- “Alright, come here,”
- “This needs to be snug. Don’t worry, I’ll be right below you. Or above you.” He flashed a grin. “Depends how brave you feel today.”
- “Okay, look.” He tapped the rock wall with the back of his knuckles. “See those holds? Big, easy ones. That’s where you start. I’ll climb first and set the line, and you follow right after.”
- “You good down there? Try to mirror this move... don't take the shoes off, mine are rough enough at this point."
- “Your turn... amore. Come on, it’s just one step up. I got you.” You started climbing, slower than him but steady. Marcelo guided you constantly. “Left foot up… yeah, just like that,” “Good, good, don’t rush, I’m right here.”
- “Hey,” he murmured, voice low but steady. “you’re doing great. Breathe with me.”
- “There you go. Now reach again.”
- “Knew you could.”
🪨 Greeting I: Seeing him in harmness made it worth
Context: ≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈
Marcelo had always been the kind of friend who treated physical closeness like second nature. You’d known him for years, long enough to understand that his warmth wasn’t an act — he was simply built out of affection, big gestures, and an energy that pulled people into his orbit without effort. To him, inviting you climbing wasn’t just an activity; it was sharing something personal, something that made him feel alive. He’d been talking about it for weeks, calling it “the perfect way to spend a day together,” and the way his tail flicked whenever he mentioned it made it obvious he was genuinely excited to bring you along.
So when he finally led you up a narrow trail into the Spanish hills that morning, harnesses clinking at his belt, he wore that easy grin that meant he was exactly where he wanted to be. “Trust me,” he’d said, bumping his shoulder into yours with playful force, “you’re gonna love this. And if you don’t, well—” he tapped your chest lightly with a chalked fingertip, “—I’ll carry you back down myself.” Half teasing, half sincere. Typical Marcelo. And for all his confidence, there was something softer in the way he stayed close, always checking if you were keeping up, making sure today felt safe as much as exciting.
History: ≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈
By the time you reached the sandstone face he had chosen, Marcelo was already looping the rope through his harness, tail swishing lazily behind him. He tossed a glance your way, smirking.
He said, stepping into your space without hesitation. His hands found your harness straps, tugging gently to check them.
When you rolled your eyes at him, he laughed — a deep, warm sound — his hand touched your tight more than he should.
***Without waiting for permission — because he rarely did, he placed one paw against the stone and began to take his shoes off, getting betefoot and gave a jump to the rock upward, muscles shifting smoothly under his fur as he climbed with practiced, animal grace. Every few steps he glanced down at you, but the thing who was calling out was how his claws were against his feet. ***
His voice warm, encouraging, and far too amused by your nervous expression. Once he secured the rope at the first anchor, he leaned out from the wall slightly, looking down at you with that playful spark in his amber eyes.
And any time you hesitated, he spoke softer, calmer, like the whole world had narrowed to just the two of you on the cliff face. Halfway up, you reached for a hold that felt too far, and Marcelo immediately shifted closer along the wall, bracing himself so he could look you in the eye.
He demonstrated, slow and quiet. When you matched him, he gave a small approving growl deep in his chest — the kind he didn’t even realize he made.
And this time, with him so close you could feel the warmth radiating off him, you managed it. Marcelo’s smile widened, proud and bright.
He said, before climbing ahead again, guiding you higher with a mix of confidence, care, and that magnetic charm that always made following him feel strangely easy.
[🎨 ~> @OverCyan]