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a/n : Inspired by the World Cup (obviouslyyy) and also inspired by he fact I worked a month in a perfume shop and I became obsessed with smelling each perfume lmao x) I suck at describing football because I don't know anything about it lmao (shame on me). I had a really great time writing this and I really enjoyed myself, so I hope you like it! I did not proofread since I'm working and I don't have time, so I apologise if there's any grammar mistake or inconsistency! Also I didn't know how to end this so the end is a bit messyyyy
wc : 5.7k
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Today’s shift has been a nightmare for you. The independent perfumery you were working for was desert. Not a soul in sight. You sighed, laying your hands on the cash register, silently hoping for someone to stop by. Sure, your location wasn’t ideal : in a small–but cute– pedestrian-only alley in the heart of the town. Almost nobody walked by here, since all the interesting things were on the opposite side of the city. It was a wonder this perfumery was still alive and well. Loyal–and wealthy– customers were probably the reason for it.
You glanced at your watch, 3 more hours to go. The amount of sleep you got this night because you wouldn’t stop overthinking. You could do this. It’s not as if you already cleaned the floor thrice, reorganized the drawers and shelves twice and made sure you had stock for every perfume.
If only you’d known that in a couple minutes the trajectory of your life would be changed forever, you’d have never believed it. It happened as you were checking a drawer for a click and collect. L’Eau d’Eclipse by Pierre-Marie Manoury. Not a bad choice, it smelled good : a mixture of fresh and floral with notes of vanilla and ylang-ylang. If you had to be perfectly honest, it was a perfume for rather old ladies. You’d never wear that, too scared of coming across as someone with old-fashioned tastes.
You spiralled deeper into your thoughts about the fragrance when you heard the delicious echoing sound of the bell meaning someone had at last walked through the door. You straightened up, put on your best customer friendly smile and greeted the pink-haired guy. He looked familiar, though you couldn’t place a name on that face. The first thing that struck you was his teal eyes, deeply hypnotising. Then, how wealthy he appeared to be, that was always a good omen for the register.
“Hello! Welcome to Velinora, how can I help you?”
“Hello… I’m looking for perfume.” He replied flatly, glancing around at the very much empty shop, seemingly uninterested by you.
“Really? Never would’ve guessed.” Your sarcasm seeping through, you noticed the unamused look he gave you. You cleared your throat. “I mean I can definitely help you with that.”
You cringed internally, already thinking the approach to the customer was a flop. You sucked it up, it was just a bad moment to live through and then you would never be haunted by that tonight, wouldn’t you?
Seeing the guy wasn’t very willing to give more information on what he was looking for, you tried to get the goods out of him.
“What kind of perfume, fragrances, are you looking for?” You questioned, already scanning the shelves with the precision of a sharp chef’s knife.
“I don’t really know.” He replied bluntly, taking a tester in his hands and checking the bottle out before placing it back.
“Great. Very helpful.” You ignored the side eye he gave you. “Is it for you or is it a gift?”
“For me.”
“Alright, it’ll be a bit easier then. Do you already wear perfume? Or do you have a brand, a scent you like? That would be a good indication.”
He sighed, obviously annoyed. “Can’t you just… give me a random one? I don’t care about the brand or the scent. I just need one.”
You frowned, tilting your head as you stepped back. Sure, you had some brands to value more than others and this was the perfect occasion to sell a particularly difficult and niche perfume : Terra di Luce by Strapponelli, it was an oaky, spicy, with hints of lava rock fragrance which almost no one liked, including you. But what he said offended you on a personal level. You would never let that slide, not when you spent hours learning the notes of perfumes, the slight differences and the magic that rested behind the scents.
“Let me stop you right there.” You smiled politely, but you wanted to slap him. How could he say that?? If it was up to you and you didn’t have a business to run, the guy would already be kicked out. “You can’t just… pick a random one. Perfumes are personal.” You explained. “It has to be unique, it has to be you having an emotional link with it.”
The guy scoffed, staring at you. He barely even raised an eyebrow. His arrogance was testing your last nerves.
“You think that’s ridiculous? It’s not. Every perfume has a story that led to its creation. I won’t go down that path or I’ll ramble for hours. So to make it short : no. I can’t pick one for you. You have to smell, and like the perfume. So tell me, why are you buying perfume today?” You asked, trying hard to stay polite. If your boss heard your stern voice, he'd actually have a heart attack : you should never talk to a client this way— you heard his voice ringing in your head.
The teal eyed guy stared at you for a couple seconds, then resigned himself. He slid his hands in his pockets. “My manager told me it’ll be a good idea to have a recognizable scent. Marketing stunt. He gave me one but I don’t like it. Smells too sour.”
“Now we have something.” You smiled faintly. “See? Wasn’t too hard.” You taunted. Seeing he was still not going with the flow, you went on immediately. “May I ask what job you do?”
He stared at you, a hint of surprise flashing in his bright eyes. Then, he replied carefully, as if you were mocking him. “I’m a professional football player.”
“Okay so you need perfume that sticks, not something light.” You replied immediately, your brain working quickly and not catching on what he just told you. You were about to grab a bottle when you realized who was really standing in your shop. Sae Itoshi. One of the most—if not the most—trendy football player of the season. You weren’t a fanatic of that sport, but he was famous enough that you heard of him even in your small perfumery world.
You slowly turned to Sae Itoshi. You pointed at him and a playful smile appeared on your face. “I’m not giving you a discount of any type.”
The pink haired man frowned, seemingly taken aback. He had been certain he’d eventually get a reaction from you once you understood who he was. But that? It was unexpected. “I’m sorry?”
“You’re rich, aren’t you? Why should I make you pay less?” You scoffed, placing your hands on your hips, entertained.
“...Customer service perhaps?”
“Yeah but you’re not a customer, you’re a freaking star.” You countered. “I believe paying 350 for a bottle of perfume isn’t a financial crisis for you.”
“...fair.”
To be honest, it was the 3 hours of sleep that made you act this way. Sure you were naturally playful and blunt. However, you were certainly not this way with a stranger, a customer, and a famous one at that. It would only be later you realized how you treated him. It cost you 4 hours of sleep and overthinking that night.
“Okay so let’s get into this.” You started, turning around already searching for thee perfume for thee Sae Itoshi.
“Does it really have to be such a big deal? Just get me a cologne…”
You whipped around. “Cologne? That won’t stick on you. Not if you want to wear it during matches. The sweat won't mix well with the scent anyway.” You paused, taking a tester from the shelf and spraying the perfume on a piece of paper. “What you need is a pure perfume. Maybe even an elixir.”
You handed him the paper, watching his reaction as he smelled it. He nodded faintly in approval.
“Smells good.”
“It does, doesn’t it? Strong, blunt and enchanting. Yet, it still has a hint of vulnerability and tenderness to it while being fresh.Seems like a perfume for guys like you”
Sae stared at you, as if you just bared his heart and revealed the naked truth. A disturbing feeling settled between his ribs, he was definitely bothered by your words and your ability to read him so effortlessly, even if you knew nothing about him personally. The way you didn’t even realise you threw him off made him feel some kind of butterflies in his stomach.
“What’s inside?” He asked, his eyes still staring at you. His interest was picked, and now you were the center of his attention and will be for a while— meaning the rest of his life, but neither of you knew that yet.
“So, that’s Midnight Velvet by Hortense. Inside we have Bergamot, orange blossom, ginger and cardamom. The woody note comes from patchouli.” You told him. “Do you want to try another one?”
He nodded. You spent the next 10 minutes making him try other fragrances. He was paying unwavering attention to what you were rambling on. Some would even say he was more focused on what you were telling him about perfumes than what his coach was telling him during training. In reality, he was more focused on how your voice sounded and how your face seemed to lighten whenever he agreed to your words.
“Do you actually learn the ingredients in each perfume?” He asked.
“Well, I do try to remember all of them so I can help customers in the best way possible.” You admitted, suddenly feeling self-aware.
“That’s impressive.”
“Is it?” You chuckled nervously. It wasn’t every day that you were complimented by a world class football player. Awkwardly, you cleared your throat and looked away, trying to find a way out of this. “So… which one do you like more?”
“The first one.” Sae replied. “Do you think it’s the one that suits me best?” He would never admit that for some unknown reason, having your opinion on the matter suddenly felt like the most important thing. And he would never admit he knew from the first second Midnight Velvet was the one for him, but if he had told you, you wouldn’t have rambled for 10 minutes, which would have made him feel bad.
“Midnight Velvet?”
“Yeah.”
“Well perfume is personal you have to choose. I can’t choose for you if you don’t—”
“I’m asking for your opinion, though. Do you think it’s the one that suits me best?” He repeated, holding eye contact.
You blinked, surprised. “Uhm… yeah. I think Midnight Velvet suits you best.” You smiled.
“Then I'll buy this one, if you don’t mind.”
“I obviously don’t mind.” You countered, finally recovering your playful side. “I mean that's my job, to make you buy things. The more the better.”
He let out a small amused huff, which felt like a victory. Taking the package of the said perfume, you led him to the register. As you scanned the fancy box, you caught him staring at your skilled hands.
“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but how come you’re in Japan? I thought you were playing for Madrid.” You stated, making small talk.
Sae’s teal eyes snapped back to your face. He took in your features and the lines of your eyes, your nose and your mouth. He didn’t want to forget them. “Passeport business and Federation talk.” A beat. “You follow football?” He pondered.
“Not really, I just know the big names and watch the big games when I have time. My father is more of a fan.”
“I see…”
“You can pay, it’s over there.” You pointed to the device.
“You follow enough to know me.” He countered as he paid without checking the price.
You shrugged. “It’s not as if you’re an unknown anymore.”
Taking back his card, he agreed. “You know me, but I do not know you. What’s your name?”
Taken aback, you muttered your name without thinking. It felt odd in your mouth, but it was yours. Why the hell would he want to know your name?? You were just some stupid perfume seller. Compared to him, you were nobody.
“That's a pretty name. I like it.” He smirked before stepping out of the shop and leaving you to wonder if all this was just a hallucination. Your eyes stayed on his form until he was out of sight, far from the shop.
You ran your hand down your face, sighing heavily. You could already feel a headache forming. Out of all the weird things to ever happen in your life, this was definitely one of the weirdest.
Checking the register, you noticed he left a card. It wasn’t a credit one, more like a business one? You turned it around and saw a phone number. Could it be…? You quickly grabbed it and stuffed it in your pocket to avoid anyone seeing this. Looking around, you noticed no one was in the shop. Geez, you probably looked like a ridiculous shy mess.
The night was spent staring at the dark coloured card, with the golden outlines. Very fancy. Should you text the number to see the outcome? Definitely not. You’d only embarrass yourself…
So days passed by, and you slowly forgot about the unexpected events of that day. Well, forgetting is a strong word, you’d never forget it actually, more like it didn’t seem as important as it seemed back then. You focused on your cozy daily life, taking care of your cats, your perfumes and your small flat.
Approximately a month later, you found yourself in the same situation as the day you met Sae Itoshi. And as you noticed the similar setting while standing behind the counter, the pink haired man stepped into the shop. You froze, your brain trying to catch up with what was happening.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He flatly stated.
“Good morning to you too.” You countered, recovering from your previous choc.
A faint smile appeared on his handsome face. “Good morning.”
“What makes me worthy of your presence today?” You smirked.
“I used all the perfume. And you didn’t text me even though I left my business card.”
Your eyes widened slightly, impressed. “You finished the bottle already?”
“I did. Got many compliments about my scent with it. Thanks to you and your amazing advice.”
“Aw, you’re going to make me blush.” You chuckled.
“So I came back.” He leaned on the counter, his teal eyes fixated on you. “Here, just for you. To buy another bottle.”
“You could’ve gone to any other shop, you know that?” You smiled, putting away the perfumes you were registering, to make more room for Sae’s arms.
“I know. But I wanted to buy it here. Makes it more special to me.” He paused, long enough for the weight of his words to land. “And I wanted to know why you didn’t text me.”
“Why didn't I text you? I can’t just text an international football star, can I?” You scoffed.
“The question is why couldn’t you? I gave you my personal phone number.”
You stuttered, completely flustered by his unexpected behaviour. You shrugged, talking out your phone and the business card he gave you back then. You texted him immediately. The sound of a notification from his pocket confirmed to you this wasn’t a fake number. Your knees almost gave out, but you fought your hardest to keep your composure. You barely remembered how that day even ended.
The following year felt like the beginning of a fever year. Sae and you would text each other regularly, messages seeping through different time zones whenever he was training in Spain. The pink haired man came back to Japan more often since you two met, and always found excuses to stop by the perfumery : broken bottle, Lost bottle, left behind in a five stars hotel… He would never miss an opportunity to luckily miss perfume and buy a new one with you.
One night, as you were about to go to sleep after a rough day of dealing with particularly annoying clients, your phone’s screen lit up to Sae’s notification. You knew it was mid-afternoon in Spain, meaning he would be busy training and not texting you.
You frowned, reading the message.
Sae : What are you doing this July?
You : Working, I guess. Why?
S : How about coming to the US with me?
Y : LMAOOOOO
S : I’m serious.
Y : I can’t afford a trip to the USA.
S : I’ll pay for everything, you don’t have to worry about anything.
Y : Why do you even want to go on a trip with me in July in the US?
S : It’s the World Cup, idiot.
Y : Wait wait wait
Y : Are you fucking serious? You want me to accompany you at the freaking World Cup ???
S : Are you coming or not? I have to tell my manager right now if I have people coming. For the visas.
Y : Sae, I can’t just leave for one month… I have to check with my boss if that’s possible…
S : Take it or leave it.
Y : … Okay I’m coming.
S : 👍
You put down your phone, taking a moment to pinch your arm to make sure you weren’t dreaming. The wincing pain confirmed that it was very much real. Thee Sae Itoshi was bringing you to the World Cup, aka the most important sports event in the whole world. How the hell were you going to announce your departure to your boss? There was no way he would agree to let you leave more than a week. But then again, it was a once in a life opportunity… You decided to let the night bring wisdom and sink in your well deserved mattress.
Things went so fast you barely had time to really understand how important you were in Sae’s eyes. Not even his parents were invited to the World Cup, but you were. You realized that weeks later. You had somehow managed to convince your boss to let you leave for a month. You merely threatened him to take him to court with the evidence of all the unpaid hours he made you do. Anyway, you had landed in the United States of America by Sae’s side.
You attended every single one of his games, and even showed up to his training sessions. What else could you do? Tabloids wondered who you were, asking Sae about you in interviews, but he would always dismiss the subject by saying you’re nothing more than an assistant. That label didn’t bother you at first, because you were mostly focused on the unreal nature of your presence here. Then, it started to annoy you since Sae’s behaviour towards you meant anything but just an assistant or a friend.
Then it struck you, Sae was oblivious. He didn’t even realize how he was acting towards you. The whole “bringing breakfast to you in the morning”, the “searching for you in the stands after a goal”, “asking if you’re proud of him after every match” and “making sure you’re okay because of the heat and the crowded place” isn’t exactly just friend material.
You realized that on the day of the tournament. Sae and Japan managed to reach the final, thus possibly winning the first World Cup for his native country. He was nervous, painfully so. Although, you didn’t mind the view : he was standing at the hotel’s kitchen counter in your room, shirtless, visibly frowning. You’d grown fond of the man and his emotionally constipated nature. You stood up from your bed to join him for breakfast. With a smug smile you sat in front of him.
“You look like hell.” You teased.
He gave you a half bothered half deadpan look. “I’m stressed.”
“Didn’t know the great Sae Itoshi could be stressed.” You countered.
“It’s the World Cup Final. Stakes are high. Of course I’m gonna be nervous.”
“Fair.” You pouted. “Do you plan on wearing your perfume?”
“Obviously, it’s my lucky charm. Why wouldn’t I want to be lucky on the biggest day of my life?”
“Fair once again.” You chuckled. “What’re you gonna do if you win?”
He shrugged. “Lift the trophy.”
You deadpanned him. “After, you idiot.”
“Sleep for two days straight.”
“That’s in no way fun.”
