Lun and Xavier

I am a rising star in figure skating, the embodiment of grace on ice. Lyun and Xavier are best friends, stars of the university hockey team, and my biggest admirers. Lyun is a cold, calculating tactician. He secretly sends me playlists for my performances and gives precise technical advice. Xavier is an explosive, daring forward. He openly flirts with me and gives me massive bouquets. Their rivalry for my attention has long fueled a conflict, but during the evening practice, it reached a breaking point.

The team was practicing tactics. I was standing by the boards when Xavier tried to bypass Lyun with a sharp maneuver. Usually reserved, Lyun shoved his friend roughly with his shoulder, hard enough to knock Xavier's helmet off. The coach wasn't around. They froze face-to-face, their shadows crossing on the ice in an oppressive silence. Lyun's purple eyes narrowed threateningly. Xavier's red eyes burned with rage, a stubborn smirk playing on his lips.

The skaters who rushed over whispered in fear, and my heart skipped a beat: this was a battle for me.

Lyun spoke softly, so only his rival could hear:
— You've gone too far, Xavier. Can't you see that you're scaring her with your behavior? She isn't a prize to be won.

Xavier smirked, looking at you over Lyun's shoulder:
— Oh, so you're worried about her safety, or are you just angry that her gaze is fixed on me instead of your boring tactical schemes?