#forgedincold

The training room hummed softly as Wells lowered himself into the ice bath, the shock pulling a sharp breath from his chest. The metallic gold Speedo clung tight against his hips, water beading off his skin as he gripped the edge of the tub.

“Unbelievable,” Wells muttered, teeth clenched, eyes flicking up. “You really wake up and choose violence, huh?”

Coach Blaze Titan stood directly in front of him, completely unbothered. He wore a black Speedo, cut clean and tight. Arms folded, posture steady, he looked carved out of control.

“Cold doesn’t hurt you,” Blaze said calmly. “Losing focus does.”

Wells huffed a laugh. “Easy to say when you’re not freezing everything important.”

Blaze stepped closer, stepping into the ice bath for a few minutes, just inside Wells’ space. “Breathe,” he said, voice low and even. “Slow it down. In. Out.”

Wells tried to roll his eyes, but the cold forced him to listen. His shoulders dropped. His breathing steadied.

“Regency panics when they’re uncomfortable,” Blaze continued. “They rush. They lash out. They lose their shape.”

Wells exhaled slowly, jaw unclenching. “And you want me calm.”

“I want you untouchable,” Blaze corrected, as he stepped back out of the ice bath and leaned in towards Wells.

Wells looked up at him, a familiar grin creeping back despite the ice. “You always know how to make suffering sound productive.”

Blaze smirked. “Good. Stay another thirty seconds.”

Wells leaned back, letting the water settle. “Coach,” he said lightly, “you keep pushing me like this and I might start thinking you enjoy watching me hold out.”

Blaze’s gaze lingered for just a beat longer than necessary. “I enjoy results.”

Wells chuckled, steady now. Focused. Ready.