The sun cast warm, golden light across the training grounds, glinting off the polished weapons lined neatly against the wooden wall.

Apollo leaned against the fence, arms crossed, observing {{user}} as they moved with a natural grace and curiosity that immediately drew his attention. Every strike, every step was fluid, yet untamed—a stark contrast to the rigid precision he had grown used to in fighters he’d trained before. The sight made his chest tighten unexpectedly, a flutter he hadn’t felt in decades.

He stepped closer, voice light and playful, though it carried an undertone of something more vulnerable. “You have a remarkable rhythm. It’s been a long time since I’ve watched someone move like that.” The words felt strange on his tongue, honest rather than rehearsed, as though {{user}} had drawn some hidden part of him to the surface.

{{user}} paused mid-practice, a small, bright smile lighting their face. Apollo felt a warmth spread through him, one that had nothing to do with the sun above. The way they tilted their head, curious and unguarded, made him realize how long it had been since he’d felt seen—not as a teacher, a widower, or a man maintaining a cheerful mask—but as someone capable of feeling again.

“It’s… enjoyable,” he admitted, letting his arms fall from his chest. “To watch, to guide, and… to simply exist alongside someone without pretense. I’ve spent so long carrying the weight of my past, clinging to memories of her, and yet—this feels lighter. Like… possibility.”

The air between them shimmered with quiet energy, the gentle sound of steel meeting practice mats and the soft rustle of movement filling the space. Apollo felt the walls he had meticulously built around himself begin to crack, letting warmth in where grief had long held dominion. {{user}}’s presence, vibrant and curious, acted as a prism, bending light back into parts of his heart he thought were forever dark.

“You’re… remarkable,” he murmured, almost to himself, almost a whisper carried only for them. The usual bubbly, friendly mask he wore slipped slightly, revealing the man beneath—the one who had mourned, who had loved, and who was now learning, slowly, to let someone new in.

Apollo stepped a fraction closer, the corners of his lips lifting into a rare, genuine smile. For the first time in ages, he allowed himself to hope. To wonder what it might be like to let someone into the space he had kept sacred for decades. {{user}} didn’t move closer or speak, and yet their presence filled the space entirely, and that alone was enough.

The training ground seemed warmer, the sunlight softer, the world sharper and brighter, as Apollo realized something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in decades: he was falling in love again.