As the weeks passed, the training stopped being a careful introduction and became something far more demanding. Noah’s body began to protest in new ways: muscles he hadn’t known existed burned for hours, his joints complained when he woke up, and breathing became a conscious exercise even outside the gym. Nicholas did not soften the pace for anyone —least of all for him. He didn’t shout or humiliate; his voice remained firm, steady, without concessions, setting clear boundaries that allowed no negotiation.

“Again!” he ordered when Noah failed the movement. “From the base.”

There was no reproach in his tone, only a certainty that he could do better.

Noah was breathing hard, sweat soaking his shirt and running down his back. His arms burned, his hands trembled, but he didn’t allow himself to stop. He placed himself back into position, remembering every previous correction: feet firm, knees bent, center of gravity low. Nicholas walked around him, watching closely.

“Don’t step back,” he corrected. “Stay.”

The word struck his chest again, just as it had since the first class. ‘Stay’. Noah clenched his teeth and executed the movement with greater precision, controlling the impulse to flee even when his body begged for rest.

This time, Nicholas nodded slightly.

“Good.”

It was minimal approval, but enough for Noah to feel he was on the right path.

The session ended with resistance and control exercises: brief holds, measured releases, learning how to fall without getting hurt, how to get back up without losing balance. Nothing was violent; everything was conscious. When he finally let himself sink down onto the mat, his back against the wall, Noah’s hands were shaking and his pulse was racing, but his mind felt strangely clear.

Nicholas approached and crouched in front of him, keeping a respectful distance.

“Are you okay?”

“Tired,” Noah replied with a long exhale. “But… good.”

Nicholas offered him a bottle of water. Noah opened his eyes in surprise, remembering the other times he had given him coffee, and even that chocolate bar. He accepted it and drank slowly.

“You didn’t have to push yourself like that,” Nicholas commented, without reproach, recalling how the old Noah used to overwork himself to meet Sebastian’s expectations.

But his student lowered the bottle and looked at him.

“Yes, I did,” he said firmly. “When I feel strong… fear doesn’t take over as much. It doesn’t feel like that time.”

Nicholas watched him in silence for a moment, as if fully understanding that confession.

“That’s control,” he finally replied. “And it doesn’t come quickly.”

They stayed quiet for a few seconds, sharing the exhaustion.

“Does anything hurt?” Nicholas asked again.

“Everything,” Noah replied with a short laugh, tired but genuine.

His instructor smiled too, just slightly.

“Then you’re learning.”

***

They stayed after class without really planning to. Nicholas put the equipment away with methodical movements, and Noah helped him in silence, stacking mats, picking up bottles, feeling strangely comfortable in that shared routine.

“I never asked you why you chose this place,” Nicholas said suddenly, not looking at him directly.

Noah hesitated for a second before answering.

“Here, no one knows me, and no one… looks at me like I’m weak.”

Nicholas stopped and looked at him then, with full attention.

“Do you mean…?” he asked, without being obvious about whom he meant.

The question carried no morbid curiosity or demand. Only care, and Noah held his gaze.

“Yes,” he said. “At the job where you met me.”

Nicholas didn’t look away, but he felt guilt for being the cause of that torment.

Noah looked at him, confused, still unaware of that truth, and decided to change the subject. He felt his trainer was uncomfortable about something.

“And you?” he asked. “You went from computers to working in a gym. Why? If… I can ask, of course.”

Nicholas took longer to respond this time, as if weighing his words. He didn’t want to tell him that Sebastian had accused him of assault the last time he saw him and that he had spent a few months in jail.

Nor did he want to tell him that, in the shadows, he had helped Claire with all the documentation they needed to disappear, something that had been possible because he himself had contacted her through a virtual security forum and explained what he had done when Damien hired him  —without knowing about the connection Noah had with Sebastian.

In those three years, Nicholas had chosen to let it go, once he made sure that Sebastian —or even Damien— wouldn’t find them.

He never imagined that fate would bring them together again, and he deflected his answer.

“Because not everyone can run,” he said finally. “And someone has to teach them how to stay without destroying themselves.”

That answer wasn’t what Noah expected, but it struck him more deeply than he anticipated.

***

They left the gym together that night. They didn’t call it a date, didn’t plan it that way —it simply happened; they wanted to be together a few more minutes. They walked side by side, sharing the same path without invading each other’s space.

“Would you like some coffee?” Nicholas asked, as if the idea had come to him late.

Noah blinked several times at his words, then nodded quickly. Being with him, as his friend, seemed… pleasant.

“Yes, of course,” he replied.

“There’s a place nearby. Nothing special,” his trainer added, a faint smile on his lips.

Noah hesitated for just a second, aware of his own pulse, a little… flushed.

“I’d like that.”

The café was small and quiet, with warm light and worn wooden tables. It was almost empty  —just enough that the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. They sat across from each other and, by coincidence, ordered the same kind of coffee.

“This feels… different,” Noah said after a while, when he took his first sip.

“Different from what?” Nicholas asked.

“From everything else. It feels really good,... too good.”

The man across from him smiled slightly, setting aside that rigid instructor façade.

“I hope you get used to it.”

Noah watched his hands on the table: firm, relaxed, present. How he longed to have that kind of certainty.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m going too slowly,” he admitted. “Like I should be somewhere else.”

Nicholas shook his head.

“You’re doing fine,” he said. “At your own pace.”

Then he paused briefly, reflecting on something.

“Do you feel pressured now? Do you feel… uncomfortable that we’re having coffee together?”

Noah looked at him, surprised by the question, and searched within himself before answering.

“No, not at all. I like it… and not just that,... the training,… you….”

“Then we’re good.”

Noah let out a soft laugh, a little more flushed than before.

“You’re really good. I admire you.”

Nicholas tensed slightly; he hadn’t expected Noah to praise him like that, but he didn’t feel uncomfortable. He liked talking to him, being with him. And that blush seemed… cute.

Once again, he avoided the question, turning instead to the life Noah had now.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it, that you feel… good,” Nicholas replied. “Especially when before, no one asked you if that was what you wanted.”

The comment hung between them, heavy with meaning. Noah understood.

“Thank you,” he murmured with a smile.

“You’re welcome.”

They didn’t touch. They didn’t move closer than necessary. But when they stood to leave, Nicholas held the door for him and looked at him with new attention.

“Will you come tomorrow?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Something different shone in Nicholas’s eyes.

“I’m glad, man.”

That night, Noah returned to the apartment tired, sore… and calm. The danger hadn’t disappeared, but Nicholas was becoming someone very important to him —someone he wanted to be with, and above all, to learn from.

But without realizing it, someone was following him: Damien Sinclair.