#yocchiii

You hold your fist above the top of his head like a mic. “First question: without you standing proudly at attention on top of Isagi Yoichi’s head, would anyone have even noticed him on the field? I mean, what's it like carrying an entire football career when you're only one strand of hair?” 

The cowlick, of course, says nothing. 

“Honey,” Yoichi snorts, trying not to laugh.

“Shhh!” your finger moves to his lips. “The guest is speaking,” you whisper before turning back to the cowlick with a bright smile. You flick it in quick succession. Boing-boing-boing!

“Second question,” you continue, “we all saw the amazing goal Isagi scored last week. Be real with us, Mr. Cowlick: was that all Isagi, or did you have to give him one last ego boost before he could finally score ?”

You wiggle the cowlick left and right like it’s nodding, then, gasp theatrically. “Ohhh, he says yes.”

“That's not even a yes or no ques–” 

“He even adds that he’s the real MVP and Isagi’s just his vessel. Wow.” You glance off to the side, toward an imaginary camera, “Not that anyone’s surprised.”

Next to you, the man breaks, grabbing your wrist gently while pouting, “Oi oi! I made it happen!”

“The ratings say otherwise, extra. Mr. Cowlick has 12 million fans and a verified account. You, you have... supportive parents.”

“Leave my parents out of this. And my account is also verified!”

With the tip of your finger, you tilt the ahoge as if whispering before seriously nodding at nothing. “He agrees with me. He says he’s never missed a goal—unlike someone he knows, who needed a whole ego awakening just to score properly. Oh~! Sharp-tongued!” This time you make the cowlick immediately shoot straight up, then aggressively lean toward your face. “And a hot girlfriend, too? Come on!” You flutter your hand with fake modesty.

“Stop bullying my hair!”, he hides his little cowlick in the palm of his hand, trying to sound annoyed. 

“Next question.” A serious expression settles on your face, “One that has come up time and time again, one your fans can’t stop asking: are. you. single?”

The guest sways from side to side slowly, then suddenly flops forward in a ‘no’ motion. “He says no!” you gasp, looking at your boyfriend then the camera, mouth open. “Our famous Cowlick confirms he’s NOT single. He’s been in a committed relationship for years.”

Yoichi raises an eyebrow, “Oh, really? Got me curious.” Mr. Cowlick leans forward, as if whispering.

“Mmm.” you nod, mic still in front of the Cowlick, “Mmm, of course, we understand.” then you translate immediately, “You’re absolutely entitled to keep that part of your life private.”

“Are you done? You’re ridiculous.” The sofa sags as he leans on it to stand up.

“Oh! Sir!” 

“What now?” He rolls his eyes.

“This’s a family-friendly program, Mr. Cowlick ! Please, behave!” Then, after a prim little cough, your lashes flutter at the guest and your voice turns honey-sweet and flirty. “But, yeah, I'm available tonight.”

“You’re scolding my hair for flirting with you when you’ve been groping it nonstop!” Yoichi groans, gently slapping hand away.

You giggle, twirling the rebellious strand around your finger, “Smooth talker~!”

He looks up at you, brow furrowed. “Wait, what is he telling you? Is he flirting?!!” he wheezes, suddenly hit with the unpleasant feeling that something is happening right in front of him and he’s completely left out of it. “Hey! What happened to his committed relationship?!” 

He grabs your wrist, pulling the ‘microphone’ away from his head. “Alright, interview’s over!” he declares, flipping you onto the sofa, “Mr. Cowlick is getting grounded.”

“Noooo! We were having a moment!”. Upside down, you wink at the star dangling above, mimicking a phone with your hand: “Call me!”

©𝓮𝓷𝒕𝓮𝓷𝒅𝓼𝓶𝒂𝓻𝒂𝓰𝓮

𓂃✍︎ : 𝐗𝐈𝐈. 𝐕. 𝐌𝐌𝐗𝐗𝐕𝐈𝐈, 0. 673𝓴

“The CDs? Yoichi repeats, his finger sliding over the laptop trackpad. “I… didn’t know there was a CD version,” he says, a little thrown off. “I thought we’d watch it on Netflix. Since we have Netflix. And no CD player. If that’s your thing, I can order one.”

“What?” you ask, mouth full of paprika chips.

“You said you have CDs.”

A small laugh escapes you. “I said I have the CDs. It's my nickname for PMS: Cholesterol & Diabetes days. CDs.”

