my biggest and only blue lock headcanon that is totally not indulgent at all is that the reason sae being a bitch on camera is because when he was 16/17 and started getting attention for his looks he appeared on one (1) ad because his manager and teammates kept insisting, and that was both his first and last ever brand deal because a week after it got released someone had left him a gift outside his apartment door.
it was a plushie he threw outside his window and a letter that still keeps him awake at night sometimes. someone he didn't even know of telling him that he was "the man of his dreams" (he was 16)
hahahahhs #saeangst ...sae doesn't have any other photoshoots apart of that one and even that one he begged to be deleted, of course, it's reposted enough that he practically can't have social media because the idea that someone figured out his adress just because they thought he was mildly attractive genuinely scared him. as you see, im a big fan of panicked sae :)
he's very private, always wearing hats outside and acts rude on purpose because he prefers people hating him than loving him (...) ik that this is probably superrr incorrect canonically and ooc but idc i love the idea of sae having panic attacks in his appartment and looking senselessly for a hidden camera that doesn't exist.
WHEREIN — you and otoya have been friends for a while, but what happens when a simple bottle of gin changes everything between you?
warnings: toxicity, substance use, suggestive scenes, driving under the influence (DO NOT ATTEMPT), angst, avoidance, you’re both red flags, karasu x reader, bachira mention
the comfort of your bed does little to console you as you plop down, mentally and physically exhausted from the long week you’ve suffered. your muscles ache, and your brain feels like a sponge that’s been squeezed one too many times and left discarded and deformed.
DING!
your phone lights up beside you, making you turn your head as you pick it up. not wanting to get up, you reach out and read the notification from your lockscreen.
🥷🏻: karasu wants to go to the club, you coming?
you sigh, too tired to even type out a reply. you bury your face in the sheets as you groan. you don’t know when it started, but ever since meeting karasu, otoya’s been frequenting the clubs more often… or maybe it was the other way around. you’re not sure, nor do you really care. the bottomline is, it’s not good for otoya. well… it’s not like you have any right to say what he does with his life, anyway. it’s just… a little annoying, you suppose, how he flirts with women, discards them, then moves on to the next. as a woman, you feel a little guilty by association whenever you see him pick up another victim.
🥷🏻: i have your loc lol i know you’re home
🥷🏻: i’m On my way!
you don’t bother to check his follow up messages, too busy dozing off to sleep as the warm, familiar air of your dorm room engulfs you.
you find yourself wrapped in your sheets when you wake up. the lights are dimmed a warm hue of yellow—a different setting than the one you fell asleep to. someone’s been in your room.
you quickly sit up and look around, heart beating as you gulp. everything else seems to be in place when you scan the room. getting up, you go to the bathroom with light footsteps and open the door gently.
“fuck—!” otoya jumps as he opens the door at the same time, clearly taken aback at your presence. “don’t do that, bro! you scared me,” he giggles, light breaths of air leaving his lips, his eyes forming two thin lines as he smiles.
you huff, eyeing him up and down sassily. “excuse you? this is my dorm, in case you forgot,” you’re leaning against the doorframe as otoya steps out, pushing his hair back as he walks.
“you got my message?” he asks, sitting down on your couch, his legs spread as if he owned the place, completely ignoring what you’d just said.
you cross your arms before taking a seat on the opposite end of the touch, hoisting your feet in the air before placing them gently against his lap, “yeah, but i’m not in the mood.”
the interior of your studio type dorm is something otoya’s never been a fan of, and he’s never failed to remind you of that. your couch faces your bed, and in between is a glass coffee table and a rug underneath. he loves to tease you about it being a cuck couch.
but if there’s one thing in your dorm that gets his approval, it’s the sliding glass doors beside the couch that leads to the balcony. he looks out as he speaks, his right hand resting atop your calves as his left arm rests on the backrest of the couch.
“me neither, honestly,” he says, and even from a few feet away, you can see the bright stars reflecting off of his eyes. he sighs, “but i already told him we’re coming so get your ass up and get dressed.”
you whine and groan, “bruh, why would you do that?”
“because!” he chuckles, looking at you as he shakes your calves playfully, “i know you need a break, come on. didn’t you say you’re going home for the long weekend?”
“yeah, which is exactly why i need to get some rest! i’m not coming home to my parents sleep deprived!” you reply.
“dude, just let loose for tonight. come on, i know you. when’s the last time you went out?”
“half an hour ago.”
“you know what i mean—when’s the last time you had fun?”
you roll your eyes and huff, arms crossed as you look away to avoid his gaze, “…fine. but only because i don’t think i can stomach my parents for three days straight without having at least a little bit of alcohol beforehand.”
“attagirl,” he smirks as you get up and search in your closet for a decent outfit to wear. “hey, i dropped by the store on my way here. you wanna pregame?” he asks, already opening his messenger bag to take out a bottle of gin and a pack of yakult.
you look back and smile, putting on a bashful pretense of rolling your eyes. “i mean… if you insist…”
otoya laughs at you before heading over to your dorm’s kitchen space and opening the cupboards for a pitcher and some glasses, “this larp, bruh.”
you fish out a skimpy dress from your closet before showing it over to otoya, “hey, what about this?”
he looks you over as he walks back to your couch. “uh, yeah, looks good, man. i mean, i’m not the one wearing it so i don’t really care,” by the time he finishes his statement, he’s already focused elsewhere, his gaze fixated on the drinks as if he were some chemist cooking up something in the lab.
you huff before walking over to the couch and sitting beside him, “clubbing with boys is such a task. i’d rather go with my girl friends.”
he scoffs, “where are those girl friends now?”
“probably doing something productive with their lives, excuse you,” you sass, kicking him lightly.
otoya chuckles before handing you a shot. “you only got one clean glass so we’re gonna have to share,” he says, thin, green eyes staring into yours lazily.
you down the whole thing before giving it back to him and getting up, “i’m gonna go get dressed and do my make up, okay? wait here.”
“mhm,” he hums, already pouring himself a shot as you walk over and grab your dress before heading to the bathroom.
you slip into a new outfit before taking out your cosmetics bag and starting on your routine. a few minutes later, you hear otoya knock on the door.
“hey, i’m on my third shot already. get outta there,” he says.
“i’m still doing my make up,” you reply, brush gliding against your skin as you blend.
“can’t you do it out here?” he asks impatiently.
“no, i want my mirror.”
you feel his presence fade before he comes back a few seconds later to open the door with the pitcher and the glass in his hands.
“ew, eita. bathroom air,” your face wrinkles as he approaches you, settling the objects down on the sink along with your products.
“just take the shot, man,” he says, offering you the glass.
you reluctantly take it before downing it in one go. good thing your lips aren’t done yet.
he pours another before looking at you in the mirror. “you know that trend on tiktok? i saw a girl doing it, one shot, one step, make up challenge.”
“i’m not doing that.”
“why not? she was buzzed by the time she was done,” he chuckles.
“i’m not tryna throw up five minutes into the club, bro,” you say, continuing your routine as he takes a shot.
otoya shrugs, seeing the point in your logic, “fairs.”
you continue with your make up as otoya continues pouring the shots, the two of you exchanging the glass every now and then.
by the time your fourth shot comes, your body is already warming up as it adjusts to the alcohol content you’re consuming. you don’t know if it’s simply the buzz from the liquor, but you can feel otoya’s gaze on you—it’s different, almost prey-like as he scans your face in the mirror. maybe you were hallucinating, but you could’ve swore he was also checking out your ass as you bent closer to the mirror for small details.
you shake it off, finishing up your mug with lip gloss before turning to the side to face him. “okay, i’m done,” you sigh, closing up the packaging before tidying up.
suddenly, otoya’s slender hand cups your jaw as he forces you to look at him. green eyes captivate yours, making you freeze before leans over and steals a kiss from you.
his tongue is wet as he explores you, and God, is he skilled. no wonder he’s got so many girls after him. he pulls away shortly before diving back in, this time pressing harder as he deepens the contact.
“mmh…” he moans into your mouth, the vibrations spreading throughout your body and going straight to your core.
RING! RING!
otoya’s phone chimes against the slacks of his pockets, and he pulls away to check.
“it’s karasu…” he sighs before going out the bathroom and picking up the call without another word.
you gulp, frozen in place as you try to process what just happened.
your heart races as you breathe, and you turn to the mirror to calm down. you look down at the sink and decide to clean up while you wait.
otoya comes back after a minute or two, leaning against the doorframe as he pokes his head out. “you ready?” he asks casually.
you look at him through the mirror before nodding, grabbing your essentials before heading out to the living room and tossing them inside your purse.
“karasu says they already ordered drinks,” he deadpans, looking into his phone as he types.
“okay…” you nod meekly, slipping into your shoes.
the two of you walk out together to his car. you get in the passenger seat before he starts the engine and pulls out of the parking out.
a few seconds go by in silence before you finally break the tension, “are we going to talk about what happened tonight?”
“what happened?” he asks, and you meet his gaze in the rear view mirror—cold, emotionless. uncaring.
you bite your bottom lip slightly before nodding as you realized what was happening. you gulp, quickly averting your eyes as you stare out the window, blinking your tears away.
the rest of the car ride goes by in silence, save for the sounds of the road and the occasional ding! of otoya’s phone.
the club is packed as you enter, and karasu greets you with a beer in hand as he daps otoya up, then leans in to whisper something in his ear.
you look around for any familiar faces before karasu’s attention shifts over to you as otoya leaves the two of you alone, walking away with purpose.
“hey, nice outfit, man!” he compliments you, a smile on his lips as a hint of red adorns his cheeks.
“thanks, bro,” you smile genuinely as karasu wraps an arm around you.
you and karasu are casual friends—you met him a few months back when otoya introduced the two of you to each other during a night out together.
karasu’s polite, and you don’t really see him messing around with women—not as much as otoya does, anyway, which you like about him. he probably just goes to the club for the vibe and the alcohol, or at least that’s what you think.
he leads to you his group’s table, where a bunch of their other friends are drinking and talking. karasu introduces you, his arm still on your shoulders.
“she’s otoya’s friend,” he says, and the guys all perk up.
“friend?” “ou shi…” “karasu, warn her.”
their voices overlap as you turn your head to look behind you, trying to spot otoya’s hair in a sea of people before you’re pulled back to reality as karasu taps you on the shoulder.
“nah, they’re just friends. tell ‘em,” he chuckles.
“oh, uh… yeah, otoya and i are strictly platonic,” that kiss didn’t feel platonic, “we’ve been friends since grade school,” you say, offering the boys a kind smile before karasu takes a seat and offers you the spot beside him.
karasu hands you a beer from the bucket before sliding the plate of nachos near the two of you as he takes a chip.
the boys around you continue on with their conversations, their voices muffled as you look around, only to spot otoya with a girl.
“hey, karasu? who’s that?” you tap his arm, nodding over to where otoya and the girl are talking.
“huh? oh, uh… i forgot her name. something with an A. otoya’s new girl, i think,” he says, eyes on the pair before looking over at you, “why, you jealous?” he chuckles.
you scoff, playing it cool. “nah, i’m just wondering how long this one’ll last,” you say, and the other boys must’ve overheard your little gossip session as they interject.
“wanna bet?” a guy with yellow and black peek-a-boo hair offers, grinning like a cat as he looks at you.
“you’re on. one week,” you say, holding a finger up. you decide to just ride along with the joke, careful not to expose yourself.
“two,” he replies, setting his drink down before he places a 5,000 yen bill on the table.
“ou shi…” “sir use mode.”
karasu scoffs, manspreading with a smirk beside you as he looks you over, “you can still back out, you know?”
your eyes flit from his to the other guy’s before you place down a 5,000 yen bill of your own. “nah, i know otoya,” you say confidently.
…do you, though?
your stomach turns as you look over to the couple once again before karasu takes both the bills on the table. “alright, i’m holdin’ onto this for safekeeping. i’m otoya’s best man, after all,” he smugs, pocketing the money. “i’ll keep ya both posted, i got your numbers, anyway,” he says, taking a swig.
one of the guys scoff, “goodbye, 10k.”
“hey—!” karasu scolds teasingly, giving the guy a mean side eye.
you try to ease the queasy feeling in your stomach by taking the beer karasu offered you previously and downing it.
“woah,” he chuckles, looking over at you, “slow down. you goin’ through something?”
you gulp, looking away, “something like that…”
karasu chuckles once again before shaking his head. “you wanna dance?” he offers.
you contemplate it for a second, then see otoya and his “new girl” kiss on your peripheral vision.
fuck it.
you take a breath to steady yourself before nodding. “yeah, actually, i’d love that,” you say, turning as you smile towards karasu.
…
the night goes on as karasu and you share a few moments on the dance floor, and for a second, you forget about the churning feeling in your stomach.
“wanna grab a drink?” karasu asks, leaning in to speak directly in your ear.
you nod eagerly as you hold onto his hand, your fingers intertwining as he leads the two of you to the bar.
“hey, excuse me,” he calls the bartender over, “one—“
his words cut off as you press a kiss against his lips, one hand resting against his chest as the other pulls him down from his nape, forcibly deepening the kiss—much to karasu’s joy.
karasu chuckles as he pulls away, eyes scanning your face with a smirk as one hand finds its way to your waist before travelling down your hips, then to your lower back as he pulls you closer and kisses you again.
he tastes like beer, and his lips are a little bit chapped against yours. not like otoya’s, soft and cloudlike and…
“hey.”
the two of you reluctantly pull away to see otoya with a bored expression on his face. he looks over at karasu, then to you.
“i’m taking you home,” he says.
karasu chuckles, hand travelling back to your hip as he squeezes and looks you over, as if waiting for your move.
you gulp, suddenly feeling small under the two men’s gaze.
“you have an early morning tomorrow,” otoya warns, and even karasu recognizes the venom in his tone as he speaks.
you sigh before one of your hands fall down to his arm, giving his bicep a light squeeze. you give him a peck on the cheek before walking over to the exit with otoya, who only spares his best man a striking glance before walking out to follow you.
karasu chuckles by himself before going back to their table.
the ride home is terrifyingly silent before otoya speaks up.
“so… you and karasu,” he says.
you’re looking out the window, hugging your knees to keep your legs warm as your dress fails to cover up your parts. your shoes are long gone, messily discarded on the floor of his car.
“huh? oh, yeah…” is all you can mutter as a response.
“damn,” he says, eyes flickering over to look at you before sighing and keeping his eyes on the road.
“you and… that girl,” you say, trying to keep the conversation going.
“oh, yeah,” he parrots, tone uninterested.
the rest of the car ride goes by with neither one of you talking.
you don’t hear from him again the entire weekend you’re at your parents’.
you come back to your dorm on monday night, laying down on your bed after a few hours of unpacking. you check your chat logs a couple times, trying to think of a conversation starter. you type out a few words before deleting them all and staring into space as you turn your phone off.
fucking pathetic.
your phone dings, and you eagerly open it to see a notification
…from karasu.
you sigh and read it,
karasu (eita’s friend): hey, i’m dropping by at the club again tonight
karasu (eita’s friend): you down? 👀
the kiss was great—the entire night was great with karasu. but there’s just… something about otoya. something you just… can’t explain.
you gulp.
you: who else is coming?
karasu replies a few seconds later,
karasu (eita’s friend): just us
karasu (eita’s friend): unless you wanna bring friends? i can ask my boys to come if you want
you think for a few seconds, eyes wandering around your room as you tap your lips.
then, you type.
you: eita’s not coming?
karasu (eita’s friend): nah, he said he’s going out with someone
your brows furrow. “someone.” something with an A? you huff before sending karasu a message.
you: okay. bring your friends.
you gently put down your phone before hopping off the bed and fixing yourself up.
it’s still early and the club has yet to hit happy hour, making it easy for you to spot your friends at a table. you all exchange greetings as they offer you nachos and drinks, to which you immediately accept.
20 minutes in and a lot of gossip later, karasu and his boys enter the door. you wave them over and they join you, introducing themselves one by one as your friends all get acquainted.
karasu stays by your side obediently, popping a few chips into his mouth before one of his friends come back with a bucket of beer.
your phone dings as you laugh, buzzed and surrounded with your friends. you must’ve forgotten to turn on dnd. grabbing your device, you open it to see a notification from otoya.
🥷🏻 sent a picture.
you unlock it, clicking his notification to see what he’d sent.
it’s a meme of robin and starfire sitting together, looking over at the city as the sun sets, paired with a caption that says “how mfs be sitting with they hg after another failed talking stage.”
you scoff.
you: looool
on the other side of town, otoya sits alone in his room, an empty feeling in his chest.
maybe he should’ve gone with karasu and the others. who knows, maybe he could’ve met the love of his life… or the love of his two weeks, anyway. karasu did mention new girls tagging along.
💐: looool
his phone dings with a reply from you.
you haven’t talked in four days, and normally, otoya wouldn’t care. after all, you’re just friends… but something in his guts just won’t calm down.
he’s tried to bury it—his feelings. the moment he pulled away, the moment karasu called, he vowed to never do that again. you were friends. that was that. nothing more, nothing less. it was comfortable set up. you were the only woman in his life who’s stayed despite his flaws and vices. he didn’t want to get into a romance with you, knowing you could leave at any given moment.
at least, as friends, he could hold you down in his life forever. no complications.
so why is he typing this out? and why is he sending it instead of deleting it?
Synopsis : It’s funny how the person they once loved, fianlly moved on without them.
Characters : Noa Noel , Chris Prince , Marc Snuffy, Micheal Kaiser, Julian Loki , Vivian Hugo.
Part One : Sae Itoshi , Rin Itoshi , Isagi Yoichi , Reo Mikage , Oliver Aiku.
Notes : Fem reader, angst, wrote this with pure boredom, failed relationship or whatever, cliché, not fully proofread, oc characterization—maybe? suggestive and a tad bit dramatic…perhaps? Lost motivation after I finished Prince’s part…so I’m unsure about the rest kinda sucks… lost ideas so Loki and Vivi got the same trope.
･ ༝ ･ Noel Noa
You met Noel Noa before the world knew his name, long before he was labeled the greatest striker in the world.
Later on, fans would look at you with envy, calling you incredibly lucky and praising how you had been there to support him through everything and how he still chose to stay with you.
But back then, he was just Noa. A young football player running on the streets of Paris, chasing a dream that seemed entirely impossible.
It was brutally hard to get scouted when you came from a poor area; you had to work twice as hard just to convince someone to look at you and pick you up for a club.
He didn’t have much to his name. Money was tight, his apartment was incredibly cramped, and his meals were painfully simple.
There were nights when he came home completely exhausted, dropping his heavy bag by the entryway door and sitting in absolute quiet because even he did not know if all his sacrifices would actually lead anywhere. He had to play football and also work a real job just to earn money.
But you stayed. You dated him because you found him to be reliable, and he charmed you to the point you fell deeply in love you spent your days working hard just to come home to that tiny apartment.
You would spend hours resting on the mattress, hugging his waist against your bare skin while he kissed you softly.
One dark night, with the window cracked open, he brushed the stray hair away from your face while you held him tightly beneath the blankets.
He looked down at you and quietly “ do you think I can make it?“ You looked back at him “yes noa, i know you could do it.”
Then you leaned into him for a lingering kiss, which he softly kissed you back and pulling you closer. That was the exact moment he realized he wanted you beside him forever.
The two of you married young, it was one spontaneous decision born on a random day while you were walking hand in hand across a bridge.
You did not bother telling your families; you just looked at each other and agreed to do it right then and there.
People would have told you that you were far too young, that his career was too uncertain, and that love alone was not enough to build a future, but neither of you cared.
You had absolutely nothing, yet it felt like you had everything because you had each other.
You immediately bought a cheap white dress that was on sale, found a secondhand veil at a small shop, and Noel simply wore one of the few suits he already owned.
He bought you a simple bouquet of flowers, and you both paid for the certificate, while you sealed your vows right there before walking home laughing.
When Noel Noa finally became famous, it happened slowly at first.
The world had finally discovered him, and the young promising striker had immersive talent that quickly transformed into a living legend.
The same man who once had to count every single expense was suddenly surrounded by immense wealth, flashing cameras, and a-lot of global expectations.
You were unbelievably proud of him, watching the man you loved achieve every single thing he had ever dreamed of.
You eventually moved into a beautiful, spacious apartment —the exact one he had promised to give you once he made it—and he would pepper you with affection to the point that you built a family together, eventually welcoming a son into the world.
Noel, with his long legs folded awkwardly beneath him, would watch his don crawl on the floor and crawl towards him babbling.
He reached out, his large hand engulfing your son’s tiny fingers, before his gaze flicked up to meet yours.
He slide a hand over your knee, squeezing it gently, a silent acknowledgment that this—the warm room, the sound of your breathing, the small child laughing between you—was the actual prize he was playing for.
For a while, your life felt absolutely perfect.
There were mornings when Noel would leave early for training but still make time to kiss your forehead before stepping out.
And there were nights when the three of you would sit together at the dinner table, where you would cook a warm meal and bake dessert while Noel quietly helped clean the dishes afterward while you took care of your son’s needs.
But having to move from Paris to Germany had been a struggle for you.
You only knew the language because you had taken it as a school elective years ago, which did calm your anxiety about raising your son in a foreign country while Noel's career has began to reach the ladders.
Yet, you managed. Noel made sure the inside of your new home remained entirely warm. On the evenings when he didn't have late meetings, he would come home smiling , took a shower and would change into soft sweatpants, walk straight into the kitchen where you were preparing dinner, and silently wrap his long arms around your waist from behind, burying his face into your neck just to breathe you in.
“You look tired,” you would murmur, leaning back into his solid chest while stirring the pot on the stove.
“Tiring day, the trainers are strict about conditioning,” Noel would reply, his voice a bit low, that rumbled against your skin. “But their methods are logical, they kept me in there for so long, wanted to see you two right away.”
He leaned down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your shoulder, his hands resting securely on your hips. “More importantly, how was your day? Did you manage the market down the street?”
You would turn around in his embrace, looking up into his teal eyes with a soft smile. “I stumbled over my words three times, and I’m pretty sure I said the wrong thing when I asked them to cut the meat, but the man was patient and kind enough. Also, Noé kept trying to mimic the German words, which made everyone laugh.”
Right on cue, a bright, bubbly sound would echo from the living room rug. Noé, who was a toddler, was sitting among his building blocks, babbling happily in a French and German baby talk.
He was waving a plastic toy car in the air, his wide eyes fixed completely on his father.
Then suddenly happy and laughing seeing him come home.
Noel’s gaze would instantly soften a look that the public and the paparazzi never got to witness.
Noel would walk over to the rug, scooping Noé up effortlessly with one strong arm.
Noé immediately let out a loud, delighted giggle, burying his tiny hands into Noel’s hair and babbling a string of incomprehensible sentences as if he were explaining a very important story to his father
Noel listened with absolute seriousness, nodding along to his son's chatter.
“Is that so?” Noel murmured, a faint, genuine smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “A very efficient strategy, Noé.”
He carried the babbling toddler back into the kitchen, stepping close to you again.
With Noé settled securely on his hip, Noel reached out with his free hand, gently cupping the side of your face.
He leaned down and pressed a warm, deep kiss to your lips.
The moment he pulled away, he immediately shifted his focus down, planting a loud, affectionate kiss right onto Noé’s chubby, flushed cheek, which made the little boy squeal with laughter.
Standing there in the foreign kitchen, surrounded by the smell of home-cooked food and the sound of your son's laughter.
You had absolutely nothing to fear, because as long as the three of you were together, any place felt exactly like home.
On match days, your young son would look at his father on the pitch with wide, amazed eyes, pointing up at the field in pride and start saying “dada” and then would babble while you had to soothe his hyper-activeness and nod saying “yes, that’s dada, look at him” then you’ll kiss your son’s cheeks.
A problem would always be the paparazzi and the public eye always observing and obsessing over his private personal life. it always irritated Noel whenever the media tried to invade your privacy.
It was hard to get away from them.
You took family vacations to the ocean side of France, where he would chase the two of you along the shore, carrying you both in his arms as a complete, happy family.
You vividly remembered a summer afternoon back in the south of France, during a brief three-day break before the World Cup training camp commenced.
Noé was about four years old, completely exhausted from a day of chasing waves, and was fast asleep in the bedroom of the small coastal house you had rented to escape the public eye.
You were standing at the kitchen counter, cutting fresh fruit, when Noel walked up behind you.
Simply resting his chin on your shoulder, watching you cut the fruits.
“The club wants to extend the contract by four more years,” Noel stated flatly, his eyes fixed on the cutting board. “The financial compensation is substantial. It would secure everything for Noé future . And for you.”
You paused, the knife hovering over a piece of fruit. “Alright, does that mean, we’ll have to stay in germany?” You questioned while feeding noel a piece of fruit that you chopped.
“Mhm,” Noel murmured around the fruit, chewing it slowly as he leaned his heavy weight more firmly against your back. His long arms slid around your waist, his hands resting flat against your stomach to hold you flush against his chest.
“Four more years in Munich guarantees absolute stability for the rest of our lives, ensuring neither you nor noé will ever experience the financial instability I grew up with.”
You swallowed hard, looking down at the remaining fruit on the cutting board. “Im not sure i can stay in germany amd live in that house, i get pretty lonely and barely have any one to talk too andthat massive apartment house in Munich just feels like a very expensive cage. I only know the language from an old school elective. I can’t build a life out there when my entire world is just waiting for you to come home from a match.”
Noel stayed completely still against your back, his broad shoulders tensing slightly and turned you around slowly within the tight circle of his arms, forcing you to lean back against the kitchen counter so he could look directly into your eyes.
“I do not want you to be lonely,” he murmured softly, his thumb reaching up to gently trace the line of your jaw, his touch incredibly grounded and deliberate. “The contract is merely an offer. If the environment in Germany is causing you to be unhappy then I’ll tell them. We can look at options that return us closer to France, or a different routine.”
A small, smile touched your lips as you looked up into the face of the man who was currently considered the greatest striker on the planet, yet was willing to rewrite his professional trajectory just to fix the sadness in your voice. “Can you really just change it like that? Your managers will be furious.”
Before Noel could answer, a soft whimper broke the heavy silence of the kitchen. From the nearby bedroom, Noé had finally awoken from his nap, rubbing his eyes as his small footsteps patted against the hardwood floor.
Noel’s expression instantly softened, and effortlessly scooped the toddler up into his arms. Noé immediately rested his heavy, sleepy head against his father's broad shoulder, “papa”
Noel pressed a gentle kiss to the side of the boy's head, holding him close before looking back down at you, his eyes silently waiting for your final verdict on their future.
Looking at your husband holding your son so securely, a wave of guilt washed over you.
You knew how hard Noel had fought to escape the slums of Paris, and you knew what he is doing is his way of ensuring Noé would never have to experience that kind of life, ever.
You took a deep breath, swallowed your rising anxiety, and hesitantly agreed to stay in Munich for the extension.
You told yourself you could handle the massive house and the empty afternoons if it meant keeping your family whole under the life Noel was building for the both of you.
But months after returning to Germany, the crushing weight of the isolation completely broke you.
The massive house in Munich felt more like a silent and a prison than ever before, the foreign language isolating you from the world while Noel was constantly away at demanding training camps, high-stakes matches, and mandatory club events.
You spent your days staring at the pristine walls, listening to the echoing quiet, until you finally realized that your soul was entirely suffocating. You couldn't take it anymore.
The compromise you finally reached was a painful, bittersweet fracturing of your daily life.
You packed your bags and moved back to a secure, quiet apartment in Paris with little Noé, seeking the familiar comfort of your home country where you could finally breathe, while Noel stayed behind in Germany to fulfill the demands of his multi-million dollar contract.
He lived in Munich, completely burying his loneliness in relentless discipline on the pitch, while you lived a separate life miles away.
He would ride or fly to Paris on his rare days off just to hold you on the mattress and kiss Noé’s cheeks, but the distance had already begun to cast a long shadow over your marriage—marking the exact, quiet beginning of the drift that would eventually pull you apart for good.
The long-distance arrangement quickly solidified into a test that stretched on for four agonizing years.
The quiet apartment in Paris gave you happiness but it cost you the daily presence of the man you loved. Your primary connection to Noel became just daily routine of late-night phone calls.
Every evening, after his double training sessions in Munich, your phone would buzz at exactly nine o'clock. He never missed the timing, but a telephone line could not transmit the physical warmth you desperately craved.
“Noé is already asleep,” you whispered into the receiver one rainy evening, leaning your head against the cool glass of your kitchen window. “He spent an hour today tracing your face on the tv and kept on waiting for you at the doorstep. He keeps asking when the white airplane or train will be bringing you back.”
A long, heavy pause echoed through the line from Germany, punctuated only by the faint, clinical hum of Noel’s empty apartment in Munich. “My flight is scheduled for Friday at dawn,” Noel’s low rasp replied, his voice laced with a deep, exhaustion that he only ever revealed to you.