“Never said I was a fun man.” He munched on the bread.
You scoffed. “Still.” You gazed at him, trying to read his face. “Alright. If you win, I’ll tell you something.”
That caught his attention, his eyes landed on you. “Tell me what?”
“Well I’m not going to tell you now, silly.” You giggled. “I’ll tell you if you win. Otherwise you’ll never know. Or I’ll tell you next time you win a World Cup.”
“Then I have no choice but to win tonight, haven’t I?”
“That’s pretty much the deal.” You affirmed, locking your eyes in his.
The match was intense. Worthy of a World Cup Final. At multiple times, you really thought Japan was about to win. Unfortunately, their opponent was too strong, too organized as a team. They beat Japan’s team in extra time. 3-2.
You were far from Sae when the referee blew the whistle to end the match, though it was as if you were next to him. Your heart broke for him. Without surprise, his face showed nothing, but his eyes, oh his eyes spoke volumes. Empty, devastated and recalculating every minor mistake he made. You quickly went to the changing room to catch him before he went in. As he saw you, he tried to ignore you and avoid you out of shame.
“Don’t you dare ignore me, Itoshi.” You grabbed the side of his shirt. “I don’t care that you lost. I’m not disappointed. I’m proud you fought until the very last second, you hear me?”
He stared at you. Words couldn’t come out of his mouth, the fear of tears taking over him was way too overwhelming. At that moment, the hole he felt in his chest filled up with a warm flame as he realised how much you cared for him and how precious you were to him. However, it was above him to voice such a feeling. So he hugged you tightly, burying his face in your neck. He smelled your perfume, the same one you had for years, the one you had when you two met. It eased some of the tension in his muscles.
“I have to go..” He murmured. Indeed he had to change, listen to his coach’s assessment of the match and reply to journalists. “I’ll see you later.” He added as he kissed your forehead before disappearing into the changing room.
Your heart tightened. That World Cup ended on a note of unfulfilled potential : no world title for the Japanese players, and no love confessed. If you had to put all these emotions into a perfume, it would be a bittersweet one with orange blossom, almond and neroli. But then, who would buy a perfume to scent the bittersweetness of an unfinished story?
Years passed by. Your meetings with Sae were regular and love between you continued to grow as he continued to be oblivious to it. You still worked in the same perfume shop you two met. And he still travelled between Japan and Spain. He never told you, but deep down you sensed he never got over the loss of the last World Cup. He was working harder than ever, to come back stronger.
Sometimes, you wondered if it was worth it to wait for him to realise you were in love with each other. Or maybe he knew and refused to acknowledge it. Every option hurt more than the last, and doubt seeped into your heart. You were no Penelope, how could you rely on the untold feelings of an emotionally dumb man and wait years for him? So you were tempted to find someone else, to change your mind with whatever you could. But your heart belonged to him, and much to your despair, you always crawled back to him in the deepest hours of the night. You were also tempted to tell him, but you didn’t want to ruin the friendship you grew over the years, and what if he didn’t like you back? What if he didn’t love you more than football? Was it worth it, to unveil your love to him, to just become a couple for the sake of it? Moreover, it wasn’t like he was an unattractive man. Women were at his feet, famous ones, rich ones… You were no match with your small perfumery shop and knowledge. On paper, these women were a perfect match for him, so how could you not feel insecure? Many times you wondered if he gave in the temptation of these women. Your thoughts grew more and more venomous and rotten as you lost more and more sleep each night.
Sae knew. He knew he felt more for you than he did with other people. He loved to be around you as you made him feel at home, he loved your scent, your rants about perfumes, he adored the way sunlight would hit your skin at the end of the day. It made him want to hold you against him and never let go. Never would he have guessed he’d feel this way for someone who had nothing in common with him or football. Much to his despair, he faced another struggle : sharing his feelings to you. He wasn’t blind, he saw the way you looked at him and he wanted to tell you everything that’s laid on his heart for now five years. But it was above his strength. Each time he would gather the courage to do so, he would chicken out. What if he misread you? What if you were in love with another man? He couldn’t bear the idea so he kept it all to himself. Bittersweetness filled his heart as you were everything he could think of. There was nothing he was seeing everyday without thinking of you. To top it all, Hortense, the label of the perfume you chose for him made him their effigy. They even created a perfume for him, Sae Itoshi. They even named it Boy genius. He never wore it though, since you never recommended it to him. Still, he wondered if you liked the perfume, it somehow mattered to him. Though, he never asked you your opinion on it, too afraid of your judgement.
Without surprise, the following World Cup arrived. Five years have gone by since your first meeting. You joined him in Spain, country where it was organized. Without surprise, the same circus happened : tabloids wondered who you were again, fans started to get more heated towards you and paparazzis tried to get more pictures of you with Sae. You did your best to not let it upset you. You were not a public person, you were just Sae’s friend, right? You couldn’t understand all the attention you were getting, people were here for the sport, not the gossip, weren’t they?
You managed to survive through the month without being skinned alive by anyone. The mood was electric and magnificent. There was no denying that these kinds of events were magical. As a spectator, it was amazing, but you also saw the other side of it : players were under enormous pressure. Having the country’s weight and expectations on their shoulders wasn’t easy.
Sae, obviously, showed nothing. However after five years of knowing each other, you started to understand how he was working. You were by his side, often just sitting in silence on the couch as he was watching his next opponents matches to analyze their techniques. You knew your presence was soothing him, so you didn’t try to do too much. You were just there, by his side. And it was all that he needed.
The night before the finale, as you were both sitting on the couch, he paused the match and turned to you.
“If I win tomorrow…” He started.
“Mmh?” You hummed, listening to him but still focused on the video playing on your phone.
“Will you tell me what you planned to tell me four years ago?”
A pause.
You turned off your phone and glanced at him, thrown off by this request.
“You still remember that?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know, it was four years ago, it was a long time ago.”
“I’m curious about what you wanted to tell me back then.”
“That’s ridiculous…”
“It’s not ridiculous. It mattered to you back then, so it matters to me now.”
“...”
“Will you keep that promise and tell me if I win?”
You smiled faintly, looking away. “If that’s what you want.”
“I want that if you want that.”
“Then yeah, I want that.”
A ghost of a smile appeared on his face. “I have no choice but to win now.”
“Looks like it.”
“I’m not winning for the country tomorrow. I’m winning for you.”
Your stomach dropped and butterflies blossomed in. Was he realising the weight of his words or was he just that dumb? The way he was gazing at your face proved he knew what he said and the effect it had on you. Nervously, you chuckled.
“Don’t be stupid.”
“I’ll be stupid for you.”
You scoffed. “Focus on the match tomorrow, don’t get distracted now.”
“Mmh.” He grabbed the TV remote and started to watch the match again.
You dismissed him not out of rudeness, but because it threw you off. How could one just drop a bomb like that on an evening before the biggest match of his life? You were almost having a heart attack. Damn. That man will be the death of you.
The next day, tension was at its strongest. The game was uptight. Fortunately, the outcome wasn’t the same as four years prior. In extra time, Japanese players managed to shoot a beautiful, well-deserved goal. The referee blew the whistle to end the match. You couldn’t believe your eyes, Sae was finally a World Champion, after all these years of hard work he finally made it.
You couldn’t help but let the tears overwhelm you, almost enough that you didn’t see him climbing the stands to get to you. Most people had gone on the field to celebrate, everyone but you and now Sae who joined you. He grabbed your cheeks and wiped your tears.
“Why are you crying?” He asked, almost concerned.
“For you, idiot.” You chuckled, cupping his jawline. “Because I’m proud of you. Because I’m so so very much happy for you.” You smiled through the tears.
A smile appeared on his face, a rare, real, precious smile. It made you tear up even more.
“I won for you, you know that.” He rested his forehead against yours. “So now you have to tell me the secret you’ve been keeping from me.”
You chuckled. “You’re not losing your bearings, are you?” You paused, trying to regain some composure.
Music was loud, people were cheering, Sae’s coach and teammates were celebrating and soon he’d have to go back down to lift the trophy and get his medal. And yet, at this very moment it was only you and him in your little bubble no one could burst. Time seemed to slow down. Emotions were powerful, heavy, overwhelming. You had to get it out your chest or you might just explode.
“I love you.” You finally admitted. After five years, the words stuck in your throat finally freed themselves. It felt so good to finally say it. “Fuck…I love you so much Sae… I love you so much it hurts.” Tears were flowing, out of relief and happiness.
He stared at you, realisation daunting him. Your words hit his heart in a way he would’ve never imagined. At that moment, he was at the top of the world.
“Idiot…” He breathed out, smiling contently. “I love you too…” He hugged you tightly.
The rest of the day happened in a blur. Excitation everywhere, congratulations flowing, celebrations with whoever was passing by… What else could you wish for? You had your man, who was a freaking World Champion.
Things calmed down the next day. You woke up next to Sae in tangled sheets. He was still sound asleep. Poor guy was probably exhausted from everything. He probably needed vacations. You grabbed your phone to scroll on social media for a bit. After a while, you found an extract from an interview Sae gave the day before.
“What are you feeling now that you have reached the rarest trophy? What are you planning now?”
“I have won more than just a trophy, I won everything I could wish for. For now, I plan on spending time with someone I care deeply for. We’ll see about my career later. But I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.”
You smiled to yourself. Sae shifted, half-asleep, throwing an arm over your waist and burying his face in the back of your neck, making you the little spoon.
“Morning World Champion.” You teased.
You felt a small amused breath reach your skin. “Morning.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Exhausted. My limbs are sore. I want to spend the day in bed with you.”
You chuckled quietly. “That can be arranged.”
You put down your phone and turned around to mold into his body for a hug. He wrapped his arms around you, securing you and making sure you couldn’t leave his embrace.
“You smell good.” He murmured, burying his nose in your hair.
“I’m not wearing any perfume though.”
“I know, I like your perfume and the scent of your skin.”
“How does it smell?” You asked him.
“Mmh…” He paused, thinking, still very much half-asleep. “Sweet and perfect. Just like you.”
You chuckled quietly. “You could be a great perfume seller.”
“Got that from you.” He countered, satisfied. He needed nothing more right now, just you, his gold medal and a calm day without any training, any journalist or paparazzis. At that moment, he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life holding you like that every morning.
a/n : Inspired by the World Cup (obviouslyyy) and also inspired by he fact I worked a month in a perfume shop and I became obsessed with smelling each perfume lmao x) I suck at describing football because I don't know anything about it lmao (shame on me). I had a really great time writing this and I really enjoyed myself, so I hope you like it! I did not proofread since I'm working and I don't have time, so I apologise if there's any grammar mistake or inconsistency! Also I didn't know how to end this so the end is a bit messyyyy
wc : 5.7k
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Today’s shift has been a nightmare for you. The independent perfumery you were working for was desert. Not a soul in sight. You sighed, laying your hands on the cash register, silently hoping for someone to stop by. Sure, your location wasn’t ideal : in a small–but cute– pedestrian-only alley in the heart of the town. Almost nobody walked by here, since all the interesting things were on the opposite side of the city. It was a wonder this perfumery was still alive and well. Loyal–and wealthy– customers were probably the reason for it.
You glanced at your watch, 3 more hours to go. The amount of sleep you got this night because you wouldn’t stop overthinking. You could do this. It’s not as if you already cleaned the floor thrice, reorganized the drawers and shelves twice and made sure you had stock for every perfume.
If only you’d known that in a couple minutes the trajectory of your life would be changed forever, you’d have never believed it. It happened as you were checking a drawer for a click and collect. L’Eau d’Eclipse by Pierre-Marie Manoury. Not a bad choice, it smelled good : a mixture of fresh and floral with notes of vanilla and ylang-ylang. If you had to be perfectly honest, it was a perfume for rather old ladies. You’d never wear that, too scared of coming across as someone with old-fashioned tastes.
You spiralled deeper into your thoughts about the fragrance when you heard the delicious echoing sound of the bell meaning someone had at last walked through the door. You straightened up, put on your best customer friendly smile and greeted the pink-haired guy. He looked familiar, though you couldn’t place a name on that face. The first thing that struck you was his teal eyes, deeply hypnotising. Then, how wealthy he appeared to be, that was always a good omen for the register.
“Hello! Welcome to Velinora, how can I help you?”
“Hello… I’m looking for perfume.” He replied flatly, glancing around at the very much empty shop, seemingly uninterested by you.
“Really? Never would’ve guessed.” Your sarcasm seeping through, you noticed the unamused look he gave you. You cleared your throat. “I mean I can definitely help you with that.”
You cringed internally, already thinking the approach to the customer was a flop. You sucked it up, it was just a bad moment to live through and then you would never be haunted by that tonight, wouldn’t you?
Seeing the guy wasn’t very willing to give more information on what he was looking for, you tried to get the goods out of him.
“What kind of perfume, fragrances, are you looking for?” You questioned, already scanning the shelves with the precision of a sharp chef’s knife.
“I don’t really know.” He replied bluntly, taking a tester in his hands and checking the bottle out before placing it back.
“Great. Very helpful.” You ignored the side eye he gave you. “Is it for you or is it a gift?”
“For me.”
“Alright, it’ll be a bit easier then. Do you already wear perfume? Or do you have a brand, a scent you like? That would be a good indication.”
He sighed, obviously annoyed. “Can’t you just… give me a random one? I don’t care about the brand or the scent. I just need one.”
You frowned, tilting your head as you stepped back. Sure, you had some brands to value more than others and this was the perfect occasion to sell a particularly difficult and niche perfume : Terra di Luce by Strapponelli, it was an oaky, spicy, with hints of lava rock fragrance which almost no one liked, including you. But what he said offended you on a personal level. You would never let that slide, not when you spent hours learning the notes of perfumes, the slight differences and the magic that rested behind the scents.
“Let me stop you right there.” You smiled politely, but you wanted to slap him. How could he say that?? If it was up to you and you didn’t have a business to run, the guy would already be kicked out. “You can’t just… pick a random one. Perfumes are personal.” You explained. “It has to be unique, it has to be you having an emotional link with it.”
The guy scoffed, staring at you. He barely even raised an eyebrow. His arrogance was testing your last nerves.
“You think that’s ridiculous? It’s not. Every perfume has a story that led to its creation. I won’t go down that path or I’ll ramble for hours. So to make it short : no. I can’t pick one for you. You have to smell, and like the perfume. So tell me, why are you buying perfume today?” You asked, trying hard to stay polite. If your boss heard your stern voice, he'd actually have a heart attack : you should never talk to a client this way— you heard his voice ringing in your head.
The teal eyed guy stared at you for a couple seconds, then resigned himself. He slid his hands in his pockets. “My manager told me it’ll be a good idea to have a recognizable scent. Marketing stunt. He gave me one but I don’t like it. Smells too sour.”
“Now we have something.” You smiled faintly. “See? Wasn’t too hard.” You taunted. Seeing he was still not going with the flow, you went on immediately. “May I ask what job you do?”
He stared at you, a hint of surprise flashing in his bright eyes. Then, he replied carefully, as if you were mocking him. “I’m a professional football player.”
“Okay so you need perfume that sticks, not something light.” You replied immediately, your brain working quickly and not catching on what he just told you. You were about to grab a bottle when you realized who was really standing in your shop. Sae Itoshi. One of the most—if not the most—trendy football player of the season. You weren’t a fanatic of that sport, but he was famous enough that you heard of him even in your small perfumery world.
You slowly turned to Sae Itoshi. You pointed at him and a playful smile appeared on your face. “I’m not giving you a discount of any type.”
The pink haired man frowned, seemingly taken aback. He had been certain he’d eventually get a reaction from you once you understood who he was. But that? It was unexpected. “I’m sorry?”
“You’re rich, aren’t you? Why should I make you pay less?” You scoffed, placing your hands on your hips, entertained.
“...Customer service perhaps?”
“Yeah but you’re not a customer, you’re a freaking star.” You countered. “I believe paying 350 for a bottle of perfume isn’t a financial crisis for you.”
“...fair.”
To be honest, it was the 3 hours of sleep that made you act this way. Sure you were naturally playful and blunt. However, you were certainly not this way with a stranger, a customer, and a famous one at that. It would only be later you realized how you treated him. It cost you 4 hours of sleep and overthinking that night.
