22 Oct 2020
“What the fuck did I do,” Blaze mumbles. It seems like it echoes off the gross floor and the gross popcorn ceiling until it’s a chorus. What the fuck is he doing. He lets himself stand there for a few moments more, hand bruised and a little of the skin torn. His breathing is rough. He still hasn’t changed out of his practice jersey and shorts, but he isn’t expected home until six anyway.
Haltingly, he unclenches his fist. Hisses. Fumbles with his locker to open it —
“What on earth did you do?” And, hah, Blaze knows that voice.
“What the fuck does it look like I did, Charlie?”