nagi seishiro

to everyone else, nagi is lazy to his very core — seen by his constant napping during class or being piggy backed by his own teammates (reo) and doing the bare minimum all whilst beating everyone else.

yet with you, he’s the opposite of lazy with you.

nagi wakes up early for you to meet you on time at your bus stop that he almost every morning runs to in a hurry with his uniform wrinkled and in a mess that he lets you spoil him by tidying it for him, letting his eyes wander at your focused ones and relaxing at your soft and warm touch in contrast to his cold ones. and nagi is the opposite of his usual self when he goes the extra mile — only writing notes for you during class when you’re beside him too busy falling asleep as his hands moves faster as though he’s playing his games on the paper to capture all the information on the board as the teacher wipes it off, only buying food for you and bringing right to your table in contrast to his usual self who has his food placed in front of him who already finds merely chewing a pain, only carrying your bag as you two walk home, not minding the extra weight on his back when its for you. after all, if it’s for you, he thinks its worth it: anything’s worth to see your beaming face that practically shines with the way the sun shines on your face as though youre an angel, anything’s worth to be able to be by your side who to him is practically an angel in disguise with the way you make his heart flutter and his face warm that to him is no longer a hassle especially when your eyes are simply drawn to him as though a magnetic, anything’s worth to see your eyes brighten when he does those little things that seems so uncharacteristic to everyone else. but you know better he thinks, he’s only like this with you.

and its even more obvious when nagi truly brings out his ‘genius’ for you — when he does his 200% and pulls out all his best moves that he had half-assed all these times when he sees you watching him play football against other school, his motivation linked to your attention and eyes fixated on the way he moves as though playing only for you, when he’s so focused in finishing a game for you or even playing a game to carry you, with his eyes practically firing up with hypothetical fire burning up, so focused his veins on his hands pops a little and his lips slightly bleeding from how hard he was biting it, only to immediately turn puppy like when he turns to you to look for your validation once he’s all done, when he sits up all straight when he patiently and gently tutors you for homework as though he’s ever bothered to do any of those and not simply wing it. nagi doesn’t really think its cool, its just a part of him, barely acknowledging people’s ossips about his talents: bringing his volleyball team to the nationals (little do you know he simply joined because you and him liked a certain volleyball anime and watched it together), acing all the exams despite practically being asleep in most of the classes (he’s really not asleep, simply looking at you as he lies his head on his table and looking at you through drooping eyelids and secretly admiring you as you focus in class). and perhaps he does all things for one reason: nagi loves you and wants you to give the attention and validation he craves: eating up your each and every praise that sounds so right with your sugary sweet voice that gets his adreadline pumping as though ready to finish another game, eating up your reactions from your wide eyes and ‘o’ shaped lips to him flexing his talents in contrast to his sloth like being majority of the time, and most importantly eating up the way you look at him as though he’s your entire world.

itoshi rin

to everyone else, rin is completely and entirely consumed and fixated on football: evident from how his every action revolves around his passion from his football books that he reads solely to analyse techniques underneath his desk during class, from how he skips his school club to go to his out-of-school football training team a hour away from school in a bus that comes every thirty minutes, and.. from the way he’s strangely always around you..?

not to say other’s analysis seems to be wrong: rin’s nothing less than passionate about football, but he thinks he can be his raw self with you and let you mold him to whatever you want if it means to see your smile: only evident in yours and his stash of polaroids photos.

polaroids featuring rin’s face plastered with colourful stickers of stars, hearts, emojis and disney princesses as he uncharacteristically smiles as though he was a little kid with a bright beam and crescent shaped eyes with flash on that he’s sure his classmate or his teammates wont even recognise in contrast to his usual fixed grimace on his face, one that makes him smile especially when he remembers your giggles as you paste it on his face: remembering your soft and gentle touch that touches both his skin and his heart too and the way you stick your tongue too when youre all focused that makes his heart flutter and stomach filled with butterflies. polaroids that featured both you and him secretly in his wallet that he can’t help but be magnetised to and look at before every of his game for motivation and even kiss it for good luck where you and him have stupid and silly hair clips clipped onto both your hairs that you both clipped onto each other on his bed, room that was always silent now lively and filled with yours and his chatter and giggles as you both acted like little kids again that makes him wish he didn’t have to ever grow and stay right here with you forever, beaming at the camera as you press your lips on his cheeks that practically leaves a mark on his heart. polaroid that was secretly downloaded by him to become his wallpaper of you and him on his bed sitting down together, for the first time taking the lead and using your polaroid that he’s paid for and taking a picture of you and him from the stupid 0.5 angle you always do of him and laugh at, capturing a silly picture of you and him to brighten his day and for him to not go homesick when he leaves you for a few months, yours and his forehead hilariously big that he can’t help but let out a ugly laugh, letting his hand wrap around your frame as you two laugh at the picture.

