ᯓ𝄞 ˎˊ˗ Shidou head cannons if he was a rapper & music artist, not proofread
| s. Ryusei x gn!reader : sfw & nsfw
inspired by : @shoon.doon video on tiktok !!
SFW — 🎶
☆ You met him in a convenience store late at night (as in four a.m. in the morning) on a Friday. Apparently he was there after one of his quote quote "gigs"
☆ Begged on his knees for you to buy him a drink because he claimed he was a broke, underpaid rapper signed to a horrible label. You felt extremely bad, mostly due to the fact he was on the verge of tears, so you bought him what he wanted
☆ The next day, you found his instagram with about 800K followers and saw that he actually had his own successful music label
☆ You messaged him out of spite, which you later thought was kind of dramatic until a box showed up at your door. In it was five thousand dollars in straight cash with a note on top that read— ‘Sry for lying to u ;(‘
☆ Safe to say you two became great friends after that
☆ Immediately introduces you to Sae and Charles two weeks into your guy's friendship. Unsurprisingly, you all got along very well
☆ Charles was extremely funny and easy to talk to, and Sae had a great sense of humor which was very unexpected given his demeanor
☆ Shidou most definitely hires a personal stylist for you. Not that he doesn't like your style, he just wants to pamper you with new clothes and accessories every day
☆ On the topic of clothes, he will give you all of the designer clothes that he receives from brand deals. If you ask why, he’d say “I already have a lot, and you would look wayyy cuter wearing them anyway”
☆ Would let you come to the studio as he's drafting his music and/or helping Charles actually release a song before Sae could scold the both of them
☆ Shidou is Charles D1 motivator and always pushing him to success. Charles is an extremely talented young artist, but his work ethic is horrible. Sae has to constantly remind Charles that he literally cannot make money if he doesn't make a damn song
☆ One day, you found out about ‘#Ryusae’ and when you asked Shidou about it he just laughed in your face and replied with “Yeah, I’m totally in love with him a hundred percent”
☆ Full on played in your face and made you believe he was dating Sae until you asked Sae about it and almost got slapped across the face
☆ “Don't you ever say that name near me ever again.” Clearly the poor boy has been traumatized
☆ Shidou would most definitely ask you to say something for his producer tag– “Please, you have a sexy voice”
☆ His songs and raps are shockingly very poetic and beautifully written, which is insane given the way he acts around you and everyone else
☆ Creates all of his album covers on his own, usually by hand painting them first. If you like art, he would love for you to help him along the way and throw him ideas
☆ Has gotten arrested for convincing the crowd to jump a group of police officers because the cops were ruining his show. His mugshot is viral and on a lot of profile pictures
☆ Will get you allllll the tickets to alllll the concerts, both his and your favorite artist’s, and every one of them would be VIP access too
☆ Surprisingly well known by a lot of western musicians, so if you like a certain person best believe he’ll be arranging a private meet and greet
☆ If he starts developing a crush on you, be prepared for everything that comes your way
☆ Fifty million verses, four singles, two albums all dedicated to you. That man is locked IN on making the relationship happen
☆ He is not the best at expressing romantic feelings, so he would probably just be extra jittery and loud around you
☆ Sae and Charles are his best (only) wingman and they will climb mountains to help him ask you out. They help him arrange dates, figure out your favorite things, send you signals that Shidou has a big fat crush on you, etc. etc.
☆ Discreetly confesses to you on stage during one of his performances, a.k.a by yelling “PLEASE GO OUT WITH ME” to you dramatically even though you were watching him from behind the stage
☆ The fans couldn't see you (yet), but he wanted to verbally express to everyone that he was fully in love with someone already
☆ Once you guys start going out, expect to be bombarded by his fans both online and off
☆ Twitter wars between your fans and loyal Ryusae fans
☆ Shidou will take so many pictures of you, like every time you do anything you hear the snap of a camera. He claims it's for memories, but truthfully he just likes to look at you all the time
☆ His favorite date activities consist of making ceramics, painting literally anything, going to a boxing ring, and sleeping in with you
☆ The most touchiest man alive. He will find any way to have his hands on you in some shape, way, or form 24/7
☆ Super vulnerable with you when it's just the two of you alone in his apartment. He cherishes all the late night conversations between you both
☆ Cries frequently, but at least now he has someone to comfort him and cuddle with him when he does
☆ “I am so lucky to have you” he’ll mutter between sniffles, “Don't leave me.”
