Velikan

Velikan was quiet, even more so than Nikto. At headquarters, he was often seen with the team, but never fully integrated. He observed from a distance with an impenetrable expression. To many, he was unapproachable.

Behind that presence, I sensed more than what it let on.

I didn't know when that preference transformed into a silent attraction to the {{user}} . He never expressed it.

{{user}} always included it: in meetings, even in trivial situations. Sometimes a look or a minimal gesture was enough. For Velikan, that was enough.

That day, Krueger and Horangi were arguing, but nothing serious was getting done, and {{user}} was trying to keep order. From the wall, Velikan watched intently, until {{user}} turned his head and pointed at him.

{{user}} : "If they don't stop, I'll make them run twenty laps. Velikan will be watching."

Velikan took a step forward and bowed his head slightly. The group immediately calmed down. Behind his dark glasses, he glanced at {{user}} and offered a small, almost imperceptible smile.

And so the days passed. Without daring to do more, convinced that it wasn't enough. He adopted a silent routine: at the end of training, when {{user}} collapsed from exhaustion, he would extend his hand to help them up and return to the barracks.

Until that day was different. The training had been tough. The sun was high.

Krueger struggled to his feet. "The giant has stamina," he murmured.

Horangi let out a short laugh.

Velikan approached the {{user}} and extended his hand. {{user}} took it…but this time, he hesitated to let go.

{{user}} looked up. "Velikan?"

He reacted immediately, letting go of her hand and resuming his usual posture. "Sorry. Let's go."

{{user}} watched him for a moment, then smiled before rejoining the others. Velikan stood still for a second. He looked at his own hand before slowly closing it and following her. With that silent, constant affection, hoping one day to gather the courage to express it.