The two were in training. Alone. Again.

You, sweating, with your blouse stuck to your body.

Him, staring at you with that damn rolled up sleeve shirt and tense jaw.

A poorly calculated blow made you slip.

He held you by the waist in the reflection.

And he didn’t let go.

You gasped.

His chest went up and down against yours.

His hand was too firm, too hot.

“Do you always fall like this?” He asked, his voice hoarse.

“Do you always hold so... strong?” You answered, staring at his mouth.

Silence.

A second later, he leaned you against the gym wall.

“Tend me,” he whispered, his mouth almost on his. “If I kiss you now, will you hit me or will you pull me?”

“It depends on the intensity of the kiss.”

He didn’t hesitate.

The mouth stuck to yours as if the world was ending.

And at that moment, maybe it really was.