☆ Lets you redo his roots when they start growing back. He also just really likes it when you touch his hair, but it's pretty uncomfortable to touch because it is extremely dead LOL
☆ Would not tolerate any hate that comes from haters or even his own fans. Always uses the “Well who’s dating a bad bitch and who's not”
☆ When he goes down on you, the metal bulb is always deliciously hitting all the right spots. He could tongue you for hours on end only because he loves your taste and the feeling of your legs around his head
☆ His nipples are extremely sensitive, so he'll get super loud if you play with them or suck on them
☆ Very verbal during sex, he is always praising you or offhandedly degrading you but he is never silent
☆ Long, thick fingers and he knows how to use them. He likes to hold you down between his legs as his fingers pump in and out of you.
☆ “So pretty, y’re so pretty when you squirm like that baby.”
☆ Gets rock hard when he thinks about having a threesome with you and Sae. The thought of the two people closest to him being on top of him is just so exciting
☆ His favorite thing to fantasize is you and Sae desperately making out with each other as he watches, the thought alone gets him going for hours
☆ Nine inches, fat tip, curved slightly to the right, possible dick piercing (??)
☆ Thinks it’s so adorable when you try to go down on him and can barely fit half of his shaft inside of your mouth.
☆ “Am I too big for you baby, hm? That's too bad isn't it?”
☆ He wouldn't even mind if your bad at giving head because he likes feeling your teeth graze against his dick, and he will cum instantly if you bite down
☆ Please, please, please step on his dick with your shoes on, preferably boots or heels.
☆ His favorite position is doggy, mostly because he likes the idea of rutting into you
☆ “Feels s’good fuckk- love your hole so much baby”
☆ Roleplay demon, pretty self-explanatory
☆ Down to use all the toys on the planet. You want him to wear a cock ring? He’s down. You want him to put on a leash? He's down. You want him to stick a dildo up his ass? He is fucking down.
☆ Loves doing it in public, a quickie backstage before his concert is a must
☆ Might be a turnoff, but he comes up with lyrics during sex. He'll have you bent over and he is literally singing to himself
☆ Aftercare is lowkey ass LMFAOO
☆ Licks his nut off your body, tucks you in, and calls it a night
☆ Snuggling up with him afterwards is nice though because he is a great heater
☆ Too #thoughtson for morning sex because he needs his routinely morning time, but would be down if he had a wet dream or woke up hard
——— !
(//∇//)
A.N. ` Opened tumblr and saw the dust particles.. lol.... forgive me for not posting, work has caught up to me like crazy so I haven't had time to make a full fledged fic. However, I saw a tiktok and it inspired me so I cooked this up– STORIES WILL BE COMING!!!!! This is my first time doing head cannons and probably my last since I'm not that good @ them.
— p.s. : inbox is open for any prompts/request and/or constructive criticism (all of which is appreciated)!
｡、 . . ⟢ What would you say? How would you react if you had the chance to see your friend Michael Kaiser again, after five years of no contact? Guess there's only one way to find out.
. tw : one mention of suicidal/self-harm tendency, maybe ooc kaiser, cursing
` GN! Reader x M.K. | WC : 3.0K
pt. i , pt. ii (you are here)
The rocks laid on the concrete in the same manner they did five years ago. A park, one that you once cherished so long ago, was now abandoned by all human life. Invasive plants have claimed every area of the playground, and vines latched onto all pieces of infrastructure that was perched above the ground.
You graze your fingers against the small slide, residue from mold along with other unknown bacteria staining your fingertips.
Your feet tread towards the swings; half out of a sense of familiarity and the other out of melancholy. You sat down at your designated swing, the one in the middle that you claimed when you were an adolescent.
