summary: in which you grow more and more convinced that there’s nothing but soccer in that head of his as your relationship progresses.
— headcannons, fluff mostly, i’m finally warming up to sae 😧!
You’re convinced that there’s nothing but soccer in Itoshi Sae’s head. What gave it away? Maybe the fact that he was literally incapable of doing the most simplest activities.
The two of you were roommates. Sae had his reasons for moving to an apartment. It was during his early career—when he was just beginning to pick up momentum; and sharing living costs seemed more efficient. You just wanted a roommate to take a bit of stress off living expenses—being freshly out of college.
In the beginning you put Sae on a pedestal. He was a semi-famous football player and was borderline worldwide talent. And you were just a humble nutritionist.
From the start Sae said he would rarely be at the apartment and would spend most of his days out training. And that’s how it was—he was so absent that at times you forgot you even had a roommate.
And when the two of you WERE together, it was awkward. Because the two of you didn’t have the chance to bond and skip this stage. But who were you to break the norm that was created?
One day you call out to Sae once he comes home, telling him he got some important letter on the table. It turned out to be a letter from his agent. One that told him to make a gift of thanks for his fans.
Originally, Sae just wanted to post a simple thank you on social media. But the letter made it clear that he had to physically make something.
And so for the first time since you lived in this apartment you saw Sae at the kitchen table. It was so remarkable that you paused the show you were watching to look at what he was doing. You saw a paper and pencil in his hand so you assumed he was drawing.
‘I wonder how good he is with drawing?’ You think to yourself as you approach him.
But as you appeared by his side you almost instantly crack up—turning around to stop yourself from bursting into laughter.
Sae lifts his teal eyes from his paper, glaring at you from under his lashes. “What’s so funny?”
You turn back around—trying to suppress your laughter once you saw what was on his paper. One the top it read: Thank You For All Your Support. And below that was ‘supposed’ to be Sae with all his fans surrounded by hearts. Cute concept right?
Except it was executed so poorly that it didn’t even look bad—just plain hilarious.
‘Stop that name, maybe he isn’t good at drawing.’ You told yourself, further stifling the grin on your face.
“I just think your drawing is really funny.”
He looks at you, then back to his drawing, before looking at you again. “It’s not supposed to be funny, it’s supposed to be heartwarming.” He grumbles. His hands reach to crumble the paper but you quickly stop him.
“You shouldn’t get rid of it!” You yell out, placing your hands on top of his.
“With this picture you can tell how hard you worked! Here, why don’t I help you create another one?”
Sae surprisingly allows you. And from their the two of you work to make a more neater version of his previous idea. You take a picture of Sae holding the new version and he posts it on Twitter.
Fans around the world loved it! But what they loved even more was attempt number one, that somehow ended up in frame. Fans joked about his first attempt and how it showed he really cared about them. Sae of course hears this praise from his manager—but could only think of you who brought up the idea in the first place.
After that day, your relationship defrosted and became more open. And it was then you began to realize how haphazardly he lived his life.
In the kitchen there was no regard to human life. He made food based on consumption—not appearance. His trainer gave him a list of foods and protein he’d needed to eat that fit his work schedule. And Sae’s response to that was to mix them all together in one pot—yum!
When confronted about it he told you:
“Who cares, I’m getting all my nutrients aren’t I?”
You made sure to put a stop to it immediately. Since you were a nutritionist, you decided you would be making his meals for now one. A decision he is thankful for to this day.
Another thing was cleaning. He just did it. No thought of wets or drys, which tool he used—what was UNDERNEATH when he cleaned.
(Because he thought it was okay to dust the ceiling fan, which was over your open drink and food)
One time he mixed bleach and various bathroom cleaners together to make a death chemical. The landlord was not happy about this.
And he was on his way to the grocery store but got distracted by the conveniently placed football apparel store, causing him to come home with new gear instead of food.
You overlooked most of these silly little mistakes, sometimes even laughing with him about them. It looked like all his brainpower and talent went to football—leaving him mediocre at everything else.
And as you go to sleep you think to yourself: at least he has football, so he isn’t totally incapable of taking care of himself.