“I negotiated a thirty-six-hour release from the club’s weekend training to meet you two. I will be there before he wakes up.”
“Thirty-six hours isn’t enough, Noel,” you murmured, a tear finally slipping down your cheek in the dark. “You spend more time in transit than you do in this home.”
“It is the only time they let me,” he flatly stated, though his jaw tensed so hard you could practically hear the strain over the microphone. “Bear with me, please.”
The weekend visits were a chaotic blur of intense affection and underlying heartbreak.
Whenever the front door of your Paris apartment finally clicked open, little Noé would drop his toy blocks and sprint across the hardwood floor with an ecstatic yell.
Noel would immediately drop his travel bag, collapsing to his knees to catch the boy in his massive arms, burying his face into his son's hair while Noé was frantic and happy to see his father he always longed for.
Noel would lift him up high, pressing a deep kiss to his cheek, before his eyes immediately locked onto yours over the boy's shoulder.
He would wrap his free arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, and kiss you with a desperate, frantic intensity that tasted like pure loneliness and stolen time.
For those brief hours, the three of you would build blanket forts on the living room floor, bake sweet desserts together, and pretend that the outside world didn't exist.
Noel would hover over you on the mattress late at night, his bare skin warm against yours, tracing your jawline as if trying to permanently memorize your features before the sun came up.
But Noé's reaction to the constant back-and-forth became increasingly painful.
He was growing older, and he was becoming acutely aware of what was happening . Every Sunday evening, the atmosphere in the apartment would grow completely quiet and tense.
Noé would sit directly on top of Noel’s packed suitcase, wrapping his small arms around the handle and crying quietly, refusing to move so his father couldn't leave.
“Don’t go to Germany, Papa,” Noé would sob, his tiny fingers clutching the fabric of Noel’s pants. “Stay here. Play football in Paris. Stay with me please ”
Noel would crouch down, his and gently pried his son's hands away from the bag. And place a hand on Noé's shoulder, his voice completely flat trying to hide the fact that his heart was breaking.
“I can’t simply do that, Noé. It is my responsibility. This is for the better, papa loves you always and I will call you at nine.”
That was how it was, he comes and goes. By the time the four years of the contract extension finally concluded, the damage was completely absolute. The routine of phone calls and brief, agonizing visits hadn't saved your marriage; it had simply strained the two of you.
You tried to raise Noé in a peaceful, normal environment. But You never fully understood what went wrong with your family but the moment that framed family portrait accidentally broke, everything began to go south.
The actual conversation that led to the breakup happened back in Paris, inside the quiet living room of your spacious home.
Noé was older now and fast asleep upstairs.
There was no screaming just the suffocating weight of an empty marriage that was tiring you out.
You were sitting on the couch, staring at the space between you, when you finally broke the silence. “Noel, we can’t keep doing this.”
Noel paused, setting his tablet down on the coffee table. He looked at you, his eyes “Doing what?”
“Living like strangers,” your voice was quiet, completely exhausted. “You came home three days ago from the training camp, and we have barely spoken ten words to each other. I can’t keep moving on with you like this .” Your breath hitched and continued on,
“You are physically in this room, but your mind is always away, I am so lonely, Noel.”
Noel’s posture remained rigid, his shoulders locking. “I am doing my job. You know that, the legacy that I promised you and our son”
“I don’t care about the legacy anymore!” The sudden cracked tone in your voice made him flinch slightly. “I cared about the man who used to hold me under a blanket in a freezing apartment. I cared about the father who used to kiss our son’s cheeks until he laughed. I care about my husband who was there.”
“You’re barely even here Noa.”
A heavy, painful silence settled over the room. Noel stared down at his hands, his fingers tensing against his knees.
“The world demands everything from me,” Noel confessed, his voice dropping . “If I do not give it everything, I fail. I fail not just the world but my family .”
“Winning is enough for the fans, Noel. It isn't enough for a marriage,” you murmured, tears finally spilling over your eyelashes.
“I don’t know how to reach you anymore. And I don’t think you know how to let me in.”
Noel didn't deny it what you just said.
He couldn't. His mind knew the truth of your words, “So,” Noel whispered, the word tasting bitter in his throat. “What do you want to do?”
“We let each other go,” you replied softly, your heart breaking as you said the words out loud. “Before we completely ruin the beautiful memories we have left.”
Noel closed his eyes, a deep, shuddering breath escaping his chest.
He simply nodded, accepting the defeat with the same dignity he likes how he acted on the pitch, even though his chest ached with emptiness. “We will talk about this later.” Then noel went upstairs to your shared bedroom while a family framed picture fell down.
Midway the process of the divorce. Noel did not realize the shift at first; he genuinely thought everything was fine because there were no arguments or screaming matches.
Instead, it was just two people slowly and quietly drifting apart. The distance wore both of you out completely, and even your son began asking difficult questions about what was happening.
He was young, but he was old enough to feel that his parents were no longer the same people they were when he was a child.
To make matters worse, Noel’s rising fame meant the media constantly manufactured rumors about him dating other people, and the intense prying into your marriage even led to your son’s classmates mocking your relationship at school.
For a Noé, this meant that the simple act of leaving the house became an absolute nightmare.
Paparazzi would wait themselves outside the family property, thrusting flashing cameras and heavy lenses directly into his face whenever he walked to the car.
They would yell out aggressive, intrusive questions, completely unbothered by the fact that they were ruthlessly harassing a child just to get a reaction for the morning headlines.
The brutal harassment quickly came into his school life, the constant media speculation about his parents' deteriorating marriage became a weapon for his classmates.
“Hey, Noé, saw the news today,” a boy sneered during lunch break, tossing a tabloid magazine onto the cafeteria table.
“Says your dad is staying at a hotel in Münich with some model. Is your mom finally getting dumped?”
“Shut up,” Noé muttered, his fingers clenching the edge of the desk until his knuckles turned white.
“Everyone knows your parents are totally fake,” a girl chimed in from the next table, offering a cruel, mocking laugh. “My mom says your dad only stays married for his clean brand image. Must be exhausting pretending to be a happy family.”
Another girl chimed in, “I heard from my mom that she’s so lonely that she began having a relationship with another man.”they all looked at him and sneered.
Noé sat entirely frozen, just feeling the humiliation and anger rushing to his cheeks.
He wanted to scream, to defend the warm, sweet home he remembered from his childhood , but the cold reality was that he couldn't deny their words anymore.
He had seen the empty space on his father's side of the bed. He had felt the suffocating silence that now filled their dinner table. And how his parents wouldn’t talk to each other and just stare at one another wanting to say something.
The mockery from his peers made him feel intensely isolated, it made him think his family wasn't real—they were just public figures meant to be picked apart.
When the school bell finally rang, Noé walked out of the school gates only to find a swarm of reporters waiting on the sidewalk, tipped off by the recent rumors of an impending divorce.
The moment his small frame emerged, the crowd surged forward, completely blocking his path home.
“Noé! Is it true your parents are drawing up custody papers?” a reporter shouted, pushing a microphone dangerously close to the boy's face.
“Look over here, Noé! Does your mother know about the latest photos from Germany?” another voice barked, the blinding strobe lights of the cameras causing the boy to stumble backward in panic.
Noé covered his face with his backpack, his chest heaving as tears of frustration finally spilled over his lashes.
He felt completely suffocated, he kept his head down, pulling his school jacket tight hoping that if he moved fast enough, he could slip past the intersection unnoticed.
He was just a kid trying to get home to his mother, but his father’s name made him public property.
Three reporters leaped out from a parked black van, their heavy camera lenses swinging toward him like weapons.
Before Noé could even think to run, they aggressively sprinted across the pavement, completely cutting off his path and pinning him against a brick wall.
“Noé! Look over here! Just a quick statement!” a man barked, shoving a microphone inches from the boy’s face and cameras were flashing blinding the poor boy.
“Is your mother packing her bags tonight? We have sources saying the lawyers are inside the house right now!” a woman shouted, her voice entirely devoid of empathy as she leaned over his small frame.
Noé stumbled backward, his back hitting the cold brick wall.
He brought his school bag up to his chest, using it as a fragile shield against the blinding, rapid flash of the cameras. The strobes lit up the dim street, making his vision blur and his head spin.
He was completely trapped, a child surrounded by ruthless adults who only saw him as a lucrative headline.
“Leave me alone,” Noé, his voice trembling violently as he tried to squeeze past them. “Please, I just want to go home.”
“Did your dad officially replace you guys in Germany, Noé?”The photographer stepped closer, the lens clicking aggressively right in front of the boy’s tearing eyes.
He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing more than anything that his father would come out of the shadows and save him—but deep down, he knew Noel was miles away and entirely oblivious to the price his son was paying for his popularity.
Seeing a child pinned against a brick wall by a predatory crowd of adult journalists, two teachers raced down the concrete steps, shouting over the noise.
They aggressively forced their way through the wall of lenses, shoving reporters aside to wrap their arms around Noé’s trembling frame and drag him back inside the safety of the main building.
Inside the main office, the secretary immediately dialed your number.
You answered the phone only hearing the sheer panic in the teacher’s voice on the other end made your blood run completely cold.
When you arrived at the school fifteen minutes later, the media circus had doubled in size.
The moment your car pulled up to the curb, the paparazzi swarmed your vehicle, slamming their heavy equipment against the windows and completely blinding you with their rapid camera flashes.
You fought your way through the suffocating crowd, your heart hammering against your ribs as you pushed past the glass doors into the main office.
Noé was sitting in a corner chair, his knees pulled tightly to his chest, his face entirely pale and stained with tears. He looked completely hollowed out. You quickly rushed and hugged him but he couldn’t even utter a word, completely frozen.
The teachers escorted you both out the back exit, but the reporters had already anticipated the move.
They surged forward, blocking the path to your car, shoving microphones into your face and shouting intrusive questions about Noel's career, the asset distribution, and the failing marriage.
You desperately tried to push Noé into the back seat, shielding his body with your own, but a photographer aggressively leaned over the car door, clicking his camera inches from your son's terrified eyes.
Something inside you completely snapped.
"Get away from him!" you screamed, your voice cracking with a desperate, terrifying rage that stunned the surrounding crowd. "He is a child! Have you completely lost your minds?! Leave us alone!"
You slammed the car door shut, locking it instantly. As you scrambled into the driver's seat, the sound of Noé’s muffled, sobs from the back seat filled the vehicle.
He was hyperventilating, weeping so deeply that he couldn't even draw air into his lungs.
Two days later, the fallout forced an emergency meeting at the school.
Noel Noa had been flown back from Germany while the corporate sponsors and team managers frantically trying to contain the massive PR disaster of his wife screaming at journalists on the evening news.
You sat stiffly in the principal's office, your hands tightly clasped in your lap, refusing to look at Noel as he sat right beside you. The air in the room was suffocatingly tense.
The principal closed the thick folder on his desk, looking at both of you with a grim, uncompromising expression. "Mr. Noa, Madam, I called this meeting because the situation has reached a critical breaking point. This institution prides itself on safety, but what happened on our sidewalk was an absolute failure of security."
Noel’s posture remained rigid,"The club is already processing legal injunctions against the specific media outlets involved. Security personnel will be assigned to the perimeter moving forward, for my son"
"This isn't some kind of thing that should be handled lightly!” your voice cut through with a tone of heavy with grief.
You finally turned your head to face him, your eyes blazing with tears. "I can’t keep this up anymore, Noé hasn't eaten a full meal in forty-eight hours. He refuses to leave his bedroom. He can’t sleep without me being by his side and he keeps calling for you, your own son won't even look out the window because he thinks someone is watching him."
Noel’s jaw tensed, his eyes narrowing slightly, but he remained silent.
"Your son has been completely destroyed," you whispered, the raw defeat in your tone turning the room freezing cold. "Your son barely even has friends any more, he comes home and starts asking me about us, We are done pretending. This marriage is completely over."
Noel looked from you to the principal, “let’s deal with this at home, not in-front of people—please.” He looked at you and the principal just went quiet seeing two married couple fight in-front of him that all he could do was cough .
The meeting ended in silence till the car ride home to your apartment, the moment you two entered the room, you started fighting again.
The heavy wooden door of Noé’s bedroom did very little to muffle the bitter, escalating voices coming from the downstairs hallway. It was the first time his parents had ever raised their voices like this, the house that was filled with warmth has been slowly falling apart.
Upstairs, Noé lay curled on his side beneath his blankets, pressing his hands over his ears, but the pain in his mother's voice and the unyielding weight of his father's tone cut straight through the floorboards.
“He is hyperventilating in his room, Noel!” you shouted, your voice cracking with a desperate rage that Noé had never heard from you before. “Are you completely blind to what your doing to him? He was hunted on a public street like an animal, and you are still standing there talking about public relations.”
“I am handling the reality of the situation, we can’t act rashly like you did.” Noel’s voice striked back, saying it with frustration. Making you scoff, “Yelling at reporters on national television does not solve anything. You just gave the media exactly the reaction they want to keep selling .I am trying to control the problem so we can protect him!”
“You think that’s more important , Noel? He is your nine-year-old son!” You let out a breathless, sobbing laugh.
“You think you can solve a broken family with that. You think if you just stay the master striker, if you keep winning matches, so that makes everything stay safe?”
“I grew up with nothing,” Noel confessed, “I know what happens when you fail. I have spent every single day of my life running so that we would never have to experience that life. Everything I have sacrificed, every camp I attended, every hour I spent away from this house was to build a life where he would be secure. Do not tell me I do not care about my son.”
“But you aren't here, Noel,” your voice returned, completely dropping its anger, leaving only a sound of hollow grief and silence that followed.
Upstairs, Noé buried his face into his pillow to muffle his own quiet sobs. The certainty he felt as a toddler in Germany, the vacations you all went too, wrapped in his father's strong arms while his mother laughed in the kitchen, was completely gone now.
He heard the faint, distinct sound of his mother’s footsteps walking away into the kitchen, followed by the heavy, his father’s footsteps walking up the stairs.
Eventually, the day came when you sat across from him in a completely quiet room with divorce papers resting between you. Both of you signed the documents in front of your lawyers, agreeing to shared custody. Noel insisted on giving you the apartment, promising to pay for your son’s entire future and giving you half of his career earnings. You quietly agreed, knowing you had nothing left to give him.
You both just stared at one another, Noel letting out a heavy sigh while you found yourself entirely unable to meet his eyes.
There was no bitterness in the room—only sadness.
When the lawyers finally left, the two of you sat in the heavy silence of the empty house, waiting for your son to come home.
You quietly broke the silence “I don’t hate you…I still love you.”
Noel looked down at his hands, his voice tight “I know…I love you too.”
After an agonizing pause, you confessed that you didn’t know what went wrong. His fingers tightened slightly against the table as he whispered that he still cared for you.
That was the absolute worst part of it all. You both knew the love was still there.
After the divorce was finalized, the public expected bitterness, a massive scandal, or a specific reason to blame someone, but there wasn't one.
There was just Noel Noa—a man who had successfully become everything the world wanted him to be, but had completely lost the one person who knew him before all of it.
Sometimes, he would look through his old photographs.
He preferred the old ones, the ones where he was younger, his hair was messy, and his clothes were cheap.
In those pictures, he was smiling genuinely because he had absolutely nothing to prove to the world, and standing right beside him was you—the person who loved him when he had nothing.
He would look at your wedding picture, watching you laugh as you kissed his cheek, remembering how beautiful you looked that day.
He would flip through the countless baby pictures from when your son was born, tracing the memories of the family they used to be.
A few years later three of you sat together in the private dining room of a quiet Parisian restaurant. Noé was a young teenager now, sitting comfortably between his parents.
There was only a quiet, deeply settled familiarity. You were older, and so was he. You both had changed significantly, but for a single, fleeting moment, he looked at you and still saw the young person who used to sit beside him in that cramped Paris apartment.
There was no media outside, no flashing cameras, and no predatory reporters lurking in the shadows. The outside world had finally moved on to chase younger prodigies, leaving the three of you with the one thing you had sacrificed everything to get: peace.
"Your father still doesn't know how to order anything besides that meal," you said with a soft, teasing laugh, pointing at the small cup in front of Noel. "Some things never change."
Noel let out a rare, low chuckle, the strict lines around his mouth softening completely as his teal eyes met yours. "I quite like it, then he stopped, “I’ll be going to Japan, Ego requested me to go check out his new plan, Blue lock.”
"That’s nice, send us pictures in Japan then" you shot back gently, your eyes crinkling with a tender.
Noé watched the exchange, a faint smile touching his lips.
He was watching his father quietly push the bread basket closer to you, and watching you naturally finish Noel’s sentences about his current coaching career, Lucas finally understood.
He couldn't help but wonder if, in another life—one where you and his father relationship wasn’t ruined by the media the teo of you could still be together.
He wondered if, in that other life, love would have been enough to save you. But this life was different.
They were no longer husband and wife, but they were the only two people who remembered the the past, where the dream began.
As the dinner wrapped up, Noel stood up to help you with your coat, his large hands lingering on your shoulders for a brief, respectful second just to ensure you were warm and gave you a faint kiss on the cheek.
He looked down at Noé, and hugged his son
"Take care of your mom for me," Noel murmured to his son,
"I will, Dad," Noé replied, pulling his mother close to his side as you walked toward the exit together.
You looked back one last time before stepping out and smiled faintly. Noé also looked back at his father’s figure who was standing by the window alone, watching your retreating figures with a calm, peaceful expression on his face.
In another life, the both of you will meet again and again and someday maybe even grow old together like you wished for.
･ ༝ ･ Chris Prince
Chris Prince had always belonged to the world. Everyone knew his name, his face, and his brand. Chris prince was known to be a phenomenal football player, a global celebrity, a highly lucrative brand, and the second-best striker in the entire world.
Chris Prince could walk into any crowded room and immediately become the center of attention without even trying.
People absolutely loved him, falling effortlessly for his staggering confidence, his chiseled appearance, his booming charisma, and his talent.
Fame, news, photoshoots, modeling campaigns, high-end television advertisements—Chris did it all, winning awards and constantly being named one of the most attractive men on the planet.
Everyone wanted a piece of Chris Prince, and Chris absolutely loved it.
He thrived on the excitement and the trill of the public attention, it was an intoxicating feeling.
And then, he met you. It happened at an extravagant, high-profile celebrity party filled with athletes, models, or plus one dates and even people desperately trying to claw their way close to someone famous.
Everyone in attendance knew exactly who Chris Prince was, and everyone was begging for his attention, wanting nothing more than to be noticed by the star.
You were simply leaning against the bar an hour into the event, thoroughly tired from partying and wanted to take a break, you were taking a slow sip from your cup.
He saw you idly sitting alone with a tired expression when Chris casually strolled up to you, but you just looked at him like he was a regular human being, you were too tired to realize his face, but then when the sudden realization came.
You offered a little smile and said, "Hey, you're Chris Prince, right? Let's take a selfie real quick, my friend is a huge fan."
He came up close to you and struck a pose, and you smiled at him “thanks, my friend really likes you a ton,” you joked.
From there, you just started talking to him normally, making him laugh with jokes about your regular job and telling him stories that made him interested in getting to know you.
It completely hooked him, he began also talking you and the moment he was pulled away from you he help up his phone number for you to put in.
That’s all how it began, he mostly did his best to text you and show that he wanted to get to know you more as a friend, it took him a while but, the two of you started dating. You reminded him that you were just cautious back then, not used to someone being so consistently attentive.
It took time for you to realize he didn't have an ulterior motive and truly just wanted to know the real you. The daily check-ins, the random teasing he’ll so, and the questions about your day.
Chris fell so hard, he started calling you his “sweetheart”or “babe” and constantly dragging you into his world, holding your hand tightly and looking at you with a smile.
When he worked out in his private gym, he would playfully demand that you give him a kiss for every single push-up he did.
his chest bare and his muscles gleaming with sweat, insisting that he couldn't finish unless you weren’t right in front of him.
For every single push-up he executed, he would push himself up high enough just to steal a quick, breathless kiss from your lips, grinning like a kid when you laughed.
Eventually, everything became exciting .
He’ll bring you to massive victory parties, his hand wrapped around your waist while he’ll kiss your shoulder. Spontaneous trips across the globe, and sudden flights across international borders just because Chris had a high-stakes match in another country and he’ll bring you with him.
You stood in the VIP boxes of packed stadiums, you were watching alongside thousands of people chant his name,
Chris loved showing you his world, taking you everywhere he went, many pictures of you were taken by paparazzi and you were always right there beside him. held your hand tightly, guiding you through the crowd.
The public simply could not get enough of the way the two of you together.
Every time you stepped out of a venue or walked down a city sidewalk, it garnered immediate attention of the waiting photographers.
People online kept on saying how heavily reminiscent of the most iconic couples of the early 2000s.
Chris never let go of your hand, using his free arm to gently shield you from the crowd or guide you through a sea of reporters.
The internet fell in love with you, you didn’t know why but they admired you.
There was a viral photo of him leaning down to whisper something in your ear instantly became the definition of modern romance, proving that you both remained entirely wrapped up in each other. Multiple people were watching the both of you.
The cameras finally caught the moment the entire internet had been waiting for, It happened late one evening outside a quiet restaurant, away from the chaos but still within range of the lens.
As the two of you waited for your car, entirely lost in conversation, he reached out to pull you close.
The public completely melted over the sequence of images that flooded social media the next morning. The first shot captured him gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his expression softening, while you kept on talking and Chris just looked at you. The media dubbed him as “helplessly in-love with you.”
In the next frame, his hands cradled your face as he leaned down to kiss you—a lingering moment that made the bustling city sidewalk completely fade away.
Even as the car pulled up and the drivers opened the doors, your hands remained locked together.
By midday, the photos were trending globally, with people commenting and loving the both of your relationships, yes there were haters but it out weighed the amount of people that loved the both of you together.
If two people were happily in love then let them be.
The both of you stepped outside his private suite in the cold night air . He stood at the edge of the balcony, looking out over the sprawling, glowing city skyline.
Then a broad, brilliant grin spread across his face as he turned back to look at you, his eyes reflecting the distant city lights. "This is the life, isn’t it?" he said.
You couldn't help but laugh softly, stepping closer to him as you replied, “Yes, Chris.”Before the last word could fully leave your lips, he leaned down and pressed a deep, breathless kiss against your mouth.
In one smooth motion, he swept you up into his arms, carrying you away from the glass doors and into the sanctuary of the shared bedroom.
He pulled the heavy, plush blanket completely over your heads, trapping the two of you in a dark, warm cocoon that felt thousands of miles away from publicists, contracts, and demanding schedules.
Hidden beneath the thick covers, the rest of the world simply ceased to exist. He began to hum a soft, aimless tune, while laying his head down on your chest listening to your heart beat.
His large, warm fingers gently intertwine through yours, and playfully tracing the intricate lines of your palm before his touch drifted upward, tenderly outlining the curve of your jaw. "I love you," he muttered, his voice dropping to a vulnerable whisper.
Another memory was taken by a camera, during a summer vacation Chris surprised you with.
The camera on the yacht’s deck was propped up perfectly, capturing a scene of a couple who were in love.
The warm Mediterranean breeze swept across the water, catching your hair as you sat on the sun loungers. Beside you, was Chris who was clinging to your side
The recorded footage showed him leaning over with a lazy, adoring smile, gently feeding you a plump grape from the massive charcuterie board spread out between you.
Then leaned in right after, pressing a sweet, slow kiss to your sun-warmed lips, the sound of the ocean waves crashing softly in the background of the video.
Another recording was when a deep laugh that echoed over the water, he suddenly scooped you up into his arms.
As you shrieked and laughed, clinging to his neck as he marched straight to the edge of the yacht, counting down before playfully throwing you right into the sparkling water.
Then it captured him diving in right after you, the lens blurring for a moment with splashing water before showing the two of you surfacing, laughing hysterically in each other's arms.
The memory of your early years with Chris felt like a decade’s old.
You remembered one winter night in Manchester, he took a day off and Chris had been ecstatic. He dragged the mattress directly into the living room in front of the fireplace, building a massive fort out of every blanket and pillow in the apartment
Chris just spent hours simply holding you and had insisted on feeding you pieces of fruit, laughing loudly whenever you tried to swat his hands away.
You reached up, tracing the sharp line of his jaw, and whispered that he was just a beautiful boy and he was your good looking boy.
There was another moment you remembered it took place right after a massive victory.
His team had just won the UEFA, and the stadium outside was practically shaking from the roar of tens of thousands of fans chanting his name.
The locker rooms were absolute chaos, packed with reporters, sponsors, and teammates spraying champagne. Chris had been the star of the night, holding the trophy high for the cameras with his signature smile .
But the moment he spotted you standing quietly near the back exit, away from the flashing lights, his entire demeanor shifted.
He completely ignored a major network reporter who was mid-sentence, dropping the trophy onto a bench and pushing through the crowd of executives just to get to you.
He pulled you into his arms, completely unbothered by the fact that he was soaking wet and tracking mud across the pristine hallway.
He buried his face into your neck, holding you so tightly that you could barely breathe, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs.
“Did you see me out there, sweetheart?” he had whispered, his voice thick with a raw, childish excitement that he never showed the public. “I scored that last goal entirely for you. I kept looking up at the VIP box just to make sure you were watching.”
You had laughed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, completely melting into his warmth. “I saw you, Chris. The whole world saw you.”
“I don’t care about the world,” he had murmured, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, his hands resting securely on your waist.
You kissed him thoroughly right there in front of the stunned executives and flashing cameras. It was a beautiful, moment, one where you truly believed that your love was strong enough to survive the rising stardom.
You realize that as the trophies piled higher, the beautiful boy you loved would slowly disappear behind the untouchable brand of Chris Prince.
Chris also miserably started confusing having you physically beside him with actually being present for you. Because you were always there, he began to take your existence for granted.
Whenever he called, you answered. Whenever he finally came home, you welcomed him with open arms. Whenever his chaotic schedule shifted at the last minute, you quietly adjusted yours to fit his needs. He never questioned it.
Why would he? You had always been there before, so his ego assumed you always would be.
His life became a never-ending, exhausting cycle of training, matches, advertisements, interviews, photoshoots, public events, and flights to the next country.
Every single time you tried to ask for a quiet moment together, he would make the exact same promise. He would hold you close and whisper, "After this. After this match, babe. After this campaign. When things finally calm down."
But things never calmed down. There was always another opportunity, another mandatory responsibility, and another reason why tomorrow was easier than today.
Chris never stopped loving you though, that was never the issue. It was just that he foolishly believed love could survive on empty promises alone and took you for granted.
He thought that because you knew the real him, you would automatically understand the neglect.
He thought that because you loved him, you would wait forever, and because you were his person, you would always be standing there, cheering him on.
Until one day, you weren't.
It started with something so incredibly small that he almost didn’t notice it at first. He called your phone after training , but there was no answer. He just smiled to himself, assuming you were probably busy with errands.
He called again a few hours later, but it went straight to voicemail. He sent a casual text, but no response came.
And for the very first time in years, Chris Prince experienced absolute silence. He was confused, then he grew annoyed, and finally, absolute panic and worry set in.
And the moment he came home, he found you sitting on the edge of the matress, your eyes fixed on the floor, then whispering the sentence he dreaded most to hear coming out from you, “….Chris…let’s break up…”
He stared at you, his breath catching in his throat. he begged to know why, but your voice cracked “I can’t just keep waiting for you Chris and spend my entire life waiting. I know how demanding you career and life is…I’m just…not fit for that…Chris.”
“We can work it out—” chris responded but quickly shut him down, “no chris…we can’t.” He was down on his knees crying on your lap while you gently pushed him away.
When news of the split leaked, the internet went into a frenzy, and the narrative twisted against you.
Fans and media outlets who once idolized you began dragging you online, labeling you as heartless for leaving him and that you cheated or used him.
Chris tried his best to beg his management to clear up the mess which they did try to ease the situation but The intense public backlash and never stopped, forcing you to hide from the media and go private.
Years later, the media storm had settled, but the emptiness in his chest never did.
While staying at a luxury hotel in London he was walking through the grand, marble-floored lobby when his heart stopped.
There you were. You looked beautiful, dressed in a simple outfit and another man stood beside you, laughing softly at something you said before reaching down to gently place a hand on the small of your back.
He watched the man leaned in to whisper to you, he realized with a sickening ache on how that used to be him and that you finally had the calm, present partner he could never been with you.
The distance across the marble lobby felt wide and he tried yo move his feet to call out your name before his mind could stop him.
As Chris took a step, the other man noticed him first, his expression shifting into slight confusion at the sudden approach of the global sport superstar.
You followed his gaze, turning around slowly. The moment your eyes met his, the air left the space between you.