You shift your gaze to the right, a swing that once held the presence of a young boy, now empty. The swing that belonged to Michael.
— ⁵ ʸᵉᵃʳˢ ᵃᵍᵒ
“Is this really.. necessary?”
You were sitting in the dirt, one sharpened rock in your hand, engraving your initials on the bottom of the middle swing.
Michael, who was helping you keep the swing up, was trying to be somewhat supportive in your mission to “claim property.”
Engraving two letters into plastic was not all as easy as you’d thought it’d be. Even so, while your hands were getting a little rough, props to the jaggy stone, your initials did start to appear. Your initials did start to appear more in sharp white lines than an actual engraving though.
“This is super necessary,” you grunted, dramatically pausing to wipe sweat off your forehead before continuing, “And you should do it too.”
Michael, who was still fairly weak, shook his head in disagreement. “Why would I need to engrave my initials in my seat?” puzzled Michael as his body weight was threatening to fly back from the sheer pressure you were using to grind the mineral onto plastic.
You let out an all-knowing chuckle, “Because if it has your name on it, that means it's yours!” You roared confidently. Michael hummed softly in return.
Not too long afterward, you gave up on trying to fully embed the equipment, mostly because the carving tool was starting to decay.
Michael quickly offered you his hand, and you dropped the rock into his palm, fully expecting that he was finally convinced to claim his swing. A questioning look plastered his face, “What are you doing?” He asked.
You shot him a confused look as well. “Don't you want to engrave your swing?”
“I thought you were going to put your initials on my skin, since I’m yours.”
Your blood rushed to your face, as you began to stammer, “Michael– what! No! Ohmygosh, no!”
At this point, you assumed you didn't do too well at hiding your obvious (growing) crush for Michael. Good thing for you, he didn't seem to realize. He stayed stationary in the dirt as he watched you freak out at, what he thought, a normal thing to say.
“But we are friends?” He inquired again, examining the dulled out stone in his hand.
“It doesn't work like that!”
It’s been way too long since you came back to this park. After you found out that Michael left, you figured there was no purpose in you returning back here. You feared that by coming back, you would miss his presence. However, seeing his interview changed your perspective.
So, you decided (a week later) that the best decision to rid your emotions was to face the problem head on.
The closest you could get to Michael Kaiser was at this park, hence you figured it’d be the most suitable.
It was still very odd seeing him on national television. A boy who came from absolutely nothing now bombarded with fame and money. A peasant that became a king overnight.
He must've been enjoying his new luxurious life while you were still trapped in Berlin. While he traveled the world, you traveled back and forth from your apartment to your 9 to 5. He had access to fancy, filling cuisine, while you were stuck fending on discounts and instant meals. Michael was living the life that he dreamed of, but he left you behind.
That thought was only passing though. You knew jealousy was a prompt emotion that ran through your veins, and told yourself you weren't all that jealous, only dissatisfied. In truth, you knew he deserved his rewards for his fight between life and death. He worked hard to perfect his kicks, not taking failure as an option. “Yes, he truly did deserve it.” You told yourself as you walked to your guy’s childhood park.
Although, you do just wish you two could've been together.
A faint rustle coming from within the bushes seized your pondering. Your hands hastily cup into fist, cursing yourself for not bringing your bag (which held unused pepper spray) along with you. Earlier that evening, you’d assumed that you’d just be going on a quick walk and back; but, in the end, you stayed longer than you intended.
A thin, stray dog appeared from within the bushes, slowly inching out of the haven of branches and leaves. Its left ear seemed to be missing, most likely due to the demise of encountering a cowardly human or from a permanent scar of nature. Your anxiety was quickly replaced with empathy as you unclench both of your fists, the defensive wall now gone. Your palm steadily raised itself in the direction of the dog. “Hey doggy,” you coo, ushering the animal toward your person.
Sadly, the dog must've been extremely traumatized as it began to growl angrily. Its legs, before unsure, now stood their ground in a protective position. Nevertheless, you were determined to prove yourself as an ally and not an adversary.
