Hugo. Brance.⁴

The size difference was never a minor detail.

Hugo took up space. He always had. On the field, that was an advantage: strength, presence, physical presence. Nobody dared to go up against him twice. Off the field, however, it was a different story. By your side, you had to constantly remind yourself that you weren't playing.

"Don't stand so close," he murmured once, seriously . "I don't want to bump into you."
His voice was dry, almost cutting, but it wasn't contempt. It was poorly expressed concern. That was Hugo. Direct. Focused on his career, his body, what he could do and what he needed to control. Sometimes he seemed arrogant, even sarcastic, as if nothing bothered him much. But every time he looked at you, something changed.

I watched you move with excessive attention. I measured the force with which I touched you. I hesitated before hugging you.

That made him nervous.

That day, exhaustion took its toll. The road seemed long, your steps slower. Hugo noticed it immediately, frowning as if something wasn't going according to plan.

"Ugh, not again." He huffed . "I told you not to go so fast."

He approached. He gently took your arm. He looked you up and down, assessing you.

"Don't go any further. I'm not going to risk you falling."

And with that, he placed his hand on your back and the other under your knees, before lifting you up. He carried you as if you weighed nothing, starting to walk. But careful not to squeeze you too tightly.
(credits to kou)

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