The lingering warmth of your laugh instantly vanished, “Hey,” he said, his voice completely stripping away the confident, boisterous persona the media knew.
It was just the same , vulnerable tone he used when you were still together ."Chris," you breathed, your voice cracking slightly on his name.
You didn't step back, Chris looked at you. He then looked at the man beside you, whose hand had gently returned to your arm. There was no hostility in the man's eyes, only a deep concern for your comfort.
Chris saw right then that this man saw you as his partner, looking entirely overwhelmed. “I just...”Chris started, his throat tightening as he realized he had absolutely nothing right to say.
He couldn't apologize for the years of waiting, and he couldn't erase the internet dragging your name through the mud when you left.
“I just wanted to see if you were doing well.”You offered him a small, incredibly sad smile that didn't reach your eyes. "I’m living a quiet life now..” you muttered.
The emphasis on quiet was the final blow. It was the one thing his millions, his titles, and his fame could never buy for you.
He nodded slowly, a sudden sting in his eyes as he took a step back, forcing a grin onto his face even though it made him feel pathetic.
“Good. That's.…I'm really glad to hear that.”
He turned away before his composure could completely shatter in public, walking back toward the the exit doors, fully aware that the best thing he could ever do for his sweetheart was to keep walking.
He didn't go to the team bus. Instead, he walked aimlessly down the block, his mind entirely trapped in the loop of that brief, heartbreaking encounter. “Chris.” Someone called out for him and it was your partner.
He stopped on a side walk and , turned around slowly.
Standing a few paces away was the man from the lobby—your partner.
He had followed him out into the cold, his coat buttoned tightly, his expression entirely calm despite facing his girlfriends ex boyfriend who was a famous athlete who could easily cause a public scene.
“Hey mate, do you have a second?” the man asked, stepping closer but keeping a respectful distance.
Chris swallowed hard, stuffing his large hands into his pockets to hide how much they were shaking. “If you're here to tell me to stay away from her,”
Chris muttered, his voice raw with exhaustion, “you don't have to. I get it. I saw how happy she looked before she saw me.”
The man offered a small, understanding nod, looking down at the pavement for a second before meeting Chris's eyes again.
“I'm not here to fight you. I know who you are, and more importantly, I know what you two used to be. She told me everything a long time ago. She never hid her past…it kind of took me a long time to finally pursue her since she was still hang up over you.”
He let out a self deprecating laugh and paused, taking a breath that misted in the cold air. “I just wanted to look you in the eye and tell you that she doesn't hate you.” Your partner continued on.
“She never did. Breaking up with you broke her heart, too.”
Hearing those words from the man holding your hand now made a huge blow on Chris’s chest.
“She spent years waiting for a life that was always moving too fast for her," the man continued softly, his voice devoid of malice.
“The paparazzi, the internet dragging her name... it almost destroyed her. When she met me, she just pushed me away so many times and told me she wanted peace. I told her I can give her that. I can do that for her and wait.”
Chris closed his eyes, “Just take care of her,” Chris choked out, his throat tightening so fiercely it hurt to speak.
He opened his eyes, forcing himself to look at the man who had replaced him. “Please. Just... don't make her wait.”
“I won't,” the man promised quietly.
He reached out, offering a brief, respectful handshake that Chris took with a heavy heart. “And Good luck with your match, Chris, I’m betting on Manshine.”
With that, the man turned around, walking back toward the warm, glowing lights of the hotel lobby where you were waiting for him.
While you looked at Chris across from you and just smiled and Chris stood alone raising his hand to give you a final wave before you and your partner left to go check-in.
･ ༝ ･ Marc Snuffy
Marc Snuffy’s past always suffocated him. With what happened to Mick hung heavily over his consciousness, and guilted him, it was a constant reminder of the era when his life was a blur of catastrophic mistakes and his ego and pride took over him.
Back then, he genuinely believed that happiness was defined by a never-ending cycle of packed parties, roaring crowds, easy money, and shallow attention.
He was young, reckless, and entirely convinced that he was completely untouchable.
Every single victory on the pitch was a green light to party and do things that he now regrets...it made him into the exact kind of toxic prodigy that coaches warned others to stay far away from and what he is now trying to do, to protect the people he is coaching to not make the same mistakes as he did.
When you met Snuffy, you were just a struggling amateur model trying to survive the harsh and predatory industry.
You were forced to attend this “elite high-society gala” which was just a label for a party , where famous people and the rich went to get drunk and do a line.
You were here just to get your name out to investors and clientele, an experience that felt less like networking and more like being sold off to the highest bidder base on your body and looks.
You absolutely hated it. While the rest of the room was desperately clawing for validation, you were the complete opposite.
You hated doing this but you only became a model because you needed to survive and support your family.
Amidst the noise, you sat entirely away from the crowd on a plush velvet couch, completely sober.
A man leaned over, offering you a fresh drink with a desperate, hopeful grin, to get your attention but your face remained entirely indifferent.
You quietly watched the room with a look of disappointment. From across the room, Snuffy watched your gaze.
And riding high on his own arrogance, the young player found himself instantly intrigued by your detachment.
To him, he assumed you were simply playing a well-calculated game, pretending to be mysterious just to bait a reaction out of someone like him and attract attention.
Confidently, he strutted over, flashing the same slick, practiced smile that had worked on countless others before you.
He smoothly slid into the empty space on the couch beside you, leaning in with a lazy, with his lidded charm. “You look like you're waiting for someone much more interesting than that man,” Snuffy murmured, nodding toward the man who had just offered you a drink.
His voice was dripping with absolute ego. “Lucky for you, I just walked over. I'm—“ “Disgusting,” you cut him off flatly.
You looked him dead in the eye, your expression completely piercing through his expression.
Snuffy blinked, his smile faltering for a second as he was trying to process what you just said with the lack of awe in your face.
No one spoke to him like this. That’s why he was befuddled. Mostly girls would cling onto him and feed his pride.
Though, he recovered quickly, letting a low, arrogant chuckle as he leaned closer, resting his arm along the back of the couch behind you. “Ouch. Harsh. Much? Usually, people at least wait until the second drink to tell me what they really think of me.” He continued on and leaning forward to whisper in your ear, his breath reeking with alcohol.
“What's the matter? Don't like football?” “I don't like you,” you snarled back, cutting right through his smug demeanor.
You openly questioned his reality, loud enough for a few nearby guests to turn their heads. “Why exactly do you think your football fame gives you the right to slide over here and harass me? Do you honestly believe your arrogance makes you charming?”
Snuffy’s eyes narrowed slightly, the rejection finally bruising his massive ego. He tried to smooth it over, his tone shifting into condescension.
“Listen, sweetheart, you're the one sitting in the VIP section of my team's party. If you didn't want the attention, you shouldn't have dressed to attract it. Don't act like you didn't know exactly who would come over and what you are here for.”
Slap.
The sound of your palm sharply striking his cheek echoed through the immediate space, instantly killing the nearby conversation.
The slap wasn't meant to cause serious physical damage, but the sheer force of your conviction shocked him to his absolute core.
Snuffy sat frozen, his head turned slightly from the impact, his cheek rapidly flushing a dark, angry red. The surrounding guests gasped, and their whispers immediately filling the sudden vacuum of silence. “Is she completely insane?” a woman nearby muttered, clutching her pearls. “Does she have any idea who he is?”
You stood up calmly, smoothing down your dress without a single hint of regret, leaving the stunned superstar staring up at you from the velvet couch.
To make it worse you had your go to a “mandatory event” The flashing cameras and suffocating heat of the gallery made the nightmare.
You were stuck standing next to your sleazy manager, whose fingers aggressively gripped your waist, digging into your side to force you forward and smile in-front of people who were eying you.
Your manager leaned in, his breath hot against your ear, hissing for you to smile and interact with a group of wealthy clients who were openly staring at you like a piece of meat.
You felt completely trapped, your chest tightening as you whispered to yourself that this career wasn't worth the degradation.
Fuck it, your family relied on you to make money, and you thought that modeling wouldn’t be this degrading to who you were but you were completely wrong.
But the image of the contract you had signed flashed in your mind—you were legally bound to this room.
That was when the crowd parted, and Snuffy came into your view.
The moment your manager saw the famous football player approaching, his eyes practically lit up with greed. He quickly squeezed your waist harder, whispering, “That's Marc Snuffy. Play nice, or your career is over before midnight. Don’t pull off that shit you did last time—or you are seriously getting into trouble.”
You stepped forward and extend your hand to shake his hand while looking at him with a facade smile.
The moment his large palm wrapped around yours, you leaned in just enough so only he could hear, muttering a quiet, biting insult directly to his face. “If you touch me or treat me like you did last time, I'll break your nose in front of these people.”
Instead of getting angry, Snuffy’s eyes widened with pure amusement, and he burst into laughter that drew the attention of the entire circle. “God, you really are a breath of fresh air,” Snuffy chuckled, completely ignoring your glare.
He smoothly stepped into the space between you and your manager, his large frame effortlessly cutting off the older man's grip.
Snuffy looked down at the manager with a razor-sharp smile. “Hey, mate. I need to borrow your star for a bit. We have some unfinished business from the last party to discuss. Go fetch yourself a drink.”
Your manager blinked, practically tripping over his own feet to please the superstar. “Of course, Mr. Snuffy! Take all the time you need!”
As your manager scurried away, you tried to turn on your heel, but Snuffy immediately stepped into your path, stubbornly shadowing your very next step.
He kept a distance so your palm couldn't reach his face again,"Get out of my way, Snuffy," you hissed, keeping your voice low as a paparazzi lens flashed to your left.
“I told you what I think of you.” “Oh, I remember,”Snuffy said, a lazy grin spreading across his face as he walked backward, perfectly matching your pace as you tried to escape to the balcony.
“ You called me disgusting and then you slapped me so hard my jaw was hurting for two days. My friend even joked about it. You’re very intriguing Ms. ‘…’ ”
You quickly snapped back, “I am a person, not someone for your massive ego,” stopping near the edge of the balcony, hoping the open air would drive him away.
“Go find someone who actually cares about your jersey number.” Snuffy leaned against the balcony railing, crossing his arms as he looked down at you. “But I really want to know you.”
The arrogant, facade from the first night was completely gone, replaced by an attentive look “Sure you hate me, sweetheart.” He leaned in a fraction closer, his voice dropping to a low, intense murmur. “But I'm not going anywhere.”
“You can insult me, you can slap me again if it makes you feel better, but I'm staying right here tonight. I don’t care, I’ll wait for you.”
“ No sleazy managers, no hands on your waist. I won’t do anything to make you uncomfortable if that happens slap me again. Just me. And we can talk—wha’d ya say?”
You hesitated to agreed, but decided to give in—because if your manager found out you missed this opportunity, your entire career would crumble.
For the rest of the evening, he kept his word, and stayed with you throughout the day while he bought you drinks and kept on flirting until you found harder and harder to ignore to the point you went along with it and had fun.
After that night where the both of you got entirely drunk, you ended up crashing together, making out against the wall of his apartment in a haze. Tugging and pulling each other till you made your way to the bed, everything felt heavenly.
Then two of you woke up and just looked at the ceiling while you were humming and he was tracing your jaw.
And that was how an amateur model and a rising star athlete would be found dating, when the paparazzi caught you out together and making out in the alley way.
Just how long will you last? Was the question of the public.
The relationship was actually stable than, what the media assumed, your relationship with Snuffy was probably the “most” stable,one you had in that time of your life.
Because beneath the persona he showed the media and what they thought, he was a deeply caring guy who treated you like his absolute priority.
The relationship was stable and spent months dating each other till it became apparent that it wouldn’t work out.
Mick was still alive, but was actively destroying himself, skipping training and drowning his raw frustrations in a haze of heavy partying and substances.
Snuffy had tried everything to get his best friend out and save him from the edge, but he was just watching the person he considered a brother ruin his life began to drag Snuffy's own sanity.
One chaotic morning, the front door clicked open heavily, and the illusion of the sweet, reassuring partner you loved vanished completely.
Snuffy staggered into the entryway, his clothes disheveled, smelling strongly of cheap perfume and expensive liquor.
The exhaustion that had been building in your chest for weeks finally spilled over, your patience breaking entirely.
“Look at you, Marc!” you screamed, your voice cracking as tears of anger stung your eyes.
"You're supposed to be saving him, but instead you're letting him pull you right down into the grave with him! Are you trying to kill yourself too?!"
Snuffy let out a harsh, bitter laugh, shoving his hand through his messy hair as he stepped aggressively into your space.
His eyes were bloodshot, completely vacant of the calm warmth he used to give you. “You think I want to be like this?!” he roared back, his voice raw and echoing off the walls. "
“I can't stop him! Every time I look at Mick, I see the end of everything we built, If he's going down, I don't know how to stay afloat!”
"So you drag me down with you?!" you fired back, sobbing as you pushed against his chest. “I can't watch this anymore, Marc.”
“I can't stay here and wait for the phone call that tells me one—or both—of you are dead before everything is too late !"
Snuffy slammed his hands against the wall on either side of your head, trapping you, making you scared but he just leaned down and cry on your shoulder.
He held your waist so tightly it sobbing while muttering “I’m sorry” and kissing you with a frantic, trying to force the reality of Mick’s ticking time bomb away.
He failed to save his brother Mick, finding him dead on the floor, surrounded by alcohol and substance’s torn him apart.
Just like what you said, it was too late.
The news of Mick’s tragic death hit the football world with a blow, but it completely ruined Marc Snuffy.
The brotherly bond they shared, the shared dreams of conquering the sport together, and the reckless lifestyle they had indulged in had instantly turned into a suffocating guilt that Marc had to endure .
The realization that their shared ignorance and ego had directly led to Mick’s demise completely broke him.
That rainy night, you heard a faint, frantic scratching at your apartment door. When you opened it, you didn't see the charming, guy you liked.
You saw snuffy , trembling and collapsed onto his knees right on your welcome mat, his broad shoulders shaking violently as he buried his face into the fabric of your skirt.
He was weeping so deeply that he couldn't even draw air into his lungs, his large hands desperately gripping your waist as he begged you over and over not to leave him alone
“Please," he choked out, his voice a broken, unrecognizable wheeze against your legs. "Please, don't walk away. I have nothing left. Just stay, please.”
“Just stay with me.” He muttered and you held him that night, while he kept on crying on your shoulder.
You had also been dealing with the suffocating pressure of your predatory modeling contract reached a breaking point, with your manager threatening to completely blackball your name from the industry if you didn't comply with them.
You were also drowning, and the career you had built was on the verge of absolute ruin.
The constant emotional whiplash became a weight too heavy to carry.
You were both sinking into the same grave Mick had dug. You had to save yourself.
“Marc we have to break up. We are destroying each other, Marc," you whispered one evening, gently but firmly prying his fingers off your waist as you packed the last of your things.
He just sat there looking at you, You remembered the exact rainy afternoon you packed your final bag in his place.
Snuffy had been sitting on the edge of the unmade bed, his large hands resting loosely between his knees, staring at the floorboards with completely hollow eyes.
“If you walk out that door,” Snuffy had whispered, his voice sounded entirely defeated, “I don’t think I’m going to make it out of this alive.”
Your hands trembled violently as you zipped your suitcase, a tear finally spilling over your eyelashes and hitting the suitcase.
You didn't turn around to look at him, knowing that if you saw him, it will make you cry even more.
“You will, Marc, I promise you that,” you replied, your voice cracking
“But you have to want to save yourself. Because I can’t afford getting dragged down with you.”
He simply stayed frozen on the edge of the mattress, watching the only person who loved him walk out of his life.
Then a heavy click of the front door closing behind you ended it all.
Years passed, and the both to survive.
You completely walked away from the modeling industry, and gave up your place as being renowned after dealing with countless harassments to get to the top and now found a ordinary life away from the exhaustion.
Marc Snuffy, change for the better and , used the agonizing pain of losing Mick and losing you as away to escape like what you told him. He could change and become better.
He quit the destructive partying, walked away from the toxic crowds, and poured every single ounce of his remaining humanity into a disciplined approach to football.
He became a world champion, a known legendary, and eventually, became the coach of the Italian team, Ubers.
One quiet evening in Snuffy sat in his dimly lit bedroom and his gaze wandered to a small drawer in his desk.
He slid it open, pulling out an old, faded Polaroid from his youth. It was a picture from one of those terrible, extravagant parties from a lifetime ago.
In the photo, you were sitting entirely away from the crowd, looking bored and while a young, Snuffy stood right beside you, sporting a giant, foolish grin.
A soft, melancholic laugh escaped his chest, a deep ache throbbing in his heart.
He didn't regret being where he is now, and he didn't regret saving his own life, but looking at your face, he realized you were the only real thing in a world full of fake noise.
He had to lose you so that he could grow up, and you had to leave him so that you wouldn't drown.
He gently traced the edge of the photograph before sliding it safely back into the dark drawer, “I hope you’re doing fine ‘….’ ”
･ ༝ ･ Michael Kaiser
Dating Michael Kaiser was never easy, and that wasn’t because he was difficult to love.
It was because he was absolutely terrified of being loved.
Almost every single night, you would wake up to the mattress trembling beneath you. Michael would have reoccurring nightmares that suffocated and haunted, causing him panic attacks that would abruptly come crashing down onto him.
Dragging him down, swallowing him whole.
His breathing would turn uneven and frantic, his chest rising and falling in desperate, ragged gasps.
His hands would instinctively reach up to claw at his own throat, or they would grip the bedsheets until his knuckles turned stark white, a desperate attempt to force himself awake or to punish himself for things he believed he had done wrong.
“Michael,” you would whisper gently, careful never to reach for him too suddenly. Because you knew that he’ll slap your hand away.
Instead of grabbing him, you would rest a warm, steady hand against his cheek, your thumb slowly brushing over the sharp, defined line of his cheekbone. “Michael… look at me. Open your eyes, Look at me.” You pleaded softly, “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
His long eyelashes would eventually flutter open, his pupils blown and panicked until they finally focused on your face.
The moment he felt your touch and heard your voice, his body shudders and clinged onto you burying his face deeply into the crook of your neck, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist.
He held you tightly with desperation that he could never express because he hates admitting that he was scared.
You simply ran your fingers through his soft, tangled hair, as you gently rock him from side to side on the mattress, pressing soft kisses against the crown of his head.
“You’re safe,” you would murmur over and over , just to soothe him “I promise you. You’re right here with me. No one can hurt you now.”
Some nights, whenever he had another episode, neither of you could fall back asleep. Michael would keep you up, refusing to let go, holding you close as if you might vanish if he loosened his grip.
You would spend those hours curled up together in the center of the bed, tangled in the blankets, hugging one another until the first rays of dawn began creeping through the curtains.
While, you could hear his breathing and his forehead pressed against your chest as he listened to the s beating of your heart.
“Does it ever go away?” he whispered one morning, his voice raw and completely stripped of the usual confident arrogance.
You tightened your arms around him, resting your chin on his head. “It will go away Michael, I promise that I’m not going anywhere.”
And Michael truly tried. He tried in all the small, quiet ways he knew how, even if he didn't have the vocabulary to say how much he valued you.
Whenever you would cook in the narrow kitchen, he would quietly slip up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist until your back rested comfortably against his chest.
As he would absentmindedly rest his chin on your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin as he pressed light, lingering kisses against your neck and cheek.
“Michael, stop,” you’d laugh, squirming by how he has been peppering you with so many kisses to stir whatever was simmering on the stove. “You’re making it completely impossible for me to focus. I’m going to burn our dinner.”
A quiet, low chuckle rumbled against your shoulder. “No. Let it burn.” Instead of letting go, he’d only hold you a little tighter, a rare, genuine smile tugging at his lips every time your laughter filled the apartment. “I’d rather have this.”
Whenever the room or place was quite he would reach across the couch for your hand without saying a single word. He would instinctively thread his long fingers through yours, squeezing your hand tightly as though making sure you were still there.
Sometimes he would lean over just to steal a kiss before resting his forehead against yours, closing his eyes to just breathe you in.
In his words, “you took his breath away.” And he loved you do much.
But it was hard.
The reality of his trauma meant he was often distant, brash, and sharp-tongued. And would lash out—he hated lashing out at you. He would snap over little things, any moment he felt too vulnerable.
And every single day, you tried your hardest to prove his doubts wrong.
You poured all your patience, your energy, and your warmth into him, trying to fill a void that had been dug out years before you ever met him. Anything for you to hold onto him.
In the end, Michael loved you completely. And you loved Michael.
But on his worst days, he became the very person he hated. pushing you away before you could see how badly he was falling apart inside. He was entirely convinced that if you stayed any longer, you’d only end up drowning in the weight of his baggage too.
That was true.
Yet, you stayed through all of it.
But eventually, the endless giving took its toll. You began forgetting how to take care of yourself.
It pained you so badly that you couldn’t fulfill your promise, to the person you loved but you were drowning with him. One rainy evening, the sky outside was pitch black and crying tears like the feeling you wanted to let out.
Inside, you quietly packed a small suitcase, your movements slow and deliberate.
Michael had just returned from a grueling training session. The apartment was unusually silent when the front door opened. He tossed his gym bag aside, tracking the quiet until he found you in the bedroom.
“…What are you doing, liebling ?”
For a long, moment, you didn’t speak at all and stayed silent . Then, you finally turned around to face him. Your eyes were red and heavily swollen from hours of silent crying.
“I can’t do this anymore, Michael,” you said, your voice barely holding together. Michael frowned, his eyebrows drawing together as a sudden, sharp spike of anxiety hit his chest. He tried to laugh it off, adopting a dismissive tone “…What? What is this? Is this a joke?”
“I love you,” you whispered, a single tear spilling over your cheek . “I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving you.“
Hearing those words, his tense shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. He took a cautious step forward, his hands twitching at his sides. “…Then stop this. Put the bag down. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. We always do.”
You shook your head slowly, stepping back. “I’ve been saying that for years, Michael. I’ve been holding onto that hope until I have nothing left inside of me.”
He took another step, his composure beginning to fracture. “We can try again, I’ll make time, I’ll—”
“We tried,” you interrupted softly. “I have given you everything I have to you…”
“I’ll do better,” he pleaded, his voice losing its steady edge, and started sounding frantic. “I swear to you, I will do better.”
“You always say that when it gets to this point.”
“I mean it this time!” his voice cracked, while chest tightened
Suffocating silence filled the room. You looked at him with eyes that still held so much affection and love that it almost hurt to look back.
“I’m tired, Michael,” you whispered. “I am so, so tired.”
Those three words completely shattered something deep inside him. He could see the exhaustion in the slump of your shoulders, the hollow look in your eyes. He had drained you. “I’m sorry to fail you..”
You walked toward him until only a few inches separated your bodies.
You hesitantly, reached up and cupped his face one last time, your palm resting against the familiar warmth of his skin.
“I don’t blame you,” you murmured, your thumb wiping away a stray tear that had just slipped down his cheek. “I don’t blame you at all..”
His breathing hitched, a ragged gasp catching in his throat.
“I wanted so badly to save you, Michael,” you whispered, your own tears blinding you. “But I can’t save someone who doesn’t believe they’re worth saving. I’m destroying myself…I can’t—” you chocked on your words , “I hate this but Michael…I can’t be this way…”
Michael’s lips trembled violently. His large hand came up, slowly covering yours, pressing your palm harder against his face “…Please,” he choked out, the word barely above a whisper, entirely stripped of his pride. “Please. Don’t go. Don’t leave me here.”
You closed your eyes tightly, a sob catching in your own throat. If he had yelled, if he had gotten angry or thrown his usual arrogant insults, leaving would have been so much easier. You could have walked out on his anger.
Instead, he looked at you exactly like the frightened.And you leaned forward, rising on your tiptoes, and pressed one last, lingering kiss against his forehead.
“I hope one day you find peace, Michael. I really do.”
Then, using every ounce of strength you had left, you gently slipped your hand out from beneath his grip.
You picked up the handle of your suitcase, walked past him, and stepped out into the hallway. And left. The apartment door clicked shut behind him.
He stood frozen in the middle of the bedroom, staring blankly at the empty doorway. Surely, this was just a bad fight. You’d come back.
You always came back. You’d walk back in open the door again.
A minute passed. Then another. The silence in the apartment grew louder, echoing off the walls.
You weren’t coming back this time.
You were truly gone.
His knees suddenly gave out beneath him. Michael collapsed heavily onto the floor, starting to hyperventilate rapidly spiraling into a full panic. Letting out a guttural sob escaped his throat, tearing through the quiet apartment. He buried his face in his hands, rocking himself back and forth on the floor.
For the first time in years, there was no one beside him to brush their fingers through his hair.
The apartment felt unbearably, sickeningly quiet.
Everywhere he looked, pieces of you mocked his loneliness. Your favorite ceramic mug was still sitting upside down in the drying rack by the sink. The pictures you have with him all was still hanging in the room. Your scent still hung faintly in the apartment. Pieces of you remained scattered everywhere.
Except you.
Michael cried until his throat was completely raw, until his chest ached and he fell asleep right there on the hard floor.
The next morning, the world didn't care about what had happened; it still expected Michael Kaiser. The flashing lights of cameras waited outside the training grounds. Fans lined the barriers, screaming his name, holding up his jersey.
With Reporters crowded around with microphones, demanding interviews about the upcoming match.
So, he washed his face with freezing water. straightened his broad shoulders. And meticulously adjusted his hair.
And then, he smiled.
The exact same confident, blinding smile everyone adored. The same arrogant, sharp grin that convinced the entire world that nothing could ever scare him, that he was the king of the field.
No one noticed the slight tremor in his hands when he signed autographs. And no one noticed that when the interviews finally ended, the cameras turned off, and the roaring applause faded into the night...
He went home to an apartment that had never felt so utterly, terrifyingly empty.
he missed you dearly.
･ ༝ ･ Julian Loki
People always said that if you met the love of your life, it was because the timing was finally right and it was fated.
Julian Loki thought that was ridiculous. He would constantly make biting, sarcastic jokes about how idiotic those people were, scoffing at the notion of destiny as something entirely beneath him.
In public interviews, whenever reporters pushed with invasive, prying questions about his love life, he would simply deflect with a sarcastic comment, casually stating that he had a million things to focus on—and none of them was love.
He firmly believed first love was vastly overrated.
To him, too many teenagers mistook fleeting butterflies for destiny, making promises they could never keep, and swore forever without actually knowing what forever meant.
Then he met you.
Suddenly, he realized there was a right way to love, and he found himself quietly waiting for you to finally look back at him.
When you first met, he saw you standing there—around his exact age—and he was completely, instantly hit by what people called, getting lovestruck.
The two of you were so young, far too young to truly understand but you were in love with each other.
Julian was irritatingly competitive, even outside of football, always inventing ridiculous games just to win your attention. Or his complete pettiness taking over making you annoyed by how much he would tease you.
Yet, he was the ideal caring boyfriend, texting you the exact second he got home from long training sessions because he knew you’d worry about him. Or check on you every single time and would text you good mornings and good nights, he would always be there to listen to you.
You spent hours together doing absolutely nothing at all. He would take your hand at every single opportunity, rubbing gentle, soothing circles across your knuckles while the two of you talked about nothing and cuddled together.
It was ordinary when teenagers fall deeply in love. But too bad Julian is from a different world.
Because football remembered Julian Loki existed.
At an incredibly young age, elite scouts were already labeling him a once-in-a-generation prodigy. Blessed with an otherworldly, godspeed talent, for a young teen he went through the ranks at a terrifying pace.
By sixteen, newspapers were calling him the future of French football—even the world. By how much talent and skill he had while also giving his absolute best.
He became one of the youngest kid ever to achieve such status. He wasn't just a boy, he was THE Julian Loki.
With that title, it also came with heavy responsibilities that he had to carry .
The world of football was a brutal, it was somewhat like a meritocracy that demanded your entire soul, setting an impossible standard for someone so unbelievably young especially if you shown a gift, the top scouters made sure to grab the best one.
One time you came to visit Julian. The stadium was completely pitch black, except for the dim lights.
It was midnight.
And Julian had just finished a brutal double-training session, his skin still glistening with a thin layer of sweat, but the second he saw you sitting on the bleachers holding a thermos of hot cocoa, his exhausted expression completely melted.
Julian ran up yo you and slid onto the bleacher right beside you, bringing a sudden gust of wind with him.
"You're going to catch a cold sitting out here," he murmured, "I wanted to see you," you whispered, handing him the thermos.
Julian didn't take the drink. Instead, he wrapped his large, warm hands completely around yours, trapping your cold fingers against the warm metal of the flask. And leaned in, resting his forehead gently against yours. “I’m sorry I have been distant.“
He let out a soft sigh, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your chest ache. “Well it’s for the better right?” You replied back, “for you to win a world cup? No?”