You hoist your body off the swing seat, slowly inch yourself closer, and sit down on your feet so that you are now eye level with the dog. The animal began to bark aggressively, but you stayed unmoving.
“I want to be your friend.” You reassure the stray, still awkwardly squatting in front of it. Your bag always had some pet treats stored for occasions like these. You regret even more right now not bringing the essential accessory along with you.
The stray remains tense, barking at you one last time until it decided that you weren't going to move; then, darting back into the bushes.
A defeated sigh escapes your lips, “Maybe if I had some treats.” You sulk, getting back onto your feet.
“It wasn't your fault.”
A voice behind you startled you (almost) out of your stance. Your body jerks back, and you turn your head around to identify the source of the voice.
Someone was now in your swing, dressed in an all black wear. Before you decided to accept your fate of getting murdered, your eyes trailed up his figure until you reached his head. Some of his hair was sticking out of his hood, blonde and blue strands interwoven together.
You paused. All your thoughts and movements, paused.
Michael sat motionless on the swing. His usual confident smirk wasn't present on his face, and his piercing blue eyes focused on only you.
“It's been a while." He greeted, voice low and tired. The boy you once knew, your friend, finally in your presence again.
Without a thought, you lunged towards him, almost slipping in the dirt while your arms flew open. You embraced an old friend, droplets daring to form in the corners of your eyes. He didn't flinch like he did the first time you tried to hug him, instead he embraced you back, both of his strong arms snaking around your waist to pull you in. His body felt warm, the softness of his sweater providing additional comfort. He smelled smoky and expensive, small hints of cologne radiating from his clothes. The greed, the urge to stay engrossed in him like this filled all your senses.
There was so much you wanted, had, to say to him. Yet, all you were able to do was just hold him.
Gathering your thoughts, you let go of his body, breathing slowly as you gazed into his eyes.
“I– How? – I’m.. so confused.” You stuttered, still in disbelief. He let out a slight chuckle, “It’s a long story, sit down and I’ll talk,” and pointed at the swing to his right.
You thought it'd be nice to speak with Michael again after all these years of separation. Before, even the idea of being in his presence again would instantly lighten your mood. But, as you converse with him, you realize that things were bound to have changed.
He spoke as though you were, well, not you. As if you were someone below him: a stranger, a fan, a servant. He discredited you for your status at your new job. “Maybe you should tell them you know Michael Kaiser and you’ll be promoted to the CEO.” He’d comment, “But there’s probably a reason why you’re so low in ranks anyway.” You pushed the comments aside, painfully laughing his remarks off. You didn't want to start an argument over something so negligible, especially since this is your first time seeing him in over five years. But he continued, constantly degrading your ability and skill.
In return, you snapped.
“Why are you acting like this?” You interrupt him before he opens his mouth, again. Your immediate question caught him off-guard, his eyes widening slightly at the bluntness.
You saw his smirk shift into a sarcastic frown, “Like what?” He asks, seemingly oblivious of his attitude.
You rolled your eyes, “Are you serious?” You question, arms folding together in front of you.
He quirked one of his eyebrows, so you carry on. “You’ve been acting like a bitch, Michael.”
His gaze sharpened, “And how in the world am I doing that?” He interferes, his rebuttal only pushing you further.
“You’ve taken a lot of hits to the head haven't you?” The words came out sharp, and before you could regret your words they continued to spew out, “Do you really think you are all that important now?”
So many hurtful questions flew out your mouth: nasty and immature.
His sharp stare turned killer, almost like you’d just expose him for a crime he kept secret for years.
“I do, actually.” He replied, his tone dominant, “And I don't know why you're disrespecting me all of a sudden.”
Your blood began to boil, “Disrespect? Michael, do you even know what disrespect is?” You snapped, now facing him. The swing was swiveled fully so that you were able to see his slouching whole body, irritation painted his on face.
“I’ll give you an example. What's disrespectful is that you’re sitting in my swing.” You childishly pointed out, furrowing your eyebrows to intimidate.
He let out a short, sarcastic laugh. “What a joke! Do you still remember that from years ago?” He replied, voice still steady with a hint of mockery.
