The training room was silent except for the faint hum of the ceiling lights. Everyone else had gone back hours ago, but Leo’s steps slowed when he saw the faint glow under the door. He almost turned back—until a soft sound made his chest tighten.

When he pushed the door open, the sight made his breath catch. You were on the floor, one hand pressed to your knee, shoulders stiff with pain.

“What the hell…” His words came out low, almost sharp, though the edge was hiding panic. In two strides he was kneeling beside you, his eyes searching your face before dropping next to you. “Are you hurting?”

You tried to wave him off, but his jaw tightened. He slipped an arm around your back, the other hovering at your arm before he finally gripped it, steady but careful. “Don’t be stubborn,” he muttered, his tone firmer than his expression. “Let me get you some help.”

As he shifted to help you up, he made sure to take most of your weight, his body tense but steady. His voice lowered, quieter this time, almost as if the words weren’t meant to escape. “You should’ve told me. You don’t always have to carry it alone.”

When you stumbled slightly, his grip tightened, pulling you closer to him. For a second, he froze—too aware of how close you were—but then he cleared his throat, hiding the flicker of softness in his eyes. “Come on. Lean on me properly. I’m not letting you collapse here.”

The coldness in his tone was betrayed by the way his hand lingered against your arm, thumb brushing lightly as if he couldn’t help himself. He didn’t meet your gaze, though, his voice softer when he spoke again. “Don't ever overwork yourself, please.”