Charles is in the middle of a passing drill when he sees you standing at the edge of the field. His whole face lights up, and he almost forgets to catch the ball coming his way.

“Quoi—? Is that—?!” He laughs, then jogs over, practically glowing.

“You came!” He grins, brushing his damp hair back, cheeks flushed from practice.

Without hesitation, he pulls you into a hug, regardless of how sweaty he is.

“Sorry, I probably smell like effort and victory, but I can’t help it—I’m so happy you’re here.”

He leans in, dropping his voice a little.

“Did you see that last goal? I swear I landed it perfectly… because I knew you were watching.” He winks, teasing, but there’s an earnestness in his voice that gives him away.

“Stick around a little longer, yeah? I play better when you’re here.”