and rin’s sure if they look a little closer, perhaps they would see the truth without those polaroids — with the way his lips moves upwards whenever youre with him and his eyes soften when it drifts to you in contrast to his usual frown fixated on his pretty face, with the way his voice seemingly becomes softer as he replies to you in contrast to how he practically ignores his classmates and teammates words, letting them drift out of his ears immediately, with the way he goes above and beyond all whilst still trying to put up the nonchalant facade they all fell for: the way his face flushes pink whenever you linger a little too close even though you’ve been together for oh so long yet you still make him want to lie down in his bed and yell against his pillow and kick his feet like a teenage girl in love, the way his usual glare melt so obviously when his eyes lands on you whether your hands or your eyes like youre his very entire world, and even the way he seems like a puppy if you look hard enough whenever he walks home with you, hands tugging at yours, head on your shoulder, holding yours and his bag even despite hours of football practice.

otoya eita

in contrast to his very very infamous reputation: a player, a jerk, simply “dating” to have fun — its a cycle that otoya has lived by through his school life, reputation stained by upset exes that throw paint against his at first pristine reputation: liking someone’s cute face or personality, going with them for one or two dates before losing interest and becoming bored and restart the cycle.

and yet, there’s something about you that’s simply so magnetic that he thinks you, along with football, could be the constant in his life for once in his life.

a routine: its not something otoya is used to, but with you, he feels oh so at ease. he finds routine as something exciting now: walking with you to the convenience store after school for lunch and getting a new snack each and every time with you whilst enjoying your voice that he thinks he can never grow tired off with each and every of your movement in your pitch and octave as you ramble away that makes him still smile unconsciously, waiting for you outside of class as he plays a game of finding you with your class position always switching, smiling unconsciously when he sees you whether you are focused in class, playing games underneath your table or even doodling in your notebook, going out with you during the weekends and practically remaking memories in the different places he liked and eventually grew tired of — from the old arcade that he used to go as a kid that now is practically abandoned that you and him hung out, drinking soda and laughing before running away together, from the secret corner in the school library he used to attempt to focus and do homework and doing yours and his assignment together where he finds out that rather than getting distracted by the new influx of people, he’s getting distracted by how you look so adorable as you write another essay with the way you bite your lips as you focus of course only until you flick his forehead for not focusing, to even a small shop by his neighbourhood and enjoying his favourite childhood snack that he thinks taste even sweeter now that youre next to him that he eventually grew tired of after eating ten of it once when he was five. you make all things he’s grown tired of new again: his old earphones he left in the corner of his desk at the excitement from obtaining a new headphone he now use in order to share music with you on the bus as your head lies on his shoulder as the music blasts in both your ears that makes his heart flush at the thought of you and him sharing the same song (he thinks he’s becoming oh so sappy in contrast to who he used to be), his rainbow beads that he collected as a kid before abandoning it in his house storeroom he made bracelets with you in his bedroom as you two made matching bracelets that he has never removed from his wrist since you put it right on him, and even his childhood favourite fried rice that he ate too much of and despite learning how to cook it never cooked it again until you came by his house for the first time and tried it with him wanting to oh so desperately to impress you, tasting even more addicting with you sharing his now new favourite food with him.

it was out of impulse rin thinks, or so he likes to believe.

pictures on your pinterest pinned on a board of piercing — snake bites, helix, central eyebrow piercing that rin can’t help but scroll through. its a habit he’s kept up, scrolling through your pinterest boards for ideas: from clothes idea to buy online for you to surprise especially for matching outfits like the chikawa jacket that he’s even wearing now on his bed, from photo ideas that fills his camera roll and polaroids that prints out to be pasted right on the walls of his bedroom for him to admire and unconsciously grin to himself, from date inspiration for him to take you out on on his rare days off without training.

