This may contain Non-Canon boy love but contains Lore behind Alexan. But this also contains Attempted Suicide and Arguments between good friends
It all starts with that look. The one Skott gets when he thinks he’s won, when he thinks he can just say something cruel and slip away before it lands. We’re standing under flickering streetlights, rain misting the air, the city loud enough that he probably assumes I won’t follow. He turns left. fin sliding between people as he vanishes into the crowd. For half a second, I just stare. My brain scrambles to catch up, rage roaring louder than the traffic. Then my feet move on their own. I can see him. Skott’s fin cuts through the crowd like a blade, his patterns flashing under the streetlights as he runs. He’s fast, always has been, but I chase him anyway. I shout his name as my shoes stomp against the wet pavement, and he laughs, throwing a look over his shoulder just to mock me. His laugh carries back to me. “Wow, still chasing? Careful, Alexan, you might hurt yourself.” He tells me I’m going to wear myself out, and I yell back that I’ve almost got him, even as my lungs burn and my chest tightens. My stomach twists hard, but I force myself to keep going. Skott calls back again, teasing like this is all a joke, but when he looks over his shoulder one more time, something in his voice changes. I stumble and catch myself on a wall, trying to brush it off, saying that I’m fine...right before I gag. I barely manage to bend over before I start puking onto the ground, my hands shaking and my eyes burning. Behind me, I hear his footsteps coming closer, and when he says my name, it’s quieter, worried in a way I hate. “Alexan...are you okay?” Skott said worrying. “I’m fine,” I snap, then gag hard. “Don’t..don’t start pretending like you care” I wipe my mouth and force myself upright, glaring at him and telling him not to pretend he cares now. He points out the obvious that I’m throwing up in the street, but I don’t care. I swear I’ll still get him and take a step forward, only for another violent wave of nausea to hit. I retch again, harder this time, my knees buckling as the world starts to blur. Skott moves closer, telling me I’m done, that I need to stop, but I refuse to listen. I try to laugh it off, mumbling that he doesn’t get to decide when I’m finished, and I straighten up just long enough to repeat that I’ll get him. “Okay, that’s it,” Skott says, moving toward me. “You’re done.” “I’m not...” I try to straighten. “I’m still...” Then my legs give out completely, the lights smear into nothing.
I don’t remember falling, not really. I remember feeling light, then pressure as I felt arms under my back and knees, solid and steady. The realization hits dimly. I try to say his name, or maybe an insult, but nothing comes out except a groan. My throat won’t cooperate, my tongue feels useless. “Hey, hey, I got you,” I hear him say, close to my ear. His voice sounds different, lower, tight with something that isn’t teasing. “Don’t try to talk. Just...just stay with me, okay?” I want to fight him. I want to shove him away. Instead, my head bobbles against his shoulder as he carries me, rain fading into muffled noise. He mutters under his breath, half to me, half to himself. “You’re heavier than you look… don’t you dare pass out on me now.” But I do. The world sinks inward, dark and thick, and I fall into a deep, heavy sleep. When I wake up, everything smells clean and sharp. My eyes flutter open to white ceilings and lights. I’m lying on a hospital bed. For a second, panic flares, and I try to move only to feel a dull, aching pull in my stomach and a soft beeping beside me. I turn my head and see machines hooked up to me, wires and stickers tracking my heart rate, a screen glowing steadily. Another monitor shows my body temperature. The room is empty. Too quiet. “…What,” I whisper, my voice dry and weak. The door opens not long after. A doctor steps in, clipboard in hand, and gives me a small smile. “Good, you’re awake,” they say. “You gave us a scare. Severe dehydration, exhaustion, acute stomach distress, and projectile vomiting. You’re lucky someone got you here when they did.” “Someone?” I ask, frowning. My head throbs. The doctor nods toward the door. “Actually, that someone is asking to see you. I’ll send them in. Try not to move too much.” Before I can respond, they leave. A second later, the door opens again. Skott steps inside. For a moment, I’m convinced I’m still dreaming. My chest tightens as my eyes lock onto him. My rival. Right here. In front of me. “…You,” I say, disbelief creeping into my voice. Then anger rushes in to replace it. “You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here.” He snorts softly. “Yeah, well. You’re welcome, by the way.” That does it. I grind my teeth and try to push myself up. “I swear, when I’m out of this bed, I’m gonna torment you for the rest of your-” Pain explodes through my stomach. I cry out and immediately collapse back against the mattress, breath knocked out of me as nausea and sharp agony twist together. The machines beep a little faster. “Hey- don’t!” Skott says quickly, rushing to my side. “You idiot, don’t move like that!” I glare at him through the pain. “Don’t… call me that…” He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re lucky to be alive Alexan. You passed out cold. If I hadn’t dragged you here, you could’ve been way worse off.” I freeze, staring at him. “…You brought me here?” “Yeah,” he says simply. “I carried you. The whole way. You were out like a light.” For once, I don’t have anything to say. I just lie there, breathing shallowly, staring up at the ceiling while my rival, my enemy, my entire burst of hatred, stands beside my hospital bed, the one who chased me and the one who saved me being the same damn shark.
