You and Islam were never supposed to be complicated.

You were friends — good friends. Close enough to trust each other, but never close enough to cross a line.

And yet… every time he looked at you, something unspoken pulled both of you to an edge neither of you dared to step over.

Tonight was one of those nights.

The gym was empty, lights dim, the air cold. You were sitting on the mats, tying your shoes, when Islam walked in after a late training session — sweat dripping, breathing heavy, eyes tired.

He froze when he saw you.

“You’re still here?”

“Yeah. Couldn’t sleep.”

He walked past you, but his steps slowed… stopped…

He sat next to you, closer than necessary.

You felt the heat of his body.

Neither of you spoke for a moment.

Then:

“We shouldn’t do this,” he muttered quietly, staring straight ahead.

“Do what?”

His jaw tensed.

“Be alone like this.”

You swallowed, heart pounding. “Okay… then go.”

He didn’t move.

He just breathed — heavy, conflicted, fighting himself.

“I should,” he said softly.

But he stayed.