and now he’s lying on his bed right beside you — a silver circle pierced through his tongue awkwardly as he fiddled with it inside his mouth, looking at you who’s lying right next to him on your phone, undoubtly scrolling through pinterest looking through piercings again and its killing him inside. sure, its his second day with his piercing and he probably shouldn’t do anything drastic in case of an infection. yet, he’s getting all fidgety, his hands fiddling with his phone with no purpose, scrolling through his socials that are practically empty or filled with boring football game videos, his legs fidgety and rubbing against yours as a habit and to warm both you and him up in the slightly chilly room, his teeth habitually rubbing against the cold metallic jewellery right in his tongue that he sucks against that was still slightly sore.

what would you do if you see his new piercing? would you look at him in surprise with him never indulging in such fashion stuff with most of his mind filled with football — his accessories pilled on him all belonging to you, his sweaters that are picked up by you or inspired from your pinterest board, his closet either that or only consisting of football jerseys and hand me downs for sae. would you be into it — you clearly like those cool piercing evident from your pinterest board, you always fawn over him whenever he tries something new whether it was that one time where he sported your sanrio hairpin for the first time or wore yours and his matching ring outside with you, your flushed face and stuttering words as you look at him that makes his heart swell.

“hey. i wanna try something.” if there’s anything rin can’t help but give in, its when its regarding you — whether it is when you look up at him with those puppy eyes even as a joke to go to the arcade with you once again to try yours and his luck in the claw machine that’s clearly rigged (and yet he spends his allowance there still anywhere for a chance for you to beam at him), or whenever you ask him of anything from helping you to tutor you in english or to share his food, or in this case giving in to you who’s right beside him. after all, he might not get the chance to see you when it recovers anyways — with your exams season approaching and his football competition season colluding soon as well.

and he thinks its already worth it even though you’ve just looked up from your phone, your eyes blinking as you tilt your head to face him, and he can’t help but smash his lips right against you.

its brash: its as if he’s kissing you for the first time, yours and his forehead knocking slightly against each other, his hands always finding its way to linger on your chin, pulling you even closer right into him as though he wants to melt you and him together, biting on your lips still as yours and his blood merge together. and as usual, his tongue makes his way and finds its home right inside your mouth, as though interlocking with your tongue that’s warm in contrast to his cold metallic piercing that’s even more sensitive than usual when it touches against yours. and he can guess you like the new change: with the way your eyes widen and your grip on his shirt tighten as your noise gets swallowed by his passionate kiss, the way your tongue keeps finding its way to touch the cold jewel and linger right on the sensitive spot of his tongue, the way you too pull him even closer by his shirt as you and him melt even closer: only pulling away slightly panting with drool strings connecting you and him.

“do you like it..?” rin can’t help but ask even if he knows the answer: his voice slightly shaky and breathy from the make out session, his cheeks burning still with yours and his face merged against yours, his hands still lingering right on yours as though needy and in need of your affection that he’s practically addicted to at this point.

“yeah.” one word, and you crash your lips against his once again — and rin thinks this might just be the best decision he’s ever made so far.

with the way your tongue feels right against the sore spot on his tongue that makes him whine against you, vibration sending through yours and his mouth that makes his grip your shirt a little tighter as you tug at his jacket as though still pulling him closer as though you and him aren’t practically merged together, and the way you are practically going crazy in contrast to how you usually let him take the charge as your hands find your way in to his hair that earns a whimper from him, as you shift yours and his position into a more comfortable one: all whilst not disconnecting yours and his as though it would practically kill you to separate you and him.

to the world, itoshi rin is somehow cold, emotionless, unaffected - the way his face is fixed in the dead-panned face as though carved into it by a sculpture, the way he doesnt bother responding or dignifying jabs or comments as he walks past the desks, the way his eyes linger on only his goals over the people that surrounds him. to his first football club, he is nothing short of a disappointment, always compared to his genius of a brotehr, nothing short of dull, always hiding his report cards whenever exam season arrives, nothing short of cold, his mouth barely spoke a word during his stay there. to his classmates, he is just an average joe - just another classmate not focused in class, too busy focusing on his dream world wrapped in the football magazines he has stacked underneath his table, just another guy, albeit way more quiet and responsive than most students, just another mediocre and average student, with grades that just passed the mark to move on to the next and with abysmal club attendance.