“Yeah,” then he pressed a slow kiss to your cheek, his lips were warm and slightly chapped from the winter air.
He stayed like that for a long time, just breathing you in, letting the quiet of the empty stadium.
When the public found out the young prodigy was in a relationship, boy, did things get crazy.
For better and for worse, Julian Loki was highly visible, and the brand of a clean, teen prodigy sold immensely well.
So when your relationship leaked to the press, it became a massive problem.
The public hit him with harsh criticism, dragging both of your names through the mud.
Julian had managed to sneak away from the national team’s strict training camp for just two hours.
He hadn't even changed out of his official French national team track jacket. The two of you were walking down a dimly lit, narrow side street near his apartment, your fingers tightly intertwined with his out of pure, comforting habit.
Julian was laughing at something you had said, his head thrown back, his thumb lazily tracing those familiar, soothing circles across your knuckles.
Then, the darkness of the alleyway exploded into blinding, white light.
Click. Click. Click-Click-Click.
The rapid-fire shutter of a camera shattered the happy atmosphere. In less than a second, Julian spun his body, using his broad shoulders to completely shield you from the cameras that ambushed the two of you .
He pulled his hood up with one hand, while his other arm forcefully wrapped around your waist, pulling your face tightly into his chest so the lenses couldn't capture your features.
“Don't look,” Julian whispered, his voice losing all of its previous warmth. It was suddenly sharp, laced with a cold, protective panic. “Keep your face down, ‘…’ . And walk okay?”
The thing about Julian was that he absolutely hated his privacy being invaded. He completely loathed it whenever it happened, that’s why he wanted to make things private as possible, and seeing you finally being targeted made his blood run cold.
A paparazzi photographer stepped out from the shadows of a parked car, the lens tracking your every move. “Loki! Over here! Who is the girl? Is she the reason your stats dropped in the first half last weekend? Look over here, Julian!”
Julian didn't answer the guy but you could visibly see that his jaw was clenched tightly while he kept his grip around your waist, guiding your stumbling steps forward as you blindly walked toward the safety of your apartment building.
Every step was punctuated by another blinding flash. And the paparazzi was relentless, crowding your space, shouting invasive, dirty questions about your relationship, treating your quiet love like a scandalous headline.
The moment you burst through the heavy glass doors of your lobby, the security guard rushed forward to lock the entrance behind you.
Outside, the photographer pressed his face against the glass, taking a few final, distorted shots before finally walking away.
Inside the quiet lobby, Julian finally let go of your waist. His hands were shaking. “Are you okay?” he asked as he reached out, his fingers to brush a stray lock of hair away from your pale face. “Did he touch you? Did they hurt you?”
“I'm fine, Julian,” you whispered, “I'm just... I'm just startled.”
“They're going to put your face in the papers tomorrow,”Julian murmured, his voice dropped and pulled you closer with an embrace.”They're going to tear your life apart just to get to me.”
The morning after the paparazzi caught you together, the photographs spread across the media like wildfire.
The headline was: FRANCE’S GOLDEN BOY SQUANDERING HIS GODSPEED ON A DISTRACTION?
The media they tore into the relationship apart. Sports commentators, talk-show hosts, and ruthless football critics openly questioned his maturity.
They criticized him for dating at such a critical time in his career, loudly demanding that he block out the noise and focus entirely on dragging French football into its next golden era.
They called him irresponsible for being with someone and quote and quote claimed,
“your relationship was a toxic parasite that would drain his generational talent.”
The public pressure built up immensely, and the noise grew deafening. Anywhere you looked was videos about you and tearing you apart by labeling you as a “burden”.
That was never true.
Julian tried desperately to balance the two worlds, but the weight was too heavy.
It couldn't be held, especially since he was also being forced by his corporate management and team executives to break up with you immediately.
They started to threatened his contracts, his starting position, and his entire future, they were desperate and determined for this “scandal” not to drag on.
The breaking point came on a miserable, rainy afternoon in Paris.
The air between you inside the small, cramped café was filled with an uncomfortable, suffocating quiet.
As you looked out the window, you spotted a paparazzi lens lurking nearby in the shadows, waiting to snap a picture of the young star and his “girlfriend.”
You already knew what the conversation was going to be before it even started.
And neither of you wanted to have this conversation.
You simply sat there, looking at the person you loved more than anyone else in the entire world, memorizing the sharp lines of his face.
“…I’m so sorry…” Julian whispered, his voice cracking as he looked down at his untouched food.
You gave him a small, heartbreaking smile, while you struggled to say the words. “I know.”
“I really tried,” he said, his blue eyes swimming with unshed tears as he finally looked up at you. “I wanted to make it work,” he paused and continued on, “…but they won't let me keep you.”
“I know, Julian…I know.” You chocked on your worlds and quietly sobbed
The silence that followed felt impossibly heavy, pressing down on the small café table. Unable to bear the distance, you reached across the table, gently taking his hand in yours.
His fingers immediately intertwined with yours out of pure habit, his thumb finding your knuckles to rub one last circle.
“…Maybe…” Your voice caught, a heavy lump forming in your throat as you forced the words out. “maybe we just met at the wrong time.”
Julian lowered his head, a single tear slipping from his eyes and hitting the table. You were simply two people whose futures were pulling them in entirely opposite directions.
Julian squeezed your hand a little tighter, pouring all his desperate longing into his grip, gripping into you tightly not wanting to let go.
“I don't want to lose you,” he choked out, his voice dropping to a fragile whisper. “I don't know how to do this without you.”
A warm tear slipped down your cheek, but you kept your smile steady for him. “Its okay Julian..”
Another long, agonizing silence settled between you, the weight of the end crashing down. “…In another life,” Julian murmured quietly, his eyes locking onto yours, “I’d choose you every single time….No matter what…I promise…”
You smiled through your tears, you gently squeezed his hand back. Then after a long time being in that café, you knew you had to be the one to let go. You finally stood up from the table, breaking the connection, while neither of you looked back as you walked away.
Months passed.
Julian became “liked” again, people commenting that the breakup was the best decision—and it was almost forgotten buried by Loki’s goals and records.
Millions of fans chanted his name in packed stadiums, and thousands of young children walked the streets wearing jerseys with LOKI stretched across the back.
He still thought about you—sometimes
After the interviews he had to deal with, Julian would sit entirely alone in the locker room. And look down at his hands—the hands that used to hold yours.
And he’d find himself wondering what your life looked like now.
Whether you found someone to love. Whether someone was actually there for you every single time, holding you close, assuring you and giving you soft kisses on the cheek and holding your hand.
He genuinely hoped that you were okay and with someone who loves you. Because if anyone in the world deserved to be loved completely and unconditionally, it was you.
And in another life like he promised , you’d be together.
･ ༝ ･ Vivian Hugo
Dating THE Vivian Hugo was an absolute goldmine, and till this day, you still couldn't entirely believe how you had managed to bag him.
The young handsome prodigy, who had thousands and thousands of fans, and a member of the New Generation World XI, the midfielder player that plays for both Arsenal and the France U-20 national team.
On the pitch and the world people are often confused by him and come off as eerie. But when it came to you, Vivian was a helpless, utterly obsessed lover boy who simply enjoyed being by your side more than anything else.
You were a highly popular lifestyle vlogger—one of those specific, internet girls whom people absolutely loved and admired for being effortlessly cool.
Your comment sections were a safe haven full of people praising your aesthetic, your personality , and how effortlessly nice and authentic you were.
And right there, alongside the millions of ordinary fans who watched your videos, was Vivian.
He genuinely liked the content you posted. Who would have known? The the detached quiet footballer, secretly found you incredibly funny, deeply intriguing, and entirely magnetic.
Boom, density when he first watched your video and felt a thump in his heart.
He watched your vlogs in the locker room, on team buses, and late at night in his empty hotel rooms.
During an interview, he mentioned your name which your fans went wild on by how the Vivian Hugo knew about you.
Eventually, Vivian decided to just shoot his shot. Bypassing all the formal PR controlled accounts and didn’t even announce it to them and sent a direct message straight to your personal account.
The next morning, you woke up, rolled over to check your phone, and completely froze.
Your eyes nearly popped out of your head and screamed seeing the top of your notifications was a verified badge and a message from the Vivian Hugo.
You were a massive fan of his, having watched him play and even attend his games, you instantly freaked out, accidentally dropping your phone flat onto your face.
His first message was surprisingly direct,
“Your video are funny, I like them very much. Do you like football?”
And that single message opened the a new relationship .
Because of the two of you being far apart the relationship between the both of you started out completely long-distance, meaning it was mostly through text messages, late-night FaceTime calls, and voice notes.
The more he talked to you, the more he revealed the a helpless, deeply affectionate guy who was completely hooked on you.
“I don't like being separated from you,” Vivian mumbled into his phone late one night, with his thick voice while laid in his bed .
He stared at your face on the FaceTime screen, “I can’t be there with you, mon cherie.”
His comment made you laughed, leaning your chin on your hand. “You’ll have to wait, Vivi. You have a massive match this weekend, plus didn’t your manager said to keep it hidden?”
Vivian let out a dramatic sigh, burying his face in his pillow before peeking back up at the camera with an uncharacteristically needy pout.
“Don’t worry about that cherie,. Pack a bag. Fly out to Paris tomorrow. I'll buy the ticket right now. Please? If you're sitting in the stands, my passes will be more accurate. Mon cherie . Come see me."
You couldn't resist him when he was like this. So you flew out, and the moment you met in person, he straight up hugged you and couldn't keep his hands off you, always draping his arms around your waist or burying his face into your hair.
On a quiet afternoon, you were trying to film a casual vlog you haven’t posted for a long period since you came to france for a visit your fans new you were going to watch a football game but why france…specifically?
Soft launching was what people speculated or you were just there because you were a fan.
You had just started talking to the camera when a massive, weight settled completely over your back. Making you gulp while you stared a thr camera
Vivian rested his jaw right on your shoulder, staring directly into your camera lens with his signature blank, unbothered expression. “Vivi, I'm trying to film,” you laughed, leaning your head back against his chest.
“Say hi to the vlog at least.” Vivian didn't look at the lens. He slowly turned his head, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck, making you shiver by how soft the kiss he left was.
“Hello, people on the internet," he murmured lazily, “ please wait for a few moments and stop looking at her. She is currently occupied by me.” He jokingly said.
“Vivian!”you scolded, hitting his arm playfully, though you couldn't stop the massive smile from breaking across your face.
He let out a soft chuckle, He didn't care about the camera recording everything. He shifted his weight, his large, calloused hand reaching up to gently cup your jawline.
His thumb traced a slow, soothing circle across your cheekbone, “Look at me mon cherie,” he whispered
You turned your head, your lips just centimeters from his. “You are so pretty,” he murmured, his thumb moving to gently swipe across your lower lip.
Before you could even reply to him, Vivian leaned in and captured your lips in a deep, slow kiss.
He loved you so much.
But as the public soon found out and fully realized that the well loved French midfield was in a serious relationship, things took a sharp, dark turn.
There were strangers who you assume were football fanatics. began to send messages to you.
Because you were a public vlogger, your platform was wide open for them to exploit and hate on you.
They started to invaded your privacy, flood your direct messages and comment sections with hate. Leading you to private your accounts and close off the comment section
They cruelly criticized your appearance, tearing apart your face, your body, to the point you even started getting death threats.
They questioned your intentions, calling you an opportunist who was just using an elite international athlete for clout and views.
Some agreed and labeled you a distraction—someone entirely unworthy of his attention.
Every time Vivian noticed the toxic comments, he would defend you publicly on his own accounts, firing back at the trolls, he had made multiple statements and so did his team.
But it kept on going.
“Vivian, please, don't reply to them,” you whispered one night, your voice cracking as you tried to pull his phone away.
You were sitting on his lap on the couch, but he was tense as a board. “You're only feeding into it. It's just going to make them meaner.”
Vivian tightly wound his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest so hard your hearts beat as one.
He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his voice dropping into a frustrated tons. “No. They don't know anything about you. They need to stay in their lane.”
But his public defense was a double-edged sword. Every time he spoke up, the internet only grew more vicious. They claimed his obsession with you was proof that his focus was slipping, and they blamed you for dragging down his career.
Soon, things started to take a toll on your mental health from the constant harassment and fear. You stopped checking social media entirely, your stomach twisting into knots whenever your phone lit up. You went silent, not posting didn’t state anything…you completely avoided it.
It continued to follow you everywhere You became entirely terrified of the paparazzi, constantly pulling your hood low and looking over your shoulder whenever you left the apartment, crying in the car because you felt trapped and barely even leaving the house.
You still had loyal fans who sent sweet messages of support, but they were entirely drowned out by the endless ocean of online hatred.
Eventually, you stopped recognizing yourself. Your happiness with the world had completely withered away. Turning you into a shell of the happy version of yourself.
One Tuesday evening in your shared apartment,
You were sitting on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the dark screen of your camera.You hadn't recorded a single vlog in months.
Vivian walked into the bedroom, fresh from a shower and the second he saw you, his sharp, serious gaze softened.
He immediately crossed the room and sank onto the mattress behind you, wrapping his long, arms tightly around your waist.
He burying his face in the crook of your neck, letting out a low, content murmur as he tried to pull you completely into his space, just like he always did.
He knew that you’ve been getting worse and he was worried about you and often reminding you to eat, shower, and even helping you stay motivated by whispering positive things, reminding you who you are and how loved and important you are.
it pained him to see you be like this especially knowing that it was his own fame that caused you to be in this position.
But this time, you didn't lean back into him. You stayed completely rigid.
"Mon Cherie ?" Vivian murmured, his voice dropping into a low, questioning rumble against your skin. He shifted, his large, calloused hand reaching up to cup your jaw, gently turning your face so he could look into your eyes.
“What's wrong? Did the internet say something again? Tell me?”
You gently took his wrist, pulling his hand away from your face. Tears blurred your vision, spilling down your cheeks as you looked at him
"Vivian," you whispered, your voice cracking painfully in the quiet room. "I can't do this anymore."
Vivian froze. His arms tightened around your waist out of pure, confusion mix with panic, his fingers digging into the fabric of your clothes . "What do you mean?
"We aren't fine," you choked out, a heavy sob escaping your chest. You stood up, breaking away from his embrace, and pointed toward the full-length mirror across the room.
“Look at me, Vivian. Just look at me. I don't even know who I am anymore..”
You looked at the him tenderly, “I have to," you said softly, stepping closer to him one last time. You reached up, your small hands gently cupping his sharp jawline. And pressed a faint devastatingly kiss to his lips—a final seal to a love that was being torn apart. “I love you so much, Vivian. But..I can't stay."
Vivian didn't fight you. He simply lowered his head, his broad shoulders shaking violently as he let out a broken sob. Wrapping his fingers around your wrists, squeezing your hands one last time, pouring all his desperation into his grip before slowly letting go.
How long has it been? It has been a long time..
Vivian Hugo became exactly what the global sports world predicted he would become, and more.
He still found himself checking the internet, and saw your old vlogging channel had recently posted a video again.
He discovered that you had finally returned to the internet, months after the breakup, once the paparazzi noise had completely died down.
You were vlogging again. but now you completely told the public that you were going to start quitting due to many reasons. And at the very end you flashed the same smile he was so fond off.
Vivian stared at the glowing screen of his phone, a bittersweet, heartbreaking smile tugging at the corner of his lips as a quiet tear hit the glass.
He closed the app, and pulled his coat tightly around his shoulders as he walked out into the empty, cold night.
Maybe next time, fate will take pity on the both of you and reunite again.
Noel Noa Had a Glow up and he did it with that eyeliner .
Also…sorry if it sucked, I’m not really fond of the way I executed and worded half of these works (◞‸◟).
Written by Jammy. Please do not copy and paste or feed my work into an AI. This was completely written by hand, thank you for stopping by and reading!
Synopsis : It’s funny how the person they once loved, fianlly moved on without them.
Characters : Sae Itoshi , Rin Itoshi , Isagi Yoichi , Reo Mikage , Oliver Aiku.
Part Two : Noa Noel , Chris Prince , Marc Snuffy, Micheal Kaiser, Julian Loki , Vivian Hugo.
Notes : Fem reader, angst, wrote this with pure boredom, failed relationship or whatever, not fully proofread.
･ ༝ ･ Sae Itoshi
Being with Sae Itoshi was nice…
Well, in the beginning.
Sae Itoshi was a man of few words, never particularly gifted when it came to expressing what was in his heart, but he loved you.
You never doubted that—not once.
Sae would always be there for you to soothe you with a kiss on the forehead whenever you were anxious or scared.
Whenever he was off, he’ll wake up before the sunrise just to make you breakfast before you opened your eyes and give you a kiss on the tip of your nose and sit beside you while you eat and he’ll look over his opponets anayltics for the next match.
And when the you two were together in the public—he wasn’t affectionate and not a big fan of pda—but he’ll silently reach for your hand and tighten his grip.
If you carried something heavy, he’d take it.
Your feet are aching from walking? No worries he’ll carry you. If that’s what you wanted.
If you stumbled, he’d catch you before you even trip.
Whenever you stayed at his apartment, he would unconsciously—instictively—pull you into his lap while the two of you watched television, with one lf his arm arm wrapped securely around your waist as though your body naturally belonged there, and he’ll nuzzle at the crook or your nape or your back. You used to laugh every time it happened.
“You know…” you’d tease, absentmindedly tracing circles on his wrist, “…you’re a lot clingier than you pretend to be.”
“…Am I?” He looked up at you from behide and his bangs were disheveled.
“You haven’t let go of me for forty minutes.” You playfully hummed,
“…Should I let go then?” Sae said, you smiled and comforatbly sunk on his lap
“No not at all Mr.Itsohi” you looked back and poke his cheek and he silently took your finger off his cheek and sighed.
But without another word, he’d tighten his arm around you, resting his chin against your shoulder.
“Good, because didn’t want to.”
And went back from nuzzling his face onto you.
And that was how things went in your relationship it was comfortable and every time you two didn’t talk at all it never felt lonely or awkward.
Every night, his arm would draped securely around your waist, holding you with a desperate, heavy tightness, and never wanting to let you go.
You’ll always whisper on his hear how clingy he is and how’d he always embrace you whenever you two were taking a nap or going to sleep. It felt, peaceful, and felt safe being embraced by someone that you loved.
“You’re so pretty Sae,” you chimed in gently tracing his jaw and looking, then put your forehead against his then kiss the tip of his nose.”
Even when he had to wake up in the freezing dawn for practice, he would always stay and linger, staring down at your sleeping face, tracing your cheek before leaving a final, quiet press of his lips on your skin and a soft mumbled whisper of an “I love you.”
On lazy mornings, when the golden sunlight spilled through the curtains, painting fractured patterns across his bedroom floor.
While your bare body was buried beneath the linen blanket, you’ll feel his fingertips lazily tracing invisible lines along your back and your arm while silently pressing kisses.
While you were half-asleep, you feel his lips gently reaching your forehead.
“…Wake up.”
“Mmm…”you’d mumble, pulling the blanket higher.
“You’ve been saying five more minutes for twenty.”His voice was a low, gravelly rasp from last night.
“…Maybe I need another twenty….” You gently brushed him off. But the smallest smile—barely noticeable—would tug at the corner of his lips.
“You’re impossible.” While he tried to pull your body to face him, now both of you were staring at each-other.
“And yet…” you murmured, flicking his forehead with a grin, “…you still love me.”
He looked at you and said “I do.”
You giggled and flicked his forehead. He wince slightly, eyes narrowing, before leaning down to catch your lips again, pulling you into the warmth of another slow morning.
That was enough. You had him, and he had you.
You had met his family; his family was supportive and happy sae was alright. But then you had to meet his younger brother, Rin.
That…could’ve gone better.
The younger Itoshi just stared at you for several seconds before looking toward his brother.
“Why?” He questioned
You blinked while nervously chuckling,
“Why what?”
“Why are you dating him?” Rin said while pointing at sae. Sae just sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Ignore him.”
“I wasn’t talking to you.”
Despite Rin’s hostility toward Sae, he slowly grew used to seeing you around. He’d never admit it outright, but he respected you. Rin
kept on contact with you. It was kinda obvious they cared for each-other—at-least—that’s what you think, but they grew distant and didn’t know each other anymor
Your own parents adored Sae. Your mother once watched him silently washing dishes after dinner before leaning over to whisper,
“You know…the guy you brought,” your mother trailed while she was busy cleaning the table while you were also helping you mom “ he looks intimidating…” she continued but smiled softly “…But he hasn’t stopped checking to make sure you’re okay all evening.”
“That’s a good catch,” while she jokingly bump her hips making you feel embarrassed by your mom’s teasing which just made her laugh loudly joking about how you always said that you won’t find a guy that loves you.
Then you looked over to find Sae already glancing in your direction, then you felt completely embarrassed that he heard that, which just made your mom tease you even more and drag Sae into it.
Marriage became less of a question and more of an inevitability the topic was always brought up.
It happened on an ordinary night while the two of you were lying together on the bed.
“You think we’d survive marriage?” you asked absentmindedly, tracing the veins on the back of his hand.
“We already live together.”Sae looked at your joined fingers, his grip tightening before he brought your knuckles to his lips.
“That’s not an answer.”You murmured, looking up into his eyes. And his gaze locked onto yours.
Then he lifted your hand, pressing a slow kiss against your knuckles.
“…We’ll get married.”
“…Promise?”
“I promise.”
There wasn’t a hint of hesitation, you believed every word.
And you believed him. You really did.
Looking back… Neither of you could remember when things started changing.
There wasn’t another person in the relationship, he didn’t betray you and there was no massive argument at all that ruined things—maybe.
It happened so slowly that neither of you realized your relationship was falling apart
The thing is football had always been Sae’s world.
But somewhere along the way… It also stopped making him happy…I mean you’ve been with him and always known he struggled but it was never that bad.
At first, the changes were so small you barely noticed them.
But it began with smiling less towards you and you noticed it whenever you’d see him watch the tv watching about people talk about him or the new match.
Whenver he was brought up and commented on he was silent, on social media there were many rude comments that were mocking sae with every miss and failed assist and him not living up to his name.
He’d apologize for canceling date nights because he was exhausted, promising to make it up to you “next week.”
Next week never came.
You started waking up in the middle of the night to find his side of the bed empty. While the balcony door would be cracked open.
Sae stood outside in the freezing air, hands shoved into his pockets, staring blankly at the city skyline.
“Hi, Can’t sleep?”
“…No.” he said while leaning down the cold metal railing.
“You should come back inside, come on it is bad for you sae to be out here so cold,” you murmured.
“…In a minute.” Sometimes that minute lasted until sunrise. Other nights he’d leave the apartment entirely. You’d wake at two in the morning to find a text.
Gone for a run, love you.
He’d return hours later drenched in sweat, breathing hard, claiming he just needed to clear his head. When you asked what was bothering him…
“…Nothing.”
Everything became nothing or fine.
You hated that word, “fine”.
Sae had a habit of just saying, “I’m fine.”
Training was fine.
Practice was fine.
The interviews were fine.
The pressure was fine.
The game was fine.
Our relationship is fine.
He was fine.
You hated it because you could see he wasn’t “fine” and damn it , you didn’t know what to do or say; whenever you wanted to say something to talk to him—he would brush you off and move along.
Dark circles settled permanently beneath his eyes, he started forgetting meals unless you reminded him.
Even when he did he would badely eat it to the point, that you’ll come home to find breakfast untouched or the dinner you was left exactly where you’d left it.
“…Did you eat today?”
“…I forgot.”
“You forgot?”
“I wasn’t hungry.”
You stared at him and nodded along while y you reheated his food anyway.
“…Sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize.”
“I know.” He muttered while he was hunched down on the seat.
“…Then why do you keep saying it to me sae?”
Silence. That’s because he genuinely didn’t know, why.
The truth was…He wasn’t ignoring you because he stopped loving you.
He was just exhausted and drowning into deep, And inside his exhausted mind, he had convinced himself that if he let you see how bad things had become… You’d only worry.
So he never talked to you about it and avoided every conversation, Unfortunately…he didn’t realize that shutting you was making things worse—but what could a person think when they were in that situation—but you still stayed right there next to him and soothe him or hug him whenever he couldnt sleep or when he cried.
He hated treating you like this,
It didn’t help that every disagreement between the two of you ended the exact same way.
Distance, he’ll distance from you and disappear for a while not talking to you.
It wasn’t that Sae wanted to hurt you—he didn’t know what else to do.
Whenever something upset him—whether it was the pressure of another match, the suffocating expectations placed on his shoulders, or the constant feeling that he had to be perfect—he would disappear into himself.
It was a habit that he convinced himself that isolation was the way for him, to keep his problems locked away, so that no one else would have to carry them or know.
Time had always solved everything before, hadn’t it? So he continued doing what he had always done.
He’d leave the apartment for hours without saying where he was going, returning long after midnight with sweat clinging to his skin from another punishing run.
Sometimes he wasn’t running at all.
He simply wandered the empty streets until dawn because the thought going home and you seeing him in this state would make you feel shit so he’ll leave and crash at some other place.
Other nights, he’d lock himself inside the bathroom, letting the shower run until the hot water turned cold, sitting against the tiled wall with his head buried in his hands.
The rushing water drowned out everything—his thoughts, the criticism, the expectations, the guilt.
It was easier than talking, it was always easier than talking.
Lastly it was better than letting you know.
As the months passed, he barely slept anymore.
You’d wake up at three in the morning, reaching toward the empty side of the bed only to find cold sheets waiting for you.
The balcony door would be cracked open, and there he’d be, standing outside beneath the pale glow of the city lights, staring into nothing
“…Sae?”
“…Couldn’t sleep.”
“Again? You’ve been barely asleep all week.”
“I’ll sleep tomorrow.”
Even on his days off, he couldn’t sit still. If he wasn’t training, he was running. If he wasn’t running, he was watching match footage.
If he wasn’t watching footage, he was staring blankly at the television without actually seeing what was on the screen.
Then the both of you started to argue more and more, it was…rare for the two of you to ever fight almost every week even over the little things.
“I’m trying to tell you how I feel, Sae.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t,” you said, your voice cracking as you stared at his unreadable face.
“I don’t need you to fix it.” Sae replied He never knew what to say after that.
Whenever his team lost, he came home long after dark. You would hear the heavy thud of the front door. He dropped his kit bag, kicked off his shoes, and maintained that absolute suffocating silence.
He’ll walk straight past the living room and straight past you without a glance or a greeting.
He went straight to the bathroom. And the shower ran for nearly an hour. The first few times, you knocked gently on the foggy glass.
“...Sae? You okay?”
“...I just need time.”
One evening, after a brutal loss, he came home looking entirely drained. You had dinner waiting on the table. It had already gone completely cold.
“You’re late,” you said softly, trying to offer a fragile smile. “I saw the match today. I’m sorry about the loss.”
“I know.” He replied while not looking at you.
“Sorry I couldn’t attend, I had a meeting today,” you looked at him waiting for a response but it was complete silence,
“ I made dinner. Would you like to eat?”
He ignored the question entirely and just walked past you then into the bathroom for another hour-long shower.
You sat alone at the table, aimlessly moving the cold food around your plate as a heavy suffocation settled in your chest.
When the bathroom door finally opened, you stood up.
“Can we talk Sae?”
“I’m tired.” He kept walking toward the bedroom.
“I know you’re tired, Sae, but—”
“I said I don’t want to talk.”
Something inside you finally snapped. The years of neglect, the quiet rejection, and the loneliness of being in a relationship by yourself all crumbled.
“When do you ever want to talk. Sae stopped in his tracks, his shoulders tensing. “...What?”
“You come home, shut yourself away, and expect me to sit here and guess what is going on in your headl
“I don’t expect anything from you.” Sae said,
“Then what am I here for, Sae?”
Silence.
“I am so exhausted from dealing with you when you sulk and push me away,” your voice began to tremble violently. “God damn it, Sae... you treat me like a burden whenever you are like this. Every single time I’m telling you I’m right here ... you disappear.”
Sae turned around. His expression hardened.“But I never asked you to do any of that.”
The room went completely still. The air left your lungs. “...What?”
“I never asked you to carry my weight,” Sae said. His voice was entirely devoid of emotion,“I never told you I wanted you to reach out. You’re acting mediocre right now, trying to force your way in when I clearly told you I don’t need you. Some things I have to deal with alone. If you can't handle that, that's your problem. So just leave me alone.”
A bitter, breathless laugh escaped your lips. “...Do you even hear yourself right now?”
“I’m telling you the truth.”
“The truth?” You scoffed while tears finally spilled over your eyelashes “The truth is that I’ve been begging you to let me into your life, and somehow, you’ve made me feel like I’m the one asking for too much.”