“Okay so let’s get into this.” You started, turning around already searching for thee perfume for thee Sae Itoshi.
“Does it really have to be such a big deal? Just get me a cologne…”
You whipped around. “Cologne? That won’t stick on you. Not if you want to wear it during matches. The sweat won't mix well with the scent anyway.” You paused, taking a tester from the shelf and spraying the perfume on a piece of paper. “What you need is a pure perfume. Maybe even an elixir.”
You handed him the paper, watching his reaction as he smelled it. He nodded faintly in approval.
“Smells good.”
“It does, doesn’t it? Strong, blunt and enchanting. Yet, it still has a hint of vulnerability and tenderness to it while being fresh.Seems like a perfume for guys like you”
Sae stared at you, as if you just bared his heart and revealed the naked truth. A disturbing feeling settled between his ribs, he was definitely bothered by your words and your ability to read him so effortlessly, even if you knew nothing about him personally. The way you didn’t even realise you threw him off made him feel some kind of butterflies in his stomach.
“What’s inside?” He asked, his eyes still staring at you. His interest was picked, and now you were the center of his attention and will be for a while— meaning the rest of his life, but neither of you knew that yet.
“So, that’s Midnight Velvet by Hortense. Inside we have Bergamot, orange blossom, ginger and cardamom. The woody note comes from patchouli.” You told him. “Do you want to try another one?”
He nodded. You spent the next 10 minutes making him try other fragrances. He was paying unwavering attention to what you were rambling on. Some would even say he was more focused on what you were telling him about perfumes than what his coach was telling him during training. In reality, he was more focused on how your voice sounded and how your face seemed to lighten whenever he agreed to your words.
“Do you actually learn the ingredients in each perfume?” He asked.
“Well, I do try to remember all of them so I can help customers in the best way possible.” You admitted, suddenly feeling self-aware.
“That’s impressive.”
“Is it?” You chuckled nervously. It wasn’t every day that you were complimented by a world class football player. Awkwardly, you cleared your throat and looked away, trying to find a way out of this. “So… which one do you like more?”
“The first one.” Sae replied. “Do you think it’s the one that suits me best?” He would never admit that for some unknown reason, having your opinion on the matter suddenly felt like the most important thing. And he would never admit he knew from the first second Midnight Velvet was the one for him, but if he had told you, you wouldn’t have rambled for 10 minutes, which would have made him feel bad.
“Midnight Velvet?”
“Yeah.”
“Well perfume is personal you have to choose. I can’t choose for you if you don’t—”
“I’m asking for your opinion, though. Do you think it’s the one that suits me best?” He repeated, holding eye contact.
You blinked, surprised. “Uhm… yeah. I think Midnight Velvet suits you best.” You smiled.
“Then I'll buy this one, if you don’t mind.”
“I obviously don’t mind.” You countered, finally recovering your playful side. “I mean that's my job, to make you buy things. The more the better.”
He let out a small amused huff, which felt like a victory. Taking the package of the said perfume, you led him to the register. As you scanned the fancy box, you caught him staring at your skilled hands.
“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but how come you’re in Japan? I thought you were playing for Madrid.” You stated, making small talk.
Sae’s teal eyes snapped back to your face. He took in your features and the lines of your eyes, your nose and your mouth. He didn’t want to forget them. “Passeport business and Federation talk.” A beat. “You follow football?” He pondered.
“Not really, I just know the big names and watch the big games when I have time. My father is more of a fan.”
“I see…”
“You can pay, it’s over there.” You pointed to the device.
“You follow enough to know me.” He countered as he paid without checking the price.
You shrugged. “It’s not as if you’re an unknown anymore.”
Taking back his card, he agreed. “You know me, but I do not know you. What’s your name?”
Taken aback, you muttered your name without thinking. It felt odd in your mouth, but it was yours. Why the hell would he want to know your name?? You were just some stupid perfume seller. Compared to him, you were nobody.
“That's a pretty name. I like it.” He smirked before stepping out of the shop and leaving you to wonder if all this was just a hallucination. Your eyes stayed on his form until he was out of sight, far from the shop.
You ran your hand down your face, sighing heavily. You could already feel a headache forming. Out of all the weird things to ever happen in your life, this was definitely one of the weirdest.
Checking the register, you noticed he left a card. It wasn’t a credit one, more like a business one? You turned it around and saw a phone number. Could it be…? You quickly grabbed it and stuffed it in your pocket to avoid anyone seeing this. Looking around, you noticed no one was in the shop. Geez, you probably looked like a ridiculous shy mess.
The night was spent staring at the dark coloured card, with the golden outlines. Very fancy. Should you text the number to see the outcome? Definitely not. You’d only embarrass yourself…
So days passed by, and you slowly forgot about the unexpected events of that day. Well, forgetting is a strong word, you’d never forget it actually, more like it didn’t seem as important as it seemed back then. You focused on your cozy daily life, taking care of your cats, your perfumes and your small flat.
Approximately a month later, you found yourself in the same situation as the day you met Sae Itoshi. And as you noticed the similar setting while standing behind the counter, the pink haired man stepped into the shop. You froze, your brain trying to catch up with what was happening.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He flatly stated.
“Good morning to you too.” You countered, recovering from your previous choc.
A faint smile appeared on his handsome face. “Good morning.”
“What makes me worthy of your presence today?” You smirked.
“I used all the perfume. And you didn’t text me even though I left my business card.”
Your eyes widened slightly, impressed. “You finished the bottle already?”
“I did. Got many compliments about my scent with it. Thanks to you and your amazing advice.”
“Aw, you’re going to make me blush.” You chuckled.
“So I came back.” He leaned on the counter, his teal eyes fixated on you. “Here, just for you. To buy another bottle.”
“You could’ve gone to any other shop, you know that?” You smiled, putting away the perfumes you were registering, to make more room for Sae’s arms.
“I know. But I wanted to buy it here. Makes it more special to me.” He paused, long enough for the weight of his words to land. “And I wanted to know why you didn’t text me.”
“Why didn't I text you? I can’t just text an international football star, can I?” You scoffed.
“The question is why couldn’t you? I gave you my personal phone number.”
You stuttered, completely flustered by his unexpected behaviour. You shrugged, talking out your phone and the business card he gave you back then. You texted him immediately. The sound of a notification from his pocket confirmed to you this wasn’t a fake number. Your knees almost gave out, but you fought your hardest to keep your composure. You barely remembered how that day even ended.
The following year felt like the beginning of a fever year. Sae and you would text each other regularly, messages seeping through different time zones whenever he was training in Spain. The pink haired man came back to Japan more often since you two met, and always found excuses to stop by the perfumery : broken bottle, Lost bottle, left behind in a five stars hotel… He would never miss an opportunity to luckily miss perfume and buy a new one with you.
One night, as you were about to go to sleep after a rough day of dealing with particularly annoying clients, your phone’s screen lit up to Sae’s notification. You knew it was mid-afternoon in Spain, meaning he would be busy training and not texting you.
You frowned, reading the message.
Sae : What are you doing this July?
You : Working, I guess. Why?
S : How about coming to the US with me?
Y : LMAOOOOO
S : I’m serious.
Y : I can’t afford a trip to the USA.
S : I’ll pay for everything, you don’t have to worry about anything.
Y : Why do you even want to go on a trip with me in July in the US?
S : It’s the World Cup, idiot.
Y : Wait wait wait
Y : Are you fucking serious? You want me to accompany you at the freaking World Cup ???
S : Are you coming or not? I have to tell my manager right now if I have people coming. For the visas.
Y : Sae, I can’t just leave for one month… I have to check with my boss if that’s possible…
S : Take it or leave it.
Y : … Okay I’m coming.
S : 👍
You put down your phone, taking a moment to pinch your arm to make sure you weren’t dreaming. The wincing pain confirmed that it was very much real. Thee Sae Itoshi was bringing you to the World Cup, aka the most important sports event in the whole world. How the hell were you going to announce your departure to your boss? There was no way he would agree to let you leave more than a week. But then again, it was a once in a life opportunity… You decided to let the night bring wisdom and sink in your well deserved mattress.
Things went so fast you barely had time to really understand how important you were in Sae’s eyes. Not even his parents were invited to the World Cup, but you were. You realized that weeks later. You had somehow managed to convince your boss to let you leave for a month. You merely threatened him to take him to court with the evidence of all the unpaid hours he made you do. Anyway, you had landed in the United States of America by Sae’s side.
You attended every single one of his games, and even showed up to his training sessions. What else could you do? Tabloids wondered who you were, asking Sae about you in interviews, but he would always dismiss the subject by saying you’re nothing more than an assistant. That label didn’t bother you at first, because you were mostly focused on the unreal nature of your presence here. Then, it started to annoy you since Sae’s behaviour towards you meant anything but just an assistant or a friend.
Then it struck you, Sae was oblivious. He didn’t even realize how he was acting towards you. The whole “bringing breakfast to you in the morning”, the “searching for you in the stands after a goal”, “asking if you’re proud of him after every match” and “making sure you’re okay because of the heat and the crowded place” isn’t exactly just friend material.
You realized that on the day of the tournament. Sae and Japan managed to reach the final, thus possibly winning the first World Cup for his native country. He was nervous, painfully so. Although, you didn’t mind the view : he was standing at the hotel’s kitchen counter in your room, shirtless, visibly frowning. You’d grown fond of the man and his emotionally constipated nature. You stood up from your bed to join him for breakfast. With a smug smile you sat in front of him.
“You look like hell.” You teased.
He gave you a half bothered half deadpan look. “I’m stressed.”
“Didn’t know the great Sae Itoshi could be stressed.” You countered.
“It’s the World Cup Final. Stakes are high. Of course I’m gonna be nervous.”
“Fair.” You pouted. “Do you plan on wearing your perfume?”
“Obviously, it’s my lucky charm. Why wouldn’t I want to be lucky on the biggest day of my life?”
“Fair once again.” You chuckled. “What’re you gonna do if you win?”
He shrugged. “Lift the trophy.”
You deadpanned him. “After, you idiot.”
“Sleep for two days straight.”
“That’s in no way fun.”
“Never said I was a fun man.” He munched on the bread.
You scoffed. “Still.” You gazed at him, trying to read his face. “Alright. If you win, I’ll tell you something.”
That caught his attention, his eyes landed on you. “Tell me what?”
“Well I’m not going to tell you now, silly.” You giggled. “I’ll tell you if you win. Otherwise you’ll never know. Or I’ll tell you next time you win a World Cup.”
“Then I have no choice but to win tonight, haven’t I?”
“That’s pretty much the deal.” You affirmed, locking your eyes in his.
The match was intense. Worthy of a World Cup Final. At multiple times, you really thought Japan was about to win. Unfortunately, their opponent was too strong, too organized as a team. They beat Japan’s team in extra time. 3-2.
You were far from Sae when the referee blew the whistle to end the match, though it was as if you were next to him. Your heart broke for him. Without surprise, his face showed nothing, but his eyes, oh his eyes spoke volumes. Empty, devastated and recalculating every minor mistake he made. You quickly went to the changing room to catch him before he went in. As he saw you, he tried to ignore you and avoid you out of shame.
“Don’t you dare ignore me, Itoshi.” You grabbed the side of his shirt. “I don’t care that you lost. I’m not disappointed. I’m proud you fought until the very last second, you hear me?”
He stared at you. Words couldn’t come out of his mouth, the fear of tears taking over him was way too overwhelming. At that moment, the hole he felt in his chest filled up with a warm flame as he realised how much you cared for him and how precious you were to him. However, it was above him to voice such a feeling. So he hugged you tightly, burying his face in your neck. He smelled your perfume, the same one you had for years, the one you had when you two met. It eased some of the tension in his muscles.
“I have to go..” He murmured. Indeed he had to change, listen to his coach’s assessment of the match and reply to journalists. “I’ll see you later.” He added as he kissed your forehead before disappearing into the changing room.
Your heart tightened. That World Cup ended on a note of unfulfilled potential : no world title for the Japanese players, and no love confessed. If you had to put all these emotions into a perfume, it would be a bittersweet one with orange blossom, almond and neroli. But then, who would buy a perfume to scent the bittersweetness of an unfinished story?
Years passed by. Your meetings with Sae were regular and love between you continued to grow as he continued to be oblivious to it. You still worked in the same perfume shop you two met. And he still travelled between Japan and Spain. He never told you, but deep down you sensed he never got over the loss of the last World Cup. He was working harder than ever, to come back stronger.
Sometimes, you wondered if it was worth it to wait for him to realise you were in love with each other. Or maybe he knew and refused to acknowledge it. Every option hurt more than the last, and doubt seeped into your heart. You were no Penelope, how could you rely on the untold feelings of an emotionally dumb man and wait years for him? So you were tempted to find someone else, to change your mind with whatever you could. But your heart belonged to him, and much to your despair, you always crawled back to him in the deepest hours of the night. You were also tempted to tell him, but you didn’t want to ruin the friendship you grew over the years, and what if he didn’t like you back? What if he didn’t love you more than football? Was it worth it, to unveil your love to him, to just become a couple for the sake of it? Moreover, it wasn’t like he was an unattractive man. Women were at his feet, famous ones, rich ones… You were no match with your small perfumery shop and knowledge. On paper, these women were a perfect match for him, so how could you not feel insecure? Many times you wondered if he gave in the temptation of these women. Your thoughts grew more and more venomous and rotten as you lost more and more sleep each night.
Sae knew. He knew he felt more for you than he did with other people. He loved to be around you as you made him feel at home, he loved your scent, your rants about perfumes, he adored the way sunlight would hit your skin at the end of the day. It made him want to hold you against him and never let go. Never would he have guessed he’d feel this way for someone who had nothing in common with him or football. Much to his despair, he faced another struggle : sharing his feelings to you. He wasn’t blind, he saw the way you looked at him and he wanted to tell you everything that’s laid on his heart for now five years. But it was above his strength. Each time he would gather the courage to do so, he would chicken out. What if he misread you? What if you were in love with another man? He couldn’t bear the idea so he kept it all to himself. Bittersweetness filled his heart as you were everything he could think of. There was nothing he was seeing everyday without thinking of you. To top it all, Hortense, the label of the perfume you chose for him made him their effigy. They even created a perfume for him, Sae Itoshi. They even named it Boy genius. He never wore it though, since you never recommended it to him. Still, he wondered if you liked the perfume, it somehow mattered to him. Though, he never asked you your opinion on it, too afraid of your judgement.
Without surprise, the following World Cup arrived. Five years have gone by since your first meeting. You joined him in Spain, country where it was organized. Without surprise, the same circus happened : tabloids wondered who you were again, fans started to get more heated towards you and paparazzis tried to get more pictures of you with Sae. You did your best to not let it upset you. You were not a public person, you were just Sae’s friend, right? You couldn’t understand all the attention you were getting, people were here for the sport, not the gossip, weren’t they?
You managed to survive through the month without being skinned alive by anyone. The mood was electric and magnificent. There was no denying that these kinds of events were magical. As a spectator, it was amazing, but you also saw the other side of it : players were under enormous pressure. Having the country’s weight and expectations on their shoulders wasn’t easy.
Sae, obviously, showed nothing. However after five years of knowing each other, you started to understand how he was working. You were by his side, often just sitting in silence on the couch as he was watching his next opponents matches to analyze their techniques. You knew your presence was soothing him, so you didn’t try to do too much. You were just there, by his side. And it was all that he needed.
The night before the finale, as you were both sitting on the couch, he paused the match and turned to you.
“If I win tomorrow…” He started.
“Mmh?” You hummed, listening to him but still focused on the video playing on your phone.
“Will you tell me what you planned to tell me four years ago?”
A pause.
You turned off your phone and glanced at him, thrown off by this request.
“You still remember that?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know, it was four years ago, it was a long time ago.”
“I’m curious about what you wanted to tell me back then.”
“That’s ridiculous…”
“It’s not ridiculous. It mattered to you back then, so it matters to me now.”
“...”
“Will you keep that promise and tell me if I win?”