yet, to him, he knows he is the opposite of all the things they say - he knows he’s rather soft hearted, a cry-baby at the slightest tone change, he’s rather insecure, each comparison to his brother only digs the knife slotted against his heart deeper into the already gory mess of an organ it has become over the years, he’s rather passionate, driving him to continue persevering against all odds, against his own belief and reality, against his own blood. but he rather it stays that way - maybe its better to not let them see the real him, to not let them too be disappointed at the real reflection that stares back at him in the dirty mirror, to not hurt himself more by giving them the full him.

and so he builds a wall. he builds a wall made of bricks and stones, block by block until he is trapped in his own making, until he no longer can get hurt or even see the outside world outside of the house he has essentially trapped himself in, until he wont get hurt anymore - not by his club members, not by his classmates, not by his brother. and he tries to convince himself, he likes it better this way - without others, there wont be another sae - he wont have to witness his own heart ripped out and thrown on the grassy patch of field another time, he wont have to go through nights of sobbing uncontrollably that leaves his pillow gross and wet by the time morning rolls around, he wont have to feel as though he lost a loved one to death as he occasionally open his drawer that features a photobook of him and his brother still grinning without a care in the world without knowing what would have happened next with dried tears stains that dirty those photographs.

and yet, its with you, rin thinks his walls are entirely down. to him, youre the key to the complicated lock in his heart that he without a doubt passes to you. you’ve always been beside him, even when his eyes were fixated on sae that has always been in front of him - beside him in class where you two slacked at the back of class playing your phone and him reading soccer magazine underneath the table as you two occasionally bicker whilst laughing, beside him on his bed right on top of the messy blankets he knows you dont mind with his arms around you like its second nature to him, beside him on that bus whether to and fro school or even to his training facility that takes practically hours to get to as you drool on his uniform that he doesn’t have the heart to let you know even after all these years.

you’re the bright star and sun that melts away his icy cold castles and mountains of walls as though they were nothing, rin thinks. the way you beam at him whenever you see him right at the bus stop, waving your hands excitedly as your footsteps springs towards him and he feels like he’s in those cliche romance mangas you talk about, almost seeing those cherry blossom trees and hearing that love song that repeats in his head whenever youre oh so close to him. the way you listen to him, nodding along even though half of what he’s saying are nonsense word jumbles practically sews and patches his broken heart back, warming his once ice cold atmosphere. the way you do things — passing him those sugary sweet candies that tastes just like you, letting him copy off your homework while you both laugh quietly at the back of class makes him wish this could last forever, the way your hands so gently combs through his emerald hair makes him melt into a lovesick puddle right in your hands as he looks at your eyes that he swears the whole galaxy is inside it.

and maybe youre like those hero’s and magicians he’s watched in those cartoons when he was a little kid, you must be. so enchanting: how you manage to coax him out of his room time and time again to go to wherever you want, hell rin thinks he would even go to the very end of the world if you simply asked. youre like the fire element to his ice element in those stupid games, the sun and the moon from those posts he reads about your favourite love mangas to catch up to you, the golden retriever and the black cat trope he hears you rave about, the “lalala” and “okokok” tiktok trend and everything under the sun. if youre not a secret extraterrestrial creature that he bets you are, the equivalent to his new found destroyer ego to make a team together to destroy the earth or something like that he jokes, maybe just maybe you two were destined by fate.

in another life, you would be the witch to find an abandoned familiar he thinks - warming and melting his icy exterior with both your warmth you exude and too the hot soup you always cook for him whenever he’s running a cold. in another life, you would have been the hero to have helped him out of whatever villainous organisation he finds himself trapped in in his rage and fear with your warmth and that bright cheshire grin of yours anytime. in another life, you would have been the bright and well-liked royal of the castle who finds him, a lonesome and attempting knight and make him yours he thinks. he’s sure of it — where yours and his constellations are always beside each other, where your palm fits perfectly with his like two puzzle pieces merged together, where yours and his heart and ribs and guts are shared together.

one thing rin has learnt whilst overseas is that you and him might really be connected by souls, by ribs, and by heart perhaps too.

