This is a work of fantasy fiction intended for entertainment purposes
only. Any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.
Please note that Fated Strike may contain sexually suggestive content
between consenting characters. If that's not your preference, I
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Chapter Three: The Confession
Malik Carter sat in the back of the classroom, tapping his pencil lightly against his notebook. The lesson blurred into a dull hum in the background, the words from the teacher's lips fading into meaningless noise. He didn't need to pay attention; somehow, everything just made sense now. His mind drifted as he glanced down at the worksheet in front of him--already completed, though he barely remembered doing it. He had breezed through the at-home material while he was recovering from the accident, thinking his teachers were cutting him some slack. But now, in class, it felt as though everything was moving in slow motion.
When the bell rang, signaling the end of the period, Malik let out a quiet sigh of relief. Finally, he thought, as the monotony of the morning ended. Lunch was the one part of the day he had been looking forward to. The halls buzzed with life as students poured out of classrooms, and Malik made his way to the cafeteria, searching for a familiar face.
And there she was--Elaina, his best friend. They had grown up together, went to the same church, and had been inseparable for as long as Malik could remember. Before the accident, he felt like he could tell her anything, except his deepest, darkest secret. He could never tell Elaina he was gay. But that hadn't stopped them from being close. Elaina had always been his rock, but now, after the storm, things felt different.
As Malik approached their usual lunch table, he could feel her emotions--warmth, care, and something else. Affection? His stomach twisted. She had a crush on him. A major crush.
He sat down across from her, his smile a little tighter than usual. Elaina, with her soft brown curls, pulled back into a ponytail, beamed at him. "Hey, stranger! It's so good to see you back at school."
"Yeah, it's good to be back," Malik said, though the words felt hollow. Beneath her smile, Malik could sense a rising tide of nerves and self-doubt. Elaina was worried--worried she hadn't been there for him while he was recovering.
"I'm sorry I didn't visit you when you were hurt," she blurted out suddenly, her fingers twisting the napkin in front of her. "I was so busy with church stuff, and school, and--ugh--I should have made you a priority. I feel like I ruined everything."
Malik could feel her anxiety prickling through his chest like a growing knot. Her regret and self-blame filled the air between them. He hated seeing her like this, and his instincts kicked in. He had to do something, to make her feel better. "Hey, can we talk? Privately?" he asked, his voice soft but serious.
Elaina looked up, startled. "Yeah, sure," she replied, her face a mix of hope and dread. They stood up and walked out of the cafeteria, finding a quiet bench near the edge of the school courtyard. Malik sat down, his heart pounding in his chest as he turned to face her.
"Elaina," he began, choosing his words carefully, though he already knew the answer. "Do you... have a crush on me?"
Her face froze, and Malik felt a wave of fear wash over her, paralyzing her as she struggled to answer. The tight ball of emotions in her chest gripped her, holding her in place, unable to move. Malik could feel it--the tension, the panic--and he focused on it, letting it unravel in his mind. Slowly, her fear began to ease.
Elaina finally nodded, her voice catching in her throat as she whispered, "Yes." The word hung in the air like a weight between them. "I've been busy, but I should have been there for you. I love you, Malik. I should have told you sooner."
Malik let her speak, feeling the need for her to get it all off her chest. When she was finished, he inhaled deeply, trying to find the right words. He felt her eyes on him, waiting.
"I love you too," Malik said softly, but then added, "But not like that."
The heartbreak hit him immediately, like a punch to the gut. He could feel her pain, raw and sharp, cutting through the warmth of the moment. But he didn't manipulate it. It didn't feel right. Instead, Malik reached out and pulled her into a hug, his own emotions swirling like a storm inside him. He wasn't just going to brush this off. Elaina deserved the truth.
His heart raced as the internal conflict hit him like a semi-truck. Everything in him screamed that he couldn't do this. That he shouldn't. He had kept his secret buried for so long, hidden from everyone, even his best friend. But now... maybe it was time. He had to focus, and calm the storm inside himself.
For a brief moment, he lost control of his emotions, and they surged outward. Malik felt Elaina freeze again in his arms, her body tensing with the fear he had accidentally projected. He quickly reined it in, calming himself, and they both exhaled as the paralysis lifted.
They broke the hug, and Malik took her hand, looking into her eyes. He knew what he had to say.
"I'm gay, Elaina."
Her eyes widened, and for a moment, Malik felt nothing from her--no emotions, no response. Just silence. His heart skipped a beat, and for the first time in a long time, he felt afraid.
Then, she hugged him again, tighter this time. Malik felt the warmth of her acceptance flood through him like sunlight after a storm. She wasn't just okay with it--she was relieved. Her love and compassion were as strong as ever.
"I didn't know," she whispered into his shoulder. "But it's okay. I'm so glad you told me, Malik. You're brave for that. And I'll keep your secret, I promise." She pulled back, wiping away a tear and trying to smile through it. "But now you're gonna have to help me find a new crush."