You smiled faintly, looking away. “If that’s what you want.”
“I want that if you want that.”
“Then yeah, I want that.”
A ghost of a smile appeared on his face. “I have no choice but to win now.”
“Looks like it.”
“I’m not winning for the country tomorrow. I’m winning for you.”
Your stomach dropped and butterflies blossomed in. Was he realising the weight of his words or was he just that dumb? The way he was gazing at your face proved he knew what he said and the effect it had on you. Nervously, you chuckled.
“Don’t be stupid.”
“I’ll be stupid for you.”
You scoffed. “Focus on the match tomorrow, don’t get distracted now.”
“Mmh.” He grabbed the TV remote and started to watch the match again.
You dismissed him not out of rudeness, but because it threw you off. How could one just drop a bomb like that on an evening before the biggest match of his life? You were almost having a heart attack. Damn. That man will be the death of you.
The next day, tension was at its strongest. The game was uptight. Fortunately, the outcome wasn’t the same as four years prior. In extra time, Japanese players managed to shoot a beautiful, well-deserved goal. The referee blew the whistle to end the match. You couldn’t believe your eyes, Sae was finally a World Champion, after all these years of hard work he finally made it.
You couldn’t help but let the tears overwhelm you, almost enough that you didn’t see him climbing the stands to get to you. Most people had gone on the field to celebrate, everyone but you and now Sae who joined you. He grabbed your cheeks and wiped your tears.
“Why are you crying?” He asked, almost concerned.
“For you, idiot.” You chuckled, cupping his jawline. “Because I’m proud of you. Because I’m so so very much happy for you.” You smiled through the tears.
A smile appeared on his face, a rare, real, precious smile. It made you tear up even more.
“I won for you, you know that.” He rested his forehead against yours. “So now you have to tell me the secret you’ve been keeping from me.”
You chuckled. “You’re not losing your bearings, are you?” You paused, trying to regain some composure.
Music was loud, people were cheering, Sae’s coach and teammates were celebrating and soon he’d have to go back down to lift the trophy and get his medal. And yet, at this very moment it was only you and him in your little bubble no one could burst. Time seemed to slow down. Emotions were powerful, heavy, overwhelming. You had to get it out your chest or you might just explode.
“I love you.” You finally admitted. After five years, the words stuck in your throat finally freed themselves. It felt so good to finally say it. “Fuck…I love you so much Sae… I love you so much it hurts.” Tears were flowing, out of relief and happiness.
He stared at you, realisation daunting him. Your words hit his heart in a way he would’ve never imagined. At that moment, he was at the top of the world.
“Idiot…” He breathed out, smiling contently. “I love you too…” He hugged you tightly.
The rest of the day happened in a blur. Excitation everywhere, congratulations flowing, celebrations with whoever was passing by… What else could you wish for? You had your man, who was a freaking World Champion.
Things calmed down the next day. You woke up next to Sae in tangled sheets. He was still sound asleep. Poor guy was probably exhausted from everything. He probably needed vacations. You grabbed your phone to scroll on social media for a bit. After a while, you found an extract from an interview Sae gave the day before.
“What are you feeling now that you have reached the rarest trophy? What are you planning now?”
“I have won more than just a trophy, I won everything I could wish for. For now, I plan on spending time with someone I care deeply for. We’ll see about my career later. But I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.”
You smiled to yourself. Sae shifted, half-asleep, throwing an arm over your waist and burying his face in the back of your neck, making you the little spoon.
“Morning World Champion.” You teased.
You felt a small amused breath reach your skin. “Morning.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Exhausted. My limbs are sore. I want to spend the day in bed with you.”
You chuckled quietly. “That can be arranged.”
You put down your phone and turned around to mold into his body for a hug. He wrapped his arms around you, securing you and making sure you couldn’t leave his embrace.
“You smell good.” He murmured, burying his nose in your hair.
“I’m not wearing any perfume though.”
“I know, I like your perfume and the scent of your skin.”
“How does it smell?” You asked him.
“Mmh…” He paused, thinking, still very much half-asleep. “Sweet and perfect. Just like you.”
You chuckled quietly. “You could be a great perfume seller.”
“Got that from you.” He countered, satisfied. He needed nothing more right now, just you, his gold medal and a calm day without any training, any journalist or paparazzis. At that moment, he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life holding you like that every morning.
a/n : Inspired by the World Cup (obviouslyyy) and also inspired by he fact I worked a month in a perfume shop and I became obsessed with smelling each perfume lmao x) I suck at describing football because I don't know anything about it lmao (shame on me). I had a really great time writing this and I really enjoyed myself, so I hope you like it! I did not proofread since I'm working and I don't have time, so I apologise if there's any grammar mistake or inconsistency! Also I didn't know how to end this so the end is a bit messyyyy
wc : 5.7k
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Today’s shift has been a nightmare for you. The independent perfumery you were working for was desert. Not a soul in sight. You sighed, laying your hands on the cash register, silently hoping for someone to stop by. Sure, your location wasn’t ideal : in a small–but cute– pedestrian-only alley in the heart of the town. Almost nobody walked by here, since all the interesting things were on the opposite side of the city. It was a wonder this perfumery was still alive and well. Loyal–and wealthy– customers were probably the reason for it.
You glanced at your watch, 3 more hours to go. The amount of sleep you got this night because you wouldn’t stop overthinking. You could do this. It’s not as if you already cleaned the floor thrice, reorganized the drawers and shelves twice and made sure you had stock for every perfume.
If only you’d known that in a couple minutes the trajectory of your life would be changed forever, you’d have never believed it. It happened as you were checking a drawer for a click and collect. L’Eau d’Eclipse by Pierre-Marie Manoury. Not a bad choice, it smelled good : a mixture of fresh and floral with notes of vanilla and ylang-ylang. If you had to be perfectly honest, it was a perfume for rather old ladies. You’d never wear that, too scared of coming across as someone with old-fashioned tastes.
You spiralled deeper into your thoughts about the fragrance when you heard the delicious echoing sound of the bell meaning someone had at last walked through the door. You straightened up, put on your best customer friendly smile and greeted the pink-haired guy. He looked familiar, though you couldn’t place a name on that face. The first thing that struck you was his teal eyes, deeply hypnotising. Then, how wealthy he appeared to be, that was always a good omen for the register.
“Hello! Welcome to Velinora, how can I help you?”
“Hello… I’m looking for perfume.” He replied flatly, glancing around at the very much empty shop, seemingly uninterested by you.
“Really? Never would’ve guessed.” Your sarcasm seeping through, you noticed the unamused look he gave you. You cleared your throat. “I mean I can definitely help you with that.”
You cringed internally, already thinking the approach to the customer was a flop. You sucked it up, it was just a bad moment to live through and then you would never be haunted by that tonight, wouldn’t you?
Seeing the guy wasn’t very willing to give more information on what he was looking for, you tried to get the goods out of him.
“What kind of perfume, fragrances, are you looking for?” You questioned, already scanning the shelves with the precision of a sharp chef’s knife.
“I don’t really know.” He replied bluntly, taking a tester in his hands and checking the bottle out before placing it back.
“Great. Very helpful.” You ignored the side eye he gave you. “Is it for you or is it a gift?”
“For me.”
“Alright, it’ll be a bit easier then. Do you already wear perfume? Or do you have a brand, a scent you like? That would be a good indication.”
He sighed, obviously annoyed. “Can’t you just… give me a random one? I don’t care about the brand or the scent. I just need one.”
You frowned, tilting your head as you stepped back. Sure, you had some brands to value more than others and this was the perfect occasion to sell a particularly difficult and niche perfume : Terra di Luce by Strapponelli, it was an oaky, spicy, with hints of lava rock fragrance which almost no one liked, including you. But what he said offended you on a personal level. You would never let that slide, not when you spent hours learning the notes of perfumes, the slight differences and the magic that rested behind the scents.
“Let me stop you right there.” You smiled politely, but you wanted to slap him. How could he say that?? If it was up to you and you didn’t have a business to run, the guy would already be kicked out. “You can’t just… pick a random one. Perfumes are personal.” You explained. “It has to be unique, it has to be you having an emotional link with it.”
The guy scoffed, staring at you. He barely even raised an eyebrow. His arrogance was testing your last nerves.
“You think that’s ridiculous? It’s not. Every perfume has a story that led to its creation. I won’t go down that path or I’ll ramble for hours. So to make it short : no. I can’t pick one for you. You have to smell, and like the perfume. So tell me, why are you buying perfume today?” You asked, trying hard to stay polite. If your boss heard your stern voice, he'd actually have a heart attack : you should never talk to a client this way— you heard his voice ringing in your head.
The teal eyed guy stared at you for a couple seconds, then resigned himself. He slid his hands in his pockets. “My manager told me it’ll be a good idea to have a recognizable scent. Marketing stunt. He gave me one but I don’t like it. Smells too sour.”
“Now we have something.” You smiled faintly. “See? Wasn’t too hard.” You taunted. Seeing he was still not going with the flow, you went on immediately. “May I ask what job you do?”
He stared at you, a hint of surprise flashing in his bright eyes. Then, he replied carefully, as if you were mocking him. “I’m a professional football player.”
“Okay so you need perfume that sticks, not something light.” You replied immediately, your brain working quickly and not catching on what he just told you. You were about to grab a bottle when you realized who was really standing in your shop. Sae Itoshi. One of the most—if not the most—trendy football player of the season. You weren’t a fanatic of that sport, but he was famous enough that you heard of him even in your small perfumery world.
You slowly turned to Sae Itoshi. You pointed at him and a playful smile appeared on your face. “I’m not giving you a discount of any type.”
The pink haired man frowned, seemingly taken aback. He had been certain he’d eventually get a reaction from you once you understood who he was. But that? It was unexpected. “I’m sorry?”
“You’re rich, aren’t you? Why should I make you pay less?” You scoffed, placing your hands on your hips, entertained.
“...Customer service perhaps?”
“Yeah but you’re not a customer, you’re a freaking star.” You countered. “I believe paying 350 for a bottle of perfume isn’t a financial crisis for you.”
“...fair.”
To be honest, it was the 3 hours of sleep that made you act this way. Sure you were naturally playful and blunt. However, you were certainly not this way with a stranger, a customer, and a famous one at that. It would only be later you realized how you treated him. It cost you 4 hours of sleep and overthinking that night.
“Okay so let’s get into this.” You started, turning around already searching for thee perfume for thee Sae Itoshi.
“Does it really have to be such a big deal? Just get me a cologne…”
You whipped around. “Cologne? That won’t stick on you. Not if you want to wear it during matches. The sweat won't mix well with the scent anyway.” You paused, taking a tester from the shelf and spraying the perfume on a piece of paper. “What you need is a pure perfume. Maybe even an elixir.”
You handed him the paper, watching his reaction as he smelled it. He nodded faintly in approval.
“Smells good.”
“It does, doesn’t it? Strong, blunt and enchanting. Yet, it still has a hint of vulnerability and tenderness to it while being fresh.Seems like a perfume for guys like you”
Sae stared at you, as if you just bared his heart and revealed the naked truth. A disturbing feeling settled between his ribs, he was definitely bothered by your words and your ability to read him so effortlessly, even if you knew nothing about him personally. The way you didn’t even realise you threw him off made him feel some kind of butterflies in his stomach.
“What’s inside?” He asked, his eyes still staring at you. His interest was picked, and now you were the center of his attention and will be for a while— meaning the rest of his life, but neither of you knew that yet.
“So, that’s Midnight Velvet by Hortense. Inside we have Bergamot, orange blossom, ginger and cardamom. The woody note comes from patchouli.” You told him. “Do you want to try another one?”
He nodded. You spent the next 10 minutes making him try other fragrances. He was paying unwavering attention to what you were rambling on. Some would even say he was more focused on what you were telling him about perfumes than what his coach was telling him during training. In reality, he was more focused on how your voice sounded and how your face seemed to lighten whenever he agreed to your words.
“Do you actually learn the ingredients in each perfume?” He asked.
“Well, I do try to remember all of them so I can help customers in the best way possible.” You admitted, suddenly feeling self-aware.
“That’s impressive.”
“Is it?” You chuckled nervously. It wasn’t every day that you were complimented by a world class football player. Awkwardly, you cleared your throat and looked away, trying to find a way out of this. “So… which one do you like more?”
“The first one.” Sae replied. “Do you think it’s the one that suits me best?” He would never admit that for some unknown reason, having your opinion on the matter suddenly felt like the most important thing. And he would never admit he knew from the first second Midnight Velvet was the one for him, but if he had told you, you wouldn’t have rambled for 10 minutes, which would have made him feel bad.
“Midnight Velvet?”
“Yeah.”
“Well perfume is personal you have to choose. I can’t choose for you if you don’t—”
“I’m asking for your opinion, though. Do you think it’s the one that suits me best?” He repeated, holding eye contact.
You blinked, surprised. “Uhm… yeah. I think Midnight Velvet suits you best.” You smiled.
“Then I'll buy this one, if you don’t mind.”
“I obviously don’t mind.” You countered, finally recovering your playful side. “I mean that's my job, to make you buy things. The more the better.”
He let out a small amused huff, which felt like a victory. Taking the package of the said perfume, you led him to the register. As you scanned the fancy box, you caught him staring at your skilled hands.
“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but how come you’re in Japan? I thought you were playing for Madrid.” You stated, making small talk.
Sae’s teal eyes snapped back to your face. He took in your features and the lines of your eyes, your nose and your mouth. He didn’t want to forget them. “Passeport business and Federation talk.” A beat. “You follow football?” He pondered.
“Not really, I just know the big names and watch the big games when I have time. My father is more of a fan.”
“I see…”
“You can pay, it’s over there.” You pointed to the device.
“You follow enough to know me.” He countered as he paid without checking the price.
You shrugged. “It’s not as if you’re an unknown anymore.”
Taking back his card, he agreed. “You know me, but I do not know you. What’s your name?”
Taken aback, you muttered your name without thinking. It felt odd in your mouth, but it was yours. Why the hell would he want to know your name?? You were just some stupid perfume seller. Compared to him, you were nobody.
“That's a pretty name. I like it.” He smirked before stepping out of the shop and leaving you to wonder if all this was just a hallucination. Your eyes stayed on his form until he was out of sight, far from the shop.
You ran your hand down your face, sighing heavily. You could already feel a headache forming. Out of all the weird things to ever happen in your life, this was definitely one of the weirdest.
Checking the register, you noticed he left a card. It wasn’t a credit one, more like a business one? You turned it around and saw a phone number. Could it be…? You quickly grabbed it and stuffed it in your pocket to avoid anyone seeing this. Looking around, you noticed no one was in the shop. Geez, you probably looked like a ridiculous shy mess.
The night was spent staring at the dark coloured card, with the golden outlines. Very fancy. Should you text the number to see the outcome? Definitely not. You’d only embarrass yourself…
So days passed by, and you slowly forgot about the unexpected events of that day. Well, forgetting is a strong word, you’d never forget it actually, more like it didn’t seem as important as it seemed back then. You focused on your cozy daily life, taking care of your cats, your perfumes and your small flat.
Approximately a month later, you found yourself in the same situation as the day you met Sae Itoshi. And as you noticed the similar setting while standing behind the counter, the pink haired man stepped into the shop. You froze, your brain trying to catch up with what was happening.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He flatly stated.
“Good morning to you too.” You countered, recovering from your previous choc.
A faint smile appeared on his handsome face. “Good morning.”
“What makes me worthy of your presence today?” You smirked.
“I used all the perfume. And you didn’t text me even though I left my business card.”
Your eyes widened slightly, impressed. “You finished the bottle already?”
“I did. Got many compliments about my scent with it. Thanks to you and your amazing advice.”
“Aw, you’re going to make me blush.” You chuckled.
“So I came back.” He leaned on the counter, his teal eyes fixated on you. “Here, just for you. To buy another bottle.”
“You could’ve gone to any other shop, you know that?” You smiled, putting away the perfumes you were registering, to make more room for Sae’s arms.
“I know. But I wanted to buy it here. Makes it more special to me.” He paused, long enough for the weight of his words to land. “And I wanted to know why you didn’t text me.”
