The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and dew across the academy grounds. Daniel walked to training, head down, trying to focus on his steps, on his pace, on anything other than the lingering tension in his chest.
But it was impossible.
Every glance toward the training field, every movement of other students, every sound felt amplified. The memory of the previous day's near-slip replayed in his mind, the hum of his suppressor beneath his skin reminding him how close he had come to being discovered.
He tried to steady his breathing as he reached the edge of the field.
Leo was already there, casually stretching, but Daniel could feel the aura—the quiet, observant presence that seemed to anchor him even from a distance.
"Morning," Leo said softly as Daniel approached. No teasing, no smirk—just calm.
Daniel muttered something under his breath. "Morning."
Leo tilted his head slightly, eyes scanning Daniel. He didn't push. He didn't prod. But the subtle way he watched, the slight narrowing of his eyes, spoke volumes.
"You've been… tense," Leo said quietly.
Daniel stiffened. "I'm fine."
"You're not." Leo's tone was soft, not accusatory. It was observation, careful and deliberate. "I can tell."
Daniel avoided his gaze, focusing instead on tying his gloves tighter. "It's nothing."
Leo stepped closer, closing just enough distance to feel the heat radiating from Daniel without pressing too hard. "It's not nothing. I've been watching. And I don't like seeing you like this."
Daniel's chest tightened. "I said I'm fine."
Leo's lips curved faintly, almost imperceptibly. "You're lying. And you know it. You can't hide it from me."
Daniel froze. He can see everything.
The instructor blew the whistle, signaling the start of drills. Daniel threw himself into the exercises, forcing his mind onto movement, speed, coordination. But he could feel Leo beside him, adjusting his pace subtly to match Daniel's, observing, protective without interfering.
Every subtle gesture—the way Leo's eyes flicked to him during attacks, the almost imperceptible positioning to shield Daniel from collisions, the way he mirrored his stance—made Daniel's suppressor hum faintly.
He was hyper-aware. On edge. And it wasn't just the drills—it was Leo.
During a brief pause, Leo caught up to him.
"Drink," he said softly, offering a water bottle.
Daniel hesitated, blinking. "I—thanks."
Leo didn't push, didn't smile, didn't tease. He simply stayed, letting Daniel take the water while maintaining a careful presence.
"You've been off since yesterday," Leo said quietly. "And it's not just training. I can feel it."
Daniel exhaled, unable to meet his gaze. "I just… need to focus."
Leo nodded slowly. "I know. But don't think I won't notice if you push too far. I've been watching you for weeks, Daniel. I know when you're straining yourself. And I'll step in if I need to."
Daniel's chest tightened further. "You… don't have to."
"I do," Leo said softly, finally letting his hand brush Daniel's shoulder—lightly, almost a whisper of contact, protective and grounding. "I won't tell anyone. I won't make a scene. But I'll be here."
Daniel's breath caught. He's so close… but not too close. So careful.
He swallowed, gripping his gloves tighter. "I… appreciate it."
Leo's lips curved into the faintest smirk. "Good. Because you'll need it. Especially with the next drills."
Daniel felt a shiver run through him—not from cold, not from exertion—but from the awareness that Leo had noticed everything, had acknowledged it, and had chosen to stay.
It was terrifying. And yet… it felt safe.
By the time the drills ended, Daniel was exhausted, muscles aching, suppressor humming faintly beneath his skin.
Leo walked beside him as they left the field, quietly matching his pace. No teasing. No smirks. Just presence.
Daniel realized, with a mixture of dread and something else—something dangerously thrilling—that he was more aware of Leo than he had ever been before.
And the thought made his chest ache in ways he couldn't explain.