Sae scoffed softly, turning his head away. “You’re being emotional”
The moment those words left his mouth, a flicker of regret crossed his eyes. He recognized the shift instantly.Your expression did not twist into anger or deep sadness.
Instead, your face went completely hollow with a look of total defeat. You wiped your cheeks with the back of your hand and forced a small smile.
“...That’s it,” you whispered, nodding to yourself. “I finally get it.”
“You don’t.”
“No,” you let out a trembling breath. “I do.” You walked into the bedroom.
Sae stood in the hallway, his jaw clenched, convincing himself you just needed space. But a few minutes later, you emerged carrying a single, heavy suitcase.
Sae’s composure finally shattered. He took a step forward. “...What are you doing?”
“I’m leaving.”
“...Don’t…please.”
It was the very first time he had ever used that tone with you. It was a plea. You looked at him, tears quietly tracking down your face. Your voice was dead and devoid of the warmth he had taken for granted. “It’s best this way, right? This is what you always do anyway. You always leave and it’s my turn—maybe, it’s for the better Sae.”
You walked to the front door and gripped the handle. You looked back one last time at the apartment, at the man who had promised to marry you under the covers.
“Goodbye, Sae.”
The door clicked shut behind you. Sae stood frozen in the center of the room for hours.
The apartment had never felt so vast. In the weeks that followed, it was obvious that you were gone.
You left behind things you did not need, like the expensive jewelry he bought you for anniversaries, all left neatly on the dresser.
He tried to store them away in boxes, but it did not help at all, he could not bring himself to hide or throw it away even your toothbrush from the bathroom sink.
Every night, the side of the bed next to him was freezing cold, and empty.
When he cane home there was nobody waiting for him, when he woke up he had no one to kiss and say “I love you.” He regretted it…and wanted to change.
Four years had passed.
His career flourished even more and was finally better—that’s what he thinks.
One spring afternoon, he absentmindedly scrolled through social media taking a break after another training session.
It was a mind-numbing habit he rarely indulged in, but he felt like he should check something, and then his thumb suddenly froze on the screen.
A familiar face appeared. It was yours.
You were dressed in a stunning, flowing white gown. And was standing beside a man he had never seen before.
The man's arm was wrapped securely around your waist. And your smile was radiant and stretched all the way to your eyes.
It was a genuine happiness he had not seen on your face in the final moments you spent together.
The caption beneath the photograph was: Congratulations to us.
Sae stared at the screen. His chest tightened‘Oh,’ he thought, his chest aching with a dull, hollow thud. ‘You look really pretty.’
And for the first time entirely outside of his control, a single, tear escaped his eye.
And splattered against the glass of his phone screen, blurring your happy smile.
･ ༝ ･ Rin Itoshi
You had known Rin Itoshi since the two of you were children, long before the sport of football had ever been introduced to his life.
Your mother was close friends with Mrs. Itoshi, and to their immense surprise, when both women found themselves pregnant at the exact same time, made them
incredibly enthusiastic to ensure their children grew up as best friends.
That was how the two of you were brought into each other's lives. Because you were born first, you were a tad bit older than Rin, and your absolute earliest memories of him were almost entirely ridiculous.
You distinctly remembered a tiny, toddler-aged Rin sitting flat on the living room floor of the Itoshi residence, happily chewing on one of his plastic toy blocks like a mid-day snack, while he kept of saying “rawr” acting like Godzilla.
Sae was sitting right beside him on the carpet, keeping a sharp watch to make sure his baby brother didn't accidentally choke on it.
You had been dragged over to the house entirely against your will, and your mother was forcing you to stay and play with the Itoshi brothers rather than allowing you to cling to her skirt like you wanted to.
You remembered walking over to the small boy, staring down at him with wide, horrified eyes before completely bursting into tears.
You were absolutely convinced he was a terrible, scary monster because he just kept aggressively chewing on the plastic blocks, and saying “rawr” so many times and when he casually reached out to hand a soggy toy to you, it triggered a massive crying outburst.
The adults in the kitchen had laughed hysterically at the interaction, while a young Sae became genuinely frightened by your sudden, loud explosion of tears.
Rin, on the other hand, had simply blinked up at you in complete confusion, still holding the wet toy block in his mouth while his hand remained reached out toward you, trying to share.
But from that chaotic day onward, the two of you became nearly inseparable.
Sure you were still afraid of Rin but little by little you started thinking that Rin was just weird…in an endearing way.
From those day on you were over at the Itoshi residence so often that it began to be your second home.
Playing with Rin was always fun, and many lazy afternoons were spent carefully building massive blanket forts in the living room, only for the entire structure to collapse within minutes, leaving all three of you kids falling asleep in a tangled pile of pillows beneath the sheets.
When football was finally introduced to Rin's life, It usually ended with you trying—and almost always failing—to convince Rin to focus on studying his schoolwork instead of spending every single hour practicing with his big brother.
Whenever he disappeared outside into the yard with a black-and-white ball tucked tightly beneath his arm, you were usually the one chasing after him.
“Rin! We still have math homework to finish!”
“…Five more minutes.”
“You said that twenty minutes ago!”
He would only offer a quiet shrug before kicking the ball against the goal again, leaving you grumbling under your breath and sighing.
As the years passed, absolutely nothing changed about the bond you shared.
You grew up together, standing on the sidelines at every single one of the Itoshi brothers' youth games, cheering loudly before coming back to their house to eat dinner with the family.
You were present at each other's birthdays, celebrating every milestone and constantly cheering each other on.
Then, everything changed. The day Sae came back from Spain was a horrible, it completely ruined the peace of the Itoshi household and fractured both of the brothers permanently.
You had never seen Rin cry the way he did after that brutal confrontation. His voice cracked terribly as while he tried to act like he was perfectly fine on the walk back, only for his entire composure to collapse the moment the front door closed behind him.
He didn't go to his parents for comfort, nor did he look for anyone else; he came straight to you.
He buried his face deeply against your shoulder, his chest heaving as he desperately tried to stop crying, while your arms wrapped around his trembling frame without a single second of hesitation.
You simply held him tightly in the quiet room, rubbing his back and murmuring soothing words until the tears finally stopped.
After that day, Rin changed completely. Little by little, he became much quieter, more distant, and walked around with a personal, bitter agenda that he always carried.
He never fully explained or said what had been spoken between them on the field; he just flatly stated that he and Sae were completely done. And he hated him.
Whenever he was down, he never explicitly asked for comfort or admitted that he was hurting, but he always found himself standing outside your front door after a long day, silently pulling you into a sudden hug right there on the porch.
He never admitted that he needed company, yet he would sit right beside you in your room for hours in complete, heavy silence.
He never said thank you out loud, but he didn't need to.
Rin knew that you understood him better than anyone else in the world.
It was a strange arrangement. The two of you never actually dated, and no one ever officially defined whatever is going on between you, yet everyone around you automatically assumed that you were already a couple.
Your school friends teased you endlessly about him, and the teachers paired the two of you together for projects without a second thought, fully expecting you to help him with his assignments since he was barely passing his classes due to his football schedule.
Even complete strangers on the street occasionally smiled fondly at the sight of the two of you walking home side by side.
Neither of you ever corrected them, because how could you explain that , when the both of you don’t understand what you feel with one another
It was best to not talk about it and continue walking.
You would be lying to yourself if you said you didn't have romantic feelings for Rin.
Because you did.
You carried those feelings in your heart for years. You wondered sometimes, if he felt the exact same way about you, but Rin had never been good with words, and you had always been far too afraid to ask and ruin what you had.
You blindly assumed there would always be more time, which was your biggest mistake.
By the time high school rolled around, Rin had grown significantly taller than you.
He wasn't the crying little boy who chewed on his toys anymore or was quite naïve , he became intensely quiet and intimidating, making the other people in your class actively avoid talking to him altogether.
If someone needed to ask him a question, they would track you down instead, begging you to ask him for them.
You heard the whispered comments about him almost every single day in the hallways.
“…He’s kind of scary.”
“…Does he ever even smile?”
“…Too bad, I’d totally date him if he wasn't so blunt and rude.”
Then, the classmates would stare directly at you, because they knew you were practically his person—their words, not yours.
Those comments always made you laugh quietly to yourself, because the harsh, angry Rin everyone else knew wasn't the real Rin that you knew.
Rin would unconsciously slowed his walking pace whenever you fell a few steps behind him on the sidewalk.
He was your friend that would silently take your school bag from your hand to carry it himself while walking home, wordlessly sharing one of his earphones so the two of you could listen to music together.
You knew the one who would hand you his umbrella the exact second it started raining, stubbornly refusing to share it just so he could walk home getting entirely soaked himself to keep you dry.
He was the one who frowned deeply whenever you skipped lunch due to studying, and would place a wrapped convenience store sandwich on your desk during the break before quickly turning around.
“…You forgot to eat again,” he’d mutter, “You always do this. Here. Eat.”
“Yes, sir!” you’d tease softly.
He’d roll his eyes in annoyance, but the faint, dark pink dusting the tips of his ears betrayed his true feelings every single time.
Moments like those became so ordinary and became part of your daily routine. Your classmates, certainly noticed the details.
“So…” one of your close friends whispered one afternoon, leaning across their desk with an amused, knowing grin. “When are you and Itoshi finally going to admit that you're actually dating?”
You nearly choked on your drink, your face heating up instantly. “W-What?”
“Oh, come on. You two always act like you're together. Practically everyone in the school thinks so. Why do you think we always ask you to go up to him instead of doing it ourselves?”
“You literally wait for each other after school every single day,” another classmate chimed in from the side.
“That’s only because we walk home in the same direction,” you defended weakly.
“He literally carries your bag for you.”
“ because he says thatI’m carrying too much weight.”
“He literally buys your lunch.”
“But I pay him back for it!”
“Oh yeah? Remember last week when you two were holding hands in the hallway?” your friend chided dramatically
“That was only because I was walking so slow and he was trying to drag me along!”
“Yeah… right. Keep telling yourself that.” The friend scoffed, before continuing in a more serious tone.
“And he completely glared a guy down yesterday just for asking for your phone number.”
Your heart gave a sudden, hard thud against your ribs. “He… did?”
“You seriously didn’t notice? Ugh, you are so entirely helpless. Can't you see that the scary Rin Itoshi actually likes you?”
You honestly hadn't realized it. When you glanced out the window toward the football field later that afternoon, you saw that Rin was already standing out there, watching you from the grass.
The exact moment your eyes met through the glass, he sharply looked away, shoving his hands into his pockets.
You couldn't help but smile.
It was completely normal, which was exactly why neither of you ever felt the need to confess your feelings out loud. Why would you risk changing things?
Nothing would change anyway; you already belonged to each other. Or, at least, that was what you blindly believed.
It wasn't as though either of you were entirely oblivious to the tension.
There were moments that lingered just a second too long to be considered to be platonic.
Sometimes you would catch him staring at you when he thought you weren't looking, or he would lightly brush his fingers against your cheek under the excuse of brushing away a stray eyelash, and his touch incredibly soft.
His eyes would soften ever so slightly before he realize you were staring right back at him.
Then, he would abruptly clear his throat, look away, and pretend he had been watching something else entirely.
“…What?” you’d ask, a smile tugging at your lips.
“You were staring.”
“I wasn’t. You were the one staring.”
“You’ve gotten much worse at lying.”
“…Shut up.”
Even his teammates eventually began to notice the undeniable attachment.
After Blue Lock and everything that followed, he became a highly aspiring professional football player with massive club deals and promises of international fame.
“You know,” Bachira once grinned broadly during a break, playfully nudging Rin with his elbow in the locker room, “they treat you way more like a boyfriend rather than just a regular childhood friend.”
Rin’s face immediately darkened into a harsh scowl. “Shut up.”
“What? I’m just saying the truth!”
“They’re not my girlfriend.”
“Oh?” Bachira tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “But you didn't deny wanting them to be.”
Rin’s ears instantly flushed a deep, bright crimson. “Shut. Up.”
The entire locker room erupted into loud laughter at his rare display of embarrassment, while Rin glaring at every single one of them.
Later that afternoon on the walk home, he stubbornly refused to look you in the eye, keeping his gaze fixed on the pavement.
“…Did the guys say something to you during practice?” you asked curiously.
“…No.”
“They definitely did. Your face is red.”
“…Go away.”
Instead of actually leaving his side, you laughed so hard that you nearly lost your balance, having to lightly hold onto his forearm to keep yourself steady.
He let out a long, heavy sigh, but he didn't pull his arm away from your grip.
“…You’re so annoying.”
“But…” you trailed off, looking up at him.
“…you still choose to hang out with me every single day.”
“Yeah.”
“Why do you?” He was quiet for a very long time, long enough that you genuinely assumed he was just going to ignore the question and change the subject.
But finally, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, he spoke.
“…Because it’s you.”
Three simple, words.
Your heart gave a loud thump in your chest.
“…Oh…”
He never elaborated on what he meant. For someone like Rin Itoshi, that was practically a full love confession.
You couldn't stop smiling for the rest of the walk home, the warmth in your chest making you completely forget about the cold breeze.
You noticed the elderly couple watching the two of you from across the street.
The old woman gently nudged her husband's arm with a fond, nostalgic smile on her face.
“They’re so young,” she murmured.
“They’re entirely in love,” her husband chuckled softly, watching your retreating figures.
“They don’t even know it yet.”
“They will,” he replied knowingly. “They will.”
You wished the old man had been right
Because he wasn’t.
It never happened. Neither of you ever confessed your feelings, not because the love wasn't there, but because the two of you believed there would always be a tomorrow.
You blindly assumed there would always be another slow walk home , another birthday to celebrate, another afternoon forcing Rin to study, and another chance to tell him the truth.
Hubris was a funny thing and had a cruel way of ruining people before they even realize they are falling.
And life just kept on moving,
Football began to demand far more of Rin more and more. You were also busy in college trying to pass your classes and balance internships, research or part time.
Rin’s training camps that used to last a few days quickly stretched into weeks, and those weeks inevitably turned into months.
Your phone calls grew shorter, and the texts became less frequent until they stopped altogether.
Eventually, you stopped being the first person he called when his world spun out of control, and he stopped being the first person you instinctively searched for whenever you stood in a crowded room.
You simply drifted apart—slowly, until one day you looked across the gap and realized you no longer knew how to bridge the distance and he was too far too reach.
Years later, the massive stadium roared with applause of thousands cheering on and cameras flashing from every single direction.
It was just another victory, another interview coming up that he had to deal with and another award, that reminded him that he had successfully done it.
Rin didn’t care too much for it and he was a bit tired while his numb gaze simply wandered aimlessly across the endless sea of spectators in the stands.
Then, his eyes stopped. He saw you. At first, he tried to convince himself that his exhausted mind was just playing tricks on him, but it was unmistakably you.
You looked older, and undeniably happy.
There was that smile of yours that he hadn’t seen since the two of you were teenagers walking home beneath the evening sky.
You were laughing, but you weren't laughing with him.
You were laughing with someone else.
A man stood right beside you, leaning down closely to whisper something into your ear that made your smile widen even more.
Without a single thought, your hand found his, your fingers intertwining that it was obvious you were together.
The stranger smiled down at you the exact same way Rin used to imagine himself smiling at you one day, and you casually rested your head against his shoulder, looking entirely content.
Seeing you made Rin’s stomach twist in regret—all-consuming regret.
The crowd erupted into cheers once more as a staff member called his name from the tunnel, pulling him back to reality.
“Itoshi! You’re up!”
He blinked, almost as if waking from a dream. “…Yeah.” His voice was quiet.
He took a step toward the tunnel before instinct made him look back one last time.
His eyes found you immediately.
You were smiling.
It was a smile so warm, so carefree, so full of peace that it almost took his breath away.
You looked beautiful.
Beside the person you had chosen.
Beside the life you had built without him.
A small, bittersweet smile found its way onto Rin’s lips.
“…I’m glad,” he whispered, too quietly for anyone to hear.
“I’m glad you finally found someone who could love you the way you deserved.”
The words stung. Because inside him, he knew… He had wanted that person to be himself.
He turned away before he could look any longer, disappearing into the darkness of the tunnel as the roar of the stadium swallowed him whole.
But no matter how far he walked…inside the tunnel following the personnel who was escorting him .
His memories followed.
He remembered a tiny boy sitting on the floor of the Itoshi residence, happily chewing on colorful plastic toy blocks as if they were candy. And you bursting into tears because you were convinced he was some terrifying little monster, refusing to take the soggy toy he reached toward you with.
He remembered crying into your shoulder after Sae left for Spain and everything inside him fell apart.
He remembered every walk home.
Every quiet afternoon spent studying.
Every birthday.
Every promise.
And he remembered that day.
“…Because it’s you.”
Three simple words.
He had meant them with every part of his heart. But he had never found the courage to say the rest.
Because it’s you…
Because I always love you.
And I want to be with you.
Instead, he had convinced himself there would always be more time.
Tomorrow never came though.
As the tunnel lights stretched across the floor beneath his feet, Rin couldn’t stop himself from wondering…
Maybe, in another life—
One where he had been brave enough to speak, he would have been the one standing beside you.
Rin would have been the one making you laugh until your eyes crinkled at the corners.
Rin could been the one you came home to after long days.
The one who grew old beside you.
The one who kissed your forehead every morning.
Rin lowered his head with a faint smile that never reached his eyes.
“In another life…”
His voice disappeared beneath the deafening cheers echoing through the stadium.
“…I’ll be that guy.”
･ ༝ ･ Isagi Yoichi
You liked Isagi Yoichi. You liked him for longer than you wanted to admit, the both of you were in junior high when you first met, and you harbored a crush on him—always glancing and telling your friends hoe cute he looks whenever he embarrasses himself, but you kept those feelings tucked away in your heart because you never imagined he’d ever return them.
So when he confessed… You genuinely froze while hearing him speak.
His confession wasn’t some perfectly rehearsed confession beneath the falling cherry blossoms or a dramatic declaration in the pouring rain or with people that were surrounding you.
It was just…Isagi.
Standing in front of you, cheeks burning red, and nervously fidgeting with the sleeves of his uniform as he poured every thought in his heart out without holding anything back.
And a simple, “I really like you.”
And him stumbling over his proclamation and words over one another in his haste.
“I’ve liked you for a long time...” He laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “…I don’t really know how to say this without sounding embarrassing.”
He took a deep breath.
“…I really like you.”
“…Would you…please…go out with me?”
For a few seconds, you simply stared at him.
Then…you laughed. Making his smile disappeared almost instantly.
“…Ah.”He rubbed the back of his neck again, forcing out a sheepish smile.
“…Sorry. I knew that was kind of sudde—” Before he could finish, you threw your arms around him. His entire body stiffened.
“…I like you too…”
Silence.
“…Really?” You nodded against his shoulder.
“I’ve liked you for a long time too.” He let out a shaky laugh before wrapping his arms around you, holding you so carefully, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he held on too tightly.
That day…the two of you began dating.
And for a while, it was everything you had ever dreamed of.
Isagi always made time for you, no matter how packed his schedule became.
He’d call you after training just to hear your voice, text you good morning before sunrise, and excitedly ramble for hours about football until he realized he’d been talking for twenty minutes straight
You never minded, you loved seeing him happy and seeing his dreams slowly become reality. But then those dreams grew bigger.
Every milestone pulled him a little farther from you, and every success demanded more of his time. Yet somehow… He still tried to make room for you. He’ll still call you when he was exhausted even if he was overseas . He’d stay awake after long flights just to ask how your day had been.
He’d apologize whenever practice ran late and missed a scheduled call with you.
“…I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize…Yoi.”
“Well I do and we’ll go out after this season, I promise.”
After this season. Those words became a promise you heard over and over again.
And every time one season ended… another promise began.
You never blamed him for not keeping up with the promises.
How could you?
This was everything he’d worked so hard for and whenever you see him celebrate his goals on the pitch you smile so brightly and wave at him only for him to notice and grin widely looking at you.
You were proud of him, more proud than words could ever express.
But a thought began festering in the back of your mind.
You started wondering if you were becoming another responsibility he had to carry, it made you more insecure and anxious about your relationship.
Were you another person he had to make time for.
You watched him fall asleep during late-night phone calls because he was so exhausted and could barely even speak to you that you had yo make up the incoherent words he was saying.
You watched him skip meals to squeeze in one more interview before flying across the world again.
You watched him smile and tell you he was fine, even when the dark circles beneath his eyes said otherwise and you’d hear him loudly yawn.
And instead of asking him to stay…you made the decision for him.
If loving someone meant wanting what was best for them. Then maybe…The best thing you could do…Was let him go.
Even if he never once asked you to.
You knew you were the one who was wrong.
At least…That was what you told yourself every night.
You regretted thinking this way, you were truly doubting yourself but you cannot stand seeing him be so happy and chase his goals, you’d just feel you’ll drag him down.
You regretted walking away from someone who truly loved you.
Someone who had never once made you feel like a burden. Someone who had spent years proving that you mattered.
But you still believed… He needed to let go.
Yoichi needed to stop holding onto something that might keep him from reaching the future he had dreamt so hard for.
Of course, if you told anyone that…
They would probably call you crazy. Your mother will definitely get mad at you and maybe won’t even let you live up to this brutal mistake of breaking up with him.
They would ask how you could leave someone like Isagi Yoichi.
How you could walk away from the person who looked at you like you were the most important thing in his world.
You certainly didn’t want to tell anyone, especially Isagi. Maybe you were unable to commit to the relationship
Because if you said it out loud…someone might tell you that you were wrong. And you weren’t ready to hear that.
You watched Isagi grow closer and closer to the dream he’d spent his entire life chasing. And whenever reporters asked him who had supported him the most…
His answer never changed.
“My family…”
“My teammates…”
“And my partner.”
Then he’ll smile towards the camera and the interview would end there.
The breakup happened on an ordinary afternoon. You had invited Isagi over after he finally returned from another overseas training camp.
The moment he stepped inside, you noticed how tired he looked. You were already sitting in one of the dining chairs, your hands folded tightly in your lap, trying to calm the nervous pounding in your chest.
His suitcase still rested beside the front door where he’d left it, proof that he hadn’t even bothered to unpack before coming to see you.
“You should’ve rested first when you got here,” you said softly.
Isagi looked at you, then smiled—that same warm, genuine smile that had always made your heart feel lighter.
“I wanted to see you, so I came straight here.”
For one brief moment, you almost stood up, and wanted to wrap your arms around him, and pretended the thoughts that had been haunting you for months had never existed.
Instead, you lowered your eyes to your trembling hands.
“…Yoichi.”
“Hm?”
“I think…” your throat tightened so painfully that the words almost refused to come out.
“…We should break up.”
The room fell completely silent. The happy smile slowly disappeared from his face, replaced by confusion.
“…What?”
“I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”
His brows slowly knitted together. “Why? Why on earth would you think that?”
You didn’t want to look him in the eye at all “You’ve worked so hard to get where you are.”
“I know.”
“And you’re only getting busier.”
“…Yeah.”
“You don’t need to worry about me anymore.” His expression immediately changed.
“What?”
“You should focus on football.”
“I am focusing on football,” isagi argued back.“I don’t want to become another responsibility.”
“…Responsibility?”
His voice lowered.“What are you talking about?”
“You barely sleep.”
“So?”
“You’re constantly traveling.”
“That’s just part of my job.”
“You cancel dates because you’re exhausted.”
“I always try make it up to you.”
“But you apologize for everything.”
He then hesitated before quietly replying,
“Because I feel bad.”
You looked away.“…Exactly why…I don’t want you to be with me.”
He stared at you like he genuinely couldn’t understand what you were trying to say.“…I’m confused.”
“You don’t have to keep trying so hard anymore.”
His face fell.“…Trying?”
“You don’t need to force yourself to make time for me.”
“…Force?”For the first time, he laughed, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“…You think seeing you is something I force myself to do?”
Your chest tightened. “…Isn’t it?”
“No.” The answer came without even a second of hesitation.
He took a step closer. “Do you know what the first thing I do after every match is?”
You stayed silent.
“I look for my phone.”His fingers curled slightly at his sides.
“Because I want to text you.” Another step.
“When I score…”
“I want to tell you.”
“When I lose…”
His voice softened.
“I want you.”
Your eyes began to burn with tears falling down stinging as they began to roll on your cheeks.
“When I finally get a day off…”
“I spend weeks thinking about where to take you.”
He swallowed. “And somehow…”His voice cracked. “You’ve convinced yourself that you’re getting in my way?”
Tears blurred your vision.“…I just don’t want you sacrificing everything.”
“I’m not sacrificing anything.” Isagi remarked his voice also cracking and muffled crying were also heard.
“But you are yoichi, you are sacrificing time just to be with me. When you could’ve—“
He shook his head immediately. “The only thing I’m scared of losing…Is you.”
The room became unbearably quiet.
For one terrible moment, you wanted to believe hi’ and just hug him and let him console you, terribly wanted to forget every fear that had slowly taken root inside your heart.
You wanted to reach for him. “I think…”
You forced yourself to say, chocking on the words you were saying “…You’ll be happier without me.”
The look on Isagi’s face changed instantly, as though something inside him had shattered. “…Why?” His voice cracked.
“Why are you deciding that for me?”
You stayed still silently, “…because I’m scared for you.”
One day…I’ll be holding you back and I don’t want you to regret anything…I just want you to keep on going.”
“…I’m sorry…yoichi”
He stood there for a long time. Finally he nodded his head and wrapped his arms around you letting you cry onto him one last time.
“…If…” A weak, broken laugh escaped him.
“…If this is really what you want…” His hands clenched tightly “…Then I won’t stop you.”
It hurts Isagi saying that because he loved you and he loved you enough to respect a decision that was breaking both of your hearts.
As he reached the front door, his hand rested on the doorknob.
He didn’t turn around and look back at you,
“…I hope…” He paused. “I hope one day you realize…” His voice was quiet. “…You were never something I had to fit into my life.”
Another long silence followed. “…You were the life I wanted.”
The door closed softly behind him. That was the last time you saw each other as lovers.
At first, Isagi thought moving on would become easier if he buried himself completely in football.
He trained harder and slowly built the future he had always wanted just… without you.
Eventually, the ache inside him dulled he hadn’t completely forgotten and neither did it disappeared entirely.
But it faded enough that he stopped instinctively reaching for his phone after every match to send you a message and to the point that he had forgotten wanting to see your smile and hear your voice.
He became everything he had dreamed of becoming.
The world knew Isagi Yoichi as the football player who changed the game. A striker who never stopped evolving.
Yet, when he was all alone in his apartment , he still found himself wondering.
What if you had stayed?
What if he had noticed your fears sooner?
What if he had fought harder for you and made you stay?
The second time he saw you happened completely by chance.
Isagi had just finished another interview and was walking through the city, enjoying one of the few quiet moments he had away from cameras and expectations
Then… He saw you and your eyes met
The both of you didn’t utter a word or smile at each other, you two just completely stared at each-other other frozen in time while people were making their way.
You simply stared at one another from opposite sides of the sidewalk.
You looked just as surprised as he felt. There were so many things he wanted to say.
How have you been?
Do you ever think about us?
But the words refused to come and he didn’t even make a single move to reach out for you.
Before either of you could move, your friend looped an arm through yours with an excited laugh. “There you are! Come on, we’re going to lose our spot.”
Without realizing who was standing only a few feet away, they gently tugged you toward the bakery store that was beside you.
You stumbled slightly before glancing back over your shoulder.
For one brief moment…your eyes found his again.
A small smile appeared on your face and Isagi found himself smiling back.
“…Take care,” he whispered, though the words never reached you.
Then your friend pulled you through the bakery door, the little bell above it chiming softly as it closed behind you.
Isagi remained standing on the sidewalk for another few seconds, staring at the glass window where he could see you laughing with your friend inside, then walked away along side with the bustling crowd
･ ༝ ･ Reo Mikage
Reo came from a world completely different from yours. The Mikage family name had weight to carry . It was attached to wealth, influence, and generations of many expectations.
They were one of the most powerful families in the world, and from the moment Reo was born, his future had already been planned out for him.
Who he would become.
Who he would associate with.
Who he would eventually marry.
Everything had a purpose and it had to benefit to the family name, in no way would Reo’s family ever expect him to live down to the name.
And you… you were never part of that plan.
At first, Reo didn’t care and even went against his father’s whole speech about how it will be a disaster for him to stay with someone with a lower economical position.
Reo felt okay when he was with you, he was just Reo. Sure he’ll buy you things that you eyed, he’d like providing for you even if you tell him to stop, it was simply the way he wanted to show how much he loved you.
Reo always talked to you about the things that he liked and would always go on forever about football with genuine excitement, even though his family never understood why something so “ordinary” mattered so much to him.
They didn’t care about his dreams, they can support whatever he wanted.
Not really.
