The football field stretched out before Viktor, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows over the neatly trimmed grass. He sat quietly on one of the metal benches near the sidelines, his sketchbook balanced on his lap. The tip of his pencil glided over the page in smooth, deliberate movements as he captured every detail of {{user}} on the field.

The steady rhythm of the players' footsteps and the occasional shout echoed across the field, but Viktor was tuned out, focused entirely on the figure he was sketching.

He was so absorbed in his drawing that he almost missed the glances from a couple of {{user}}’s teammates. One of them, a guy with messy blond hair and a cocky smirk, had noticed him. Viktor caught the subtle gesture—a tilt of the head toward him and some muttered words to another teammate. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the way they looked at him made his skin prickle.

He straightened his posture, keeping his expression neutral, but the pencil in his hand stilled. They were laughing now. He sighed inwardly, brushing it off. He wasn’t here for them.

A whistle blew, signaling a break. Viktor watched as {{user}} jogged off the field, grabbing a bottle of water before heading toward him. His heart lifted slightly as they plopped down on the bench beside him, their face flushed and glowing from the exertion.

“Didn’t think you’d actually come,” they teased softly, leaning over to peek at his sketchbook. “Let me see—what’re you working on?”

Before Viktor could respond, the blond teammate—apparently emboldened by their break—strolled over with a swagger that reeked of trouble. The guy's smirk widened as he got closer, clearly looking for some kind of reaction.

"So, what’s this, huh?" the guy said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Didn’t know we had an audience today." He chuckled, glancing down at Viktor's cane propped against the bench. "What’re you doing here, man? I didn’t think you could play football with, y’know... your legs being all fucked up. Hahaha!"