At this point, you wanted to slap him across the face. “Why are you even here?” You avoided his question (partially embarrassed) with a one of your own, “Because if it's to make my life more miserable then you can leave.”
Your remark clearly annoyed him, as he immediately stood up, causing the chains of the swing to rattle from the force of his push.
“I came back here, after all these years just to be greeted like this? Like I’m some piece of shit?” He snarked, and before you could respond, he went on. “You remember all of this unnecessary stuff about me like some–”
“You are acting like some piece of shit!” You exclaim, imitating his stance before him. “You're also acting like I'm nobody, like I don't matter. I don't like the way you're talking to me.”
You try to sound as calm as you can, but it comes out no less than a whiny complaint.
“People don't always get what they like.” He snarked, huffing in a breath of air.
“I’ll give you some examples,” he stated, heavily emphasizing the word “I’ll.”
“You think I wanted that asshole as my dad? You think I wanted to steal everyday? Be neglected by everyone? No one cared about me and you think I wanted that?” The irritation in his voice became more evident as his volume raised higher.
Nothing. You gave him silence for ten seconds as you processed the last part of his rant.
No, you couldn't hold it in.
“No one cared? What makes you think that no one cared? How dare you!” You blurted, angry and confused as your brain could barely articulate the right words. “I was friends with a loser like you and you come back and treat me like I’m some– some stranger!”
Your vision began to blur, emotions that were contained for so long beginning to flow out.
“You aren't a king! You're still insecure and you can't accept that you–”
He interrupted, “What would I be insecure abou–”
“Everything! Everything about you screams insecurity! You're still the kid you were five years ago, can you not see that?” You were shouting now. You knew the words that were coming out your mouth had little impact nor did they make any sense, but you couldn't just not say anything.
His returned stillness started to make you regret what you’ve just said. You didn't mean to go that far, calling him a loser and other horrible names.
“Why.. are you even mad at me again?” He gibed, his frame slowly stepping closer and closer to your body.
His stab went through your body, as if he'd just disregarded all of your complaints. You knew exactly why you were mad, you just didn't know how to tell him.
You stayed quiet.
“See, you don't even know. All of this fuss over me, for what?” He spat, voice laced with poison. He, now, stood directly in front of your frame. You had to admit, you were extremely intimidated.
“During all this time you wasted yelling at me, you know what I realized?” He bent down to meet your eyes, waiting for an answer that never came.
“I realized,” his hand grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him, “– I don't even remember your name.”
He knew it was a lie. A ridiculous lie that he made up because he was angry.
When Michael found out that he wouldn't be going back to his hometown again, he immediately asked Ray Dark, the man that discovered Michael, to find out what your name was. He found out your full name long before you even discovered that he left. Every practice, every match, every game, your necklace dangled his neck.
At night, he would stare at your initials, your name repeating over and over in his mind. He would wish to see you again and again every single time the necklace shimmered in the moonlight.
It was clear that he missed you way more than you missed him. His first real friend.
The first thing he did when he came back to Germany was rent a penthouse in Berlin. Every mealtime, he would walk to the park in hopes of seeing you there. Tonight was finally the night that fate would let you two meet face to face.
But in the end, his ego ruined everything, again.
He watched as your angry face contorted into one of shock and despair. He expected this, for you to be struck as if a part of you just died.
What he didn't expect was for a palm to be slapped across the side of his face.
You want to feel bad about hitting him, given what he's been through, but its seems as though your body reacted on its own.
Your breathing slowed, all of your anger fueled within that single slap was free. You looked down at his body, which slightly trembled from the contact, and his wide eyes as one of his palms cusped the area where he got hit.
“Don't come back here,” You asserted, “I don't want to see you.”
And you left.
Willingly, you left him this time.
He stood by himself, watching as you strided away. You were hurt, a part of you wanted to believe that it was a lie. A part of you wanted to turn back and tell him you didn't mean it. But, you believed it was too late.
He wanted to run after you, and he could’ve, but his body didn't let him move.