To them, football was a phase, it was just a hobby that wouldn’t last, they’ll let him continue playing but one of these days he’ll have to stop just so he can inherit the family name and responsibilities.
He’ll grow out of the phase, he hated having to deal with that but you were the person who believed in him
You were the one who told him he could chase something just because it made him happy. And for a while…Reo believed that was enough.
“I’ll convince them.”
He promised you one night, holding your hand tightly.
“I don’t care what they say.”
You looked at him carefully.
“Reo…”
“No.”His voice was firm.“I mean it.”
He looked very determined while making that promise to you ,“I’ll choose my own life.”
And you blindly believed him. Because Reo always made everything seem possible.
So you thought if anyone could stand against the Mikage family…It would be him.
But you underestimated how heavy expectations could become. At first, his family’s disapproval was subtle.
Comments during dinners.
Questions about your background.
Quiet reminders that someone like Reo had “responsibilities.”
They never openly insulted you.
They didn’t have to. The message was always clear. You weren’t what they envisioned for him. You weren’t someone who could help strengthen the Mikage name. You weren’t someone from their world.
It also included events where people from his circle would mock you or question you. It made you doubt and fear, but Reo would reassure you. It got to the point where his family gave you money to stop talking and interacting with him.
Reo found out immediately before they could pressure you into anything. You thought it would be like how common those rich and poor girl tropes were, and somehow you would make it out.
But slowly, the pressure started changing him. Reo began missing plans. He became quieter after family meetings. When he held your hand, he always seemed to start brushing it off. Whenever you asked what was wrong, he always gave you the same answer, I’m handling it.”
But you knew him. You knew when he was pretending. Still, you waited because he had promised, and because you loved him.
Then one day, the promise changed. “I think…” Reo stared down at his hands. “I think this is the right thing to do.”
Your heart sank. “Right thing?”
He did not look at you. “For both of us.”
“Oh.” You knew what he meant before he said it. It was a way for him to tell himself that leaving you was not cowardice. It was responsibility.
“I’m sorry.”
Those words just made you silent. Reo Mikage—the person who had everything—was apologizing because he could not give you the one thing you wanted. Him.
“No it’s okay, I just believed you Reo.”
His expression broke slightly. “I know.”
“You said you wouldn’t let them decide your life.”
“I know.”
Silence. There was no answer that would not hurt. Eventually, Reo looked away.
And that was when you realized. He was not choosing them because he wanted to. He was choosing the easier path.
It was the path where he did not have to fight and did not have to disappoint his family.
You understand the whole reason and weren’t afraid to let him go and be himself.
“Okay Reo, don’t feel bad I understand.” You hugged him tightly “thank you so much for everything.”
When you finally left, Reo did something that confused everyone.
He threw you a party. A huge one. It was the kind of extravagant celebration only someone like Reo Mikage could create.
There were beautiful decorations, expensive food, music, and your favorite flowers. It was a random party with nothing to celebrate, but he threw a party for you just so that you could see.
Everyone thought it was strange. A breakup party? Who did that? But Reo knew. He knew if he did not celebrate you, he would break.
So he smiled. He laughed. He acted like it was a normal goodbye. He gave a speech about how grateful he was to have met you, about how you changed his life, and about how you were the person who believed in him when nobody else did.
But everyone who knew Reo could see it. His smile never quite reached his eyes. Maybe it was a funeral instead of a party.
Years later, Reo would get everything his family wanted. He had the perfect image. If he had been a little braver, would you still be standing beside him?
Reo Mikage got everything everyone expected him to have. The Mikage family name grew stronger.
The businesses expanded even more and his reputation became exactly what his parents had always wanted.
He was the perfect heir, the perfect businessman, and the perfect representation of their family.
But ironically, the thing that made him happiest had nothing to do with any of that. It was his family
He had moved on and had a family of his own, being married to a wonderful person who supported him. He had moved on from you.
There were mornings when Reo would wake up to the sound of laughter echoing through his home.
And small hands grabbing onto him, demanding his attention before he had even finished his coffee.
There were messy breakfasts, toys left scattered around the house, and someone reminding him that he was supposed to stop checking emails during family time.
And every time, Reo would smile. This was the life he once thought he would never get to have. He was truly happy. He loved his family.
He loved the person beside him. He loved the life he created.
But sometimes, when the house grew quiet, his mind wandered. And somehow, it always went back to you.
He would practically laugh about how idiotic he was being back then with you, but he still felt hurt and knew he had really loved you. He wondered, where are you now?
The luxury hotel lobby was teeming with international business leaders, but Reo Mikage noticed you instantly.
You were standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, holding a glass of champagne, laughing at something a colleague had said.
You looked older and more breathtaking.
Reo’s feet moved before his mind could stop them, his tailored suit clicking softly as he walked toward you.
“Excuse me,” his voice cut through your conversation, familiar and smooth.
You turned around. Your eyes widened slightly in surprise, but you didn't look afraid.
You didn't look hurt. You looked at him like an old friend.
“Reo,” you breathed, a polite smile gracing your lips. “It’s been a long time.”
“It has,” he replied, his heart hammering against his ribs shock to see that you were in-front of him, when yesterday he wondered where you could’ve been.
He took in the sight of you—the confidence in your posture, the sophisticated air you carried, the absolute lack of the doubt that used to plague you at his family's events.
“Well look at you, I’m guessing you finally got that job.”
“Yes, I did,” you laughed at the remark Reo made. “Thank you, I heard about the Mikage expansion in the European Market—Congratulations. Your parents must be thrilled.”
“They are,” he said, a faint, self-deprecating smile touching his lips. “They got exactly what they wanted.”
There was a brief, heavy silence between you. It wasn't the suffocating silence of your breakup, but the quiet acknowledgment of a lifetime that had passed between you.
“And you?” Reo asked, his voice dropping slightly, genuine curiosity bleeding through his businessman facade. “Are you happy?”
You smiled, and this time, the warmth reached your eyes completely. “I am, Reo. Truly. I have a wonderful life. I hope you are doing okay too, you shouldn’t feel bad about what you did—I truly understand why you had too.”
Before he could answer, a man stepped up beside you, casually placing a hand on the small of your back.
He didn't look like a billionaire, but his attire did seem like he was a worker, maybe a lawyer?
“Honey, the car is here,” the man said gently, before turning to Reo with a polite nod. “Hello.”
“Reo, this is my husband,” you introduced him, your voice filled with pride from introducing him to him.
Reo felt a familiar, thud in his chest, but it was quickly swallowed by a profound sense of relief.
He extended his hand, shaking your husband's firmly. “Nice to meet you. I was just catching up with an old friend.”
Your husband shook his hand back, “Nice meeting you Mr.Mikage, congratulations on getting ambassadors sign the contract for your company buisness.”
“Thank you Mr….?” Reo trailed of asking for his name, “Its Mr. Kagami, Mr.Reo”
“We should go,” you told your husband, before looking back at Reo one last time. “It was good to see you, Reo. Take care of yourself.”
“You too,” he whispered.
He watched as you walked away, your hand slipping effortlessly into your husband's as you exited the hotel.
Reo stood there for a long moment, watching the glass doors slide shut.
He wasn't heartbroken at all, he felt happy seeing you make it to your dreams.
Then he pulled out his phone, looking at a picture of his own children messily eating pancakes from that morning.
He smiled. You had both made it out of the trope alive.
You had both found your happiness.
･ ༝ ･ Oliver Aiku
Oliver Aiku was never the kind of person expected to settle down. Everyone knew his reputation—the endless flirting, the chaotic parties, and that slicked-back, effortless charm.
But Aiku loved you, you two first met at some random party you had been dragged to, where he immediately decided to hit on you.
You remember not wanting to give in but he made you laugh so much that night than you noticed his eyes falling in-love the more you laughed, you jokingly commented, “you have a way with words.” In which he just smirked and whispered into your ear, making you laugh once more.
One thing led to another and the both of you ended up dating eachother.
You knew his background, but despite his notorious past, before everything became official.
He completely stopped being a womanizer just to spend all his free time in his apartment with you, watching you lounge around wearing his oversized shirts.
You would sit on his bed, leaning your back against his broad chest while he softly hummed, absentmindedly playing with your fingers before leaning down to kiss you and dragging the blanket completely over your heads to hide from the world.
That affection was never the question or the problem of the relationship.
The real problem was that love simply wasn’t enough, especially when someone wasn't ready to grow up.
The pregnancy wasn’t something either of you had planned. It was unexpected and terrifying.
You were consistently taking your birth control pills, so a pregnancy scare was never supposed to be an actual problem, right? The reality of it was completely life-changing and it scared you to shit, your family reaction and especially Oliver’s.
The apartment smelled faintly of the rain outside, the dim afternoon light filtering through the blinds in dull, gray shadows.
Oliver had just come back from a grueling team training session, his duffel bag dropping onto the entryway floor with a heavy thud that made you flinch.
He was laughing joking about what happened in practice today, as he walked into the living room, his hair damp from the shower, completely wrapped in that, charm that usually made your heart melt.
But the moment his eyes landed on you sitting completely rigid on the edge of the couch and your leg was shaking from bouncing it up and down, his smile faltered.
You were holding a small plastic stick tightly in your hand, your knuckles white from the pressure.
You had been staring at it for an hour, your mind racing through a blur of multiple thoughts that were swallowing you, it was too late to get an abortion and about the birth control pills you never missed, desperately wishing the two solid lines would magically fade away.
“Hey,” Oliver said softly, his voice losing its usual playful lilt as he slowly crossed the hardwood floor.
He dropped to his knees right in front of you, his large, calloused hands gently taking yours to look up into your face. “What’s that face for? Look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
You couldn't even speak. Your throat felt entirely tight, blocked by a heavy wave of nausea and sheer panic.
Without a word, you loosened your grip and let the positive pregnancy test slide into his palm.
Oliver looked down at it. For a long, agonizing moment, the only sound in the apartment was the ticking of the wall clock and the steady patter of raindrops against the windowpane.
The confidence he always wore like a second skin completely vanished. His eyes widened, and his jaw tensing as he stared at the two lines, his thumbs trembling slightly against your fingers.
The guy who lived his life completely in control of his body and his choices in his life cannot, outrun or outplay what he is currently seeing.
“Are you… is this real?” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly as his teal eyes snapped up to meet yours.
He looked entirely pale, the reality hitting him like a physical blow. “But the pills—I thought we were safe.”
“We were supposed to be,” you managed to choke out, a hot tear finally slipping down your cheek. “Oliver, I’m scared. I am so scared.”
The panic in his eyes flared instantly, raw and suffocating, but he desperately tried to force his signature confident smile back onto his face.
He scrambled up onto the couch beside you, pulling you into his chest with a sudden, tight urgency.
He buried his face in your hair, his hands rubbing your back in quick, frantic motions as he tried to convince himself just as much as he was trying to convince you.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his heart hammering violently against your ear. “I’ve got you, babe. It’s okay. We’re adults, right? We can do this. I’ll figure it out. I’ll talk to the club, I’ll do better, I swear I will. I won't let you carry this alone.”
You leaned heavily against him, wrapping your arms around his neck, crying so loudly while he hold you tightly and kissing your cheek to soothe you. You desperately wanted to believe the promises he was whispering into your skin.
You wanted to believe that the man who loved you would stay right there in the trenches with you.
But even as he held you, you could also feel how terrified he was.
You could feel the underlying terror of a man who suddenly felt his freedom slipping away, a man who wasn't ready to be anyone's father.
And deep down, in the quiet spaces of your heart, you already knew that this was the exact moment the running began.
While you both were technically adults responsible for your choices, the sudden weight of the situation hit Aiku harder than he ever wanted to admit to you.
Because suddenly, he wasn’t just Oliver Aiku the famous football player—the guy who could freely chase whatever he wanted.
He desperately wanted to support you and grow as a person, but the thought of actually becoming someone’s father scared the absolute shit out of him.
He panicked.
At first, he made countless promises that he would change. He held you tight and swore that he would figure it out, do better, and step up to the plate. You wanted to believe him.
You really did, because this was the man you loved with all your heart, the same man who used to hold your hand tightly and tell you everything would be okay.
But promises only mattered when real actions followed them.
Aiku miserably struggled to keep up with the incoming reality, choosing to bury his panic in absolute silence.
He began to excuse himself from the house. Training quickly became a convenient excuse to stay away, and his football matches turned into an emotional escape. The late nights and the parties didn’t stop immediately either.
Every single time you confronted him about his absence, he would apologize over and over, promising that the next time would be different.
He would look at you with vulnerable eyes and admit that he was just terrified, that he had no idea what he was doing, and that he would get better.
But you couldn’t raise a newborn child on empty promises. You needed someone who would actually stay—someone who would stand by your side when things got difficult.
The absolute hardest part of it all was that you knew he loved your child.
You knew he did, deep down. But love from a distance didn’t change the fact that you were the one waking up alone in the middle of the night to soothe a crying baby.
You were the one learning how to navigate motherhood entirely by yourself. You were the one carrying the crushing weight of the responsibility because he simply wasn’t ready to face his fears. And having to deal with post-partum depression, plus people who kept on criticizing and mocking you.
Your family urged you and Oliver to tie the knot, they also didn’t stop with their passive remarks about your mistake.
Eventually, you stopped waiting for him to man up and start staying, it was best to let him go…you were tired of dealing with him. You stopped hoping that one day he would suddenly wake up and become the responsible person he kept promising to be.
You realized you couldn’t keep building a life around someone who kept running away from it. So, you left.
When you walked out the door, you made your boundaries entirely clear to him.
You told him firmly not to show his face to you, and not to come back crawling when he suddenly decided he was finally ready to be a father.
You told him that you would keep in contact solely for the child's sake, but warned him never to come back crying and begging on his knees to be a father and be a husband to you, you won’t let him.
Aiku remembered those parting words vividly because they cut him to the core. They hurt immensely because they were entirely true.
He had been the one who pushed you away. He had been the one who disappeared when things got real.
He had been the one who foolishly convinced himself that staying away was somehow protecting you both from his shortcomings.
But really, he was just a coward pathetic person, who was terrified of failing. Instead of facing that fear, he ran. And by running, he lost precious years that he could never get back.
Years later, Aiku saw his child. It wasn’t in person, but rather a simple family photograph posted online. It was a picture of you, your little girl, and another man.
Aiku stared at the glowing screen for a painfully long time.
Because right there, captured in a single frame, was the exact life he was supposed to have. It was the moment he was supposed to be a part of. His child was smiling brightly, looking incredibly happy and entirely safe.
It completely broke him to realize that his daughter was calling another man “Dad.”
Someone else had been there for all the monumental moments he had missed.
Someone else witnessed her very first steps and heard her first spoken words. Someone else got to celebrate the birthdays, soothe her on the bad days, and cheer for her on the good days. Someone picked her up from school and took her for ice cream.
Another man had stepped up to become the father he should have been.
Aiku understood that he fucked up and what his fear had cost him.
He had spent years running under the impression that he needed more time, more career preparation, and more proof that he could handle the pressure of fatherhood.
But life never worked like that, there’s no pause button. You had to choose and live with that decision you made.
The worst, most agonizing part of looking at the photo was that his daughter looked so much like him.
She had the exact same facial expressions, the same effortless smile, and the inherent his eyes including his charm. You texted him about how your daughter suddenly got many suitors with small boys offering letters to her but she’ll just ignore them and move on.
It made him laugh, hearing that.
She was a tiny, beautiful piece of himself that he had completely abandoned because he let fear win.
Aiku sat alone in the quiet room,
Then, his eyes caught the caption of the photo, and his chest tightened until he could barely breathe.
You had given her the exact name you used to whisper in his ear late at night when the two of you were still tangled in his bedsheets.
Back then, he would playfully argue with you, teasing that your first child was going to be a boy, but you would always laugh and remind him that your family was known for having girls first.
Seeing that name under the photo—and seeing another man stepping in to live out the exact future you had dreamed of with him—hurt more than any loss he had ever faced on the pitch.
Written by Jammy. Please do not copy and paste or feed my work into an AI. This was completely written by hand, thank you for stopping by and reading!
KAISER gets nightmares
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ib this 𓏻 kinda ooc
kaiser was a hothead in every aspect of his life.
to his friends, to his teammates, to his coach and most definitely to his rivals.
but he tried his best not to be like that with you.
you his precious, beautiful, innocent eyed girlfriend who he refused to have live in fear of him the same way he used to be in fear of his father.
he couldn’t have that.
he was lucky enough that as hot headed as he was, you never held what he did against him, never made him feel bad and held your own against his attacks knowing it’s coming from a place of hurt.
he would never do anything. to jeopardize the home and the sacuntary he built in the presence and because of you.
yet and still he couldn’t help what his subconscious does, can he?
time to time kaiser would get nightmares, after a long day, a rough game, one too many missed goals at practice or the opposing team scored in the last minutes of a match he wanted to be a wipeout you name it.
but you could always tell, just when enough was able to tip him off that day to ruin your night.
when kaiser went to sleep, it was no telling how he would wake up, what emotion he would be feeling or what dream he would have. i mean like anyone else right?
and just like every few months when his day was exceptionally bad, kaiser had a night terror.
his body was squishing in bed, his arm tightened around you, his accent deepened as he cursed out in german and trashed along side the bed until your hand smoothed down the back of his bed hair, and shushed him.
his eyes flew open, grabbing your wrist that was rubbing him and froze, his piercing blue eyes slowly got used to the dark as his chest gasped for breath for what felt like the first time in minutes.
his eyes adjusted and they caught the outline of your face, the light tremor in your hand and the way you bit your lip out of nervousness.
“shit..”
“es ist schon wieder passiert?” (it happens again?)
“i’m sorry.” he murmured sleepily, letting go of your wrist and engulfing your entire body in his warmth, “don’t be scared.”
you both laid there in silence for what felt like hours, his hand rubbing the back of your head subconsciously, which you knew he wouldn’t remember in the morning from his sleepy consciousness.
and soon enough, his breathing evened out, his hand stopped it movement and he was still again. and finally maybe an hour later, crushed against his chest you were able to find some solice and sleep too.
other nights you’re not as lucky.
some nights, kaiser asked from his terror and still thinks he’s there.
his breath would be caught in his throat, his eyes wild and he would pin you away from his body before he fully recognized what was going on.
and tonight was no different, just that this time he was angry.
he rolled out of bed on the floor, head clutched in his hands as he tried to make sense of this.
“micheal…”
“don’t.”
“but it’s okay—”
your voice whispered, eyes stinging with tears watching how he hates himself for having another terror, as if he could help it.
“you don’t know that” he seethed as he started pacing, “das ist totaler schwachsinn. und du hilfst damit überhaupt nicht” (this is some bullshit. and youre not helping!)
he scrunched his hands in his hair, letting out a scream before his eyes settled on the moon glaring back at him from the window.
“micheal…”, and hearing the way your voice cracked in the middle of the darkness, he’d look up eyes scouring your face as he felt his hands get peaked away from his face.
“i did this…again.”
“but i’m not scared…i just want you to be okay..”
and that’s when kaiser realized the difference, he thought he was scarred and flawed, his fathers son through and through.
he didn’t instill fear in you, he just had the fear of himself losing control and losing you.
𑣲 ── .✦ ⋮ A/N: i made this at midnight instead of sleeping ,, please excuse and ignore any imperfections or typos ,,, i was listening to an angst playlist while writing this so i was FEELING IT
𑣲 ── .✦ ⋮ contents/warnings: angst, this is disgustingly self indulgent, might be ooc, forbidden love sorta, “right person not enough time” type of shit, oneshot (a prequel is plausible but highly unlikely), reader is YEARNING, bittersweet(?) ending
𑣲 ── .✦ ⋮ wc: 5.1k
you and loki always had a complicated history. From the moment your eyes had connected to one another, your souls intertwined and attached, to the moment the two of you had to say your goodbyes.
you had always been a sweet person. Despite being in a psychologically demanding and unstable project like blue lock, you still hadn’t lost yourself. Not outside the field, atleast.
and with all of that, you were still an insanely skilled player. Your fire burned and engulfed any hope for the opposing team, with your almost superhuman ability to foresee what has not happened, alongside your impressive weapon of being able to adapt to your teammates skill level, becoming the perfect catalyst for successful duo attacks.
you had always been a good match to your fortunate teammates. That was something loki always liked about you. With his god like speed, it was hard to ever keep up with him. He always ran farther than everyone else, leaving them in the dust, his mannerisms and demeanor as beautifully displayed as he always was.
You had never thought that, one day, he’d have ran so far, he’d leave even you in his shadow. Never thought that you’d be stuck looking at his back, stuck wondering whether he’d ever look back at you again.
you forced yourself out of your endless stream of thoughts as you heard one of your teammates call out your name. It was almost funny, you had thought it would’ve been loki to yell out that name. Yeah, It would’ve been amusing, had it not been excruciating.
“dude, are ya okay?” karasu chirped, his gaze slightly jumping from your other confused teammates to then back to you.
“pull yourself together, [name].” you had thought to yourself, your smile as fake and yet as reassuring as your words,
“hm? oh yeah- haha, sorry! that’s my bad, man. Ugh, i’d be lying if i said i wasn’t hungry as shit, tho.” you said, your voice full of confidence and energy, that relaxed the people you called your friends. They laughed, their laughter like knives seeping into your skin and intoxicating your blood.
it should have been loki who was laughing with you. He for sure wouldn’t have been, his sharp eyes stilling and calculating, observing your behavior with an intimacy so deep it felt raw, catching onto your specious behavior almost immediately.
he would’ve opened his mouth with such sharpness it almost would’ve disguised itself as gentle, his words as beautifully spoken and articulated as he was,
“your words are as fake as your actions, [name]. If you do not wish to speak, that is fine. Be that as it may, i do wish for you to tell me.” he would’ve said, words as honeyed and sweet as he was, his voice-
“[name]? ya sure yer fine? Yer really out of it. Wanna sit this practice out?” karasu had interrupted your internal dialogue yet again, his voice even more pressing than they once were. You felt agitated, wishing to spend even one more second with the now fleeting image of someone you once thought of as your beloved.
The façade you constantly put on yourself almost slipped away, your first thought being to tell him to depart your personal space immediately. You constrained yourself, a deceiving smile drowning your hesitation, the words coming out of your mouth as disgustingly artifice as the next,
“would that be alright? ‘m feeling a bit dizzy, haha! guess i really should get something in my system, huh?” you exclaimed, your voice as soft and convincing as your words, which earned you a solicitous shared look between karasu and nanase. You could read their faces like it were yours, their thoughts like it were flowing through *your* mind.
“yes- yes, definitely! go, go! ya need to take care of yourself more, y’know? We’re really close to our match against france, and we wouldn’t want our top midfielder hurling over mid game against france!” nanase rambled, his words reassuring yet as puncturing and dreadful as reality.
you had almost forgotten. So wrapped up and tangled around your own heart, you had let slipped between the threads knotted between it that you were close to seeing loki again. To hear his sweet words, to see the honey colored eyes you had grown to love too much, to feel his overwhelmingly satisfactory presence yet again.
it brought back poignant memories. The very specific smell he elicited, which you’d be able to differentiate from even the same cologne he wore. It simply smelled different when he wore it, as if it became his, merging with his skin and arousing it with a scent so specific it was hard to miss. Julian loki had always been hard to miss.
his presence always made known in every room he strides into, demeanor nonchalant nevertheless confident. Calculating eyes swarming and intimidating, he had always been as fascinating as he was overawing.
Your legs forced themselves into movement, your swift and steady motion fooling anyone who thought you were driving yourself into an unending tornado of thoughts into redirecting it to assuming you were merely enervated.
if loki had been here, he wouldn’t have been fooled. He would’ve seen through the movement, and right into your mind, his eyes sharp and intense. He would’ve intercepted your thoughts, untangling them as he was taking care of you, making sure each knot was undone as carefully as the last, his speech anodyne, eyes carefully undressing your pent up feelings, just like he had done time and time again, his hands soothing and warm, glowing just as brightly and congenial as he did.
you let out a breath you hadn’t known you were holding as you finally let go of the pedestal you constantly put yourself on, letting yourself exist as you were while your fists dug into themselves. You dragged a hand across your face as your body had enmeshed itself with your state of mind, completely giving up on itself as you forced yourself up against a wall, sliding down and trying to hold yourself together, the pins you were using to hold your endless ocean of threads wrapped around your feelings slowly losing their strength.
you stared ahead, your legs rendered as useless as your thoughts. All that surrounded your consciousness was loki. How he would’ve reacted. How he would’ve helped, or handled you. How he would’ve touched your hard chest, or how he would’ve taken your mind into another realm devoid of all thoughts, allowing your beings to clash and merge, slowly becoming one, just as your souls had, implicated together, destined to meet, yet also ineluctably, inexorably and inescapably bound to walk your separate ways, the knots and strings and unspoken thoughts falling back into each other the more the two of you drove apart from one another.
Both inexplicably and undeniably each others, yet unable to allow yourselves to marinate in it. You forced yourself back into your feet, shaking away any remaining thoughts of you and loki away, before you had been drowned by guilt immediately after. How dare you try and forget your beloved, somebody who had such a massive impact on you and your life, who permanently changed the entire course of your life simply by being present in it?
how dare you try to set aside the thought of your sun? you’d had almost forgotten the transitory frustration that you had held just moments before, now choking on your own guilt. You almost felt stupid for feeling grateful, feeling yourself missing the feeling of being overwhelmed by your thoughts, before abruptly reminding yourself of the dreadful reality that loki wasn’t here to help you out of it this time.
what you had truly missed was not the engulfing sensation of the words and bitter memories that completely flooded your inner rumination, but the soothing words that loki would’ve drifted into your mind, letting them seep in and calm your soul to the sound of his. The soft tap of his fingers against your hand, his demeanor calming and gentle, it was as if his soul existed to comfort yours, and yours had existed to be held by his.
you let out a groan as your body forced itself to move, clouded by your thoughts and emotions. It was as if the two of them had come together and merged, just as you and loki once did. You were at the pinnacle of misery, completely stuck in your head, resonating within your soul, too far from the one you had entangled yourself with to let yourself live like you once had.
you’d finally gotten yourself into a place where your body could rest, where you were now only left with your mess of a mind. Too deep into your feelings, you had simply allowed your daydreams and memories to unfold, each bittersweet and painfully adoring. Like the memory of his the softness of his lips when it connected itself to yours, or how unraveled he had seemed afterwards, as if he needed more of you, his nonchalant expression turning itself into one of need.
Or the one where you’d walk into his neo egoist league coach office, provided by ego, where you distinctly remember the scent. Woody and cold, had it been. You walked into it blind and unknowing, only having done so due to a bet flamed up by none other than charles. Yet, you had found yourself enjoying your time you spent alongside him, speaking to loki and conversing as if the two of you had always known each other. You had helped him with updating the players stats, pointing out the areas they needed to work on. His eyes staring at yours, and all he could find himself thinking about was how beautifully soothing and satisfying your voice was. He wished for you to speak more.
It had been quite an astonishing experience for him to have that thought enter his mind, as he had never even entertained the idea of thinking such things about somebody else. Much less somebody like you, always performing and putting yourself on a pedestal. He had noticed the minute he had laid his eyes on you, how you always forced the sweetest words you could muster from
your limited vocabulary. At the time, he had found it strange how different it seemed when you spoke to him. It was like those sweet words he grew to be distasteful of made an abrupt turn and tangled themselves in his heart, hearing how honest they seemed when they were directed at him, how easily they seemed to flow out of your mouth, like an endless stream of honey-laced words.
He had always thought of you as somebody who faked who they were, making themselves out to be sweet in order for conversations to smooth easier, in order for confrontations to never happen, yet that never seemed to have occur around him. When it came to him, you were authentic, and he could tell that the gentle speech you used was from the heart, not something you had fabricated seconds before in order to keep your image intact.
or the memory you had of the first kiss the two of you shared. Alone in his office, you were simply having a conversation, whom had slowly turned itself into a comfortable silence, his golden eyes staring words into your mind, as if your souls had reached out to each other in that moment and exchanged a part of themselves. Slowly yet softly, his hand came up to touch your cheek, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a sorry attempt to hold himself back.
The moment you had melted into his touch, however, was the moment all remaining composure and restraint he had had completely left his system. He pulled you in, pausing right at your lips, letting you feel his soft breath against them, albeit, shortly afterwards he gave up the teasing and merged your lips together, slightly tilting his face in order to do so. The moment you had tasted him, and he had tasted you, it was as if the two of you were glued together. You tasted faintly of strawberry, sweet and addicting. He, on the other hand, had you pick up a taste of fresh mint. He pushed you further against the couch the two of you were sitting on, his hand starting to wander.
you suddenly forced that memory out. It was too much, too deeply embedded into your being for you to relive yet again without having to survive the inevitable nostalgia and bittersweetness that drowned everything else out shortly after. You let out a shaky breath as you allowed yourself to close your eyes, trying and failing to not reminisce on who you once were, slowly falling into a state of unconsciousness, letting your need for sleep take over as your thoughts clashed and bruised, louder than you could handle.
you had been woken up by a familiar voice. For a second, you had thought it was him - and opened your eyes so quickly, still having been heavy with sleep, they closed every few second before you forced them fully awake, just to be sourly mistaken with the unfortunate sight of seeing nanase. You had felt almost angry at yourself for daring to let the thought even cross your mind, not registering the sound of the dark haired boy’s words, as you suddenly got snapped back to reality and started taking them into account.
