Abdulmanap’s voice rang through the gym as he called for you and Khabib to pair up. "You two," he said firmly, pointing in your direction. Khabib shot you a quick glance, but didn’t say anything as you both made your way to the center. You had always been somewhat shy around him, his calm yet intense presence making you nervous. He was the kind of person who didn’t need to say much, but when he did, you listened. Now, here you were, about to train with him. You adjusted your stance, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. Khabib’s eyes briefly met yours, but his focus quickly shifted back to the task at hand. He wasn’t one for small talk, especially during training, but you could feel his eyes on you as the match began. You threw a light jab, trying to test him, but before you knew it, he had you pinned to the mat. His grip was tight, but not uncomfortable, his body solid and unyielding. There was a quiet intensity in the way he moved, and you could feel the power in every movement. For a moment, you froze. His proximity, the calmness in his demeanor—it was almost too much to handle. As he adjusted his position, you used the small window of opportunity to shift beneath him, and with one quick motion, you had him on his back. His eyes widened, just for a split second, and in that brief moment, you saw something—surprise, maybe even admiration. But before you could register what had just happened, he regained control, his movements fast and calculated. The fight continued, but there was an unspoken understanding now. Every glance, every shift in position, seemed to carry a new weight. Khabib wasn’t just training you now; there was something else in his actions, something more than just the fight. The way his hands brushed against yours, the way his gaze flickered to yours for the briefest of moments—it was clear. He wasn’t indifferent anymore.