He was alone. Tears threatened to brew within his eyes, and his hand came down from his cheek to clutch his throat. He urged to choke himself for his harsh words against you, to punish himself. But he knew you wouldn't like that. Immediate guilt grazed his heart, knowing that he only hurt you more.
He never got to give you your necklace back, and even worse, he never got to admit that he’s fallen for you.
This time, he let his tears slip.
Work was the same, boring as ever.
Currently, it was lunch break, but you still had to finish up an assignment that your boss threw at you last minute. The TV was blaring in the back as one of your older male coworkers watched highlights from one of the most recent U20 soccer games.
“Michael Kaiser, new face of Germany,” he said (to quite literally, nobody).
“Everyone wants to be him or be with him, heh.”
Your eyes stay focused on the computer screen in front of you, watching as the digital words appear as though they were moving on their own.
“Y/N, do ya’ like him? I would assume so because you're a girl and I heard he's quite the womanizer. ” He questioned, turning his attention towards you.
You halted your typing, flickering your eyes at him then to the TV. Kaiser held yet another medal in his hands, his expression radiating confidence.
However, you saw through his disguise.
“You know, he has a necklace with your exact initials on it.” Your coworker hushed, placing his fingers under his chin, focusing on the TV again. “You aware of that?”
Your eyes broke away from the TV and shifted back to your monitor. The unfinished assignment was screaming at you to finish typing.
“No,” Your fingers found their way back onto the keyboard, “No, I don't know him at all.”
(;_;)
tags ٩(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)۶ : @specsspaced @bonsaa @fre4krena @justagirl67 @yvonneh3art @cosmorainpuddle @il3yynnee @jasonmygrace @schourei (some others could not be tagged)
— p.s. : inbox is open for any prompts/request and/or constructive criticism (all of which is appreciated)!
｡、 . . ⟢ You knew the rising star Michael Kaiser at his lowest. You don't think he remembers you. At least you thought he didn't, until he calls the necklace you gave him a while back his "lucky charm" on live TV. Too bad he couldn't bring himself to face you after he got famous.
` GN! Reader x M.K. | WC : 2.1K
pt. i (you are here) | pt. ii
The door behind you clicked shut, and you were engulfed by the essence of your apartment.
You stood at the entrance silently, your brain subconsciously replaying today's events. Your job was tiring, and your boss seemed to make it even harder. He made you work overtime, again, claiming that you had to “get experience” because you were a new employee.
Only now were you standing inside your home, the time reading way past midnight.
A sigh escaped your lips as you slowly made your way to the living room. The dim yellow lamp you forgot to turn off was the only source of light that was giving life to the area surrounding it.
Your couch, illuminated by the soft light, appeared to be the most comforting object in your sight at the moment. Naturally, your tired body drew itself toward the cushions and you threw yourself down onto the couch with a plop.
You reached for the remote and turned the TV on, expecting boring news or a horrible reality show to play so you could tune yourself out with reality. Instead, you were met with a loud sports broadcasting channel. Loud cheering was heard through the TV speakers and a text spawned across the screen that read “Paris, France.”
A trip to Paris really did sound like a dream.
Your eyes moved across the screen as the cameraman panned from the crowd to one of the players holding up a trophy. The player was from Bastard Muchen, a cocky smirk painting his face in response to (seemingly) another win of the season.
The camera zoomed in and you could now see the rising star of Germany's soccer. His blonde hair was wet, most likely from the sweat, and clinging onto the sides of his face and neck. His eyes were filled with grit, and you could feel his confidence seeping through the screen.
You were most likely doing what hundreds of people were doing at the moment. Staying up late at night on their couch while admiring the beautiful man that filled their screen.
The only difference is, you actually knew this man.
You knew him, very well.
The last time you saw him, he was small and scrawny. Now, he's absolutely huge. Muscles itching to pop out of his sleeves. However, the look in his eyes almost didn't change. That look of a dream: a dream to play, the dream of love. The only thing that was different was that, now, he was on top of the world.
Both of you, young and immature. The only thing that separated you two was your lives, but you both managed. After a while of not seeing him, you wanted to forget his name.
But how could you forget, Michael Kaiser.