“hey? [name]? you okay? Anyways, i was just waking you up since it’s time for breakfast. cmon, up!” he chirped, making the hand movement which suggested getting up.
You yawned, slowly forcing yourself out of bed as you breathed out a sarcastic, “yes, mom.”, a giggle involuntarily escaping you, which earned a laugh from nanase at yourself antics, whatever leftover worry from the other day completely dissipated.
The two of you rushed to the cafeteria, where you had taken your food anticipatedly, barely being able to wait as you took a bite the minute it came within your vicinity. Yet, you couldn’t truly enjoy it. Every so often, your mind drifted to this morning, and how much you had wished it was loki who had woken you up, his soft hands gently shaking you awake, the first thing you register being his honey-laced voice coaxing you awake as delicately as he could manage, as that was what he had learned from the many times he had been around you, treating you with such tenderness, as if you were the most precious thing in his possession.
lokis pov
he let out a sigh as he sat down on the field after training, letting the bone-deep exhaustion settle into him. He couldn’t help but let his thoughts wander and start thinking about how you’d have massaged his sore spots, a genuine smile on your face as he allowed himself to finally relax around another being that is not himself for once. Carrying such big responsibilities on his shoulders constantly, he truly sees himself in you.
he was distastefully disrupted from his reminiscing as a familiar voice chimed in, far too childish and annoying to be yours, giggling, “ohhhhh~ loki’s deep in thought! is it about his precious [name], i wonder?” charles excitedly and mischievously let out, fully expecting the nasty glare that was shot at him.
loki let out another sigh, but this time it shook. He had missed you. Missed the way your light shone itself into the fundamental pavement of his days, forever changing his opinion on love entirely. Missed how you’d woven yourself into every aspect of his life, and yet he hated how you did just the same. He hated thinking about you while he was eating, wishing you were eating alongside him.
Hated thinking about how you’d touch him while he was massaging his shoulder. Hated thinking about how you’d have send him the perfect pass when he received a sloppy one from his teammate. He hated it for the sole reason that the knew it was something that he could no longer expect, something he longed to experience with the excruciating knowledge that it’d never come back.
all he could do was sit there in his own thoughts, drowning in the words he had not spoken, choking on the thoughts that were merely communicated through your eyes. God, your eyes. They were the most beautiful things he’d ever laid eyes on, always searching for him, just like he did you. As if the two of you were so deeply imbedded into one another, your souls naturally drove each other back together.
he both was impatient for the fateful day where he’d see you again, and also dreadful of it. How would you react seeing him? would you still look at him with the same ambition and devotion you once did? would you ignore him, having somebody new who you’d woven into your being? Would you look for him, and then start regretting having ever met him?
he snapped himself out of those thoughts. No, you’re you. You wouldn’t- couldn’t have changed. Surely, you’d still look at him with such adoration glinting in your eyes. You’d play against him with the same passion and determination you once did. He groaned, getting up and striding past charles, his thoughts constantly moving and clouding themselves in his mind. It was as if from the moment the two of you had shared that first look in the beginning of the neo egoist league, your fates were sealed. From the first time your eyes had glanced and stopped at each other, it was like his name was temporarily written next to yours in the scripture of destiny.
He had never been the type to believe in superstitions such as souls or anything of the sort, however, that was one of the many things that changed when he had met you. It was as if his soul was tugging at him, bringing the two of you closer and closer everytime it did. It was as if his soul was lost in a realm devoid of all emotions and thoughts when he did not have you around. He missed you more than any words could ever express, missed you more than language could comprehend. It was as if you’d taken a look at his extraordinary life, and had decided to tie yourself to everything he ever did.
He had truly never realized how many things the two of you had done together until you were gone. he had always shared his melas with you, gotten used to your passes during training, gotten too familiar with the way you press your back against his chest when the two of you are showering together. His teeth seeped into your skin, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to leave a mark. You squealed, jumping slightly from the sudden pain.
you stared at him with a blank expression before he burst out laughing, gently pulling you closer to him as he kissed you in place of a proper apology, your hand traveling to grasp at the back of his head, deepening the kiss. His arms wrapped themselves around your waist, as if they had known exactly where you needed them, as if the two of you had seen each other completely, seen through all of what you are to join together and make a new ‘you’.
He let out a huff as he settled down on a seat, the thoughts relentless and aggressive. The polar opposite of you, truly. You had always been a sweet person, and maybe that was how you’d gotten yourself so deeply involved with him. He had no idea how you’d managed to get through to him this hard, him - someone who considers himself a cold, unrelenting force when it comes to having people he actually accepts as close to him. Being constantly put on a pedestal by him and others, having an entire countries hopes and expectations put on his shoulders - it was heavy. And yet, when he was around you, none of that existed anymore. It was just the two of you, existing as one being.
you squinted your eyes as the light of the stadium hit your eyes. Your heart was beating so quickly, it was almost laughable. You walked into the field, being welcome into a stadium full of people. People full of ambitions and expectations. Immediately, you had felt a pressure so strong it almost made you turn around right then and there. But before you got fully temped in doing so, you had caught a glimpse of your beloved; his golden eyes and overawing presence that you had grown to love, julian loki. Your eyes locked onto him, as if they couldn’t help but immediately seal themselves onto him.
You wanted to slap yourself for allowing thoughts like that to even enter your state of mind. You needed to concentrate on the game, not loki. However, it’d be an understatement to say that the feeling of his gaze following you wherever you went wasn’t an indescribable pleasure. You’d wished for him to look at you, for your souls to come clashing again, to fully absorb one another and get lost in each other’s presence so deeply you could barely tell which one was who. Devoid of identity and thoughts, simply existing as two organisms in a quiet space envisioned solely for the two of you.
such an intimate and precious thing, the two of you had once been. You wished you could go back. You wished, deeply, for the times where the two of you could laugh together. Where the two of you held each other, with no care or concern for the outside world’s expectations. A place where the two of you could wove each other deeper into one another, a realm that is shed bare and designed solely for the environment that you two’ll create for each other.
you let out a sigh, trying to empty your head as you got into your position. You looked around, trying to avoid looking at loki as best as you could, however to no avail, as you couldn’t resist the temptation to steak a glance, that turned into a staring match between the two of you. You couldn’t stop the smile that crept onto your face, where loki smiled back.
In that moment, only the two of you existed. The cheers from the other side of the stadium were muted, including the noises of your teammates speaking to each other. You couldn’t care less, truly. You wanted to reach out to him, to touch his soft skin again, to feel his hands run down your body while his soft golden eyes admired you with such tenderness it felt comical. To think that you’d render *the* julian loki into a lovesick boy, finally feeling like he was his age.
you two stared at each other, feeling each others gaze soak into your minds and intoxicating yourselves of all rational thoughts. In that moment, the same thought had come into your state of being; the plea for the two of you to come back. For him to come back to you. For you to come back to you. For the two of you to lace each other in your love, finally being together once again.
you stared at the number of defeat ahead of you. Blue lock had lost the match. Much distastefully, you had lost 4-2. You sighed, already starting to try and distract yourself with something else, like reassuring your teammates. Despite that, all that truly shot through your head and intoxicating yourselves your consciousness was how badly you wanted to see loki. How badly you wanted to reach out onto your own feelings and knot yourself further so that he’d feel more inclined to fix you, to take care of you with the gentleness he carried when he touched you, to be able to look at your state of being and instead of being repulsed, he is drawn in.
you sighed as you walked into the hallway, before you abruptly stopped yourself as you instantly registered the voice of the boy who had just called out your name. “[name]! just wait, could you?” he let out, catching up to you and having an unreadable expression on his face. You wanted to completely break down, to have him hold you and kiss your worries away, for him to pull you into him and make you melt against him. But you held yourself back, finally speaking again.
“oh- hi, julian.” you settled on saying, unsure of what to ask or what to tell him. Your eyes connected to his, intense and unsure. He paused, completely mesmerized by you. You’d always been such a sight to behold, and even now, after all this time. He reached out to you, his fingers itching to be touched by yours. To feel your warmth, to feel your being rest against his, to have his entire body and heart devoted solely to you. He then abruptly jerked his hand back, memories of you flooding his mind.
“hi, [name]. How’ve you been?” he had finally spoken. You froze, his sweet voice finally entering your ears as you registered how beautiful it was. You had almost forgotten, in the time it had been, just how soothing and comfortable it was. It had been as if no time spilled between the two of you, as if there was still a ‘you’ in the first place. You wanted to give yourself up, to completely let yourself be overwhelmed with his love, to allow him to get too close to you yet again.
“i’m- good, yeah.. um, good.” you had etched out of your throat, the words spilling out of you as if they had been predetermined. You couldn’t stop the next sentence you had spoken, letting your true feelings seep through the words you couldn’t swallow,
“i’ve just been.. missing you, i guess.” you had said, your hand reaching to the back of your neck in a sorry attempt at calming yourself down. He almost felt agitated at the fact that he ever even considered letting go of you - irritated at himself for ever entertaining the idea, for as he was looking at you now, all he could see is all he ever wanted. He stared at you, at the way your mannerisms and attitude never left you.
the one he grew to love to death, the one that he’d find himself seeking out, despite once being annoyed by it. He had truly expected anything but this. To think that somebody like you would become so deeply imbedded into his identity to the point where you cannot have ‘him’ if it does not include you. To think you carved your name so deeply in the cycle of his life that even the concept of not meeting you seemed outrageous, comical even. He wanted to reach out you, and to feel what you are feeling. He wants to seek out and to find. He needs to feel you against him once again.
“i missed you too.”, he had finally spoken through the thoughts he couldn’t gulp down. Through the words he couldn’t get himself to choke on, letting them spill one after another, as if there were nowhere for them to go except for into your mind. You smiled at him, and it had almost killed him. Something as perfect and beautiful as you couldn’t possibly exist, he had found himself thinking time and time again. The more you moved, the more he seemed to crave you. Every breath you drew served as fuel to the fire. He wanted to engulf you in his being, to touch your messy feelings, to have them completely out in the open and slowly taken care of by him. He wants to accept you whole, to have you show your real unfiltered self to him.
“guess that makes the two of us, huh?” you finally said, walking closer to him. You wanted to jump on him, to coax him into coming back to you, to let him completely forget who he was and immerse himself in you. You gestured to the side, making it known that you were about to sit down against the wall. Which you did, feeling your back slide against it as you looked back up at him. He laughed, a rare smile creeping itself onto his face as he scooted himself over to your side, sitting right next to you.
the two of you did not speak. Rather, you let your thoughts go rampage in your minds, as if the flow of your words couldn’t get themselves out of your mouths. You remained silent, wishing to relish in his presence for even a second longer. To have his propinquity overwhelm you for even a few more fleeting moments. You wished to let your heart merge with his, to have your mind devoid of any remaining worries and emotions. To only being able to acknowledge him.
you let your exhaustion be shown, resting your head against his shoulder. He looked down at you, his heart beating irrationally quickly. He had never thought he’d ever find himself in such a perplexing situation. He’d always thought of himself as ‘better’ than that, as if he’d been too far up on his own exaltation to even consider letting somebody share it with him. In the last fleeting moments the two of you had shared, just feeling yourself rest against him was enough. More than enough.
you wished to stay here forever. To let him take you somewhere where time did not pass, where the two of you could exist as one for the rest of eternity. You wished to never have to face the outside world again. Simply being with him was enough to satisfy your soul. The sole thing your soul had ever desired was him. Everything about him had always so polished and perfect, it was hard to even imagine that you’d ever break away from him. As if your quintessence has had always meant to be together, as if the two of you simply could not go back to exist as simply each other after you had met. Too deeply entangled together, and too deeply knotted.
for now, however, you just needed him. Needed him to stay with you, to let you feel his warmth just a little longer.
It was all you wanted. He was all you wanted. Whether that be in the past, present or future: that truth will never change. Your souls will keep craving and desiring each other, yearning to be by each other’s side, eternally. And maybe you’d grown to love that a bit too much.
𐔌՞. .՞𐦯 . I've always wanted to tell you...Itoshi Sae
I Sypnosis: You've had a crush on him since day one, when you first laid your eyes on him. But you were confused between admiration and love. You've always wanted to tell him how you feel, but you've never quite found the courage to ever tell him, about the things you wanted to say.
Pt I. Pt. II. Pt. III. Ending !
II. Sae, help me figure it out
It was the middle of summer. The afternoon heat wrapped around everything like a blanket. I lay sprawled across my bed with the electric fan blasting directly at my face while the windows stayed wide open, hoping even the tiniest breeze would wander inside.
“Dear Lord… please make Mom turn on the air conditioner… please…”
Mom peeked through my bedroom door and clicked her tongue.
“Goodness… your room is a mess.”
I groaned dramatically.
“I’ll clean it later…”
“You’ve been saying that for three days.”
She picked up one of my shirts from the floor and held it between two fingers.
“Honestly, you’re like a little raccoon. Don’t you know how to fold your clothes?”
“…”
“And you’re already twelve. A young person and soon to be a teenager. Infact, you’ll be starting junior high soon.”
“…”
“Speaking of which…”
She folded her arms.
“Have you even started your summer worksheets?”
I immediately pulled my pillow over my head. Muffuling my groan and disdain from the bare mentioned of “summer worksheets”.
“…No.”
“I thought so.”
She sighed before pointing toward the living room.
“Then why don’t you go outside and play baseball with your dad?”
“I don’t want to.”
“And why not?”
“Baseball’s boring.”
“It’s better than lying in bed all day.”
“But, Mom…”
I pointed dramatically toward the living room.
“Dad isn’t doing anything either!”
She turned to look.
Sure enough…
Dad was lying flat on the floor with his arms spread wide like a starfish while a tiny electric fan blew pitifully across his face.
“Honey…”
He looked up with watery, pleading eyes.
“Honeeey…”
“Can we pleeease turn on the air conditioner?”
“No.”
“But it’s so hot…”
“It’s expensive.”
“But we’re doing fine financially!”
“Exactly.”
She smiled sweetly.
Whenever mom smiled that way it gave me goosebumps and that was a warning sign to dad to shut up and behave.
“And I’d like us to keep doing fine financially.”
Dad let out the saddest sigh I’d ever heard, to be honest, he was always like this.
“…So cruel.”
Mom ignored his dramatic suffering.
“If it’s really that unbearable, both of you can go outside.”
⸺
A few minutes later, Dad and I sat on the back porch in complete silence. Neither of us had the energy to move. Not even opening our eyes. A sweat bead rolled down my forehead.
“…Dad.”
“Hm?”
“Wanna play baseball?”
“No.”
“Me neither.”
“Wanna take a nap?” My dad said.
“…Yeah.”
We both nodded in unison while closing our eyes still suffering from the brutal heat of the summer. We were like dehydrated starfish out there. Not a single strong wind blew away the heat that we felt.
⸺
Several minutes passed.
Neither of us moved an inch and constant groaning were heard from us, mostly my dad who was acting pitiful for mom to finally open the air conditioner.
From inside the house, I could hear cupboards opening and closing and my mom’s footsteps.
⸺
Suddenly, the back door slid open.
“I turned on the air conditioner.”
Dad and I, immediately rosed up and looked at each other. With our eyes widened and smiling. Without another word, we both threw ourselves onto our knees. Bowing down to the great mother.
“Thank you, honey!”
“Thank you, Mom!”
“We’re forever in your debt!” We both said.
“You’re the greatest woman in the world!”
“The kindest and most merciful mother ever!”
Mom stared at the two of us. Then she sighed.
“You two…”
She walked over, lightly bonked both of us on the head……and pinched Dad’s ear.
“‘The greatest woman in the world?’”
She narrowed her eyes.
“So there are other women?”
Dad’s face immediately turned pale, realizing what he had said or how he worded it and whatever he responds clearly will get a reaction from mom.
“N-No! Honey! You’re the only one!”
“Mm-hmm.” My mom rolled her eyes.
“I swear!” My dad went on his knees and pleaded to my mom
She let go of his ear with one last flick.
“Good answer.”
Dad rubbed his ear dramatically while I tried—and failed—to hold back my laughter. This was a common occurrence in my household. Even so… I knew my mom well enough to notice the tiny smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she walked back inside.
Just as I was enjoying the cool air from the living room…
My phone buzzed.
Sae
| Wanna go to the park?
A smile found its way onto my face before I even realized it.
|Sure.
I slipped my phone into my pocket.
“Mom! I’m going to the park!”
“Okay! Be home before dinner!”
“I will!”
⸺
The cicadas buzzed endlessly beneath the summer sun. It was so hot that by the time I arrived, I was sweating and heaving on my way to the park. I saw Sae and smiled waving my hand at him. He was already sitting on one of the swings, lazily kicking the dirt with the tip of his shoe.
Then He looked up when he heard my footsteps. Then seeing my current situation, he gave me a concerned yet disgusted look but without saying a word, he held out a popsicle.
“Here.”
“For me?”
He nodded.
“I bought two.”
I smiled as I accepted it.
“Thanks.”
For a while, neither of us spoke. It was the normal for us to not talk whenever we were together. We simply sat on the swings, listening to children laugh on the playground while the chains creaked softly every time we moved.
“Hey.”
“Hm?”
“I probably won’t be hanging out much anymore.”
I turned toward him and blinked my eyes tilting my head slightly.
“Why?”
“My training’s getting harder.”
He stared at the melting popsicle in his hand.
“My coach said if I want to keep improving, I have to practice more and if I want to advance to get accepted internationally I’ll have to do more.”
“…Oh.”
“That means I’ll probably be busy after school too.”
“…”
“Sorry.” He said .
I quickly shook my head.
“No… it’s okay!”
And I meant it. This was Sae and knowing how important football is to him. Of course he’d choose football. I’d known that ever since we were kids. And that made me happy seeing him finally get to practice and play a ton, meaning he’ll even get more better!
Still…
For some reason…
The popsicle didn’t taste as sweet anymore.
The two of us sat there quietly until the sun slowly dipped below the trees. I never realized that this would become one of the few
ordinary afternoons we’d spend together.
⸺
Junior high had finally begun. It felt completely different from elementary school. The classrooms were bigger, the hallways were noisier, and students from several different elementary schools had all been mixed together.
Unfortunately…
Luck wasn’t on my side.
I ended up in a class where I didn’t know anyone. Most of my old classmates had been placed together, laughing excitedly with familiar faces while I sat quietly at my desk.
It felt…
Lonely.
I was waiting for at-least someone that I already know would be in this class.
I didn’t know anything or anyone, getting glanced at while I passed by giving a few smiles here and there and had no choice but to sit near the window.
Hey, this really felt like those main characters in those anime, Leaving me to mentally deadpanned accepting my fate and sighed heavily.
It was almost like my first day of elementary school all over again. “Maybe I can beg my mom to buy me Mcdonalds again…”
I quietly rested my chin on my hand and stared out the window. Then the classroom door slid open. I looked up and it were two familiar face. Before I even had time to wave, they spotted me first. A girl with big pigtails marched it, dragging a guy beside her.
“There you are!”
Momoko grinned as he hurried over, dragging the boy beside her by the wrist.
“We’re sitting here.” She smiled hurriedly putting her bag beside me. Even Momoko changed a bit she is still the same Momoko but her appearance drastically altered into her own personality. Momoko makes me smile, she’s a nice friend and always there to talk to. She can talk about anything and whatever but she’ll also go silent whenever she sees that you are uncomfortable.
I like Momoko. She’s really sweet.
Before anyone else could claim the seats, the two of them dropped into the desks beside mine.
I couldn’t help but smile. These were the same two classmates who had been arguing the day I first learned Itoshi Sae’s name.
Seeing them made the classroom me feel better.
“Hey…”
A guy leaned over to me. The guy named was Takao, I wasn’t really fairly close to him but he was always with Momoko and Momoko was always with me making him a decent friend of mine.
Takao leaned toward me with a mischievous grin.
“Isn’t it surprising you’re not in Itoshi’s class this year?”
Making me stare at him and raising an eyebrow.
“You two were practically always together and you’d always look at him and smile.”
Before I could answer—
A loud Smack. Was heard, befuddling me and Takao.
“Ow! Ow! ow!”
Momoko smacked the back of his head.
“What was that for?!” He glared at her.
“Don’t tease, ….!”
“But it’s true!” He whined in pain.
“Geez…” Takao rubbed the back of his head dramatically. “for someone as girly as you, you sure are strong.” He mumbled
He pointed accusingly at her.
“You’re so mean, Momoko.”
“And you’re annoying, Takao.”
Both of them looked at each-other harboring petty anger against one another.
“Keep on staring and I’ll really slap you!” Momoko said to him. And the two kept on looking at each-other.
I couldn’t help but laugh at the scene unfolding infront of me.
“You two look cute when you argue.”
Takao blinked and Momoko blinked.
“…”
“…”
Both of their faces slowly turned bright red.
“W-What?!” Momoko looked at me with the tips of her ears turning red
“C-Cute?!” Takao looked at momoko in disbelief then pointing at her “I-I don’t like this idiot! She’s like a monkey always hitting me!”
“Good! Because I don’t like you either!” Momoko lashed out glaring at him
I sighed.
“You’re both blushing.”
“W-We are not!” They said at the same time
I laughed so loudly and now both of them continued to throw petty insults and bicker with eachother.
As the conversation continued beside me, my eyes drifted toward the window. Outside, the football club had already started training.
Among the players… One person stood out immediately to me. I’d always recognized that person. Seeing that:
Reddish-brown hair.
Sharp teal eyes.
Long lashes.
Itoshi Sae.
Always piqued my interest, I haven’t seen Sae as much. We only hanged out for a bit. Sometimes it would be at his house since Rin would always cling to his brother side not wanting him to leave and play with him constantly.
Looking at his stature, he grew much taller too and even from this far away and the ball seemed to stay glued to his feet.
⸺
“…Speaking of which,” Momoko asked, following my gaze, “have you decided what club you’re joining?”
“You should join the Movie Club with me!”
“The Movie Club?” Takao scoffed.
“No one wants to join your boring club.”
Smack. Smack. Smack.
“Oww! You should stop slapping people—gosh seriously!” Takao raised his voice earning a deathly glare from Momoko making him shut up.
“Don’t call it boring Takao!”
“I’m just saying!”
Takao pointed at me.
“You should join the Athletics Club.”
He grinned and pridefully shook my hand.
“You ran so fast during the sprint during Sports Day,…! You should join the athletics club or even the track team!” Takao smiled, wha’d ya say huh?? Interested??” He began to wiggle his eyebrows.
Momoko folded her arms.
“Ignore him,…!”
Then she smiled and gave me a pleading look
“You’ll join my club, right?”
The two of them immediately started arguing again.
“Yeah, sorry Takao but I’ll be with momoko-chan.”
“Hey no, seriously,…! You should at-least try” Takao argued “Why waste your skill and seriously…you’re so good at running!”
I looked at him “ I just have no interest, plus if i join a sport i’ll miss out on my prime time anime watching and I’d have to worry about afternoon classes too. Not including having to argue on who gets to watch the show that they recorded.”
“So movie club is alright for me.”
Earning Momoko a cheer while Takao deadpanned and sighed at my answer.
⸺
That night, I was drying my hair with a towel i noticed the diary i had from since elementary school, reading the pages and laughing. But I felt sad because half of them were about Sae and I haven’t been talking to him much.
My phone buzzed expecting it was from momoko and tako in which created a group but it was a notification from Sae.
Sae.
|how was first day?
:it was good and yours?
| it went well.
Typing…typing…
I looked at the “…” symbol then because of the silence i sighed and said
:saw u practicing today with the football club
| yeah, i saw you looking at me from the window.
:don’t fail junior year, i’ll help you whenever.
| I know, thanks.
: goodnight sae.
| goodnight, …
I sighed and dropped my phone down and sat at my desk before opening my diary I spun my chair around and groaned throwing the towel somewhere on the floor, completely discarded.
I still like Sae…I think..? I don’t even know why I like him….
I barely even talk to him now days… but I’d always look for him, and hope he’d hold my hand.
This was completely bugging me out owning a groan.
“Sae…what do you even feel about me?”
Just like Sae had warned me that afternoon at the park… Things slowly began to change.
Little by little. Things weren’t the same.
We still walked home together whenever our schedules matched, but junior high was different and a long walk sometimes we’d have to take the train home since we were too beat from school.
Sae even He had football practice almost every day now.
I had to participate in club activities, and be in Momoko Club, homework, and attend afternoon classes to prepare for the college entrance exams.
Even when we did walk together…
We didn’t hold hands anymore. Somehow, somewhere along the way… It had become embarrassing.
Neither of us ever brought it up.
Instead, we’d walk side by side in comfortable silence. Sometimes Sae would suddenly pull one side of his wired earphones from his pocket and hand it to me without saying a word and I’d quietly put it in my ear.
Neither of us talked as much anymore. We were too tired or we simply didn’t know what to say.
We just listened to the same songs while watching the evening sky turn orange.
Somehow…It still didn’t feel lonely.
Every morning without fail… I’d send him a message before school. Sometimes he’d reply immediately. Sometimes hours later or an immediate thumbs up emoji.
There are even days that all I’d get back was…
“Lukewarm.”
It still made me smile though. Whenever we passed each other in the hallways, we’d make eye contact for just a second.
He’d give a small wave.
I’d wave back.
Before either of us could stop to talk, our friends would drag us in opposite directions.
“Come on Itoshi!” A guy said while dragging Itoshi away.
“…, hurry up or we will be going to be late!” Momoko exclaimed holding my wrist pulling me away.
The distance between us wasn’t very far. Even so… It felt different.
I missed the days when we talked about everything.
I missed seeing him every day.
I missed sitting beside him.
I miss you.
Sometimes I’d close my eyes at night and wonder why I felt so lonely even if he was still right there.
⸺
One Saturday morning, my phone buzzed.
Sae.
| Wanna hang out?
I smiled before I could stop myself, immediately typing a response.
:Sure.
My presence was already welcomed and known in the Itoshi household ever since Sae brought me to help him tutor him or just came to play games or teach me how to play football in his backyard.
When I arrived at the Itoshi household, Sae was apparently still getting ready.
Instead…
Rin opened the door.
“Hi!” He smiled showing his tongue out. It was a little quirk that he’d always do for some reason. I don’t think he even realizes that he has it out sometimes. But it was still cute.
“Hi, Rin.” I nodded “can I come inside?” he nodded before inviting me inside as though we’d done this a hundred times. I sat on the floor and took my shoes off.
The Itoshi house was a warm household, even if the parents weren’t always present it was still nice.
There were Family photographs lined the walls.
Pictures of Sae and Rin at different ages.
Pictures of birthdays.
Pictures of vacations.
Pictures of Sae winning medals and Rin looking at his brother with awe.
And there was a picture of Sae and Rin together winning a medal alongside fellow teammates with Rin gleaming so brightly.
It was a cute thing to see.
And everywhere I looked… there were
Football trophies, Medals, Framed Certificates and Awards. Some shelves were so full of trophies that some had to be placed on the floor. While figuring a way to store them. It wasn’t surprising but they’ve been doubling the amount since I’ve been here
“Oh..woah.” I looked around the living room and the fine china closet that displayed Sae’s trophies.
“Nii-chan won those!”
Rin sounded so proud of his own Nii-chan and pridefully said “He’ll win even more.” Raising his hands up in the air.
“I think so too.” I ruffled his head seeing his eyes sparkled turned him to smile wide and stuck his tongue out again.
Then he disappeared upstairs into his room before returning with a stack of papers.
“Look.”
He proudly handed them to me.
Every essay…
Every drawing…
Every school assignment prompt about who’s the best person, who impacted you the most, who do you admire..
Somehow was all about Sae.
Looking at the papers that Rin shoved to my hand with his clumsy handwriting all had the starting sentence of ….
My brother, Sae Itoshi
No one compares to my Big Brother.
The Person I Respect Most is my brother.
My Big Brother.
My big brother is the best!
I couldn’t help smiling and look towards Rin looking upwards and holding more stacks of papers and bunch of drawings of him and Rin playing together.
“You really love your brother, huh?”
“Of course!” He grinned widely “Nii-chan is the best and I’ll be like him one day!”
He shook his head eagerly and answered without hesitation.
