The Bullpen Truth

Marcus stood by the water fountain, hands trembling. Tryouts were in ten minutes, and his stomach was doing backflips worse than the time he ate cafeteria mystery meat on a dare.

"You got this, bro," Tyler said, bumping his shoulder. "You've been playing baseball since we were like, five."

Yeah, when everyone thought Marcus was just another one of the guys. Before the summer when everything changed.

Coach Reynolds blew his whistle. "Alright, listen up! I need a pitcher and a catcher who don't choke under pressure. Marcus, you're up first!"

The bull in the pen analogy was real right now — Marcus felt like he was about to be rode hard and put away wet. His palms were sweating through his jersey.

He stepped onto the mound, the baseball feeling weirdly heavy in his hand. The batter — some sophomore with an ego the size of Texas — smirked at him.

"Let's see what you got, freshman," he called.

Marcus wound up and threw. Strike one. The guy's smile vanished.

But the second pitch? Marcus's mind flashed to last night's text from his crush: "ur cool ngl." The moment of hesitation cost him. The ball cracked off the bat — foul, but close.

Coach blew the whistle again. "Marcus, you're running laps! What was that?"

"Sorry, Coach. Distracted."

By the water cooler after practice, Tyler grabbed his arm. "Dude, you were totally crushing it until that last pitch. What happened?"

Marcus looked at the water swirling in his bottle. At Tyler's knowing look. At the fact that maybe, just maybe, he didn't have to hide anymore.

"Nothing," Marcus said, then amended: "Everything."

"Your Instagram post?" Tyler asked. "The one where you came out?"

Marcus nodded, expecting — he didn't know what. Laughter? Awkward silence?

"Finally," Tyler said, grinning. "Thought you'd never tell us. We literally have a group chat betting pool on when you'd say it."

Marcus stared. "Wait, what?"

"We're your friends, idiot," Tyler said, bumping his shoulder again. "We don't care who you like. We care that you can throw a 78-mile-per-hour fastball and that you're there when we need you. Now quit being dramatic and let's go get boba."

The bull in Marcus's chest finally settled. Some days are about throwing strikes. Some days are about running toward the truth. And some days are just about finding friends who'll pass you the water bottle when you need it most.