‡† The Unseen †‡

07 † More shadows †

God, Raven. Why can't you just fake the freaking smile?

He didn’t look at her, didn’t slow down.

He couldn’t.

Because if he stopped—if he saw the concern in her eyes, or the sympathy—he might crack again.

And he couldn’t afford another break.

Not when he’d barely glued the last one shut.

“Okay,” she murmured, backing off, her voice small. “Okay, I get it.”

Raven kept walking, not turning back, fists clenched in his pockets.

Inside, shame burned deep.

Not because he’d hurt her.

But because a part of him had wanted her to care.

And that made everything harder.

————

God..

The sun was merciless, even in the late afternoon. Heat clung to the back of Raven’s neck like guilt, and every part of his body felt like it had been scraped raw.

I can't take this anymore..

Practice had already been dragging when Coach blew his whistle and barked, “New drill. Let’s see who’s still got legs.”

Raven barely heard the words. His ears were ringing again, his body screaming in quiet, invisible pain. His mother had barely slept last night—chills, fever, the kind of sickness that made her whisper apologies every time he helped her sit up. Raven hadn’t complained. He never did.

Coming to school was a mistake as well. The panic attack, the crack, all of them weren't supposed to happen. The throbs and fakery was just.. so unbearable today.

And now, on the field, his legs felt like cement. His shoulder throbbed. His breath came short.

Can't I get a break..? Just once?

Still, he moved.

Pushed.

Ran the drill.

Oh no, oh no–

Until he stumbled.

Raven Eli doesn't stumble.

Coach gave a single glance—a sharp one—but then, oddly, backed off. No yelling. No whistle. Just a slow, assessing nod before he turned back to the rest of the team.

And that, somehow, was worse.

Because Raven could feel the eyes behind him.

“Of course,” someone muttered, just loud enough. “Golden boy gets a pass.”

“He’s been off all week. Coach won’t say a word.”

“If that was me, I’d be benched.”

The words sank like stones into Raven’s chest.

Are you kidding me?!

He turned around, slowly.

“What was that?” he asked, voice low and strained.

“Oh, come on, man,” one of the midfielders said. “You’re barely trying. You show up, jog through drills, and Coach still acts like you walk on water.”

Another chimed in. “We get it. You’re special. But don’t think you get to slack off and still act like you carry the whole team.”

That did it.