You saw him five years ago, on Christmas eve. He was in the town alone in his raggedy hoodie, stopped and standing stiffly outside a local bakery. He looked at the pastries with dull eyes, his aura unapproachable yet sad.
Because you were feeling generous (given the christmas spirit), you begged your mom for a slice of the alluring strawberry jam vanilla cake.
“Here, take this,” you said, offering the small box that held the slice. “You looked like you wanted some.”
He gave you a confused look, and you saw his eyes glimmer for a moment but it immediately went away. He stood unmoving for a while, and you began to wonder if you accidentally ticked him off somehow.
Still unsure, he decided to accept your gift. His hand hesitantly reached out to grab the box. His fingers, rough and skinny, brushed against yours.
“Thank you.” He spoke, barely above a whisper, looking down at the box that was now in his hands.
You smiled, feeling accomplished.
“My name is Y/N, what's yours?”
His eyes met yours, “Michael.” He answered.
After that fateful meeting, the both of you formed an unexpected friendship. Sometimes you would see him roaming the town, or you would see him sitting at the park.
You learned about his life, and it only hit you then how drastically different you two were. You offered to call the police when he told you he was getting abused, but he refused.
“Just talking to someone is enough,” he would reason, as you both walked alongside each other down your neighborhood’s street.
He explained that he was seen as an outcast. No one interacted with him at school, not even the delinquents. Michael was different in every way.
But you didn't mind, you told him you enjoyed his company, and that he better have enjoyed yours too. He would laugh at that, but you knew he was grateful.
One day, he brought a beat up soccer ball he found with him to one of the daily afternoon meet-ups you guys had at his favorite park. After some rounds of kicking the ball into imaginary nets, you saw his potential. He was no pro, but with the right training he could be on a good team in no time. But at the time, you just assumed your athleticism was beyond terrible.
The last day you saw him, it was raining. At this point you guys have known each other for almost two years now.
You would be lying if you said you weren't falling for him a bit. But your parents' words stuck with you, and you, as a newly 16 year old, still believed that you wouldn't find your true love until you went to college. Plus, you didn't know if Michael felt the same way about you. All you knew was that you were someone he could talk to, his comfort.
“I feel like something bad is going to happen.” You told him truthfully, leaning against his shoulder as he laid his head atop yours. You both sat uncaring in the rain, staying somewhat warm with each other's body heat.
“I feel like that everyday.” He remarked, slightly nudging the side of your torso. You snickered lightly, closing your eyes and soaking (literally) in the comforting moment.
A nice, quite silence fell upon you two.
The sounds of car engines and life bustled far away from the park you both were in. The atmosphere prompted you to think about the future, a future where you and Michael would both be happy.
“Micha,” you began, slowly looking up at him. “Can we be friends forever?”
His gaze stayed focused ahead of him, avoiding eye contact with you. The silence allowed you to hear the steady beating of his heart, plump and alive, but barely living. After all he's been through, everything he did was to survive.
Snapping out of his thoughts, he turned towards you to meet your soft gaze.
“I was thinking,” he started, paused, and started again. “Maybe we could be more, in the future, of course.”
Your heart started to pound just a little more louder and a little more quicker. Heat began to roll onto your cheeks as your brain began to decipher what he meant.
You wanted to confess the feelings that were deep down in your heart, tell him you loved and appreciated him, but all you could do at the moment was mutter a small, “Okay.”
You still regretted not telling him till this day. You always thought that if you did, maybe you guys wouldn't have drifted so far apart.
You parted away from him slightly and began to undo the silver necklace that was around your neck. It was your favorite necklace at the time because it had your initials in the middle. A very simple necklace.
“Here,” you handed him the necklace. “This is for you. A promise that we'll be with each other, and you'll always have a part of me wherever you go.”
He looked down at your palm, his face unreadable. However, you could hear his breath hitch a little, as you ushered the piece of metal closer. His gaze softened as he examined the jewelry.
Considering his habits at the time, you were putting a lot of trust in him to not sell your necklace for money. But with your heart, you knew he wouldn't do that.