strict routines he’s stuck to since he was just fourteen — wake up, open the windows, take deep breaths, stretching, yoga, mediation shifted in its own ways to accommodate you back when he had first gotten together with you: to waking up and looking at you with the light outside from the windows shining perfectly at your face that makes him gulp a little, staring hard and long whilst tracing your face as gently as possible, indulging in the sugary-sweet moment before returning back to his routine like a robot. its what he’s used to, what he’s comfortable enough, what he knows. and recently, he’s been mimicking you, he thinks: closing his eyes immediately at the bright light in his room the same way you bury your face in his face when you first wake up away from the “bright” lights in his room, drinking a cup of coffee that he swore he wouldn’t drink despite making it for you every morning like clockwork albeit with much less sugar than you would have added, and opening his phone the first thing he does right after it all the same way you open your phone and flash him essentially in his bedroom with your bright phone screen that illuminates the now matching photo of you and him beaming at the camera the day he left.

maybe its rin’s way of feeling your presence in his life now that its back to before he met you — just him and football, wearing a different but similarly stuffy and claustrophobic football jersey that marks his name at the back of it. bitter coffee that still smells like the kitchen that brings him back memories of you and him attempting to fix the coffee machine whilst laughing together, your smile imprinted in his mind, phone screen that still makes him unconsciously grin even though its been months since he’s left japan of that selfie with yours and his cheeks squished against each other, beaming at the camera as though it would be the last time right before he enters the gate to somewhere else that he wonders if you too look at it a little longer before you enter your phone, or hand sanitizer that smells exactly like the one you used to use, and gave to him whenever you two were out together that reminds him of home, reminds him of you.

and he’s sure his teammates dont miss the subtle changes to him. how his diet has changed strangely — desserts that fill his meal and sweets that he munches on in the dorm room that he used to buy from the convenience store for you to eat together in class and then in his room that tastes a little less sweet now that its not from your mouth to his, hotter food that you’ve made him grown used to in contrast to his old days eating leftovers and microwaveable meals from the fridge that still burns his tongue a little, sticking out his tongue as though he’s on field at the temperature even now the same way you do too, picking at his vegetable unconsciously the same way you do before pushing it onto his plate whilst smiling, each pickled vegetable even now resembling you in his mind as he pushes it around his plate. how he’s behaving all strangely too in contrast to the rin who they met just a few weeks ago at neo egoist league — how he’s more accustomed to laughing in the same tone you do, having to cup his mouth at the realisation, looking away awkwardly before being tackled by shidou (that broke out into half a fight), how he fiddles even more with his things than before as though they were your hands that he finds comfort in interlocking and fiddling with whilst lying right beside yours, how he looks a little longer at his phone screen that almost made shidou grab his phone (to his luck, he managed to dodge the attack and not get into a fight whilst in it: messaging you that as though expecting a praise). or even just the way he talks now — the tone and accent melting and merging into yours and his own mid sentence, your catchphrases popping out of his mouth unconsciously like bubblegum that draws strange looks (they dont understand it, he thinks), references to yours and by extension his favourite games and shows that flies by everyone else’s head that he misses your laugh that should ring along with his lame jokes.

and rin’s even more sure that the media doesnt miss how he’s changed from just that few weeks. how his closet doesn’t quite fit him right — sanrio and chikawa sweaters that are both a little too tight to have belonged to him and a little uncharacteristic for him to sport on his day out, silver necklaces that they just cant see the heart of, chalking it up to a new impulsive purchase despite him never wearing any in his winning match, silly keychains on the bag he brings out that catches the camera flash just right into the newspapers. how his last interview went even: seeming more nervous whilst attempting to make eye contact with the camera (knowing youre watching him live), stuttering a little too much whilst answering a question about romantic relationship, how his glued up paper ring catches the whole internet. how his internet presence (without PR) reflects something the internet wants to dig a little more — from his instagram stories about another game win whether that be on valorant or league of legends with a duo with a censored tag (of yours), screenshots of movies and shows he’s watching with the side of facetime featuring your face censored with colour brushes from the tools section, outfit pictures that are first vetted by you and then posted with a uncharacteristically cute water bottle you bought for him as a joke that he still uses to this very day.

