Swipe Left on Reality

Leo's pet goldfish, Bacon, stared at him through the glass with what he swore was judgment. Probably because Leo was live-streaming his workout instead of actually, you know, working out.

"Yo, hit that like button if you're grinding!" Leo huffed at his iPhone, positioned strategically against a dumbbell. His livestream had exactly three viewers: his cousin, a bot, and someone who'd accidentally clicked on.

Again.

This was supposed to be his year. Sophomore year, when Leo would finally become... someone. Someone people noticed. Someone with a glow-up arc worthy of a viral TikTok series. Instead, he was seventeen, still somehow growing into his ears, and his biggest flex was owning a fish that survived three "accidental" overfeedings.

His phone buzzed. Group chat: **CROSS COUNTRY SQUAD 🏃**

Coach Mike: practice cancelled. weather

Chloe (team captain): omg finally

Marcus: bet

Leo: sick 🔥

Leo wasn't on cross country. But he was in the group chat because he'd never officially left after trying out freshman year. He'd shown up to exactly zero practices since, but nobody had removed him. Which honestly hurt more than if they had.

He stared at Bacon. The fish did a slow, dignified lap around his castle.

"You think I should go running anyway?" Leo asked. Bacon ignored him, as usual.

Rain tapped against Leo's window. The perfect cover. No one would be at the park. He could run without being seen, without awkwardly encountering the actual team who'd definitely be doing something cool together like bubble tea or studying or whatever non-losers did.

The thing was, Leo loved running. The rhythm, the endorphins, the feeling of his body doing exactly what it was supposed to do. No followers, no filters, no pressure to perform. Just movement.

He grabbed his shoes. Bacon did a little flip.

The park was empty except for one figure under the shelter. Chloe. She was stretching, earbuds in, completely unbothered by the rain or the fact that she was supposedly celebrating practice being cancelled.

Leo's internal monologue went into full panic mode. abort abort abort this is social suicide turn around—

"You coming?" Chloe called out, not even looking up. She'd seen him. Of course she'd seen him. Chloe saw everything.

Leo's phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it.

"Yeah," he heard himself say. "Just warming up."

They ran in silence for the first mile. Leo's lungs burned in the best way. The rain felt like permission—like his hair was already messed up anyway, so why bother pretending?

"You're not bad," Chloe said at the turn. "For someone who's been 'ghosting' practice for like, ever."

Leo nearly tripped. "You knew?"

"Dude." She gave him a look. "I'm the captain. Also you literally posted a TikTok about being 'too sick' to run last week from Chipotle."

Leo groaned. "Please tell me you didn't watch it."

"I liked it."

They ran.

"You don't have to perform all the time," Chloe said suddenly. "Like, it's okay to just... do stuff. Not everything needs to be content."

The rain intensified. Leo's phone sat useless and forgotten in his pocket. Bacon was probably judging him from his castle. But for the first time in forever, Leo didn't care about documenting the moment.

He was too busy living it.

"Same time tomorrow?" Chloe asked as they reached the shelter again, breathless and soaked.

Leo smiled. genuinely. "Bet."

Later, Bacon swam to the front of his tank as Leo dripped water onto the carpet. The goldfish did a little flourish.

"Yeah yeah," Leo said. "I know. You called it."

His phone lit up with a notification. Leo didn't even look.