Well, he wasn’t expecting that. “Okay. So, Netflix, is it.”

“Yeah.” you say, getting up from the couch and tugging at the hem of your T-shirt. “Start it without me. I'll be right back—I just need to pee.”

Once in the bathroom, your phone buzzes in your hand. A 'period starting today' notification flashes on the screen. You look down, and yep—a tiny reddish stain on your underwear confirms the diagnostic. It wasn't just PMS. The storm had officially arrived.

You slip into Yoichi's room to grab a new underwear. Since you recently started crashing at his place, a few of your clothes are already scattered in his closet. Unfortunately, because you only just started crashing here, the only things you’ve brought over are nice dresses, pants, and cute panties that would be a crime to ruin.

“Damn it.” you sigh, grabbing a mustard-yellow boxer with pretty lace on the sides. Alright, a good layer of pads assembled like Tetris should do the trick, right?

In your toiletry bag, you take out a pack of sanitary pads. The plastic seal gradually loses its color between your nails as you stretch it to open it.

“You coming?!”

“One sec!” Of course, for narrative purposes, the attempt fails.

Still for the sake of this scenario, the pack is going to slip from your hands and roll a few feet away from you.

In the living room, your man is getting impatient: two minutes, my foot! He grabs a handful of popcorn and wolfs it down in one go. “What the hell is she doin’?!” he pauses the film, getting up from the couch. He headed toward the hallway, only to freeze. “What are you doing?!” Standing there with narrowed eyes, he stares at you, crouched next to the dresser.

A small rustle catches his attention. Something rolls on the floor, stopping a few centimetres from his right foot. Foot… Ball. With the tip of it, he rolls the ball left to right, then right to left.

“Sorry, I took a bit longer. Gimme the—”

“And Isagi Yoichi intercepts the ball!” he announces in full commentator mode. 

“What? No, no, no. ” But the silly thing just starts running around the big room. 

“Thirty seconds left on the clock.The score is deadlocked. And Isagi has the ball at his feet!” His voice rises, epic and breathless. “This is the moment legends are made of.” He starts dribbling. Little touches, quick feet, the pack bouncing between his socks. “What a first touch—absolutely sublime! 

You bend down in a hurry to reach for it, “Give it back! I need it!”

“And the opposition is putting up a fight—desperate tackle coming in hot! But Isagi refuses to be denied! ” He spins on his heel, faking left, pulling the crinkling plastic back with the sole of his foot.

... And you miss by inches, nearly face-planting into the carpet. Completely unfazed, your boyfriend keeps playing.

“He’s not giving an inch—watch this!”. He’s gliding past invisible defenders, feinting to the left. “You can’t teach that!”

“Yocchiiii!!!!”

As he could hear you with the screaming crowd!

With a perfect fake, he sets the ball up. “He centers it perfectly. Plants his foot. Can he do it?” A cocky I’m-about-to-score-the-winner smirk appears on his lips, “Oh, you better believe it! This is Isagi we’re talking about! He shoots, and—” The pack is launched full speed into the wall. “GOOOOOAAL!”

He drops into the most theatrical knee-slide in history, sliding across the carpet like he’s just won the World Cup final in the 90th minute.  “YEAHHHHH!!” he roars, pumping his fists in the air. “THE EGOIST STRIKER DOES IT AGAIN! HISTORY IS MADE TODAY, FOLKS! WHAT A GOAL! WHAT A LEGEND! THE CROWD IS GOING WILD—ISAGI! ISAGI! ISAGI!”

He's fully lost in the celebration. Then, he opens his eyes.

Scattered everywhere are neat little, purple-wrapped rectangles. Under the bed. On the carpet. One even stuck comically to the side of his desk lamp. And there you stand, arms hanging by your sides, with a completely deadpan expression. RIP to your current underwear. Yoichi slowly lowers his hands. He looks at you.  Then at the pads.

“…Oh. ”

You grab one, “And that's a red card for Isagi.” and lightly tap the rectangle against his head.

©𝓮𝓷𝒕𝓮𝓷𝒅𝓼𝓶𝒂𝓻𝒂𝓰𝓮

𓂃✍︎ : 𝐈𝐈𝐗. 𝐈𝐕. 𝐌𝐌𝐗𝐗𝐕𝐈, 0. 826𝓴

➤ 🌱 He's so silly. I love him 🌱