The locker room was mostly empty.
Metal lockers. The faint smell of disinfectant. Echoing footsteps.
Rhea was at her locker, slow movements, careful — still healing, still sore, still refusing to show it.
The door slammed shut behind her.
She didn't turn.
Ling's presence was unmistakable. Controlled steps. Too close. Too quiet.
Ling stopped beside her and tossed something onto the bench.
A small velvet box slid across the cold surface.
"Take it."
Rhea finally turned, eyes flat. "What?"
Ling opened the box with one finger.
A new navel piercing. Perfect. Shiny. Untouched.
"Put it on," Ling said. "And give me the bent one."
Rhea laughed — short, bitter. "You're unbelievable."
Ling's jaw tightened. "I'm being reasonable."
Rhea shut her locker with a sharp clang. "You hurt me. You humiliated me. You lied. And now you're bargaining like this is a market deal?"
Ling snapped, "Don't dramatize it."
Rhea scoffed. "Oh, now you decide what hurts?"
Ling leaned closer, lowering her voice. "Just give it to me."
"No."
Ling's eyes darkened. "Rhea."
Rhea crossed her arms. "I don't want a new one. And the bent one is mine."
Ling let out a sharp breath. "It's useless."
"So are half the things you obsess over," Rhea shot back.
Ling's temper cracked. "You're doing this on purpose."
Rhea stepped closer too, chin lifted. "Yes. I am."
Ling stared at her. "Why?"
Rhea's voice dropped, sharp with something raw. "Because you don't get to decide what stays with me."
Ling laughed without humor. "You don't even wear it."
"That's none of your business."
Ling's hand curled at her side. "You kept it to provoke me."
Rhea's eyes flashed. "And you came here to control me."
Silence snapped between them.
Ling closed the box slowly. "I don't want the new one."
Rhea raised a brow. "Then why bring it?"
Ling answered honestly — too honestly. "Because I don't want anyone else touching what I bent."
Rhea's breath stuttered for half a second.
She masked it immediately. "That's twisted."
Ling shrugged. "So are you."
Rhea turned to leave.
Ling reacted without thinking.
She grabbed Rhea's bag strap and yanked it back.
"Don't," Rhea warned.
Ling ignored her, already reaching inside the bag. "I know you keep it—"
Rhea shoved her back hard. "Get your hands off my things!"
Ling grabbed tighter. "You don't get to keep what's mine!"
Rhea's voice broke in anger. "You don't get to rewrite reality!"
The bag slipped. Contents spilled onto the floor.
Lip balm. Phone. Wallet.
And the bent navel ring, wrapped carefully in tissue.
Ling froze.
Her eyes locked onto it.
Rhea moved first, scooping it up, clutching it to her chest like a wound.
"Don't touch it," she said, breathing hard.
Ling stared at her — not angry now, not mocking — something sharper, uglier.
"You hid it like that?" Ling whispered.
Rhea snapped, "It mattered to me."
Ling stepped forward again. "Give it to me."
Rhea shook her head violently. "No."
Ling's voice hardened. "Rhea, this is getting ridiculous."
Rhea laughed hysterically. "You're the one trying to steal jewelry like a criminal."
Ling reached out again.
Rhea slapped her hand away. "I said no!"
The sound echoed.
Both froze.
Ling's eyes burned. "You're enjoying this."
Rhea's tears finally surfaced — angry, humiliated. "I'm surviving you."
Ling clenched her jaw. "You don't get to make me beg."
Rhea lifted her chin. "Then stop asking."
They stood inches apart, both shaking — not from desire, not from reconciliation — but from control slipping.
Finally, Ling stepped back.
She picked up the velvet box and shoved it into her pocket.
"Keep your broken metal," she said coldly. "But don't pretend you won."
Rhea's voice trembled. "I didn't want to."
Ling said, "You always do."
Ling grabbed Rhea's wrist before she could walk two steps.
"Enough."
She pulled her — not rough, not gentle — toward the wooden bench near the lockers. Rhea resisted at first, then stopped, breathing sharp.
Ling suddenly knelt in front of her.
Not a performance.
Not arrogance.
A raw, impulsive move.
Rhea froze.
Ling opened the velvet box again, hands steady despite everything else shaking.
"You should wear the new one," Ling said quietly. "This one fits. It won't hurt."
Rhea stared down at her — the captain, the ruler, the girl who never bends — on her knees.
Her fingers curled slowly.
Then she grabbed Ling by the collar and yanked her up.
"Tell me straight," Rhea hissed, eyes burning. "Why do you want it?"
Ling's jaw tightened.
She lied — smoothly, practiced. "Because I__ iii _ bent it. So I return something that's usable. Not like this."
Rhea laughed — sharp, bitter. "You always this much of an idiot, or is this new?"
Ling swallowed.
Her throat moved visibly.
"You think I'd kneel for metal?" Ling snapped. "Don't flatter yourself."
Rhea's grip tightened. "Then stop acting like it owns you."
Ling's voice dropped. "Just take it."
Rhea's eyes searched her face — the lie was there, obvious, clumsy. It made her angrier.
"You're bad at lying," Rhea whispered. "Since when?"
Ling looked away for half a second.
That was all it took.