its now that he can’t be fully with you that rin wonders if he’s taken advantage of all these years you’ve been there for him, each memory haunts him through his own unconscious movements, speech and thoughts: as though you’ve fully melted yourself on him, your soul and his intertwined and ribs replacing each others: becoming one another. missing, longing is not a strong enough word for it all — heartache when he lies in his bed all alone yearning for your warmth hands that lingers on his body, cuddling him at night that makes him dream of days long after his career in a small apartment all decorated by whatever you want living a life with just you and him, that tightening of his heart whenever he sees you in his everyday life: those red roses that he used to buy from the school shop, any song form the playlist you and him collated that he plays everyday, every second he can, things you’ve bought for him that he’s brought along this practically eons long trip to france, the dryness in his mouth when he looks at your face through facetime: noting every single changes from the way your fringe has gotten longer, to the small leftover seaweed bites form the corner of your mouth, wondering how you were just so perfect in his eyes. its not human he feels: this hunger and craving he feels deep in his ribs, in his guts, in his very bone and blood, every second he counts, every day he strikes off from his calendar, every football match he wins just for a chance for you and him to reunite.

rin remembers the first time you clicked the chain around his neck, a cold metallic string stinging his skin with its low temperature in contrast to his burning and red neck from the lack of distance between the two of you, hands fiddling with the heart locket at the front, looking up at the glittering heart underneath the low lights of your bedroom.

rin has never been too much of an accessory person, it’s a trouble he thinks, removing it before games and whatnot - discarded watches by his water bottle that gets left in the dust of his bedroom stand, hair pins requested by his teachers that get lost in the mess of his bag that are long forgotten by the time he steps on field, glasses that he finds little use for that he leaves in his case in a random drawer when he already has you. but rin supposes, it wont be too much - when he looks at your pleading face and lets the necklace hang around his neck, almost as though your icy hands are wrapping around his neck as you always do from the back. and he’s not too surprised when you open the locket cheekily and place that mini polaroid of you and him into the small heart locket: its characteristic of you, doing things like this. and its certainly no trouble when he thinks of the assosciation, that youre always with him in the little necklace he’s sure he’ll wear every second of his life, that you’re never too far in contrast to everyone who feels like they’re a million kilometers away, that youre his heart that keeps him breathing.

he likes it. strangely enough. rin likes the way the silver heart locket looks in contrast to his black uniform, black hair, and black shoes as though youre right on him, he likes the way it feels comforting when he holds it as though he’s holding you that warms his fragile heart, he likes the way it clicks open easily for him to glance at you and him whenever you can’t be with him: different classes, different clubs, different release time and what not. and rin thinks he learns something too: he learns that he likes your face a little too much that it resembles an art piece to him with the way his fingers traces softly along your features, something that he knows he’s too flustered to do in real life, he learns that this might be his new lucky charm with the way he kisses both the polaroid inside and the heart locket before each game and wins whenever he does so, he learns too that he’s strangely protective over it, using his hand to protect it and holding onto the back click of it whenever he feels it weaken a little and eventually fixing it in his bedroom late at night despite his strict schedule set for himself.

a simple gesture of love turns out to be his saving grace. rin’s never being that clingy he thinks - ignoring the way he practically clings to you like a koala bear and drools in his sleep whenever he naps with you after school before football club starts, ignoring the way he interlocks your hands and his whenever youre outside with him whether on an actual date or just walking home with him, ignoring the way he can’t stop refreshing your social media pages and messages for a hint of you. but yet, when he’s stuck here all alone in the blue lock, he’s never been more grateful for this little locket that keeps him sane. like a prayer, rin looks at that photo of you, memorising the smile lines on your face that he thinks resemble the finest museum pieces, the crescent shaped eyes that closes whenever you beam this bright like the sun of his universe, as though feeling that same arm in the picture that wraps around the him in the photo in real life too — when he goes to bed in pure darkness with only his ipad brightness underneath the blankets and wake up inconspicuously away from his roommates prying eyes, before, with nerves all jittery underneath the facade he shows with water drank still dripping down his mouth that he’s so used to you wiping away and after each match in the locker room, sweat dripping down his face and neck, his head dizzy with adrenaline still pumping through him as he shakily opens the locket and unconsciously smiles at your face, before and after he eats as though grateful for you to providing him food. rin wonders if you’re doing the same - looking through the piles of photos you hogged as though a squirrel before winter of him: candid photos, 0.5x zoom photos, couple photos, refreshing his chats waiting for him desperately to reply like a lovesick fool too, fiddling with that identical matching heart locket featuring the exact same photo.