“He’s the coolest, most awesomest big brother in the world!”
I laughed softly agreeing with what Rin was saying then… Footsteps echoed from upstairs.
“I’m ready.”
Sae walked down the stairs, adjusting the strap of his bag.
“You’ve got money, right?”
I nodded. “Yep.”
The moment Rin realized we were leaving…
He latched onto Sae’s leg.
“Nii-chan!”
“I’m coming too!”
“No.”
“But why?!”
“You’ll just slow us down.”
“I won’t!”
“You will.” Sae sighed and pinched his nose bridge, calling for his mom to separate Rin away from him.
“I promise I won’t!” Rin whined and pleaded.
Their mother finally camed and sighed.
“Rin…”
With ease, she gently peeled Rin off Sae like he’d become a stubborn koala.
“Nii-chaaan!”
By the time we reached the front gate…
Rin was pressed dramatically against the upstairs window. His cheeks were squished against the glass. His tongue stuck out at us.
I burst into laughter.
Sae looked up.
“ Such an Idiot.” He muttered beneath his breath but he can’t help but smile at Rin. And just waved at him while Rin sadly waved back.
A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
As we walked toward the station, I reached over and flicked his bangs off his forehead.
“Looking good there, Mr. Itoshi.” I joked at him
He looked at me.
Then—
Flick.
“Ow!”
I rubbed my forehead.
“Seriously?! Again?”
He looked completely unfazed for the fact that my forehead had a red mark from his flick. He didn’t even bother looking at me “You started it.”
“You jerk...” I punched his shoulder. But even with that he barely reacted and just sighed.
⸺
The train carried us across the city until we reached the aquarium. The second we stepped inside… I grabbed Sae’s sleeve, dragging him towards the penguin exhibit.
“Come on!”
He sighed heavily, following my lead.
I dropped to my knees beside the glass, as I watched the little penguins waddle across the rocks before diving gracefully into the water.
“They’re so cute…”
One tiny penguin wandered away from the others.
“Aww…”
I pointed.
“Look, Sae!”
“That little one’s all alone.”
Sae glanced at it.
“Looks like you when you transferred.”
Giving him a sidelong glare.
“Hey, I made friends eventually.”
“You did.” He agreed at me.
Almost on cue, the baby penguin hurried back toward the group before disappearing beneath one of its parents’ wings.
I smiled.
“See?”
⸻
I wish, I could repeat this day over and over again. The entire day we spent together made me smile so much to the point that I hadn’t realized that the rest of the afternoon disappeared before either of us noticed.
We squeezed into a photo booth.
I messed up his hair.
Then He pinched my cheek.
I pinched his cheeks back.
He flicked my forehead.
And I flicked his back.
By the time the photos printed…
Both of us were laughing.
We each kept one strip for us to keep while he kept mocking my face and I’d joke about his bangs being odd. But in the end we both looked at each-other and laughed.
At the arcade, Sae spent nearly ten minutes trying to win a stuffed seagull from the claw machine.
He failed.
Repeatedly.
Again and again and again.
You know it made me think that Sae only good at football and nothing else. Making me think about who or what would Sae be without football.
“…This thing’s rigged.” He muttered
“No…” I replied to him
“It’s definitely rigged.”
“…You’re just bad.”
He glared at the machine.
After one more failed attempt…and him no longer having any more coins, I sighed and decided to get that Seagull that he oh so desperately wanted.
A few moments later…
The plush dropped into the prize chute. “Here.” I handed it to him smiling, “you can repay me by buying me ice cream.” He looked at me , while I wait for his response.
He stared at the little seagull for a long second “thanks.”
Later, I beat him at basketball.
Thrice.
He wasn’t particularly good at arcade games.
Or basketball.
Seriously…my assumption that he wasn’t good at anything that wasn’t football was starting to come true.
“You know,” I teased, “you’re kind of terrible at everything else.”
He looked at me without the slightest hint of embarrassment.
“Yeah, but not football and that’s what matters because I’ll still become the best striker in the world.”
The confidence in his voice never wavered.
Not even for a second.
That was Sae and his goal.
I laughed.
“Sure, Sae. I know you will.” I looked at him staring “I really believe you.” For just a moment… He smiled. Barely noticeable. But it was there.
As we walked home, he boughtme ice cream as promised, from the nearby convenience store.
“…You’ve got some.” Before I could react, Sae wiped a smear of chocolate from my cheek.
“Lukewarm idiot.” He mumbled
I laughed.
“Oh yeah?”
I reached over and dabbed a bit of my own ice cream onto his cheek.
“There.” And I wiped the smear of his face and smiled. “ Now we’re even.”
He froze. looking at me staring it was only for a brief moment then he flicked my forehead again.
Earning the sixth whine I made today.
Continuing to walk to the train stationI looked up at the sky seeing the birds soar.
“I’m really glad we’re friends, Sae.”
He didn’t answer. He just continued walking beside me and his hands slowly found mine and gently held it back.
This was enough really with you holding my hand every time you walk me home.
I miss you so much, Sae.
⸻
Even though we weren’t in the same class anymore… Sae still found ways to stay in touch as always. I’d continue texting him “good mornings and goodnights” some days, he’ll say it first.
Sometimes, in school, during lunch break, he’d stop by my classroom carrying two cartons of milk or chips and would sit in-front of me.
⸻
He doesn’t even have no shame and steal one of my fries. That’s alot for someone who says that “they dislike fries” I joked about it and he’d look unbothered then I’ll steal one of his strawberries. And he’ll pretend to be annoyed.
“Lukewarm.”
I’d laugh every single time. Whenever we crossed paths in the hallway, we’d exchange a small wave before our friends pulled us in opposite directions. Sometimes we’d only get a few minutes together after school before football practice started.
Sometimes we’d simply sit on a bench.
Neither of us said much.
⸻
I still went to every match when I could, I’d even skip afternoon classes just to go see him.
No matter how busy I was… I’d always to find my way to the sidelines. And cheer alongside the crowd cheered. I’ve taken notice that Sae family wasn’t always present during his games. That made me wonder if I was one of the only few people he’d looked forward into seeing.
Even among twenty-two players…My eyes always found Sae first. After every match, I’d wait outside the field with a bottle of water.
“Good game!”
“Yeah..thanks for coming.” Then he’ll wave goodbye towards me following his teammates and coach. Leaving me behind waving back. Waiting to see if he’ll look behind. And he never did.
⸻
That night…
I opened my diary.
Dear Diary,
Today Sae came to my classroom just to eat lunch with me. He asked me if I can make him lunch and I questioned why would someone need two lunches and he said because he was always hungry…
Dear Diary,
I packed him the lunch as i promised and he finished it and not eating the lunch his mom packed, he said he kept it during his fotball practice.
Dear Diary,
Today Sae won another match.
Everyone kept talking about how amazing he was. But Sae just didn’t seem to bother.
Dear Diary,
Today I finally managed to juggle the football twenty-six times! Sae said I wasn’t“completely terrible but then called it lukewarm.” That’s his way of complimenting people.
Dear Diary,
Sae got a bicycle and decided to bring it to school and he didn’t have practice and neither did I have afternoon classes so he dropped me off home. I was scared of falling off so I gripped on him tightly, making me him scold me.
Dear Diary,
Today Sae fell asleep on the train ride home after practice. I waited for him today since afternoon class also ran late. And he fell asleep on my shoulder. He looked really tired. I wanted to wake him up…But he looked peaceful. So I just let him sleep until we reached our stop.
Dear diary,
Momoko and takao are finally together and i dont mind them bickering infront of me. Sae dropped by and called them annoying and sat infront of me waiting for the lunch I prepared for him to eat earning momoko and takao got quiet really easily and ate quitely while sae kept of talking about how practice went with his team Kamakura United.
Dear diary,
Sae continued to text me and he said that he really wanted to make rin proud and it made him happy seeing his nii-chan succeed with being the best striker.
Dear Diary,
Today Rin said he’ll become a good football played like his niichan.Sae just laughed and ruffled his hair. And said he’ll wait for him.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen Rin smile that much unless it was his nii-chan.
Dear Diary,
I want to tell Sae how i feel
…
Today, I almost did when we walked together it reminded me of the day i asked him that question. I want to know if he loves me..or atleast payed attention to my feelings.
⸻
That night, I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling.
The room was quiet.
Buzz. Buzz.
My phone lit up.
Sae
| You up?
| Have something to tell you.
My heart skipped.My fingers suddenly felt clumsy against the screen. Second guessing what I should respond with.
:What is it?
The little Typing… bubble appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
For some reason…
I felt nervous.
Finally… A new message arrived.
| I’m going to Spain.
| I got scouted and recruited but I have to go to youth academy first before I can finally play internationally into the big leagues!
I blinked.
Another message followed.
| I’m finally going to become the greatest striker in the world!
For a long moment… I simply stared at the screen.Then, before I could think too much…I smiled.
:That’s amazing!!!
: I’m really proud of you!!
A few seconds later…
| Thanks.
Then—
| Goodnight, …., sleep well.
⸻
I stared at those words and muttered beneath my breath. “Goodnight, Sae.” I placed my phone on my chest. “…Spain…” reaching my hands above in the air. It felt so far away.
The afternoon before he left… We walked home together one last time. The sky was painted the same shade of orange it had always been, the birds flying across the sky while cars rolled past us one after another.
The familiar streets hadn’t changed at all and The convenience store where we’d bought ice cream was still there. The park where we’d spent countless afternoons was still filled with children laughing.
Everything looked exactly the same.
I wanted to tell him.
I wanted him to let him know that I’d liked him ever since the day I first saw him sitting at the back of that elementary classroom. Since the very first day we made eye contact together.
That every page of my diary somehow always found its way back to him. That every morning, I looked forward to seeing him.
That every lunch Mom packed reminded me to save something he’d probably steal.
That every time he called me a lukewarm idiot, I was so happy that I kept on giggling when I got home.
That when he held my hand as we walked home, my heart always beat a little faster and I always wanted it to stay longer.
That whenever I caught him laughing, I enjoy it so much and that was the reason why I stared at him. I wanted him to know that I loved the way his bangs always fell into his eyes before a match.
That I thought he was pretty, I wanted him to know that I kept all of the things you gave me, and had our pictures printed out and have them hanging around my room.
That watching and hearing him chase after his dream somehow made me want to become a better person too and want to find a goal for myself to overcome and obtain.
Seeing him be enthusiastic about football mafe me interested in it. To the point that I’d watch it with him and memorize his favorite players.
That I notice him always staring at me and never said anything. I wanted to ask why he shared his music to me why he always held my hand.
I wanted him to know…
I wanted him to know that I loved him so much and I admired him with all my heart.
I wanted him to know everything…in my heart..
⸻
My lips parted.
“Sae…”
He turned toward me.
“…What?”
The words gathered inside my throat.
Tell him.
Say it, …!
Just this once…
“…Nothing.” I muttered. He watched me for another moment before looking ahead again.
“Lukewarm.”
I laughed quietly.
“…Yeah.”
We continued walking. After a while, I finally broke the silence.
“…Sae.”
“Hm?”
“…I’m going to miss you.” Then I reached for his hand gripping it tightly while I looked down.
“When you go to Spain, I’ll miss you.” I felt tears forming in my eyes making me sob. “I’ll miss you so much.”
The evening breeze stirred his hair.
“Don’t worry.” He patted my head consoling me to calm down . “I’ll come back.” Continuing to soothe me while he looked ahead toward the road stretching into the distance.
“And when I do…”
“I’ll be the best striker in the world.” He remarked earning a laugh from me.
“And don’t cry, you look ugly when you cry and I don’t like seeing you cry at all.”
I looked up towards him “Won’t you miss me?”
For a brief moment…He simply looked into my eyes “I will—but don’t worry.”
“I won’t forget you.”
A small smile appeared on his face.
Without thinking, I smiled back. I wished I could’ve said “I love you” out loud or you .
I regret not letting you know.
Because on this day it would become the last time I’d see that smile for years.
⸻
Four years passed. The diary I’d filled every night slowly gathered dust on my bookshelf.
At first…We still texted. I’d send him pictures of home. Update him with my days and he’d do the same. Sometimes, he’ll confide in me about how being over seas was hard for him or he’ll ask pictures of Rin whenever I was present at Rin’s tournaments.
Somedays, He’d occasionally reply.
He’d mentioned how it felt weird being there and having no one to talk to as much.
Sometimes when we texted he’d only with one word.
Sometimes with nothing at all.
Then my messages became fewer and fewer my the day.
“Good morning!”
“Good luck!”
“Keep on going!”
“Hope, you are taking care of yourself!”
“Take care.”
“Stay safe.”
“Happy Birthday.”
Read.
Seen.
And Eventually…
Even those stopped. I completely stopped texting him but I never really forgotten about him. I just didn’t want to bother him anymore since he barely responded. But every night I hoped and wished he’d text me. Or when he came back I can finally hug him and tell him how I felt.
Life just kept on moving.
Junior high became High school.
The seasons kept on continuing to change.
Places too, the convenience store we always went to shut down and closed only for under renovations since the facility was built decades ago.
The Spring became summer.
The end of Summer became autumn.
The end of Autumn became winter.
Winter became spring.
Again..
And again…
Before I realized it…
Four years had passed.
“Are you doing alright, Sae?”
⸻
My phone buzzed, and it was a notification from Rin. I smiled. It had been a while since I’ve talked to Rin. He kept in contact with me, after all this years. Sometimes I’d have to tutor the boy since he was the same as his brother failing his classes since all he could think about was football. He didn’t bother about any subject except for English and in his defense it was needed for him to be an international football player.
I’d sigh having to hear him explain his reasoning.
Time to time he’ll talk about his favorite horror movies like The Shining. The one with the creepy twins and the guy screaming here comes “Johnny!”
Over and over again while Hacking through a bathroom door with an axe to reach his terrified wife.
It was weird for a young person like him, but who cares, it made him happy, so I didn’t mind.
Many times he’ll send me updates throughout his day or about his upcoming football tournament and send me details of his games so I can go and see him, which I tried my best to attend and I never failed to disappoint since I was always present in each and everyone of them.
Often skipping my afternoon classes and club meetings to watch him play, knowing no one else was there for him.
His “Nii-chan” was abroad and his mom and his dad were busy trying to support the family, making them be absent half of them time.
Seeing him text me all the sudden made me at ease, Rin is growing faster and faster , it was kinda bittersweet seeing the small kid turn into a bigger person. Seeing more notification from Rin, I answered immediately.
Instead… of a “Hey. Can you come to my game.?”
The message waiting for me made my chest tighten.
Rin.
| Nii-chan said I’m pathetic and he is disgusted by me.
Another message arrived.
| He said I’m worthless without football.
Then another.
He said he doesn’t need me anymore.
I stared at my phone.
“…”
| he told me that he gave up on his dream.
Unable to move, completely freezing not knowing how to reply to Rin.
You remember the things Sae told you when you asked him what was the point in life.
“Be the best, Be with Rin and Live a happy life.”
No.
No.
No.
I looked at Rin’s text again and was still in disbelief, That wasn’t the Sae I knew. I mean it’s been for years but…people change and so does their goals and priorities.
The boy who smiled proudly whenever Rin talked about him.
The boy who drew pictures of himself playing football beside his little brother.
The boy whose dream had always included Rin.
That…
Couldn’t be him.
No way he said that to him, maybe it was a complete misunderstanding between the two of them and he wanted to say something but just worded it badly…still…it didn’t justify nor made sense at all.
Before I could stop myself, my fingers began typing. To respond to Rin. I exited out and look for his contact.
The last message I’d sent was from three years ago
“…”
Sae.
| 10/10/XX “Happy Birthday!”
Only to be met with a seen button.
Hey, Sae.
The message delivered instantly.
A few moments later…
Seen.
I waited. Nothing and I swallowed being hesitant on what to say.
What happened with Rin?
This time…
The reply came almost immediately.
| None of your business.
I stared at the screen.
For a long time…
I couldn’t even recognize the person on the other side of it.
And i knew that the boy I’d written about in every page of my diary… had changed.
My hands trembled as I typed.
Sae…
The message sat there for several minutes.
Then…
Seen.
I swallowed before sending another.
Please… Tell me what happened. Atleast. Rin texted me, telling me what you said.
Didn’t you say that being the best, being with Rin and live to the fullest was your goal?
Sae, what happened. Please talk to me, I know we haven’t talked for years but please.
What happened in Spain? I’ll listen to you, please.
Nothing.
Then my phone buzzed.
| …, we haven’t talked in years. There’s no need for you to know.
Another message.
| This is for the better.
Another.
| We’re not friends anymore.
| So please, leave me alone.
I stared at the screen. And I refused to believe what’s going on, I can feel myself tearing up again and the familiar sting of tears returned once again.
And one final message appeared from Sae.
| Goodbye, …
The chat fell silent. And I kept staring at those seven letters.
Goodbye.
The final ending of this friendship was a Goodbye from Sae.
And I didn’t even get to tell you how I feel.
Every walk home, hand in hand.
Every diary entry that I made.
Every flicked on the head that you gave me.
Every “lukewarm idiot.” comment you made
Ended with one word and it was “Goodbye”
My vision blurred while tears continued to pour down. Still… I typed one last time.
Thank you, Sae.
Another message.
Thank you for being part of my childhood.
Thank you for making those years the happiest I’ve ever had.
My hands shook. I wiped at my eyes, but the tears wouldn’t stop.
One last message.
Thank you.
Delivered.
…
Seen.
He won’t reply. I still waited anyway. I’d hope he’ll respond , heart it, like it.
Five minutes passed.
Then Ten. And twenty.
Nothing.
That was it.
I slowly lowered my phone onto my bed. The room was unbearably quiet. I reached toward the bookshelf beside me. The diary. The cover had become worn from years of being opened and closed. I flipped through the pages.
Dear Diary…
Today Sae held my hand.
Today Sae laughed.
Today Sae called me a lukewarm idiot again.
Today I think…
No.
I know.
I really, really have a crush on Itoshi Sae.
The pages became harder to read. And my tears fell down the paper blurring the ink. I turned to the very last blank page.
For a long time…
I couldn’t write anything, after Sae left.
I looked at the photo-booth picture we took years ago seeing him smile. Made me sob even harder.
Reaching out for a pen, it was a final goodbye for him.
Dear Diary,
Today…
Itoshi Sae finally said goodbye.
I regretted not wanting to say all the things I wanted to say. The word: I love you. I really wanted to say it. But, I just said thank you.
It hurts so much. I don’t know why it hurts.
I don’t know why.. I don’t know if I’ll ever see the boy I fell in love with again. He is still Itoshi Sae but not the same person.
Why did I even like him?
But…
Thank you Sae,
For being my bestest friend.
For making me smile.
For calling me a lukewarm idiot.
For making so many memories I’ll never forget.
I hope… Wherever you are…
You live a happy life. Like what you told me and one day you’ll still be the best and you’ll be with Rin.
I closed the diary and continued to sob more.
And cried until I had nothing left.
| Written by Jammy. Please do not copy and paste or feed my work into an AI. This was completely written by hand, thank you for stopping by and reading!
⚠️ TW. Self-harm, if it's a trigger for you, it's recommended that you don't read this. Seek help if you experience something similar.
OOC. Maybe suggestive. Scars.
THIGH SCARS // VARIOUS BLLK X FEM! READER
Isagi Yoichi (Suggestive), Meguru Bachira, Itoshi Rin, Itoshi Sae (Suggestive), Seishiro Nagi, Hiori Yo, Bunny Iglesias (Suggestive), Don Lorenzo (Suggestive).
Angst/comfort - Suggestive
Translated with Google Translate, English is not my first language
ISAGI YOICHI
He already knew about the scars, but he had never seen them.
He wasn't obsessed with knowing what your scars looked like either. He wanted to wait until you felt comfortable.
Things had gotten heated between you two; you were taking off your clothes when he gently tried to pull down your pants. But you stopped him.
"Remember that I have... Scars" You stammered. You felt insecure about that.
Isagi loved your thighs, even though he always saw them covered by pants. Or when you wore skirts or shorts, you always covered up with leggings.
"I know... I'm not going to judge you... If you don't want me to-" You interrupted him with a kiss. Then you let him pull down your pants.
He swallowed. Observing your skin. Your lovely thighs adorned with scars. Isagi touched them gently; some were palpable, like keloids, others were simply lines on the skin. He seemed impressed, but at the same time, worried.
"It doesn't hurt...?" He whispered as he hugged you, burying his face in your collarbones, kissing that sensitive area.
He would be gentle when touching your thighs or any area where you have scars.
Nor would it change his perspective of you, he would continue to adore you and your thighs as always.
MEGURU BACHIRA
He knew about your scars for a long time. He didn't quite understand why someone as special and beautiful as you had them.
He's tried to see them secretly, but his inner monster always stops him. He doesn't want to overrule your decision.
With Bachira, it wasn't anything sexual. You just wanted to change your clothes and he was there. You trusted him enough not to feel uncomfortable with your own nakedness.
Furthermore, it would be the perfect opportunity for him to see the scars you hide so much.
"How do I look in this shirt?" You asked to Bachira. You had your shirt on, but underneath you were only in your panties, showing your scars.
He looked up with excitement, smiling, but when he saw you, he let out a broken sigh.
"Ah, you look beautiful, as always!" He tried to sound optimistic. But seeing your scars hurt him.
Bachira knew about the scars and always hated that feeling that you were hurt. But seeing them, it felt too real. He might even shed a few tears.
You both snuggled together, he stroked your scars curiously, He even promised himself and his monster that he would never let you self-harm again.
He used to be obsessed with your cheeks, now with your thighs. They told a story, and he loved that... Although he didn't really like the story.
ITOSHI RIN
He wouldn't know about your scars. You always felt insecure about them and didn't want him to see that part of you.
Obviously, he never tried to see anything because he didn't even know they existed. But he always had this feeling that you were hiding something from him.
You wanted to feel attractive, so you bought yourself some nice lingerie to highlight your curves and skin. You wanted your boyfriend's opinion, but... You didn't know how he would react to your scars.
Rin was sitting in your bed. Waiting for you to come out with the clothes you wanted to show him.
"How do I look...?" You whispered, maybe he didn't even hear you. His gaze was on you, on your body.
In your scars.
He said nothing. Did he think you were a lukewarm? Strong enough to show him the scars, but weak enough not to tell him sooner?
You wanted to leave. You were supposedly going to show him the lingerie to feel pretty, not stupid.
But you saw how Rin got up and hugged you. He seemed to be trembling.
"Why didn't you tell me before...?" His voice sounded broken.
You two talked about why you did it, he comforted you and you comforted him. You became closer than ever. Oh, and he take this opportunity to adore you, you looked amazing in that lingerie
Now he feels that he loves you more because he knows you better.
ITOSHI SAE
He didn't know about the scars either, but he suspected. You always felt insecure about your thighs, and he always noticed, even though he didn't fully understand why.
Innocently, he was trying to figure out what those lines were that he felt every time he caressed your thighs.
You were kissing your boyfriend, Sae was caressing your bare waist. You felt a little tickling, you were only wearing a bra.
"Can I take your pants off?" He asked as he lowered his hands to the hem of your pants.
You accepted, so blinded by excitement that you forgot your own scars. When the air hit your thighs, you realized.
But Sae didn't even have a reaction.
"Honey... Aren't you disgusted...?" You whispered, watching as he continued his work of caressing you.
"Why would I be?" He answered you. You looked at your thighs and he sighed. "They don't disgust me... You could never disgust me...But do you want to stop?"
"Uhm- no..."
You two continued with what you were doing. Sae didn't want to ask questions that might make you uncomfortable; he wanted you to take the initiative and tell him everything. He would listen to you attentively and reassure you if necessary; you will always be safe with him.
To him, you're still precious. With or without scars, he'll love you anyway; he chose you and your beautiful smile for a reason.
SEISHIRO NAGI
He knew about the existence of the scars, he always talked to you to make sure you weren't cutting yourself anymore.
Perhaps he once saw pixelated scars in your photos. He was curious to see them, but didn't do anything about it.
He was lying in bed, getting ready to sleep. The fan was running as he tried to keep warm; he was waiting for you to cuddle up with him.
"Shitty heat..." You muttered to yourself. You were going to sleep in your underwear, you didn't care, you didn't want to sweat and be uncomfortable while you slept.
"Uhm" Nagi let go as he looked at you, especially at your thighs. He opened his arms.
"Oh no, it's too hot" You murmured. You wanted to hug your boyfriend, but the heat already in the room, combined with his body heat, would make you feel like you were roasting alive.
Anyway, he got up and hugged you from behind while you were lying on the mattress, his hands lazily caressing your thighs.
"Cute" Nagi whispered as she traced the lines of the scars. The truth is, he was happy that you trusted him, that you could comfortably show your scars knowing that he wasn't going to judge you.
You had to endure Nagi's heat pressed against you while he slept. Oh, even asleep he didn't take his hands off your thighs.
Obviously, he still saw you the same way, he loves you madly and lazily. He'd seen them before... even if they were just two pixels :x
HIORI YO
He knew about the scars. He always thought he'd like to know he had a "ill" girl with him, but now it was real... And it hurt him to know you'd self-harmed in the past.
He didn't like the idea of seeing your scars either. He wanted to respect your decision not to show them to him, and it was better for him. He would have hated to see you truly hurting.
You wanted to surprise your boyfriend. You had bought yourself some pretty lingerie in his hair color. It would also be a chance for him to see your scars.
Hiori knew you wanted to give him a modeling gig in your new lingerie. He was nervous, both about seeing you in underwear and about seeing your scars.
When he saw you, he tried to focus on anything but your scars. But at some point he saw them and... he didn't feel so bad.
Of course, he still had that thorn in his chest because you had cut yourself once. But knowing that now they were just scars made him feel... good?
He smiled foolishly. "You look beautiful..." He babbled as he pulled you closer, taking you by the hips. Maybe he got... Hot, Hiori kiss your scars.
For some strange reason—to you. He adored your scars, wanted to talk and know why and when you got each one. If he made you uncomfortable, he apologized and kissed your scars again.
His opinion of you changed. Not for the worse, in fact, he found you sexier now... Not just because of the lingerie! Also because of those scars that he strangely loves...
BUNNY IGLESIAS
He obviously knew about the scars. But he wasn't paranoid or excited to see them. He just knew they were there... And he wouldn't do anything about it.
As I said, he wouldn't do anything to see the scars beforehand. The mere thought of disregarding your decisions about your own body and who might see certain areas of it disgusted him. It was the least one could do, basic respect.
You were never insecure about showing Bunny your scars. You knew he wouldn't judge you; it would be hypocritical of him—he had a scar all over his face... Although he has never told you the reason for this.
You wanted to play a joke on him. Bunny underwear, with a tail and even ears.
When he saw you, he chuckled softly at the lingerie. Then his eyes traveled over your body with a daring smile. His gaze lingered on your scars, and he licked his lips.
"You'd look better without the lingerie" He said, with that typical smile.
"Excuse me?!" You laughed as you approached him. Bunny took you by the waist and kissed you.
"Uhm... Nice legs" He whispered as he caressed your thighs, tenderly touching every line of your skin.
You two did your own thing. Then you talked about life; he explained his own scar to you and waited for you to do the same. He adored you and didn't want you to hurt yourself anymore. Never again.
He continued to see you as always, or perhaps with even more love and tenderness. The conversation about his scars and yours had brought you closer.
DON LORENZO
He knew about your scars, and honestly, he didn't really care. The reason... Yes, he hated knowing you'd cut yourself in the past. But he didn't care about the supposed "imperfections" of your scars.
He wasn't interested in seeing them either; if you weren't showing them to him, there was a reason. He wasn't going to pressure you about it.
You two had sex... With your clothes on.
You were drying your hair after showering as he came out of the bathroom. You were in your underwear, holding a towel. Lorenzo hugged you from behind, kissed your head, and turned you around so he could see your whole body. He saw your scars.
"They look tender on you" He said while laughing, caressing your thighs as he knelt down.
"Don't be weird! What do you mean tender?" You laughed a little as you pressed the wet towel to his face.
You knew he wasn't going to judge you about anything. Oh, Lorenzo felt incredibly lucky just to be able to breathe near you. It would be foolish to push you away because of just lines on your skin; he loves your story, and your scars tell a story.
You two continued with your normal routine, only he was more affectionate than usual. He loved being able to see your scars... And your semi-naked body.
His perspective of you changed; knowing your secrets and scars drove him crazier than popcorn, hehe.
I love Don Lorenzo, but I don't know if I was able to portray him well, ughhhhh ;-;
I made a taglist, if you want to be, just tell me 👀
T/L: @catty080 @sisierra420
2026 keeocidio, all rights reserved. please do not copy, modify, steal or translate my works onto other social media platforms.
