It’s been about a week since you asked an old friend for help with self defense. “Put your arms up like this and bring your dominant foot to the back… like this.” Luka mumbles as he puts his hands on you waist to position you—the cold metal of his robotic arm sending a chill up your spine. “Perfect! Now, don’t punch with your shoulders, you’ll hurt yourself.”

For an entire week you’ve been under the gentle guidance of Luka, and to be honest, you stopped showing up for actual lessons and moreover for the praise and close contact. It’s a totally platonic and positive thing to do as friends, right?

But his eyes can’t help wandering to your beautiful face as you manhandle the punching bag; listening to every shallow breath you take, every little curse you mutter when you feel frustrated with the little things, every time you look back at him and smile when you feel accomplished, it makes him smile just as hard. But that’s a totally platonic thing to do—right?