bury her head in the crook of her neck, her nose pressed against her shoulder. She felt Kyla's eyelashes brush against her neck.

"I love you too, Alykins."

Aly walked into the training gym, her mind dead set on one thing: impressing Aliya Mustafina. You're Alexandra Raisman. You get shit done. Shit meaning Aliya, who is not so shit. You get her done, yes.

She threw her bag on her team's bench and removed her jacket and track pants, her eyes glued to the Russian on the beam at the other end of the gym. Aliya was the picture of perfection. She wasn't the best gymnast in the room, nor was she the most graceful, but she certainly had the greatest drive. Her determination and ferocity undoubtedly struck fear into the hearts of all the gymnasts in the gym, for she was practising with such concentration and brutality. She had certainly established that she was a force to be reckoned with.

Aly's eyes drifted over to the vault, where the French team was huddled. A head of platinum blond hair held her gaze. Stupid French 'ho. She narrowed her eyes at the renowned gymnast and her jaw tightened. Nichole wasn't paying any attention to her coach, rather, she had her eyes glued to the Russian on the beam as well. Aly studied the French girl, who had the same look of concentration on her face. Aly didn't really like the fact that she was concentrating on her girl, but she couldn't blame her. After all, Aliya was beyond perfect. However, Aly knew that she would make Nichole would pay if she ever so much as thought that she could replace Aly in Aliya's heart. You won't see the light of day again, Girard.

At that moment, she found herself staring into a sea of icy blue. Shit. Nichole gave her a devious smirk, before turning her head back to the Russian. Shit, she saw me staring. Aly clenched her teeth together and unpacked her bags forcefully, thoughts of Nichole flirting, and heavens forbid, doing things with Aliya darted through her head. She clenched her teeth harder with every kiss, pet name, and sickeningly sweet gesture that popped into her head.

Nichole Girard just made her want to impress Aliya more.

Pinning the last lock of hair in place, Aly made her way onto the floor. "Ky, baby, help me stretch out," Aly yelled to Kyla, a little too loudly. Kyla scampered from her coach to Aly. "You're going to help me win Aliya back, right? Well, from my experience, making a girl jealous works wonders. So, put your hands on my back or butt or something, and maybe if you sigh a little it'll work wonders," Aly whispered.

"Aly, are you sure that worked?" Kyla asked, frowning.

"Point is, Ky, just touch me and make sure she looks, okay?" Aly replied briskly, waving Kyla's question off.

She lay down on the floor and signalled for Kyla to pull her left leg over her head. "Okay, maybe brush your fingers against my thigh or something," Aly urged. The tips of Kyla's ears grew bright red and beads of sweat appeared along her hairline. "Aly…" Kyla said through gritted teeth.

Aly glanced back up to the Russian team. Aliya was looking in her direction. Upon realising she had been caught, Aliya looked away quickly, massaging the back of her neck with both hands. Aly looked back up at the French team and saw Nichole staring at her, eyebrows quirked and arms akimbo. She made no effort to hide her bemused expression or even turn away at being caught. Nichole just shook her head amusedly and sauntered away.

Dammit.

—-

The next afternoon after training at the gym, Aly and her team went to buy some snacks at the vending machine. As luck would have it, the Russian team approached from the gym.

Aly turned to her team and hollered, "Hey, guys, do you know what snacks are the best?"

"What, those that make you shout at us from three inches away?" McKayla scoffed.

"No, something else." Aly looked over at Kyla and motioned to the Russian team by tilting her head.

"Um, Russian snacks?" Kyla suggested.

"Yeah! And do you know which girls are prettiest?" Aly continued, hoping to catch Aliya's attention.

The whole team turned to look at Aly, who seemed to have the stress of the Games finally setting in on her. That was certainly unlike her less noisy, more composed self. Jo had an eyebrow raised, Gabby's eyes were wide, and McKayla was uncharacteristically frowning.

"Um, Russian girls?" Kyla ventured.

"Yeah! Do you know-"

"Aly, for the love of God, shut the hell up!" Jo cried, as she threw her hands up.

The Russian team walked past them, quizzical looks on their faces; all except the one Aliya Mustafina, who had her head bowed down.

Dammit.

That evening, Aly, McKayla and Kyla went to Starbucks to order their usual soy lattes. They walked into the café and saw Aliya and one of her teammates, Ksenia, probably, huddled in the back of the café over their drinks and muffins. Her heart sank the moment she realised that that was where they had sat for their little 'date'.

She strode up to the counter and the barista greeted her with a grin. "Hey, can I get one soy-," Aly paused, remembering what Aliya ordered the last time they were here, "One hot chocolate please."

"No soy latte this time, babe?" McKayla quizzed, bemused.

"No, I've decided to change my order," Aly stated matter-of-factly.

"Oh, no! Don't tell me, did your Russian princess change your taste buds to something a little more Russian?" McKayla teased.

"Mack, that doesn't make any sense," Kyla added.

"I'm pretty sure Russians love their chocolate, gosh. Why'd you change your order, anyway? I thought you would die without your precious soy latte."

"I guess I'd give this a try, since," Aly dropped her voice to a whisper, "Aliya had this the last time."

"Oh my goodness, Aly! So, you decided that you liked the taste of hot chocolate on your lips so much, that you give up your soy latte in order to taste your Russian princess? Hot damn, babe, you're whipped," McKayla cried, shaking from laughter.

The handful of customers in the café looked up from their food to shoot the girls a look of attentiveness and irritation. Of course, everyone looked up but Aliya, whose cheeks were glowing red.

Aly bit on the inside of her cheek to stop herself from lashing out at McKayla. Her face prickled with anger and embarrassment, and her fists clenched and unclenched by her sides. She glanced back at the table where Aliya and Ksenia were sitting, only to be met by an open side door and an empty table.

Dammit.

That night, Aly stormed back into her room. She plopped herself down on the chair and got down to what she'd been intending to do. She ignored Jordyn's 'what's wrong, Miss Antsy', she ignored the fact that she was still in her slightly sweaty team jacket, and she ignored the fact that it was way past her bedtime. She pulled a pen from her backpack and snatched some paper from the desk in the room. It's been two days, and she'd had more than enough of Aliya's bullshit.

She scribbled at the paper, making sure to dot her 'i's and full stops hard enough to emphasise her point, and to press her pen down harder to allow her anger to show. She let her tears hit the paper and smudge her words. The words that she was writing on that piece of paper were her feelings poured out and painfully arranged into coherence for the Russian. Aly's heart wrenched with every stroke she penned, and every sentence she ended.

Aly set her pen down and read through the letter again and again. She imagined Aliya reading it, and a small, smug smile crossed her face. It hurt to do this, but she took joy in the fact that she knew it would hurt the Russian, too.

She read through it one last time, before sealing it in the envelope lying on the desk. No turning back now.

It was way past midnight by the time she was done. She left her room and walked down the corridor, passing room after room before finally arriving at room 151. She pressed the flap of the sealed envelope to her lips as warm tears ran down her cheeks. She bent down and slid it under the door. No turning back at all.

Aly turned and walked away. Her heart raced as she thought about what she'd written. No, it had to be done. She willed herself to stop crying as she recalled the last two words of the letter. By writing those words, she'd given herself reassurance. She'd stood up for herself. She'd turned the tables. She wasn't the pathetic loser who was pushed around and bent backwards by the Russian; she was her own person. It hurt, but she had to do it. She stopped halfway down the corridor to throw room 151 one last, wistful look, as the last two words popped into her head again for the last time –

Goodbye, Aliya.