Skott notices my breathing getting shallow and puts a hand up, palm out. He tells me to settle down and take slow, deep breaths, counting quietly under his breath until the tight knot in my chest unties a little. Then, without asking, he grabs the remote and turns on the TV mounted in the corner of the room. The familiar theme music hits, and my eyes widen despite myself. BattleBots. My favorite show. We end up watching, the clashing metal and sparks filling the room. I still hate him, absolutely, but lying there, broken and exhausted, I can’t deny that this moment feels… different. Not friendly. Not forgiving. Just two people existing in the same space without trying to ruin each other. Acquaintances, maybe. I hate that thought too. While the match plays, Skott pulls out his phone and starts tapping away. I shift slightly and can see over his shoulder just enough to catch the screen. He’s pinging his location and sending messages. “You gotta see this,” he types. “My so called rival finally stopped trying to kill himself via cardio.” Names pop up as replies, August, Runet, and Kam. They all agree to come by, throwing in jokes and question marks. My stomach twists again, this time not from pain but nerves. The idea of being gawked at by his friends makes my face heat up. “…Hey,” I say quietly, surprising myself. Skott looks back at me. I hesitate, then admit that I left my phone back in my digital world, stuck between realities like an idiot. I ask if it’d be okay if I invited one friend. Just one. “His name’s Scott too,” I add quickly, grimacing. “Yeah, I know. Bad coincidence. But he’s… actually a good friend.” Skott blinks, then snorts, shaking his head. “Another Skott? You’ve got weird luck,” he says, but he doesn’t say no. He just pockets his phone and looks back at the TV. “Yeah. That’s fine.” Skott hesitates for a second, then sighs and hands me his phone. “Don’t drop it,” he says flatly. “And don’t start any fights from my contacts.” I snort weakly and take it, my hands still a little shaky as I pull up the messaging app. Scrolling feels surreal, using my rival’s phone, lying in a hospital bed, BattleBots clanging in the background like this is all normal. I type out the message slowly, making sure it sounds like me. Hey. Yeah, it’s me Alexan. I’m in a hospital right now. I pause, then add, Don’t freak out. I’m alive. Another pause. My shitty rival is here too. Long story. He supposedly saved me. Even reading it back makes my jaw tighten. I finish with, I really want you to come over if you can. The reply comes faster than I expect. Hospital??? Then another buzz. Saved you?? By who?? I can almost hear his voice in my head, confused and suspicious. I glance up at Skott the shark standing near the TV, pretending not to listen, and type again. Yeah. The one I told you about. The shark. The one I rant about. A few seconds pass before the typing bubble appears again. “You’re joking...Then, I kinda have to see this now.” I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and hand the phone back. Skott raises an eyebrow. “He in?” he asks. “Yeah,” I say quietly. “He’s… curious.” That’s putting it lightly. My friend has only ever known The shark through my stories, through my anger. All those times I ranted about how awful he was, how wrong he was, how much I hated him. I never told him the full truth, not really. That most of it came from the fact that Skott existed in a way that pissed me off, that he was openly pansexual and unapologetic about it, and that for some reason, that set something ugly off in me. Skott doesn’t comment. He just nods once and turns back to the TV as another robot gets flipped across the arena. The room settles into an uneasy quiet again, but it’s different now. Not just me and my rival anymore. Soon, people from both our worlds are going to be standing in the same hospital room, and I can’t shake the feeling that whatever happens next is going to force things I’ve buried for years straight into the open.
Skott’s friends arrive first, cleared through reception and they look curious. Very curious. I watch them file in from my bed, my stomach sinking as I count them Runet with their sleek Protogen visor glowing softly, Kam with heavy footsteps and patterned fur, and August, the only fully human one, standing a little straighter than the rest. All anthro except August, who I know, somehow, immediately is trans. I squeeze my eyes shut for half a second and think, I wish I was dead, then hate myself for thinking it at all. “Oh damn,” Kam says, peering at me like I’m a museum exhibit. “So that’s him?” Skott shoots them a look. “Don’t be like that.” Runet tilts their head, visor flickering. “Hard to believe this is the guy you’ve been beefing with for years.” August crosses her arms. “He looks… less threatening than I expected.” “I can hear you,” I mutter. “Good,” August replies flatly. “Means you’re alive.” Before I can come up with something sharp to throw back, the door opens again. And then he walks in. My Friend, Scott. Human. For a second, all the noise drains out of the room. He looks straight at me, eyes widening. “Oh my god,” he says. “You look horrible!” I manage a weak smirk. “Hi there.” Then he freezes. Slowly, his eyes move from me… to the fin… to the patterns… to the shark standing near the TV. “…No way,” he says quietly. Scott points at him. “You?” Skott stiffens. “Uh. Hi?” “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Scott mutters, looking back at me. “Alexan. Tell me you’re messing with me.” I swallow. “I’m not.” He laughs once, disbelieving. “That’s him? That’s the guy you said ruined everything? The one you said did all that messed-up shit?” Skott folds his arms. “Okay, first of all, I have no idea who you are.” “I’m his friend,” Scott snaps. “And I’ve seen you online. You make music.” “Cool,” Skott replies. “Still don’t know what I supposedly did.” Scott looks back at me again, voice lower now. “Alexan. You told me this guy was a monster.” “I-” I start, then stop. My stomach twists, not with pain this time, but with pressure. Skott lets out a humorless laugh. “Is it because I exist? Or because I’m pan? Pick one.” The room goes quiet. Runet glances between us. Kam mutters, “Yikes.” August just watches, expression blank but worried. Scott’s eyes narrow. “Wait. That’s it?” He looks almost angry now, but not at the shark. At me. “That’s why he’s your enemy?” I turn my head away. “You don’t get it.” “No,” Scott says sharply. “I think I do. And I think you’ve been feeding me one hell of a story.” Skott exhales, rubbing his face. “I dragged him to a hospital,” he says. “He passed out in my arms. I saved his life. I’m not asking him to like me, but don’t pretend I’m some villain.” I stare at the ceiling, heart pounding, trapped between the beeping machines and the weight of everyone in the room. For the first time, the rivalry isn’t just mine anymore, and with all these eyes on me, I can feel the version of the story I’ve been telling will start to crack.