rin wonders too: in the future, would it still be the same? when he’s overseas playing, will he too do the same? treating this heart locket like a secret treasure, opening it day and night and having to find someone to eventually fix it when the heart disconnects from the chain with the amount of times he opens it as though he’s a lonely maiden waiting for you to come home from war in the past history, treating his heart locket as another extension of oyu with the way he caresses it with his fingers, kissing the photo delicately and wiping carefully any stains that lingers on the metal: things that he’s too shy he thinks to do, treating his heart locket as you practically, whispering unsaid confessions and words at night while holding the heart locket right to his heart as though swearing an oath.

you and him are still young: rin knows this. yet, he can’t help but feel helpless this way. insecurities — whilst youre out with your friends from school during this holiday going to malls, beaches, sleepovers and whatnot, he’s trapped in this facility that feels more and more claustrophobic each day. will you forget him one day? will he one day be forced to choose between you and his passion? and hes back to opening that love locket for reassurance: that you gave this to him because you love him, because you don’t want him to miss you too much over this break, because you want him to remember you the way he needs you to remember him. if anything, he still feels like the teenager in love with you: it was just yesterday to rin that he confessed to you right in your bedroom that hes been in since he was a little kid as though a second room for him lying right beside you, not even fully understanding the word yet, it was just yesterday to rin when he cried for the first time in his life right outside your doorstep as he felt your arms wrapped around him as snow falls on both of you: and he swears you were his angel that night, and it was just yesterday that you sent him off to this blue lock facility for one chance in succeeding in this shared dream of you and rin.

and when your hands finally wrapped around him, for the first time, rin lets down his pride and whatever that’s left of him after that humiliating defeat by yoichi, and throws himself on you, wrapping his arms uncharacteristically around you. he doesn’t hesitate either this time, his hands lingering and tracing your arms, and then your face as he leans in: studying and comparing your new changes in contrast to that polaroid in his heart locket: your cheeks have gotten chubbier, your hair has grown a little longer and curlier during the break, and you’ve gotten a new pair of coat in contrast to the usual white coat you sport. and things he doesn’t do: pressing a kiss on your lips and melting right into it just as he did when he kisses your polaroid before and after each match, melting into the way your still cold hands wraps around his very being just like how it was right in that polaroid, looking at you with the same amount of lovesickness in his eyes the same way it was captured in that polaroid. right now, youre real: youre not just a polaroid in his heart locket, and he prefers that.

rin doesn’t mind being embarrassing or cringe: he just wants you. no heart locket could replace you, he thinks. you’ve changed so much just in a few months, and he loathes the fact that he didn’t see it happen: when you first learnt how to curl your hair, when you first bought your new coat, when you first started playing that game you text him about. and he knows it’ll be all he feels: when he leaves japan to pursue his dreams: he’ll miss your graduation possibly with games going on the same time as then, he’ll miss you turning eighteen too and same with you when he turns eighteen in a locker room preparing for another match, nd he’ll miss anniversaries physically, only calling you and buying you gifts from afar. and he hates that, he hates it like a little kid, he hates this yearning and longing and burning in his heart.

and he thinks, a love locket isn’t enough. hes always too much: as a kid when he destroys his and others toys in the playground and at home, as a teen when no one else caught up to his instinct on field, as a teen with too much baggage and personality for his peers to get to know beneath the surface. its selfish: rin wants to grow old with you: he wants this to last an eternity — hell, he doesn’t mind tying the knot now, make a paper ring the same ways he did right in class unknowing of this love burning in his chest, and maybe on impulse to give up his whole career and aspiration just for him to be able to stay.

reo mikage:

reo’s always thought of superstitions stupid: the way his parents ask fortune tellers about specific dates and time for certain events from business investment to even when to host meetings, the way his friends would follow superstitions told by their parents from crossing their fingers before receiving their results to avoiding cracks at the pathways in school, the way he recluntantly follow them because its “tradition”. but maybe he’s no different from them, he thinks. its the big match: one that will decide whether he’ll prove his father wrong - the world cup finale. he’s anxious: his hands are all sweaty and shaky as he puts down his water bottle, water still dripping from it from the mouth of it, his heart is beating the fastest its ever had as though he’s about to have a heart attack, and his mind is hazy with self-deprecating thoughts that practically chain him to the seats. he closes his eyes and tries to slow his breathing, he has only a few more minutes left before he has to get on field, a few more minutes before he either makes it and becomes a professional footballer or break it and be enchained to his family company for the rest of his life.

