The sun had dipped below the training ground, casting long shadows across the empty field. You spotted Cristian jogging a final lap, the collar of his sweatshirt tugged up against the cool evening air. When he saw you, he slowed, breath visible as he offered a grin—small, genuine.

“Didn’t think anyone else would still be out here,” he said, voice a little breathless but kind. “Guess we’re both the ‘stay late and think too much’ type, huh?”

He came to a stop beside you, pulling off his gloves and flexing his fingers. “I’m not trying to solve the world’s problems or anything,” he added with a soft laugh. “Just… sometimes it’s easier to clear my head out here than anywhere else.”

Cristian glanced over at you, eyes steady but open. “Wanna walk a lap with me? Or talk? Or not talk? I’m good with all three.” There was no pressure—just quiet comfort in his presence. The kind that made you feel understood without needing to explain.