WHO'S ALONSO

Alonso returned to school the following week.

The bruises along his ribs still ached with every breath, and he moved carefully, each step a reminder of the night everything changed.

Yet, the weight in his chest wasn't just from the pain—it was from the way everyone stared.

News of what had happened spread like wildfire.

By the time he stepped through the school gates Monday morning, there wasn't a single person who didn't know.

Javi and his friends were suspended, but that didn't stop the whispers.

"That's the kid they jumped."

"I heard he broke two ribs."

"Is he still trying to play football?"

Alonso kept his head down, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his face blank. Each murmured word cut deeper than he wanted to admit. He had always been invisible, just another poor kid from the wrong part of Bilbao.

No one paid attention to him before.

Now, he couldn't escape it.

Even the teachers looked at him differently.

Some with pity, others with something sharper, as though waiting for him to crack. But Alonso refused to let them see his fear.

As he walked through the crowded hallway, he felt their eyes.

Boys who used to ignore him now stared openly, sizing him up. Girls whispered behind their hands, giggling softly when he passed. For the first time, people were curious about him.

And he hated it.

At lunch, he found his usual table in the corner. Alone. Always alone. But before he could sit down, a shadow fell over him.

"Hey."

Alonso glanced up, pulse quickening. Miguel, the captain of the school's football team, stood there with his tray. His thick black hair fell over his forehead, and a faint smirk tugged at his mouth. Behind him, a few of his teammates watched curiously.

"What do you want?" Alonso asked, his voice steady despite the tension twisting in his stomach.

Miguel tilted his head, amusement flickering in his dark eyes.

"Relax, I'm not here to start something. Just wanted to see the guy who stood up to Javi."

Alonso clenched his fists beneath the table. He didn't want their attention. Not like this.

"He didn't give me much choice," he said quietly.

"Still," Miguel said, leaning closer. "Most people would've backed down. But you? You didn't. That takes guts."

Alonso didn't know how to respond.

He wanted to believe Miguel was being genuine, but he knew better than to trust anyone too easily.

"You coming to tryouts next month?" Miguel asked after a pause.

The question caught Alonso off guard. "Why would you care?"

A slow grin spread across Miguel's face.

"Someone who can take a beating and still stand might be worth having on the team." With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Alonso sitting there, heart pounding.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of glances and whispers. Everywhere he turned, someone was watching. Testing. Waiting.

After school, Alonso didn't go straight home.

He needed to clear his head.

The park was quiet when he arrived, the cold air biting against his skin. He dropped his bag near the goalpost and began to move.

Each kick, each sprint sent fire through his ribs, but he welcomed the pain. It meant he was still here. Still fighting.

If he wanted to change his life, he couldn't let this break him.

By the time the sun began to dip behind the distant hills, his legs trembled with exhaustion. He wiped sweat from his brow, preparing to leave, when he heard footsteps behind him.

"You don't stop, do you?"

Alonso turned to find a girl leaning against the fence, her arms crossed. Long black hair framed her face, and her hazel eyes glittered with interest. He recognized her instantly—Valeria.

One of the smartest girls in their year. And one of the most popular.

He swallowed hard. "What do you want?"

She shrugged. "Just wanted to see if the rumors were true."

"What rumors?"

A smile tugged at her lips.

"That you're not as weak as everyone thought."

Alonso felt a flicker of something unfamiliar. Anger? Pride? He wasn't sure. "I don't care what they think."

Valeria tilted her head, studying him. "Maybe you should. People are watching you now. Some of them want to see you fall again."

Her words hung heavy in the air.

He should have walked away. Should have ignored her. But instead, he asked, "Why do you care?"

For a moment, she hesitated. "Maybe I don't. But maybe I like seeing someone who isn't afraid to fight back."

With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Alonso standing there, heart pounding in his chest.

The days blurred into weeks.

The bruises faded, but the stares didn't.

On the outside, Alonso was the same. Quiet. Invisible when he wanted to be. But inside, something had shifted.

He trained harder than ever, pushing himself until his muscles burned and his lungs ached. Each day, he grew stronger. Faster.

But the shadows of the past refused to let him go.

One evening, as he left the practice field, the familiar weight of unease settled in his gut. The streets were quiet, but he wasn't alone. He felt it before he saw them.

Javi.

He stepped from the alley, flanked by two boys Alonso didn't recognize.

Their faces were hard, eyes gleaming with malice. The bruises from their last encounter had faded, but the memory remained, sharp and unforgiving.

"Thought you could hide behind your little fan club forever?"

Javi sneered, taking a step closer.

Alonso's heart pounded against his ribs. Fear curled low in his stomach, but he didn't back down.

"I'm not hiding," he said quietly.

Javi laughed, low and cold. "Good. That makes this easier."

The other boys spread out, cutting off any escape.

Alonso's pulse quickened, adrenaline surging through his veins. He knew how this would end. Javi wasn't here to talk.

But he wasn't the same boy they had broken weeks ago.

As Javi lunged forward, Alonso moved.

He ducked beneath the first punch, muscles coiling as he twisted away.

The pain in his ribs flared, but he ignored it. He had trained for this—for every moment they had tried to break him.

Javi cursed, swinging again.

Alonso blocked it with his forearm, the impact sending a jolt of pain through his arm. But he didn't falter.

He couldn't.

Not this time.

The alley seemed to blur around him, his focus narrowing to the fight. Every breath burned, every movement sharpened by the weight of everything they had done to him. He wouldn't let them win again.

He wouldn't let them take his future.

But as one of the other boys reached into his jacket, a flicker of silver caught the light.

A knife.

''What the fuck''!!!, Alonso exclaimed.