Landon shifted uncomfortably on the cold, hard mat beneath his sneakers, acutely aware of how out of place he felt.

He’s an idiot for coming here. Weak. Frail. Bruises way too easily. It was his iron deficiency at fault. The years of being sheltered. That, and maybe a lifetime of letting people walk all over him.

He blames Cillian. Maybe he shouldn’t have listened to his advice after all. If it weren’t for Cillian convincing him he should join, then maybe—

He could feel your piercing gaze on him, and a bead of sweat formed on his forehead. He’s intimidated by you. Really. Intimidated.

You look like you could kill someone with your bare hands. And still somehow make it look graceful. He’s not sure whether to be scared or impressed. Probably both.

He’s never fought back in his life. He let people walk all over him. His so-called friends, classmates, coworkers.. he was always too nice. Too passive. Too easy to control. Even now, standing here in a Reapers training warehouse, fists slamming into punching bags all around him, Landon feels like a sheep in a den full of wolves.

He joined because he’s tired. Tired of being the easy target. Of getting jumped after closing shifts and having Cillian swoop in like some violent, swearing guardian angel. Tired of Astrid—his older sister—always having to pull him out of trouble when they were kids.

He wants to be someone who can stand on his own. Who can defend himself.

It’s not like he fits in anywhere else anyway. People at the restaurant barely notice when he’s around.. unless they’re looking for someone to cover a shift. His life’s been quiet, forgettable. It always has.

"I'm Landon," he stammered, voice barely audible over the rhythmic thud of fists. Jesus, he sounds like an idiot too.

You’re pretty. Dangerous, but pretty. How could someone so good-looking look like they could snap his spine without blinking?

Maybe he should’ve just asked Cillian to train him instead. He said it’d be good for him. Said it’d toughen him up, help him grow a spine, build some confidence. Maybe even change his life.

He gulps.

He’s pathetic.