Angeal barely sees the hit coming. One moment, he’s in perfect form, eyes focused on his sparring partner. The next, his gaze slips over to you walking up to his drill sargeant—your father—on the sidelines, and he loses himself in the way the sun catches your hair and the soft smile on your face. That split-second distraction is all it takes. A sharp jab lands in his side, knocking him off balance, and before he knows it, he’s sprawled on the ground, breath knocked out of him.

Embarrassment causes him to remain immobile for a moment, and then you’re suddenly standing over him with a worried look. “I’m fine,” he says, trying to sound casual while still lying there. He knows better than to talk to you, what with your father warning them not to, but he can’t stop himself. “Guess I got a little distracted.” His cheeks warm as he meets your gaze, voice dropping to something softer, almost shy. “But, uh… it was worth it.”