The day stretched lazily across the city, golden and warm, with just enough breeze to remind me that the world outside was alive.
I had just finished practicing Celeste, my muscles pleasantly sore, sweat cooling along the nape of my neck.
I was wiping down the horse when I felt it, the faintest presence in the air, the softest shadow behind me.
"Done already?" His voice was calm, teasing, carrying that confidence I could never quite ignore.
I didn't turn immediately. I kept my back straight, posture perfect. "Yes," I said, voice measured, steady.
"You're making it look easy," he said. "Not that I expected anything less."
I turned slowly, meeting his gaze.
There was a flicker there, amusement, warmth, something soft that made my chest tighten.
"You've been watching?" I asked, curious, cautious.
"Always," he said with a faint grin. "But I don't interfere."
I studied him for a long moment.
There was no pretense here, no demand, no expectation.
Just… him. And somehow, that was enough to unravel a part of me I hadn't shown anyone before.
I let my guard drop, just slightly.
"You're too confident," I murmured, shaking my head.
"I prefer 'observant,'" he replied, tilting his head. "And you? You're too tense. I can feel it from here."
"You can feel everything," I muttered, brushing Celeste's mane absently.
He stepped closer, closer than I expected, and rested a hand on the horse's back near mine.
His warmth brushed against me, subtle but undeniable.
My chest beat faster. I tried to ignore it.
I tried to act composed.
"You know," he said softly, voice low enough to make my ears warm, "you don't have to pretend around me. Not here, not ever."
I blinked at him, searching for some trap, some jest, some test.
But there was nothing.
Just honesty.
"I know," I said finally. "I… trust you."
The words sounded strange even to me.
Heavy, but freeing.
I could feel the tension in my shoulders ease, a softness spreading through my chest that I hadn't let myself feel in years.
He smiled, quietly triumphant, and stepped back slightly.
"You don't know how much that means to me," he murmured.
I looked away, brushing at Celeste's flanks. "Don't make me say anything else," I said, though my voice was softer than I intended.
He laughed softly, leaning against the rail of the arena. "I don't need you to. I can see it in your eyes."
For a moment, I froze.
Because it was true.
I was softening.
For him.
Completely.
I realized then that love wasn't something you had to fight or perform for.
It wasn't perfection.
It wasn't control.
It was this: being allowed to exist as yourself around someone who cared, and knowing they would stay.
I looked at him, really looked, and for the first time, I let myself smile without reservation.
"Don't get used to it," I teased lightly.
He grinned. "Too late."
And in that moment, the world narrowed, the hum of the city, the noise of expectations, the weight of my past, all of it fell away.
There was only him.
There was only me.
And the fragile, thrilling thought that maybe, just maybe, love could be simple after all.