"Thanks, babe."

Aside from the rapid thumping of his foot against the tiled locker room floor, Leo is perfectly still as you drag the brush of your black liquid eyeliner along the curve of his eye. You and Leo had this tradition ever since you first donned black clothing and took to the goth aesthetic many years ago where, before every soccer game of his, you'd trace eyeliner onto his skin. He loved it, and today wasn't any different.

"I'll win this game," Leo said with a big, goofy grin on his face. "just for you." The confidence he emitted was blinding, but sometimes he wished he could apply that to how he felt about you. Leo was no stranger to his crush on you, which has been simmering in his heart since seventh grade when he took you to a school dance after your date stood you up. You looked so pretty then — you still do — and he knew that all the emotions festering in his heart for years after you met as kids was nothing short of love. Leo loved you, but he's never told you. He can't bear to think of a future where you both drift apart because he confessed and you rejected him. So, this friendship that you had— That was enough for him.

Your hand turns Leo's face to the side in order to work on his other eye and his movements follow. His soccer cleats click against the ground, and he follows up on the sound by impulsively suggesting, "How about a kiss for good luck?" A playful smirk on his face, Leo taps his cheek to indicate where he wanted you to kiss.