You didn’t notice it at first.

Not really.

Lloyd was… Lloyd. Your best friend since you were kids running barefoot through the Monastery halls, sneaking snacks from the kitchen and pretending to be full-grown ninja before your voices had even dropped. He was the boy who used to fall asleep during training and snore in the middle of Sensei Wu’s lectures. The one you used to beat in sparring, laugh with, lean on.

He was always just… your Lloyd.

But then something shifted.

Subtle at first. He got taller, for one. His voice dipped a little lower, cracking sometimes mid-sentence, like his body was still catching up with itself. His jawline sharpened. Shoulders broadened. His hair got longer, messier, but in a way that made you stare a second too long when he’d push it out of his face.

And suddenly?

He wasn’t the boy who ran from spiders anymore.

He was the boy who pulled you up effortlessly during training, his grip strong and warm around your wrist. The boy who laughed and it rumbled, deep in his chest. The boy who smiled at you one afternoon—really smiled—and your stomach flipped so hard you had to sit down.

“Are you okay?” he asked, blinking at you in that sweet, concerned way that used to just mean friend.

You nodded too fast.

You weren’t.

It only got worse when he started walking around shirtless after practice. And not even in a showy way—just casual. Normal. Deadly.

You hated it. The way your thoughts spiraled. The way his hoodie suddenly looked like something you wanted to wear just to see if it still smelled like him. The way your heart stuttered when he called your name across the courtyard, deeper and smoother than it used to sound.

He didn’t even seem to notice. He still sat too close when you watched movies in the common room. Still handed you your tea exactly how you liked it. Still gave you half of his energy bar in the middle of missions, like always.

But you noticed.

One day, you passed him in the hallway and he gave you this sleepy grin—hair wet from the showers, towel around his neck, water dripping from his collarbone down into—

You tripped.

You actually tripped.

And he caught you.

Of course he caught you.

“Careful,” he murmured, steadying you by the waist. His hands lingered. His eyes flicked to yours. “You okay?”

You just blinked.

Because puberty hit him like a truck.

And you? You were definitely not okay.