you were seated on the couch, sipping on your tea when you heard it. the announcer announcing the final score of japenese U-20 vs. spain.
1-2.
sae itoshi lost.
and it wasnât even an painful loss. the game was extremely close with each member of the team giving it their all, making powerful crosses across the pitch like it was nothing.
except sae didnât take it that way.
bunny iglesias had made a complete fool of him. scoring the last and final goal between saeâs very own legs in the last 12 seconds of the game.
that very moment led sae to question if his reading of the game was.. wrong. if he had missed some super important detail in the game that wouldâve prevented bunny from making the goal.
but damn if bunny wasnât hard to read. every move he made wasnât dictated by the plays of others. he moved freely across the field, taking every motion through the pitch in a free and flawless manner that sae just.. couldnât keep up with.
and it was about to gnaw at him for the rest of the day.
the minute your roommate sae itoshi stepped into your shared apartment, he dropped his duffel bag on the floor, slipped off his shoes, and made his way to the couch.
there were still beads of sweat rolling down saeâs face as his magenta bangs clung to his forehead. he didnât even acknowledge your presence when he picked up the remote to watch his own highlights.
i mean, whenever he came home he would give you a slight nod of acknowledgment and maybe even a hum in response to your routinely âheyâ, but this time was different.
it was like he was focused on one thing and one thing only.
watching bunnyâs highlight over, and over, and over again.
and you sat right there with him, for some odd reason, i guess you just wanted to see just how many times sae would watch his own failure. you even made a bet in your head.
this was kinda normal for sae. normal being that youâd come out of your room at four am looking for a quick bite to satisfy your hunger and heâd be right there, on the couch, slightly hunched over with his elbows rested on his knees with that look on his face.
but this was different. it was like he was searching for something, anything that would give him an answer to that horrendous play he made on the pitch.
then you broke the silence.
âi donât know much about football, but i think you played well.â your voice was quiet save for the cheering on the tv.
that broke sae out of whatever trance he was in.
his face was painted with something like disbelief and disgust.
much like sae.
he was now facing you with an unreadable look in his eyes. sure, you could read saeâs facial expression with ease since most of the time it was blank. but his eyes told a different story.
âi know you donât, because you wouldnât have said that if you did.â he scoffed.
you took this as an offer. âthen.. why donât you teach me?â
he quirked an eyebrow at this. âyou want to know more about football?â his tone was slightly doubtful that you of all people would willingly want to hear him go on and on about the logistics of football.
âi just want to know whatâs got you like this, iâve never seen this sae, itâs kinda cute.â your confession has him scoffing.
âcute? me losing to a lukewarm shit-head is cute to you?â
to this, a wry chuckle slips past your lips. âno! no,â you raise your hands and shake them in defense, âitâs just.. i donât know how to explain it.â
he rolled his eyes and sighed, âwhatever..â
a pause.
âiâll teach you though, if you really want to learn.â his face was facing away from you and he said it so quietly that you almost missed it.
almost.
you perked up at this, eyes gleaming with interest. âreally?â
he hummed in affirmation.
âgive me you hand.â he said it with such a straight face that you almost thought that it wasnât a request.
even so, you obliged, holding your hand out for him.
he slid is right hand under yours, his left handâs pointer finger coming to rest in the palm of your hand.
his eyes met yours, there was determination mixed with.. something else. âi wonât teach you everything, iâll just show you the play he made. good?â
you nod. âyouâll teach me some more later though right?â
âdonât push it.â
before you could start to push again, you felt saeâs index finger move lightly against your palm. the touch was barley there, but you still felt it. a tingly sensation.
âpretend the goal is here,â he slid his finger down to the base of your hand.
âand iâm here,â he then slides his finger toward the base of your thumb.
saeâs eyes are obviously facing downward into the palm of your hand, envisioning the play as heâd watched it before. but your attention was elsewhere.
not glued to your own hand, but glued to his face.
god did he look pretty when he was focusing on something.
and that something was you.
or a part of you, at least.
he seemed so intent on teaching you the play that heâd lost himself in the process. forgetting that this was the first time you two had ever made physical contact with one another.
âpay attention.â he quickly snapped you out of your thoughts. not even looking up to tell to you.
a slight pout formed on your lips. âi am..â
a lie.
he continued. âbunny is a forward, iâm a midfielder. i tried going for the penalty box here, but somehow after i threaded a perfect weighted through-ball, that idiot struck a goal, right here.â
and just then sae came to the realization that it wasnât him who had let bunny scored, it was an idiot teammate who couldnât accept such a well thought through pass.
he let go of your hand and you internally winced at the loss warmth.
sae on the other hand seemed cool. after calculating everything in his head and connecting what he had just shown you to the footage of the highlight, he was content in his understanding now.
and heâd be lying if he said the softness of your hand didnât help come to his conclusion.