“Why didn't I text you? I can’t just text an international football star, can I?” You scoffed.
“The question is why couldn’t you? I gave you my personal phone number.”
You stuttered, completely flustered by his unexpected behaviour. You shrugged, talking out your phone and the business card he gave you back then. You texted him immediately. The sound of a notification from his pocket confirmed to you this wasn’t a fake number. Your knees almost gave out, but you fought your hardest to keep your composure. You barely remembered how that day even ended.
The following year felt like the beginning of a fever year. Sae and you would text each other regularly, messages seeping through different time zones whenever he was training in Spain. The pink haired man came back to Japan more often since you two met, and always found excuses to stop by the perfumery : broken bottle, Lost bottle, left behind in a five stars hotel… He would never miss an opportunity to luckily miss perfume and buy a new one with you.
One night, as you were about to go to sleep after a rough day of dealing with particularly annoying clients, your phone’s screen lit up to Sae’s notification. You knew it was mid-afternoon in Spain, meaning he would be busy training and not texting you.
You frowned, reading the message.
Sae : What are you doing this July?
You : Working, I guess. Why?
S : How about coming to the US with me?
Y : LMAOOOOO
S : I’m serious.
Y : I can’t afford a trip to the USA.
S : I’ll pay for everything, you don’t have to worry about anything.
Y : Why do you even want to go on a trip with me in July in the US?
S : It’s the World Cup, idiot.
Y : Wait wait wait
Y : Are you fucking serious? You want me to accompany you at the freaking World Cup ???
S : Are you coming or not? I have to tell my manager right now if I have people coming. For the visas.
Y : Sae, I can’t just leave for one month… I have to check with my boss if that’s possible…
S : Take it or leave it.
Y : … Okay I’m coming.
S : 👍
You put down your phone, taking a moment to pinch your arm to make sure you weren’t dreaming. The wincing pain confirmed that it was very much real. Thee Sae Itoshi was bringing you to the World Cup, aka the most important sports event in the whole world. How the hell were you going to announce your departure to your boss? There was no way he would agree to let you leave more than a week. But then again, it was a once in a life opportunity… You decided to let the night bring wisdom and sink in your well deserved mattress.
Things went so fast you barely had time to really understand how important you were in Sae’s eyes. Not even his parents were invited to the World Cup, but you were. You realized that weeks later. You had somehow managed to convince your boss to let you leave for a month. You merely threatened him to take him to court with the evidence of all the unpaid hours he made you do. Anyway, you had landed in the United States of America by Sae’s side.
You attended every single one of his games, and even showed up to his training sessions. What else could you do? Tabloids wondered who you were, asking Sae about you in interviews, but he would always dismiss the subject by saying you’re nothing more than an assistant. That label didn’t bother you at first, because you were mostly focused on the unreal nature of your presence here. Then, it started to annoy you since Sae’s behaviour towards you meant anything but just an assistant or a friend.
Then it struck you, Sae was oblivious. He didn’t even realize how he was acting towards you. The whole “bringing breakfast to you in the morning”, the “searching for you in the stands after a goal”, “asking if you’re proud of him after every match” and “making sure you’re okay because of the heat and the crowded place” isn’t exactly just friend material.
You realized that on the day of the tournament. Sae and Japan managed to reach the final, thus possibly winning the first World Cup for his native country. He was nervous, painfully so. Although, you didn’t mind the view : he was standing at the hotel’s kitchen counter in your room, shirtless, visibly frowning. You’d grown fond of the man and his emotionally constipated nature. You stood up from your bed to join him for breakfast. With a smug smile you sat in front of him.
“You look like hell.” You teased.
He gave you a half bothered half deadpan look. “I’m stressed.”
“Didn’t know the great Sae Itoshi could be stressed.” You countered.
“It’s the World Cup Final. Stakes are high. Of course I’m gonna be nervous.”
“Fair.” You pouted. “Do you plan on wearing your perfume?”
“Obviously, it’s my lucky charm. Why wouldn’t I want to be lucky on the biggest day of my life?”
“Fair once again.” You chuckled. “What’re you gonna do if you win?”
He shrugged. “Lift the trophy.”
You deadpanned him. “After, you idiot.”
“Sleep for two days straight.”
“That’s in no way fun.”
“Never said I was a fun man.” He munched on the bread.
You scoffed. “Still.” You gazed at him, trying to read his face. “Alright. If you win, I’ll tell you something.”
That caught his attention, his eyes landed on you. “Tell me what?”
“Well I’m not going to tell you now, silly.” You giggled. “I’ll tell you if you win. Otherwise you’ll never know. Or I’ll tell you next time you win a World Cup.”
“Then I have no choice but to win tonight, haven’t I?”
“That’s pretty much the deal.” You affirmed, locking your eyes in his.
The match was intense. Worthy of a World Cup Final. At multiple times, you really thought Japan was about to win. Unfortunately, their opponent was too strong, too organized as a team. They beat Japan’s team in extra time. 3-2.
You were far from Sae when the referee blew the whistle to end the match, though it was as if you were next to him. Your heart broke for him. Without surprise, his face showed nothing, but his eyes, oh his eyes spoke volumes. Empty, devastated and recalculating every minor mistake he made. You quickly went to the changing room to catch him before he went in. As he saw you, he tried to ignore you and avoid you out of shame.
“Don’t you dare ignore me, Itoshi.” You grabbed the side of his shirt. “I don’t care that you lost. I’m not disappointed. I’m proud you fought until the very last second, you hear me?”
He stared at you. Words couldn’t come out of his mouth, the fear of tears taking over him was way too overwhelming. At that moment, the hole he felt in his chest filled up with a warm flame as he realised how much you cared for him and how precious you were to him. However, it was above him to voice such a feeling. So he hugged you tightly, burying his face in your neck. He smelled your perfume, the same one you had for years, the one you had when you two met. It eased some of the tension in his muscles.
“I have to go..” He murmured. Indeed he had to change, listen to his coach’s assessment of the match and reply to journalists. “I’ll see you later.” He added as he kissed your forehead before disappearing into the changing room.
Your heart tightened. That World Cup ended on a note of unfulfilled potential : no world title for the Japanese players, and no love confessed. If you had to put all these emotions into a perfume, it would be a bittersweet one with orange blossom, almond and neroli. But then, who would buy a perfume to scent the bittersweetness of an unfinished story?
Years passed by. Your meetings with Sae were regular and love between you continued to grow as he continued to be oblivious to it. You still worked in the same perfume shop you two met. And he still travelled between Japan and Spain. He never told you, but deep down you sensed he never got over the loss of the last World Cup. He was working harder than ever, to come back stronger.
Sometimes, you wondered if it was worth it to wait for him to realise you were in love with each other. Or maybe he knew and refused to acknowledge it. Every option hurt more than the last, and doubt seeped into your heart. You were no Penelope, how could you rely on the untold feelings of an emotionally dumb man and wait years for him? So you were tempted to find someone else, to change your mind with whatever you could. But your heart belonged to him, and much to your despair, you always crawled back to him in the deepest hours of the night. You were also tempted to tell him, but you didn’t want to ruin the friendship you grew over the years, and what if he didn’t like you back? What if he didn’t love you more than football? Was it worth it, to unveil your love to him, to just become a couple for the sake of it? Moreover, it wasn’t like he was an unattractive man. Women were at his feet, famous ones, rich ones… You were no match with your small perfumery shop and knowledge. On paper, these women were a perfect match for him, so how could you not feel insecure? Many times you wondered if he gave in the temptation of these women. Your thoughts grew more and more venomous and rotten as you lost more and more sleep each night.
Sae knew. He knew he felt more for you than he did with other people. He loved to be around you as you made him feel at home, he loved your scent, your rants about perfumes, he adored the way sunlight would hit your skin at the end of the day. It made him want to hold you against him and never let go. Never would he have guessed he’d feel this way for someone who had nothing in common with him or football. Much to his despair, he faced another struggle : sharing his feelings to you. He wasn’t blind, he saw the way you looked at him and he wanted to tell you everything that’s laid on his heart for now five years. But it was above his strength. Each time he would gather the courage to do so, he would chicken out. What if he misread you? What if you were in love with another man? He couldn’t bear the idea so he kept it all to himself. Bittersweetness filled his heart as you were everything he could think of. There was nothing he was seeing everyday without thinking of you. To top it all, Hortense, the label of the perfume you chose for him made him their effigy. They even created a perfume for him, Sae Itoshi. They even named it Boy genius. He never wore it though, since you never recommended it to him. Still, he wondered if you liked the perfume, it somehow mattered to him. Though, he never asked you your opinion on it, too afraid of your judgement.
Without surprise, the following World Cup arrived. Five years have gone by since your first meeting. You joined him in Spain, country where it was organized. Without surprise, the same circus happened : tabloids wondered who you were again, fans started to get more heated towards you and paparazzis tried to get more pictures of you with Sae. You did your best to not let it upset you. You were not a public person, you were just Sae’s friend, right? You couldn’t understand all the attention you were getting, people were here for the sport, not the gossip, weren’t they?
You managed to survive through the month without being skinned alive by anyone. The mood was electric and magnificent. There was no denying that these kinds of events were magical. As a spectator, it was amazing, but you also saw the other side of it : players were under enormous pressure. Having the country’s weight and expectations on their shoulders wasn’t easy.
Sae, obviously, showed nothing. However after five years of knowing each other, you started to understand how he was working. You were by his side, often just sitting in silence on the couch as he was watching his next opponents matches to analyze their techniques. You knew your presence was soothing him, so you didn’t try to do too much. You were just there, by his side. And it was all that he needed.
The night before the finale, as you were both sitting on the couch, he paused the match and turned to you.
“If I win tomorrow…” He started.
“Mmh?” You hummed, listening to him but still focused on the video playing on your phone.
“Will you tell me what you planned to tell me four years ago?”
A pause.
You turned off your phone and glanced at him, thrown off by this request.
“You still remember that?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know, it was four years ago, it was a long time ago.”
“I’m curious about what you wanted to tell me back then.”
“That’s ridiculous…”
“It’s not ridiculous. It mattered to you back then, so it matters to me now.”
“...”
“Will you keep that promise and tell me if I win?”
You smiled faintly, looking away. “If that’s what you want.”
“I want that if you want that.”
“Then yeah, I want that.”
A ghost of a smile appeared on his face. “I have no choice but to win now.”
“Looks like it.”
“I’m not winning for the country tomorrow. I’m winning for you.”
Your stomach dropped and butterflies blossomed in. Was he realising the weight of his words or was he just that dumb? The way he was gazing at your face proved he knew what he said and the effect it had on you. Nervously, you chuckled.
“Don’t be stupid.”
“I’ll be stupid for you.”
You scoffed. “Focus on the match tomorrow, don’t get distracted now.”
“Mmh.” He grabbed the TV remote and started to watch the match again.
You dismissed him not out of rudeness, but because it threw you off. How could one just drop a bomb like that on an evening before the biggest match of his life? You were almost having a heart attack. Damn. That man will be the death of you.
The next day, tension was at its strongest. The game was uptight. Fortunately, the outcome wasn’t the same as four years prior. In extra time, Japanese players managed to shoot a beautiful, well-deserved goal. The referee blew the whistle to end the match. You couldn’t believe your eyes, Sae was finally a World Champion, after all these years of hard work he finally made it.
You couldn’t help but let the tears overwhelm you, almost enough that you didn’t see him climbing the stands to get to you. Most people had gone on the field to celebrate, everyone but you and now Sae who joined you. He grabbed your cheeks and wiped your tears.
“Why are you crying?” He asked, almost concerned.
“For you, idiot.” You chuckled, cupping his jawline. “Because I’m proud of you. Because I’m so so very much happy for you.” You smiled through the tears.
A smile appeared on his face, a rare, real, precious smile. It made you tear up even more.
“I won for you, you know that.” He rested his forehead against yours. “So now you have to tell me the secret you’ve been keeping from me.”
You chuckled. “You’re not losing your bearings, are you?” You paused, trying to regain some composure.
Music was loud, people were cheering, Sae’s coach and teammates were celebrating and soon he’d have to go back down to lift the trophy and get his medal. And yet, at this very moment it was only you and him in your little bubble no one could burst. Time seemed to slow down. Emotions were powerful, heavy, overwhelming. You had to get it out your chest or you might just explode.
“I love you.” You finally admitted. After five years, the words stuck in your throat finally freed themselves. It felt so good to finally say it. “Fuck…I love you so much Sae… I love you so much it hurts.” Tears were flowing, out of relief and happiness.
He stared at you, realisation daunting him. Your words hit his heart in a way he would’ve never imagined. At that moment, he was at the top of the world.
“Idiot…” He breathed out, smiling contently. “I love you too…” He hugged you tightly.
The rest of the day happened in a blur. Excitation everywhere, congratulations flowing, celebrations with whoever was passing by… What else could you wish for? You had your man, who was a freaking World Champion.
Things calmed down the next day. You woke up next to Sae in tangled sheets. He was still sound asleep. Poor guy was probably exhausted from everything. He probably needed vacations. You grabbed your phone to scroll on social media for a bit. After a while, you found an extract from an interview Sae gave the day before.
“What are you feeling now that you have reached the rarest trophy? What are you planning now?”
“I have won more than just a trophy, I won everything I could wish for. For now, I plan on spending time with someone I care deeply for. We’ll see about my career later. But I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.”
You smiled to yourself. Sae shifted, half-asleep, throwing an arm over your waist and burying his face in the back of your neck, making you the little spoon.
“Morning World Champion.” You teased.
You felt a small amused breath reach your skin. “Morning.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Exhausted. My limbs are sore. I want to spend the day in bed with you.”
You chuckled quietly. “That can be arranged.”
You put down your phone and turned around to mold into his body for a hug. He wrapped his arms around you, securing you and making sure you couldn’t leave his embrace.
“You smell good.” He murmured, burying his nose in your hair.
“I’m not wearing any perfume though.”
“I know, I like your perfume and the scent of your skin.”
“How does it smell?” You asked him.
“Mmh…” He paused, thinking, still very much half-asleep. “Sweet and perfect. Just like you.”
You chuckled quietly. “You could be a great perfume seller.”
“Got that from you.” He countered, satisfied. He needed nothing more right now, just you, his gold medal and a calm day without any training, any journalist or paparazzis. At that moment, he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life holding you like that every morning.
꒰ 糸師冴 ꒱ › sae accidentally hard launches you mdni.
pro player! sae itoshi x f! reader. inspired by mbappe so ooc lol.
sae itoshi despises social media with every fiber of his being. it’s too lukewarm for him. all his accounts are managed by some pr team that solely posts professionally shot photos of him and he only opens instagram for the following reasons:
to repost reels of his match highlights that re al’s social media team tags him in,
to reluctantly comment on shidou’s posts after receiving an absurd amount of threatening texts from him,
and to like your posts and stories within seconds of you uploading them.
the latter being the main reason he bothers to check the app.
you’ve been together since you were both awkward teenagers but sae is still adamant about keeping your relationship private. not because he’s ashamed — far from it — but because his fanbase is, for lack of a better word, unhinged.
they know he’s been in a relationship for years; he’s never denied it in interviews. what they don’t know is who he’s dating. and with how private the midfielder is, most fans had long since accepted that they’d never find out. but as fate would have it, they get their answer a few hours after re al wins the uefa champions league.
sae’s just gotten out of the shower, a towel slung low on his hips as he rummages through his bag for a fresh set of clothes.
“took you long enough” you sigh, you’ve been waiting for him on the king-sized bed — wearing nothing but his spare re al kit — for what feels like forever.
sae glances up, his usual detached expression softening for just a fraction of a second as his teal eyes sweep over you. he pads toward the bed, the carpet muffling his steps until he’s right in front of you, leaning over. his fingers brush against your collarbone as he traces the collar of the jersey.
“you’re wearing my kit again ?” he shakes his head fondly before saying, “it’s not even your size” he emphasizes his point by tugging gently at the sleeve hanging well past your elbow.
“it still looks better on me.” you grin as you look up at him.
