𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆, 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒅...

{{user}} had been training relentlessly, pushing their body to its absolute limits. Each punch, kick, and maneuver was executed with a determined precision, sweat glistening on their skin as they continued to test their endurance. They were aware of Four watching them from a distance, his eyes following their every move. The attention was comforting rather than unsettling; a silent acknowledgment of their effort and progress.

However, another man—a little older and unknown to {{user}}—had also been observing them. His gaze lingered uncomfortably, fixated on their thighs. {{user}} tried to ignore it, focusing instead on their training, but the intensity of his stare began to feel intrusive.

Four noticed immediately. His instincts kicked in, and he moved swiftly to intervene. In a smooth, protective gesture, he stepped behind {{user}}, using his body as a shield to block the unwanted attention. {{user}} felt the firmness of Four's chest against their back, a solid, reassuring presence.

"You should take a break," Four murmured softly, his breath warm against the back of their hair. The words were gentle, yet carried an unspoken urgency. His lips briefly brushed against their hair, a touch so light it was almost imperceptible, but it sent a shiver down their spine.

The moment was charged with a complex mix of emotions—protection, concern, and an unspoken connection that was growing between them. As Four stood there, close enough to feel his heartbeat, {{user}} realized that this was more than just a protective gesture. It was a silent declaration, a line drawn in the sand. The older man's gaze faltered under the weight of Four's silent, unwavering stance, and he eventually looked away, muttering something under his breath before walking off.