superstition. good luck charms. reo’s getting desperate, he’ll take whatever at this point. whether its removing that polaroid of you from the back of his phone to trace with his shaky fingers and press his lips against, or placing the cold matching necklace with you against his palm to cool his nerve down to focus onto the freezing sensation over the beating o his heart, or even taking your spare candies from his bag to chew on one or two. and he’ll let the sweetness burst in his mouth: ignore the drying of his mouth as he walks out on field, ignore shakiness of his entire being, ignore his heart failing him.

and when reo kicks the last goal, his eyes instantly search for yours in the crowd of people, recognising you within a few seconds amongst the millions cheering. and he thinks: you might just be his guardian angel, after all its with you that hes able to win. and perhaps, that cold necklace might calm him down more if it was a ring on his fingers, he gets real fidgetive before a match after all.

itoshi rin

in contrast to what others think, rin’s a nervous wreck before a match, especially one where hes now competing against his brother: no longer part of blue lock, but in a team, on the global stage. hes insecure, he knows he’ll never compare to sae, hes aware of that since he was a little kid he thinks by the countless of golden awards that people credit sae for rather him, countless of opportunities only given to sae and never to him. and his usual routine is thrown out of the window: he cant just rely on just motivsting himself to perform by thinking of those burning feelings im his chest, cant just rely on pure instincts he thinks as his legs turn into jelly, cant rely on himself solely. its not the first time either he feels like this: in his first match thst he won the night sae came back home for the first time, in his match at blue lock against u20 japan team, and now in his match against real madrid in the world cup finale. proving sae wrong: thats what hes been working on for the entirety of his teensge life, but for once, hes not so certain anymore. rin feels like a little kid, he feels lost, and he could run away: the door has always been open, and its not as though sae hasnt cursed him to this.

and rin’s spiralling again, the ring of his braclet that he bought with you the day before he first ever entered blue lock brings him back to reality: sitting on the bench in the locker room all alone when his other teammates are all chatting amongst themself a little further away from him. rin should go soon, he looks up at the clock, a few more minutes before showtime. and as always, like clockwork, he opens his phone and plays his favourite voice memo: one where you simply wish him good luck, telling him you believe he’ll win in that same cheery tune that he misses.

and when rin kicks the final goal, the world stops. silence, before the chant of the crowd overwhelms his ears and his teammate throw him on his shoulders: he made it. and yet, for the first time, instead of looking at his brother for validation, for his praise, for his reassurance: he finds you in the crowd and all he can think is now hoping you can rerecord that good luck message, maybe a video this time. after all, if your voice recording can help him to score two goals, he might just ace his next match with a personalised video from you: but for now, he’ll dedicate this win to you with a kiss to yours and his necklace.

itoshi sae

its just another match for sae: and yet he feels totally drained out compared to usual. no doubt, he’s lost his spark and passion that he used to hold on to tightly when he was a teenager, and he’s been playing simply for the sake of it. and maybe its tthe back to back matches that weighs him down like stones, or maybe its homesickness, missing everything he wants to chase back now that hes all grown, or maybe its simply the usual nervousness before a match. deep down, depsite his ambitions, hes insecure: hes no genius, he knows, it was a bitter revelation he finds out when he leaves, crying silently in the bathroom with no one around him but geniuses, and maybe it lingers in him: that hes never truly accepted his mediocrity. yet, he knows every and any match matters: he should get up now, join his teammates in those cheers, or at least get himself ready for the match starting in a few minutes instead of wallowing in his own misery, hogging the seats in the locker room. hes got all his usual routine done too: wearing the socks you bought him when he first came back from spain, stretched the way he was taught to, drank the water he needed to in the cute little water bottle he matches with you — but hes still missing something.

sae thinks its silly, he only does this ritual whenever its a big match, and this match is nothing special. logically, the opponents are much weaker and even at his current state, he’ll likely win them still. but he supposes he can indulge a little, after all its almost 6 months since hes seen you: with the season having started at the start of your internship. a minute before the match begins, and he hurriedly presses yours and his promise necklace onto his forehead as though a prayer and he walks with his teammates onto the field.