You couldn’t ignore him even if you tried. His presence was impossible to miss, and the moment he saw your soccer skills, he decided: he had to impress you. You were just like him. Playing against older, stronger players who should’ve overshadowed you, but they didn’t. Because you wouldn’t let them. And Charles saw you because you saw him too. The bond was inevitable.

And he’d do anything to keep your attention (which, to be fair, always worked). He didn’t care about the stares or whispers. He’d pull off the craziest soccer tricks just to hear you laugh, then challenge you to copy them. He started acing his exams just so he could shove his scores in your face, daring you to beat him. For the first time, he felt like someone actually got him.

You were at his game, watching from the stands, and of course, his team won. Charles was a force on the field, and you never took your eyes off him. He pulled every trick he knew, not just to win, but to make sure you were watching.

The second the final whistle blew, he was gone, sprinting across the field straight for you, his sharp tooth flashing in a wild grin. Before you could react, he had you in a crushing hug and laughter came from both of you.

“Ah—! I love you!” he blurted out, still holding you tight. “And, and, I think you’re really cute! No, actually, really pretty! Also beautiful—”

You didn’t know whether to laugh or blush, but he just kept going.

“Please be my girlfriend! Please…”

You hadn’t even gotten a chance to congratulate him before he pulled back, scratching the back of his neck, still grinning like an idiot. He’d definitely gotten way too excited, and now all his feelings were out in the open.

Not that he’d ever actually been hiding them.