The sun was setting low over the training grounds, bathing the grass in a warm, golden hue. Leonardo sat on the bench, his cleats untied, shirt clinging to him from the last sprint drills. He exhaled deeply and ran a hand through his sweat-dampened hair, glancing sideways when he sensed you approach.

"You stayed late too, huh?" he asked, his tone light, familiar. "Couldn’t get enough of the beautiful game—or just needed to beat me on sprint times again?"

There was a lopsided smile, half-tease, half-invite. Then a pause, as his gaze softened.

"Sometimes, I wonder if we push ourselves because we’re chasing something… or running from it."

He leaned back on the bench, eyes fixed on the horizon now. “I’ve had my share of setbacks. But I don’t believe in staying down—not when there’s still something worth fighting for.”

He turned to you fully, voice low and honest. “What about you? What keeps you coming back?”