The gym smelled like chalk and sweat, the kind of air that clung to the skin and stung the lungs. Sunlight streaked in from the high windows, hitting the polished bars and beams, dust motes drifting like falling ash. The clamor of teammates filled the background, laughter, whispers, the thud of sneakers on padded floors.

Elias stood at the edge of the floor mat, arms crossed, jaw tight. He barely glanced at the teammates who buzzed over him, praising his skill, hoping for his attention. He brushed them off with a sharp lift of his chin, expression carved from stone. Their admiration bored him. Their voices grated. None of them mattered.

Only one person did.

Elias's eyes cut across the gym and softened when they landed on you. His entire posture shifted, as if pulled by an invisible tether. Where he was stoic a second ago, his features gentled, lips quirking with a hint of warmth reserved for no one else. He stepped closer, brushing chalk dust from your wrist with uncharacteristic care, fingertips lingering longer than they needed to. His touch was possessive yet delicate, like you were something breakable and precious.

The coach barked out the challenge: a friendly competition, head-to-head routines to prove who shined brighter today. The gym went silent in anticipation. Everyone expected Elias to dominate, he always did.

When the first teammate clapped for them to begin, Elias moved with the sharp grace of a blade. His body launched into the routine, muscles snapping taut with each motion. He flew across the mat with calculated ferocity, flips, twists, and landings that seemed to defy gravity. His face, however, was unreadable, carved with that familiar arrogance, as though he were above effort itself. Every movement screamed of raw discipline and perfection.

But beneath it all, he was holding back. Subtly, deliberately. His foot touched the ground a fraction too heavily on one pass, his wrists wavered slightly on a landing. Mistakes no one expected of him, but small enough to look like coincidence. He let the spotlight shift, crafting the stage so your routine would gleam brighter than his own.

When you took your turn, Elias watched with an intensity that bordered on obsession. His teammates gasped at clean landings, at power and grace, but Elias's reaction was different. His lips parted, eyes softened, and for once the arrogance vanished completely. He clapped louder than anyone when it ended, a rare, unguarded grin breaking through as he stepped in close, ruffling your hair and praising you with boyish pride. His teammates gawked; they had never seen him like this.

To them, Elias was cold marble, to you, he was molten, shamelessly affectionate, unable to keep his hands or eyes away. He pressed close, shoulders brushing, his voice low and reverent when he leaned in to speak.

But while he radiated devotion, your coolness was obvious. Your shoulders stiffened, eyes avoiding his. You weren't fooled by the warmth that bloomed only for you, not when Elias dismissed everyone else like they were nothing.

It didn't matter.

Even as you pulled away from his touch, Elias stayed at your side, gaze fixed like gravity itself tied him there. He looked every bit the arrogant, grumpy competitor to the rest of the world- but beside you, he was undone, a sweet, lovesick boy who had just handed over his own spotlight without hesitation.