“i think it looks better off you.” his gaze drops from your eyes to your lips and then he’s kissing you. veiny hand moving from the jersey to cup the back of your neck, holding you in place as he pours everything he felt during the match into your parted lips.
he barely pulls away, just enough to grab his phone from the nightstand without breaking the kiss completely. the screen illuminates his sharp features, casting a pale blue glow on his cheekbones as he opens the camera. he needs to commit this to memory, to capture this exact moment before he’s too lost in you to think straight.
there are few things sae itoshi loves more than taking pictures of you. he has thousands of them on his phone; candid shots of you sleeping, photos of you in his clothes, in your own, in nothing at all. on rare occasions he’ll post a picture or two on his close friends story. his way of showing you off without exposing you to his fans.
he doesn’t need to ask you to pose. you’re already turning onto your stomach, propping yourself up on your elbows, and looking back at him over your shoulder. you reach back with one hand and point directly at the number ten between your shoulder blades. the soft click echoes in the hotel room as he captures the image. it’s perfect. you’re perfect. he’d be an idiot not to post it.
he’s quick, thumbs flying across the screen as he types out the caption, ‘the re al trophy’. he hits what he thinks is the right button to share this moment with his small, curated list: rin, his teammates, and shidou — who will undoubtedly send a tirade of messages saying he should be the one celebrating with sae instead of you. he tosses the phone onto the bed beside you, his attention immediately returning to more pressing matters. i.e. taking his jersey off you
he’s leaning in to press a kiss to your shoulder when his phone vibrates. once. twice. then far too incessant for a close friends story. he breaks away with a frustrated groan, snatching his phone up. to his surprise and dismay, it’s not just shidou being shidou for once. but a tsunami of notifications from his official account.
his eyes widen as he opens instagram and sees it: the picture of you, in his kit, pointing at his number. posted to his public story, not close friends. thirty seconds ago. he scrambles to delete it even though he knows it’s already too late.
“shit” his thumb hovers uselessly over the screen as the notifications continue to pour in, each one a fresh wave of public exposure. the internet moves fast when it comes to sae itoshi.
you raise a brow, turning to look at him, “what’s wrong ?”
he doesn’t answer right away. his gaze is fixed on the ceiling, but you can tell he’s not actually looking at the ornate plaster. his jaw is tight, muscle ticking beneath his skin, and his eyes are clamped shut.
years of privacy, of sidestepping paparazzi and shutting down invasive questions, of keeping the person he loves safely beyond the reach of public scrutiny — all undone in less than thirty seconds.
he drops the phone onto the bed as if it’s burned him, running a hand through his damp maroon hair, “i posted it” he mutters dejectedly. and when you remain unfazed he adds, “publicly.”
you blink, processing his words. the indifferent look on your face, completely at odds with the panic etched onto his. “oh.” you say, your voice surprisingly calm. “well, that’s one way to do it.”
sae stares at you like you’ve just grown a second head. “that’s all you have to say ?” his voice is strained, “you’re not upset ?”
“why would i be ?” he lets out a sigh of relief, picking up his phone again. his pr manager’s name is flashing on the screen, but he ignores it. he clicks on the story a fan account’s tagged him in. they’ve already zoomed in on your face, trying to match you with old, blurry pictures from the stands. it won’t take them long to find your account. you reach out to still his frantic scrolling by placing a hand on his wrist. “are you upset, sae ?”
“obviously” he stops scrolling, his thumb frozen on the screen, but he can’t bring himself to look at you, “i’m very upset with myself.”
“why ?” you press gently, your thumb stroking the inside of his wrist.
“because i was careless” he admits, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. “and i would’ve preferred to do this properly.”
you shift, moving to kneel in front of him, your hands resting on his tense shoulders. you start to knead the tight muscles, feeling him gradually relax under your touch. “define ‘properly’”
he doesn’t answer right away. he leans into your touch, his head bowing slightly as you work out a particularly stubborn knot between his shoulder blades. “i don’t know . . . i just wanted it to be on our terms. when we were ready. not because i fumbled with my phone like an idiot.”
sae itoshi, who can slot a penalty past the world’s best keeper without so much as trembling, is freaking out over an accidental hard launch. you can’t help but laugh. it makes his shoulders, which were slowly relaxing under your touch, stiffen all over again.
“don’t laugh at me. it’s not funny,” he mutters, though there’s no real heat behind his words. “not in the slightest.”
“you’re right, it’s not funny, it’s adorable” you lean in and press a kiss that makes his frustration fade away to his lips.
deep down, beneath his initial panic, sae’s glad. he’s glad because he knows that once the world gets over the excitement of finally knowing who you are, he can finally show you off the way he’s always wanted to. he can finally hold your hand walking down the street, kiss you in the stands after a goal, and take you to those fancy award dinners he’s always avoided. the thought of it all makes his heart race. some mistakes are worth making.
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a/n : Inspired by the World Cup (obviouslyyy) and also inspired by he fact I worked a month in a perfume shop and I became obsessed with smelling each perfume lmao x) I suck at describing football because I don't know anything about it lmao (shame on me). I had a really great time writing this and I really enjoyed myself, so I hope you like it! I did not proofread since I'm working and I don't have time, so I apologise if there's any grammar mistake or inconsistency! Also I didn't know how to end this so the end is a bit messyyyy
wc : 5.7k
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Today’s shift has been a nightmare for you. The independent perfumery you were working for was desert. Not a soul in sight. You sighed, laying your hands on the cash register, silently hoping for someone to stop by. Sure, your location wasn’t ideal : in a small–but cute– pedestrian-only alley in the heart of the town. Almost nobody walked by here, since all the interesting things were on the opposite side of the city. It was a wonder this perfumery was still alive and well. Loyal–and wealthy– customers were probably the reason for it.
You glanced at your watch, 3 more hours to go. The amount of sleep you got this night because you wouldn’t stop overthinking. You could do this. It’s not as if you already cleaned the floor thrice, reorganized the drawers and shelves twice and made sure you had stock for every perfume.
If only you’d known that in a couple minutes the trajectory of your life would be changed forever, you’d have never believed it. It happened as you were checking a drawer for a click and collect. L’Eau d’Eclipse by Pierre-Marie Manoury. Not a bad choice, it smelled good : a mixture of fresh and floral with notes of vanilla and ylang-ylang. If you had to be perfectly honest, it was a perfume for rather old ladies. You’d never wear that, too scared of coming across as someone with old-fashioned tastes.
You spiralled deeper into your thoughts about the fragrance when you heard the delicious echoing sound of the bell meaning someone had at last walked through the door. You straightened up, put on your best customer friendly smile and greeted the pink-haired guy. He looked familiar, though you couldn’t place a name on that face. The first thing that struck you was his teal eyes, deeply hypnotising. Then, how wealthy he appeared to be, that was always a good omen for the register.
“Hello! Welcome to Velinora, how can I help you?”
“Hello… I’m looking for perfume.” He replied flatly, glancing around at the very much empty shop, seemingly uninterested by you.
“Really? Never would’ve guessed.” Your sarcasm seeping through, you noticed the unamused look he gave you. You cleared your throat. “I mean I can definitely help you with that.”
You cringed internally, already thinking the approach to the customer was a flop. You sucked it up, it was just a bad moment to live through and then you would never be haunted by that tonight, wouldn’t you?
Seeing the guy wasn’t very willing to give more information on what he was looking for, you tried to get the goods out of him.
“What kind of perfume, fragrances, are you looking for?” You questioned, already scanning the shelves with the precision of a sharp chef’s knife.
“I don’t really know.” He replied bluntly, taking a tester in his hands and checking the bottle out before placing it back.
“Great. Very helpful.” You ignored the side eye he gave you. “Is it for you or is it a gift?”
“For me.”
“Alright, it’ll be a bit easier then. Do you already wear perfume? Or do you have a brand, a scent you like? That would be a good indication.”
He sighed, obviously annoyed. “Can’t you just… give me a random one? I don’t care about the brand or the scent. I just need one.”
You frowned, tilting your head as you stepped back. Sure, you had some brands to value more than others and this was the perfect occasion to sell a particularly difficult and niche perfume : Terra di Luce by Strapponelli, it was an oaky, spicy, with hints of lava rock fragrance which almost no one liked, including you. But what he said offended you on a personal level. You would never let that slide, not when you spent hours learning the notes of perfumes, the slight differences and the magic that rested behind the scents.
“Let me stop you right there.” You smiled politely, but you wanted to slap him. How could he say that?? If it was up to you and you didn’t have a business to run, the guy would already be kicked out. “You can’t just… pick a random one. Perfumes are personal.” You explained. “It has to be unique, it has to be you having an emotional link with it.”
The guy scoffed, staring at you. He barely even raised an eyebrow. His arrogance was testing your last nerves.
“You think that’s ridiculous? It’s not. Every perfume has a story that led to its creation. I won’t go down that path or I’ll ramble for hours. So to make it short : no. I can’t pick one for you. You have to smell, and like the perfume. So tell me, why are you buying perfume today?” You asked, trying hard to stay polite. If your boss heard your stern voice, he'd actually have a heart attack : you should never talk to a client this way— you heard his voice ringing in your head.
The teal eyed guy stared at you for a couple seconds, then resigned himself. He slid his hands in his pockets. “My manager told me it’ll be a good idea to have a recognizable scent. Marketing stunt. He gave me one but I don’t like it. Smells too sour.”
“Now we have something.” You smiled faintly. “See? Wasn’t too hard.” You taunted. Seeing he was still not going with the flow, you went on immediately. “May I ask what job you do?”
He stared at you, a hint of surprise flashing in his bright eyes. Then, he replied carefully, as if you were mocking him. “I’m a professional football player.”
“Okay so you need perfume that sticks, not something light.” You replied immediately, your brain working quickly and not catching on what he just told you. You were about to grab a bottle when you realized who was really standing in your shop. Sae Itoshi. One of the most—if not the most—trendy football player of the season. You weren’t a fanatic of that sport, but he was famous enough that you heard of him even in your small perfumery world.
You slowly turned to Sae Itoshi. You pointed at him and a playful smile appeared on your face. “I’m not giving you a discount of any type.”
The pink haired man frowned, seemingly taken aback. He had been certain he’d eventually get a reaction from you once you understood who he was. But that? It was unexpected. “I’m sorry?”
“You’re rich, aren’t you? Why should I make you pay less?” You scoffed, placing your hands on your hips, entertained.
“...Customer service perhaps?”
“Yeah but you’re not a customer, you’re a freaking star.” You countered. “I believe paying 350 for a bottle of perfume isn’t a financial crisis for you.”
“...fair.”
To be honest, it was the 3 hours of sleep that made you act this way. Sure you were naturally playful and blunt. However, you were certainly not this way with a stranger, a customer, and a famous one at that. It would only be later you realized how you treated him. It cost you 4 hours of sleep and overthinking that night.
“Okay so let’s get into this.” You started, turning around already searching for thee perfume for thee Sae Itoshi.
“Does it really have to be such a big deal? Just get me a cologne…”
You whipped around. “Cologne? That won’t stick on you. Not if you want to wear it during matches. The sweat won't mix well with the scent anyway.” You paused, taking a tester from the shelf and spraying the perfume on a piece of paper. “What you need is a pure perfume. Maybe even an elixir.”
You handed him the paper, watching his reaction as he smelled it. He nodded faintly in approval.
“Smells good.”
“It does, doesn’t it? Strong, blunt and enchanting. Yet, it still has a hint of vulnerability and tenderness to it while being fresh.Seems like a perfume for guys like you”
Sae stared at you, as if you just bared his heart and revealed the naked truth. A disturbing feeling settled between his ribs, he was definitely bothered by your words and your ability to read him so effortlessly, even if you knew nothing about him personally. The way you didn’t even realise you threw him off made him feel some kind of butterflies in his stomach.
“What’s inside?” He asked, his eyes still staring at you. His interest was picked, and now you were the center of his attention and will be for a while— meaning the rest of his life, but neither of you knew that yet.
“So, that’s Midnight Velvet by Hortense. Inside we have Bergamot, orange blossom, ginger and cardamom. The woody note comes from patchouli.” You told him. “Do you want to try another one?”
He nodded. You spent the next 10 minutes making him try other fragrances. He was paying unwavering attention to what you were rambling on. Some would even say he was more focused on what you were telling him about perfumes than what his coach was telling him during training. In reality, he was more focused on how your voice sounded and how your face seemed to lighten whenever he agreed to your words.
“Do you actually learn the ingredients in each perfume?” He asked.
“Well, I do try to remember all of them so I can help customers in the best way possible.” You admitted, suddenly feeling self-aware.
“That’s impressive.”
“Is it?” You chuckled nervously. It wasn’t every day that you were complimented by a world class football player. Awkwardly, you cleared your throat and looked away, trying to find a way out of this. “So… which one do you like more?”
“The first one.” Sae replied. “Do you think it’s the one that suits me best?” He would never admit that for some unknown reason, having your opinion on the matter suddenly felt like the most important thing. And he would never admit he knew from the first second Midnight Velvet was the one for him, but if he had told you, you wouldn’t have rambled for 10 minutes, which would have made him feel bad.
“Midnight Velvet?”
“Yeah.”
“Well perfume is personal you have to choose. I can’t choose for you if you don’t—”
“I’m asking for your opinion, though. Do you think it’s the one that suits me best?” He repeated, holding eye contact.
You blinked, surprised. “Uhm… yeah. I think Midnight Velvet suits you best.” You smiled.
“Then I'll buy this one, if you don’t mind.”
“I obviously don’t mind.” You countered, finally recovering your playful side. “I mean that's my job, to make you buy things. The more the better.”
He let out a small amused huff, which felt like a victory. Taking the package of the said perfume, you led him to the register. As you scanned the fancy box, you caught him staring at your skilled hands.
“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but how come you’re in Japan? I thought you were playing for Madrid.” You stated, making small talk.
Sae’s teal eyes snapped back to your face. He took in your features and the lines of your eyes, your nose and your mouth. He didn’t want to forget them. “Passeport business and Federation talk.” A beat. “You follow football?” He pondered.
“Not really, I just know the big names and watch the big games when I have time. My father is more of a fan.”
“I see…”
“You can pay, it’s over there.” You pointed to the device.
“You follow enough to know me.” He countered as he paid without checking the price.
You shrugged. “It’s not as if you’re an unknown anymore.”
Taking back his card, he agreed. “You know me, but I do not know you. What’s your name?”
Taken aback, you muttered your name without thinking. It felt odd in your mouth, but it was yours. Why the hell would he want to know your name?? You were just some stupid perfume seller. Compared to him, you were nobody.
“That's a pretty name. I like it.” He smirked before stepping out of the shop and leaving you to wonder if all this was just a hallucination. Your eyes stayed on his form until he was out of sight, far from the shop.
You ran your hand down your face, sighing heavily. You could already feel a headache forming. Out of all the weird things to ever happen in your life, this was definitely one of the weirdest.
Checking the register, you noticed he left a card. It wasn’t a credit one, more like a business one? You turned it around and saw a phone number. Could it be…? You quickly grabbed it and stuffed it in your pocket to avoid anyone seeing this. Looking around, you noticed no one was in the shop. Geez, you probably looked like a ridiculous shy mess.
The night was spent staring at the dark coloured card, with the golden outlines. Very fancy. Should you text the number to see the outcome? Definitely not. You’d only embarrass yourself…
So days passed by, and you slowly forgot about the unexpected events of that day. Well, forgetting is a strong word, you’d never forget it actually, more like it didn’t seem as important as it seemed back then. You focused on your cozy daily life, taking care of your cats, your perfumes and your small flat.
Approximately a month later, you found yourself in the same situation as the day you met Sae Itoshi. And as you noticed the similar setting while standing behind the counter, the pink haired man stepped into the shop. You froze, your brain trying to catch up with what was happening.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He flatly stated.
“Good morning to you too.” You countered, recovering from your previous choc.
A faint smile appeared on his handsome face. “Good morning.”
“What makes me worthy of your presence today?” You smirked.
“I used all the perfume. And you didn’t text me even though I left my business card.”