Malik laughed softly, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. "Deal."
The rest of the school day flew by in a blur. Malik's mind wasn't on his classes or homework--it was on Elaina, on his powers, and on Matt's body from this morning. His abilities were more complex than he had thought, and he was only just beginning to understand the extent of them.
After school, Malik made his way to the lockers, preparing for football practice. Head Coach Harris, Dre, Jada, and Ty were all back as well, and Malik felt a familiar excitement building as he saw them gathering in the locker room.
Coach Harris was the first person Malik approached. "Coach, how are you feeling?"
The coach smiled warmly. "I'm feeling fine, Malik. Don't worry about me."
Malik nodded, believing him. There was no deceit, no hidden pain. The coach was telling the truth.
A few moments later, Dre and Ty joined them. They exchanged greetings, the usual banter filling the air as they laced up their cleats. But the mood shifted when Coach Harris spoke up.
"Listen, fellas," he began, his voice firm. "We're taking it easy today. Light duty until I'm confident you're fully recovered. That means no playing in the next game."
Protests erupted immediately. "But Coach, we're ready!" Dre complained, his frustration palpable.
Coach Harris shook his head, unwavering. "Not until I say so."
Malik scanned the coach's emotions, hoping to find some opening he could ease, but there was none. The coach was dead serious, and no amount of emotional nudging would change his mind.
Jada, ever prepared, handed the coach a list of light exercises for them to do. Squats, lunges, jogging, stretching--it was all mundane compared to what Malik and the guys were used to, but they went through the motions while the rest of the team practiced as normal. Malik could feel the irritation simmering beneath the surface, not just from himself but from Ty and Dre as well.
When practice ended, Dre lingered behind, fidgeting with his bag as the others headed to the showers. Malik noticed the tension in his friend--the way Dre had been holding back during practice, the subtle worry that gnawed at him. Something was wrong.
"Dre," Malik called, pulling him aside. "What's going on?"
Dre looked up, his mixed-race complexion--an effortless blend of Afro-Latino and Black heritage--radiating a warmth that seemed to glow under the soft afternoon light. His smooth, caramel skin was flawless, with just enough sun-kissed golden tones from his Latino side to give him a permanent, perfect tan. Malik couldn't help but admire the way Dre's skin seemed to capture the light, accentuating the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the strong line of his jaw. His lips, full and naturally dark, parted slightly in hesitation as he avoided Malik's gaze, the hint of uncertainty in his otherwise confident demeanor catching Malik off guard.
Dre stood at 6'2", taller than Malik by just enough to make it noticeable, with a physique that balanced lean athleticism and natural grace. His frame was long and well-proportioned, built more for speed and agility than brute strength, though his toned muscles still rippled under his fitted clothes. His chest was defined, broad but not overly thick, tapering down to a slim waist and abs that showed through the material of his shirt whenever he moved. His arms were sculpted but elegant, the kind of muscle that came naturally from being active rather than hitting the gym constantly--more like a track star than a bodybuilder.
Dre's dark curls, soft and loose, framed his face perfectly, falling just above his eyebrows and giving him that effortless, boy-next-door charm. His hair was thick but always seemed perfectly styled, even after running, like he had just stepped out of a photoshoot. His almond-shaped eyes, dark and expressive, held a quiet intensity like he was always thinking two steps ahead. Malik had seen that look a hundred times before, but today, there was something more--something unspoken that hung between them.
His posture, even when relaxed, had a casual confidence about it, the kind of self-assuredness that came naturally to someone who knew they were good-looking but didn't need to flaunt it. Dre's legs were long and strong, the lean muscle visible through his shorts as he shifted his weight. At 6'2", he had a presence that drew attention, older than Malik by a year but seeming wiser, and more self-possessed.
Everything about Dre was striking, from the smooth texture of his skin to the effortless way he carried himself. He was like something out of a magazine--a mix of model features and athlete grace, and even standing still, he exuded the kind of calm, magnetic energy that made Malik's heart race just a little faster.
"I'm fine," Dre muttered, though the worry still radiated off him.
Malik narrowed his eyes. He could feel Dre wasn't being truthful. Focusing on the tension, Malik unraveled the knot of worry inside his friend, letting it dissipate. Dre's shoulders relaxed, and he met Malik's gaze.
"Can you keep a secret?" Dre asked, his voice low.
Malik couldn't help but chuckle. "You have no idea."
But Dre wasn't amused. "Not here," he said, looking around. "Come on."
They slipped out of the locker room and ran off-campus, finding a secluded spot behind the track field. Dre looked around, making sure they were alone, before dramatically turning to Malik.
"Man, I think I'm... supercharged."
Malik froze, staring at Dre in disbelief. He wasn't the only one.