yoichi isagi, thinks he could love. thinks he should if given the right tools.
yoichi isagi thinks that maybe, love can come late. maybe love sees he's got his eye on a goal post and a hunger for glory more than someone to wake up next to. it's not that he hasn't seen love, it's that love hasn't ever really seen him.
he thought love was the fan with diamonds in her eyes. the one who wrapped her arms around him and said, are you like? new around here? he thinks that when he smirked and whispered, no. but you're new to me, that love was definitely happy enough in the moment to toss himself in his hotel room.
but love wouldn't take his wallet and leave his toilet a mess.
he thought love was that guy he practiced with on the weekends at the gym. you know, the one with arms that promised to have and to hold? you seem like you bear a lot of weights, love said. yoichi managed to shrug (love has a lot of one liners, he thought.)
but love wouldn't avert his eyes when they passed in the locker room.
he thinks love is tired. love is overworked, love must be working a regular 9-5 and love needs time. love can wait. love should wait.
yoichi isagi has been stuck in traffic with love for about forty five minutes now. love's face is fraught with exhaustion (he told you to skip visiting him at practice! you're still beating that summer flu!), and love's eyes are weary, lids thick and lashes falling forward.
"keep your eyes on the road, isa."
"like there's any road to keep my eyes on," he retorts, shamelessly turning to you fully. look at you. at love, his love.
"so." you ask, looking back at him. love looks so handsome, you think.
"what are you thinking about?"
i'm thinking about you, love.
i'm thinking about you.
for @wttcsms - a full length fic will come i am simply blue (lock) balling u >:))