“I don't have anything to give you.” He admitted in a guilty tone. You shook your head to reassure him that it was fine, “Don't worry about it.” You told him.
Not listening to your protest, he investigated his pockets to see if he had anything on him. Unsurprisingly, his pockets only had some money that he stole from a tip jar at a random restaurant you two ate at for lunch earlier in the day.
“I could probably rip some of my hair out,” he suggested, and you couldn't tell if he was joking or not. Nevertheless, you laughed softly, placing the necklace in his slim hands.
“It's okay,” you said, “I trust you.”
After that day, you never saw him again. You would visit the usual spots you both would hang out everyday, waiting for him to no avail. It wasn't until three months later, you found out that he left his home to pursue his soccer career.
And a month after that, you found out that his full name was Michael Kaiser. During your friendship with him, he only knew you by Y/N and you only knew him by Michael.
You always wonder if he ever found out what your last name was too. He had it easier too.
He already had your last initial.
The wave of nostalgia hit you like crazy. Two years of your life you knew this man, and made promises that have yet to be, or will never be, fulfilled.
The camera was now off-field, where they were pulling the Bastard players “backstage” to interview them post-game. Currently, a plum haired, wide-eyed guy (who closely resembled a puppy) was being interviewed.
“Michael gave his all,” he stated. You playfully rolled your eyes as if plum-haired could see. “Obviously,” you muttered as if he could hear.
Suddenly, Michael appeared from behind the plum, towering over the reporter. You felt the urge to shut off the TV, but a part of you wanted to hear what he had say.
“Michael! What a game you played!” The reporter exclaimed, ushering the cameraman to get Michael Kaiser in all his glory.
You had to admit, after all these years, he got very attractive.
“Wouldn't expect any less from myself.” Michael stated confidently, as if he was speaking to himself, his mouth contorted into its one of his signature smiles.
The reporter obnoxiously laughed along, “Well, people are wondering this season if you have any lucky items you keep on you. Like an amulet? Your luck ever since your debut continues to keep growing. Tell us Kaiser!”
His gaze broke for a moment, the smirk on his face turning into what looked more like a line. Not a smile, just a neutral facade.
You could see that he was now deep in thought. His thinking face was still the same ever since he was sixteen to now.
“I do, actually,” he finally answered. His hands reach up towards his neck, fingers digging into the hem of his collar and he pulls out a slim, silver necklace hiding within his jersey.
You stopped breathing, for a good minute too. The reporter’s words turned into a jumbled mess as your eyes fixated on the necklace that he wore around his neck.
Your initials sat right above his collar.
“What do the letters stand for?” The reporter nudged, invading Michael’s space as he leaned in closer. Michael backed up slightly, “Someone special to me,” he answered, giving the reporter a look that hinted “back off.”
The reporter made an inaudible noise, his face lit up as if he had just won all the money in the world. “Does Michael Kaiser have a special someone?” He jumped, dramatically emphasizing every word in the sentence.
“Yes, they are special to me,” Michael bluntly stated. “But, I can't see them.”
The reporter jerked up a brow, “Oh? And why is that?” He questioned, no sense of any actual curiosity behind what he asked. It was very evident that he was already planning the next rumor inside his head. Seriously, who hires reporters like these?
“I can't visit them,” Michael admitted, his confident demeanor slightly slipping away. “I.. didn't have the heart to keep in contact. I didn't really feel the need too–”
You turned the TV off.
You could feel your eyes thanking you for getting rid of the beaming blue light that occupied you.
Your mind was spinning, what the hell? He calls you special, but he didn't find it necessary to keep in contact. That's the opposite of what all the books, blogs, and therapists say!
You weren't mad, not at all, but you were confused.
You were way too tired too.
“I’ll save it for another day,” you whispered, hands massaging your eyes as you got up to navigate to your room.
Looks like you're not getting your love back anytime soon.
.. (ﾟ´—`ﾟ)ﾟ｡
A.N. ` first post, kinda nervous. Thank you if you read this all, I haven't written in a while so I hope that this was somewhat enjoyable. Again, thank you so much!
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