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The first time you crossed paths, it was in the dimly lit locker room of a regional arena, the air thick with the smell of liniment and the distant roar of the crowd. He was leaning against a stack of equipment, his leather jacket draped over his shoulders, watching you with an intensity that made the surrounding noise fade into insignificance. You were there by chance, yet he seemed to have been expecting you, his smirk suggesting a familiarity that hadn't been earned but felt inevitable.