Your eyes widened slightly, impressed. “You finished the bottle already?”
“I did. Got many compliments about my scent with it. Thanks to you and your amazing advice.”
“Aw, you’re going to make me blush.” You chuckled.
“So I came back.” He leaned on the counter, his teal eyes fixated on you. “Here, just for you. To buy another bottle.”
“You could’ve gone to any other shop, you know that?” You smiled, putting away the perfumes you were registering, to make more room for Sae’s arms.
“I know. But I wanted to buy it here. Makes it more special to me.” He paused, long enough for the weight of his words to land. “And I wanted to know why you didn’t text me.”
“Why didn't I text you? I can’t just text an international football star, can I?” You scoffed.
“The question is why couldn’t you? I gave you my personal phone number.”
You stuttered, completely flustered by his unexpected behaviour. You shrugged, talking out your phone and the business card he gave you back then. You texted him immediately. The sound of a notification from his pocket confirmed to you this wasn’t a fake number. Your knees almost gave out, but you fought your hardest to keep your composure. You barely remembered how that day even ended.
The following year felt like the beginning of a fever year. Sae and you would text each other regularly, messages seeping through different time zones whenever he was training in Spain. The pink haired man came back to Japan more often since you two met, and always found excuses to stop by the perfumery : broken bottle, Lost bottle, left behind in a five stars hotel… He would never miss an opportunity to luckily miss perfume and buy a new one with you.
One night, as you were about to go to sleep after a rough day of dealing with particularly annoying clients, your phone’s screen lit up to Sae’s notification. You knew it was mid-afternoon in Spain, meaning he would be busy training and not texting you.
You frowned, reading the message.
Sae : What are you doing this July?
You : Working, I guess. Why?
S : How about coming to the US with me?
Y : LMAOOOOO
S : I’m serious.
Y : I can’t afford a trip to the USA.
S : I’ll pay for everything, you don’t have to worry about anything.
Y : Why do you even want to go on a trip with me in July in the US?
S : It’s the World Cup, idiot.
Y : Wait wait wait
Y : Are you fucking serious? You want me to accompany you at the freaking World Cup ???
S : Are you coming or not? I have to tell my manager right now if I have people coming. For the visas.
Y : Sae, I can’t just leave for one month… I have to check with my boss if that’s possible…
S : Take it or leave it.
Y : … Okay I’m coming.
S : 👍
You put down your phone, taking a moment to pinch your arm to make sure you weren’t dreaming. The wincing pain confirmed that it was very much real. Thee Sae Itoshi was bringing you to the World Cup, aka the most important sports event in the whole world. How the hell were you going to announce your departure to your boss? There was no way he would agree to let you leave more than a week. But then again, it was a once in a life opportunity… You decided to let the night bring wisdom and sink in your well deserved mattress.
Things went so fast you barely had time to really understand how important you were in Sae’s eyes. Not even his parents were invited to the World Cup, but you were. You realized that weeks later. You had somehow managed to convince your boss to let you leave for a month. You merely threatened him to take him to court with the evidence of all the unpaid hours he made you do. Anyway, you had landed in the United States of America by Sae’s side.
You attended every single one of his games, and even showed up to his training sessions. What else could you do? Tabloids wondered who you were, asking Sae about you in interviews, but he would always dismiss the subject by saying you’re nothing more than an assistant. That label didn’t bother you at first, because you were mostly focused on the unreal nature of your presence here. Then, it started to annoy you since Sae’s behaviour towards you meant anything but just an assistant or a friend.
Then it struck you, Sae was oblivious. He didn’t even realize how he was acting towards you. The whole “bringing breakfast to you in the morning”, the “searching for you in the stands after a goal”, “asking if you’re proud of him after every match” and “making sure you’re okay because of the heat and the crowded place” isn’t exactly just friend material.
You realized that on the day of the tournament. Sae and Japan managed to reach the final, thus possibly winning the first World Cup for his native country. He was nervous, painfully so. Although, you didn’t mind the view : he was standing at the hotel’s kitchen counter in your room, shirtless, visibly frowning. You’d grown fond of the man and his emotionally constipated nature. You stood up from your bed to join him for breakfast. With a smug smile you sat in front of him.
“You look like hell.” You teased.
He gave you a half bothered half deadpan look. “I’m stressed.”
“Didn’t know the great Sae Itoshi could be stressed.” You countered.
“It’s the World Cup Final. Stakes are high. Of course I’m gonna be nervous.”
“Fair.” You pouted. “Do you plan on wearing your perfume?”
“Obviously, it’s my lucky charm. Why wouldn’t I want to be lucky on the biggest day of my life?”
“Fair once again.” You chuckled. “What’re you gonna do if you win?”
He shrugged. “Lift the trophy.”
You deadpanned him. “After, you idiot.”
“Sleep for two days straight.”
“That’s in no way fun.”
“Never said I was a fun man.” He munched on the bread.
You scoffed. “Still.” You gazed at him, trying to read his face. “Alright. If you win, I’ll tell you something.”
That caught his attention, his eyes landed on you. “Tell me what?”
“Well I’m not going to tell you now, silly.” You giggled. “I’ll tell you if you win. Otherwise you’ll never know. Or I’ll tell you next time you win a World Cup.”
“Then I have no choice but to win tonight, haven’t I?”
“That’s pretty much the deal.” You affirmed, locking your eyes in his.
The match was intense. Worthy of a World Cup Final. At multiple times, you really thought Japan was about to win. Unfortunately, their opponent was too strong, too organized as a team. They beat Japan’s team in extra time. 3-2.
You were far from Sae when the referee blew the whistle to end the match, though it was as if you were next to him. Your heart broke for him. Without surprise, his face showed nothing, but his eyes, oh his eyes spoke volumes. Empty, devastated and recalculating every minor mistake he made. You quickly went to the changing room to catch him before he went in. As he saw you, he tried to ignore you and avoid you out of shame.
“Don’t you dare ignore me, Itoshi.” You grabbed the side of his shirt. “I don’t care that you lost. I’m not disappointed. I’m proud you fought until the very last second, you hear me?”
He stared at you. Words couldn’t come out of his mouth, the fear of tears taking over him was way too overwhelming. At that moment, the hole he felt in his chest filled up with a warm flame as he realised how much you cared for him and how precious you were to him. However, it was above him to voice such a feeling. So he hugged you tightly, burying his face in your neck. He smelled your perfume, the same one you had for years, the one you had when you two met. It eased some of the tension in his muscles.
“I have to go..” He murmured. Indeed he had to change, listen to his coach’s assessment of the match and reply to journalists. “I’ll see you later.” He added as he kissed your forehead before disappearing into the changing room.
Your heart tightened. That World Cup ended on a note of unfulfilled potential : no world title for the Japanese players, and no love confessed. If you had to put all these emotions into a perfume, it would be a bittersweet one with orange blossom, almond and neroli. But then, who would buy a perfume to scent the bittersweetness of an unfinished story?
Years passed by. Your meetings with Sae were regular and love between you continued to grow as he continued to be oblivious to it. You still worked in the same perfume shop you two met. And he still travelled between Japan and Spain. He never told you, but deep down you sensed he never got over the loss of the last World Cup. He was working harder than ever, to come back stronger.
Sometimes, you wondered if it was worth it to wait for him to realise you were in love with each other. Or maybe he knew and refused to acknowledge it. Every option hurt more than the last, and doubt seeped into your heart. You were no Penelope, how could you rely on the untold feelings of an emotionally dumb man and wait years for him? So you were tempted to find someone else, to change your mind with whatever you could. But your heart belonged to him, and much to your despair, you always crawled back to him in the deepest hours of the night. You were also tempted to tell him, but you didn’t want to ruin the friendship you grew over the years, and what if he didn’t like you back? What if he didn’t love you more than football? Was it worth it, to unveil your love to him, to just become a couple for the sake of it? Moreover, it wasn’t like he was an unattractive man. Women were at his feet, famous ones, rich ones… You were no match with your small perfumery shop and knowledge. On paper, these women were a perfect match for him, so how could you not feel insecure? Many times you wondered if he gave in the temptation of these women. Your thoughts grew more and more venomous and rotten as you lost more and more sleep each night.
Sae knew. He knew he felt more for you than he did with other people. He loved to be around you as you made him feel at home, he loved your scent, your rants about perfumes, he adored the way sunlight would hit your skin at the end of the day. It made him want to hold you against him and never let go. Never would he have guessed he’d feel this way for someone who had nothing in common with him or football. Much to his despair, he faced another struggle : sharing his feelings to you. He wasn’t blind, he saw the way you looked at him and he wanted to tell you everything that’s laid on his heart for now five years. But it was above his strength. Each time he would gather the courage to do so, he would chicken out. What if he misread you? What if you were in love with another man? He couldn’t bear the idea so he kept it all to himself. Bittersweetness filled his heart as you were everything he could think of. There was nothing he was seeing everyday without thinking of you. To top it all, Hortense, the label of the perfume you chose for him made him their effigy. They even created a perfume for him, Sae Itoshi. They even named it Boy genius. He never wore it though, since you never recommended it to him. Still, he wondered if you liked the perfume, it somehow mattered to him. Though, he never asked you your opinion on it, too afraid of your judgement.
Without surprise, the following World Cup arrived. Five years have gone by since your first meeting. You joined him in Spain, country where it was organized. Without surprise, the same circus happened : tabloids wondered who you were again, fans started to get more heated towards you and paparazzis tried to get more pictures of you with Sae. You did your best to not let it upset you. You were not a public person, you were just Sae’s friend, right? You couldn’t understand all the attention you were getting, people were here for the sport, not the gossip, weren’t they?
You managed to survive through the month without being skinned alive by anyone. The mood was electric and magnificent. There was no denying that these kinds of events were magical. As a spectator, it was amazing, but you also saw the other side of it : players were under enormous pressure. Having the country’s weight and expectations on their shoulders wasn’t easy.
Sae, obviously, showed nothing. However after five years of knowing each other, you started to understand how he was working. You were by his side, often just sitting in silence on the couch as he was watching his next opponents matches to analyze their techniques. You knew your presence was soothing him, so you didn’t try to do too much. You were just there, by his side. And it was all that he needed.
The night before the finale, as you were both sitting on the couch, he paused the match and turned to you.
“If I win tomorrow…” He started.
“Mmh?” You hummed, listening to him but still focused on the video playing on your phone.
“Will you tell me what you planned to tell me four years ago?”
A pause.
You turned off your phone and glanced at him, thrown off by this request.
“You still remember that?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know, it was four years ago, it was a long time ago.”
“I’m curious about what you wanted to tell me back then.”
“That’s ridiculous…”
“It’s not ridiculous. It mattered to you back then, so it matters to me now.”
“...”
“Will you keep that promise and tell me if I win?”
You smiled faintly, looking away. “If that’s what you want.”
“I want that if you want that.”
“Then yeah, I want that.”
A ghost of a smile appeared on his face. “I have no choice but to win now.”
“Looks like it.”
“I’m not winning for the country tomorrow. I’m winning for you.”
Your stomach dropped and butterflies blossomed in. Was he realising the weight of his words or was he just that dumb? The way he was gazing at your face proved he knew what he said and the effect it had on you. Nervously, you chuckled.
“Don’t be stupid.”
“I’ll be stupid for you.”
You scoffed. “Focus on the match tomorrow, don’t get distracted now.”
“Mmh.” He grabbed the TV remote and started to watch the match again.
You dismissed him not out of rudeness, but because it threw you off. How could one just drop a bomb like that on an evening before the biggest match of his life? You were almost having a heart attack. Damn. That man will be the death of you.
The next day, tension was at its strongest. The game was uptight. Fortunately, the outcome wasn’t the same as four years prior. In extra time, Japanese players managed to shoot a beautiful, well-deserved goal. The referee blew the whistle to end the match. You couldn’t believe your eyes, Sae was finally a World Champion, after all these years of hard work he finally made it.
You couldn’t help but let the tears overwhelm you, almost enough that you didn’t see him climbing the stands to get to you. Most people had gone on the field to celebrate, everyone but you and now Sae who joined you. He grabbed your cheeks and wiped your tears.
“Why are you crying?” He asked, almost concerned.
“For you, idiot.” You chuckled, cupping his jawline. “Because I’m proud of you. Because I’m so so very much happy for you.” You smiled through the tears.
A smile appeared on his face, a rare, real, precious smile. It made you tear up even more.
“I won for you, you know that.” He rested his forehead against yours. “So now you have to tell me the secret you’ve been keeping from me.”
You chuckled. “You’re not losing your bearings, are you?” You paused, trying to regain some composure.
Music was loud, people were cheering, Sae’s coach and teammates were celebrating and soon he’d have to go back down to lift the trophy and get his medal. And yet, at this very moment it was only you and him in your little bubble no one could burst. Time seemed to slow down. Emotions were powerful, heavy, overwhelming. You had to get it out your chest or you might just explode.
“I love you.” You finally admitted. After five years, the words stuck in your throat finally freed themselves. It felt so good to finally say it. “Fuck…I love you so much Sae… I love you so much it hurts.” Tears were flowing, out of relief and happiness.
He stared at you, realisation daunting him. Your words hit his heart in a way he would’ve never imagined. At that moment, he was at the top of the world.
“Idiot…” He breathed out, smiling contently. “I love you too…” He hugged you tightly.
The rest of the day happened in a blur. Excitation everywhere, congratulations flowing, celebrations with whoever was passing by… What else could you wish for? You had your man, who was a freaking World Champion.
Things calmed down the next day. You woke up next to Sae in tangled sheets. He was still sound asleep. Poor guy was probably exhausted from everything. He probably needed vacations. You grabbed your phone to scroll on social media for a bit. After a while, you found an extract from an interview Sae gave the day before.
“What are you feeling now that you have reached the rarest trophy? What are you planning now?”
“I have won more than just a trophy, I won everything I could wish for. For now, I plan on spending time with someone I care deeply for. We’ll see about my career later. But I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.”
You smiled to yourself. Sae shifted, half-asleep, throwing an arm over your waist and burying his face in the back of your neck, making you the little spoon.
“Morning World Champion.” You teased.
You felt a small amused breath reach your skin. “Morning.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Exhausted. My limbs are sore. I want to spend the day in bed with you.”
You chuckled quietly. “That can be arranged.”
You put down your phone and turned around to mold into his body for a hug. He wrapped his arms around you, securing you and making sure you couldn’t leave his embrace.
“You smell good.” He murmured, burying his nose in your hair.
“I’m not wearing any perfume though.”
“I know, I like your perfume and the scent of your skin.”
“How does it smell?” You asked him.
“Mmh…” He paused, thinking, still very much half-asleep. “Sweet and perfect. Just like you.”
You chuckled quietly. “You could be a great perfume seller.”
“Got that from you.” He countered, satisfied. He needed nothing more right now, just you, his gold medal and a calm day without any training, any journalist or paparazzis. At that moment, he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life holding you like that every morning.
a/n : Inspired by the World Cup (obviouslyyy) and also inspired by he fact I worked a month in a perfume shop and I became obsessed with smelling each perfume lmao x) I suck at describing football because I don't know anything about it lmao (shame on me). I had a really great time writing this and I really enjoyed myself, so I hope you like it! I did not proofread since I'm working and I don't have time, so I apologise if there's any grammar mistake or inconsistency! Also I didn't know how to end this so the end is a bit messyyyy
wc : 5.7k
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Today’s shift has been a nightmare for you. The independent perfumery you were working for was desert. Not a soul in sight. You sighed, laying your hands on the cash register, silently hoping for someone to stop by. Sure, your location wasn’t ideal : in a small–but cute– pedestrian-only alley in the heart of the town. Almost nobody walked by here, since all the interesting things were on the opposite side of the city. It was a wonder this perfumery was still alive and well. Loyal–and wealthy– customers were probably the reason for it.
You glanced at your watch, 3 more hours to go. The amount of sleep you got this night because you wouldn’t stop overthinking. You could do this. It’s not as if you already cleaned the floor thrice, reorganized the drawers and shelves twice and made sure you had stock for every perfume.
If only you’d known that in a couple minutes the trajectory of your life would be changed forever, you’d have never believed it. It happened as you were checking a drawer for a click and collect. L’Eau d’Eclipse by Pierre-Marie Manoury. Not a bad choice, it smelled good : a mixture of fresh and floral with notes of vanilla and ylang-ylang. If you had to be perfectly honest, it was a perfume for rather old ladies. You’d never wear that, too scared of coming across as someone with old-fashioned tastes.
You spiralled deeper into your thoughts about the fragrance when you heard the delicious echoing sound of the bell meaning someone had at last walked through the door. You straightened up, put on your best customer friendly smile and greeted the pink-haired guy. He looked familiar, though you couldn’t place a name on that face. The first thing that struck you was his teal eyes, deeply hypnotising. Then, how wealthy he appeared to be, that was always a good omen for the register.
“Hello! Welcome to Velinora, how can I help you?”
“Hello… I’m looking for perfume.” He replied flatly, glancing around at the very much empty shop, seemingly uninterested by you.
“Really? Never would’ve guessed.” Your sarcasm seeping through, you noticed the unamused look he gave you. You cleared your throat. “I mean I can definitely help you with that.”
You cringed internally, already thinking the approach to the customer was a flop. You sucked it up, it was just a bad moment to live through and then you would never be haunted by that tonight, wouldn’t you?
Seeing the guy wasn’t very willing to give more information on what he was looking for, you tried to get the goods out of him.
“What kind of perfume, fragrances, are you looking for?” You questioned, already scanning the shelves with the precision of a sharp chef’s knife.
“I don’t really know.” He replied bluntly, taking a tester in his hands and checking the bottle out before placing it back.
“Great. Very helpful.” You ignored the side eye he gave you. “Is it for you or is it a gift?”
“For me.”
“Alright, it’ll be a bit easier then. Do you already wear perfume? Or do you have a brand, a scent you like? That would be a good indication.”
He sighed, obviously annoyed. “Can’t you just… give me a random one? I don’t care about the brand or the scent. I just need one.”
You frowned, tilting your head as you stepped back. Sure, you had some brands to value more than others and this was the perfect occasion to sell a particularly difficult and niche perfume : Terra di Luce by Strapponelli, it was an oaky, spicy, with hints of lava rock fragrance which almost no one liked, including you. But what he said offended you on a personal level. You would never let that slide, not when you spent hours learning the notes of perfumes, the slight differences and the magic that rested behind the scents.
“Let me stop you right there.” You smiled politely, but you wanted to slap him. How could he say that?? If it was up to you and you didn’t have a business to run, the guy would already be kicked out. “You can’t just… pick a random one. Perfumes are personal.” You explained. “It has to be unique, it has to be you having an emotional link with it.”
The guy scoffed, staring at you. He barely even raised an eyebrow. His arrogance was testing your last nerves.
“You think that’s ridiculous? It’s not. Every perfume has a story that led to its creation. I won’t go down that path or I’ll ramble for hours. So to make it short : no. I can’t pick one for you. You have to smell, and like the perfume. So tell me, why are you buying perfume today?” You asked, trying hard to stay polite. If your boss heard your stern voice, he'd actually have a heart attack : you should never talk to a client this way— you heard his voice ringing in your head.
The teal eyed guy stared at you for a couple seconds, then resigned himself. He slid his hands in his pockets. “My manager told me it’ll be a good idea to have a recognizable scent. Marketing stunt. He gave me one but I don’t like it. Smells too sour.”
“Now we have something.” You smiled faintly. “See? Wasn’t too hard.” You taunted. Seeing he was still not going with the flow, you went on immediately. “May I ask what job you do?”
He stared at you, a hint of surprise flashing in his bright eyes. Then, he replied carefully, as if you were mocking him. “I’m a professional football player.”
“Okay so you need perfume that sticks, not something light.” You replied immediately, your brain working quickly and not catching on what he just told you. You were about to grab a bottle when you realized who was really standing in your shop. Sae Itoshi. One of the most—if not the most—trendy football player of the season. You weren’t a fanatic of that sport, but he was famous enough that you heard of him even in your small perfumery world.
You slowly turned to Sae Itoshi. You pointed at him and a playful smile appeared on your face. “I’m not giving you a discount of any type.”
The pink haired man frowned, seemingly taken aback. He had been certain he’d eventually get a reaction from you once you understood who he was. But that? It was unexpected. “I’m sorry?”
“You’re rich, aren’t you? Why should I make you pay less?” You scoffed, placing your hands on your hips, entertained.
“...Customer service perhaps?”
“Yeah but you’re not a customer, you’re a freaking star.” You countered. “I believe paying 350 for a bottle of perfume isn’t a financial crisis for you.”
“...fair.”
To be honest, it was the 3 hours of sleep that made you act this way. Sure you were naturally playful and blunt. However, you were certainly not this way with a stranger, a customer, and a famous one at that. It would only be later you realized how you treated him. It cost you 4 hours of sleep and overthinking that night.
“Okay so let’s get into this.” You started, turning around already searching for thee perfume for thee Sae Itoshi.
“Does it really have to be such a big deal? Just get me a cologne…”
You whipped around. “Cologne? That won’t stick on you. Not if you want to wear it during matches. The sweat won't mix well with the scent anyway.” You paused, taking a tester from the shelf and spraying the perfume on a piece of paper. “What you need is a pure perfume. Maybe even an elixir.”
You handed him the paper, watching his reaction as he smelled it. He nodded faintly in approval.
“Smells good.”
“It does, doesn’t it? Strong, blunt and enchanting. Yet, it still has a hint of vulnerability and tenderness to it while being fresh.Seems like a perfume for guys like you”
Sae stared at you, as if you just bared his heart and revealed the naked truth. A disturbing feeling settled between his ribs, he was definitely bothered by your words and your ability to read him so effortlessly, even if you knew nothing about him personally. The way you didn’t even realise you threw him off made him feel some kind of butterflies in his stomach.
“What’s inside?” He asked, his eyes still staring at you. His interest was picked, and now you were the center of his attention and will be for a while— meaning the rest of his life, but neither of you knew that yet.
“So, that’s Midnight Velvet by Hortense. Inside we have Bergamot, orange blossom, ginger and cardamom. The woody note comes from patchouli.” You told him. “Do you want to try another one?”
He nodded. You spent the next 10 minutes making him try other fragrances. He was paying unwavering attention to what you were rambling on. Some would even say he was more focused on what you were telling him about perfumes than what his coach was telling him during training. In reality, he was more focused on how your voice sounded and how your face seemed to lighten whenever he agreed to your words.
“Do you actually learn the ingredients in each perfume?” He asked.
“Well, I do try to remember all of them so I can help customers in the best way possible.” You admitted, suddenly feeling self-aware.
“That’s impressive.”
“Is it?” You chuckled nervously. It wasn’t every day that you were complimented by a world class football player. Awkwardly, you cleared your throat and looked away, trying to find a way out of this. “So… which one do you like more?”
“The first one.” Sae replied. “Do you think it’s the one that suits me best?” He would never admit that for some unknown reason, having your opinion on the matter suddenly felt like the most important thing. And he would never admit he knew from the first second Midnight Velvet was the one for him, but if he had told you, you wouldn’t have rambled for 10 minutes, which would have made him feel bad.
“Midnight Velvet?”
“Yeah.”
“Well perfume is personal you have to choose. I can’t choose for you if you don’t—”
“I’m asking for your opinion, though. Do you think it’s the one that suits me best?” He repeated, holding eye contact.
You blinked, surprised. “Uhm… yeah. I think Midnight Velvet suits you best.” You smiled.
“Then I'll buy this one, if you don’t mind.”
“I obviously don’t mind.” You countered, finally recovering your playful side. “I mean that's my job, to make you buy things. The more the better.”
He let out a small amused huff, which felt like a victory. Taking the package of the said perfume, you led him to the register. As you scanned the fancy box, you caught him staring at your skilled hands.
“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but how come you’re in Japan? I thought you were playing for Madrid.” You stated, making small talk.
Sae’s teal eyes snapped back to your face. He took in your features and the lines of your eyes, your nose and your mouth. He didn’t want to forget them. “Passeport business and Federation talk.” A beat. “You follow football?” He pondered.
“Not really, I just know the big names and watch the big games when I have time. My father is more of a fan.”
“I see…”
“You can pay, it’s over there.” You pointed to the device.
“You follow enough to know me.” He countered as he paid without checking the price.
You shrugged. “It’s not as if you’re an unknown anymore.”
Taking back his card, he agreed. “You know me, but I do not know you. What’s your name?”
Taken aback, you muttered your name without thinking. It felt odd in your mouth, but it was yours. Why the hell would he want to know your name?? You were just some stupid perfume seller. Compared to him, you were nobody.
“That's a pretty name. I like it.” He smirked before stepping out of the shop and leaving you to wonder if all this was just a hallucination. Your eyes stayed on his form until he was out of sight, far from the shop.
You ran your hand down your face, sighing heavily. You could already feel a headache forming. Out of all the weird things to ever happen in your life, this was definitely one of the weirdest.
Checking the register, you noticed he left a card. It wasn’t a credit one, more like a business one? You turned it around and saw a phone number. Could it be…? You quickly grabbed it and stuffed it in your pocket to avoid anyone seeing this. Looking around, you noticed no one was in the shop. Geez, you probably looked like a ridiculous shy mess.
The night was spent staring at the dark coloured card, with the golden outlines. Very fancy. Should you text the number to see the outcome? Definitely not. You’d only embarrass yourself…
So days passed by, and you slowly forgot about the unexpected events of that day. Well, forgetting is a strong word, you’d never forget it actually, more like it didn’t seem as important as it seemed back then. You focused on your cozy daily life, taking care of your cats, your perfumes and your small flat.
Approximately a month later, you found yourself in the same situation as the day you met Sae Itoshi. And as you noticed the similar setting while standing behind the counter, the pink haired man stepped into the shop. You froze, your brain trying to catch up with what was happening.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He flatly stated.
“Good morning to you too.” You countered, recovering from your previous choc.
A faint smile appeared on his handsome face. “Good morning.”
“What makes me worthy of your presence today?” You smirked.
“I used all the perfume. And you didn’t text me even though I left my business card.”
Your eyes widened slightly, impressed. “You finished the bottle already?”
“I did. Got many compliments about my scent with it. Thanks to you and your amazing advice.”
“Aw, you’re going to make me blush.” You chuckled.
“So I came back.” He leaned on the counter, his teal eyes fixated on you. “Here, just for you. To buy another bottle.”
“You could’ve gone to any other shop, you know that?” You smiled, putting away the perfumes you were registering, to make more room for Sae’s arms.
“I know. But I wanted to buy it here. Makes it more special to me.” He paused, long enough for the weight of his words to land. “And I wanted to know why you didn’t text me.”
“Why didn't I text you? I can’t just text an international football star, can I?” You scoffed.
“The question is why couldn’t you? I gave you my personal phone number.”
You stuttered, completely flustered by his unexpected behaviour. You shrugged, talking out your phone and the business card he gave you back then. You texted him immediately. The sound of a notification from his pocket confirmed to you this wasn’t a fake number. Your knees almost gave out, but you fought your hardest to keep your composure. You barely remembered how that day even ended.
The following year felt like the beginning of a fever year. Sae and you would text each other regularly, messages seeping through different time zones whenever he was training in Spain. The pink haired man came back to Japan more often since you two met, and always found excuses to stop by the perfumery : broken bottle, Lost bottle, left behind in a five stars hotel… He would never miss an opportunity to luckily miss perfume and buy a new one with you.
One night, as you were about to go to sleep after a rough day of dealing with particularly annoying clients, your phone’s screen lit up to Sae’s notification. You knew it was mid-afternoon in Spain, meaning he would be busy training and not texting you.
You frowned, reading the message.
Sae : What are you doing this July?
You : Working, I guess. Why?
S : How about coming to the US with me?
Y : LMAOOOOO
S : I’m serious.
Y : I can’t afford a trip to the USA.
S : I’ll pay for everything, you don’t have to worry about anything.
Y : Why do you even want to go on a trip with me in July in the US?
S : It’s the World Cup, idiot.
Y : Wait wait wait
Y : Are you fucking serious? You want me to accompany you at the freaking World Cup ???
S : Are you coming or not? I have to tell my manager right now if I have people coming. For the visas.
Y : Sae, I can’t just leave for one month… I have to check with my boss if that’s possible…
S : Take it or leave it.
Y : … Okay I’m coming.
S : 👍
You put down your phone, taking a moment to pinch your arm to make sure you weren’t dreaming. The wincing pain confirmed that it was very much real. Thee Sae Itoshi was bringing you to the World Cup, aka the most important sports event in the whole world. How the hell were you going to announce your departure to your boss? There was no way he would agree to let you leave more than a week. But then again, it was a once in a life opportunity… You decided to let the night bring wisdom and sink in your well deserved mattress.
Things went so fast you barely had time to really understand how important you were in Sae’s eyes. Not even his parents were invited to the World Cup, but you were. You realized that weeks later. You had somehow managed to convince your boss to let you leave for a month. You merely threatened him to take him to court with the evidence of all the unpaid hours he made you do. Anyway, you had landed in the United States of America by Sae’s side.
You attended every single one of his games, and even showed up to his training sessions. What else could you do? Tabloids wondered who you were, asking Sae about you in interviews, but he would always dismiss the subject by saying you’re nothing more than an assistant. That label didn’t bother you at first, because you were mostly focused on the unreal nature of your presence here. Then, it started to annoy you since Sae’s behaviour towards you meant anything but just an assistant or a friend.
Then it struck you, Sae was oblivious. He didn’t even realize how he was acting towards you. The whole “bringing breakfast to you in the morning”, the “searching for you in the stands after a goal”, “asking if you’re proud of him after every match” and “making sure you’re okay because of the heat and the crowded place” isn’t exactly just friend material.
You realized that on the day of the tournament. Sae and Japan managed to reach the final, thus possibly winning the first World Cup for his native country. He was nervous, painfully so. Although, you didn’t mind the view : he was standing at the hotel’s kitchen counter in your room, shirtless, visibly frowning. You’d grown fond of the man and his emotionally constipated nature. You stood up from your bed to join him for breakfast. With a smug smile you sat in front of him.
“You look like hell.” You teased.
He gave you a half bothered half deadpan look. “I’m stressed.”
“Didn’t know the great Sae Itoshi could be stressed.” You countered.
“It’s the World Cup Final. Stakes are high. Of course I’m gonna be nervous.”
“Fair.” You pouted. “Do you plan on wearing your perfume?”
“Obviously, it’s my lucky charm. Why wouldn’t I want to be lucky on the biggest day of my life?”
“Fair once again.” You chuckled. “What’re you gonna do if you win?”
He shrugged. “Lift the trophy.”
You deadpanned him. “After, you idiot.”
“Sleep for two days straight.”
“That’s in no way fun.”
“Never said I was a fun man.” He munched on the bread.
You scoffed. “Still.” You gazed at him, trying to read his face. “Alright. If you win, I’ll tell you something.”
That caught his attention, his eyes landed on you. “Tell me what?”
“Well I’m not going to tell you now, silly.” You giggled. “I’ll tell you if you win. Otherwise you’ll never know. Or I’ll tell you next time you win a World Cup.”
“Then I have no choice but to win tonight, haven’t I?”
“That’s pretty much the deal.” You affirmed, locking your eyes in his.
The match was intense. Worthy of a World Cup Final. At multiple times, you really thought Japan was about to win. Unfortunately, their opponent was too strong, too organized as a team. They beat Japan’s team in extra time. 3-2.
You were far from Sae when the referee blew the whistle to end the match, though it was as if you were next to him. Your heart broke for him. Without surprise, his face showed nothing, but his eyes, oh his eyes spoke volumes. Empty, devastated and recalculating every minor mistake he made. You quickly went to the changing room to catch him before he went in. As he saw you, he tried to ignore you and avoid you out of shame.
“Don’t you dare ignore me, Itoshi.” You grabbed the side of his shirt. “I don’t care that you lost. I’m not disappointed. I’m proud you fought until the very last second, you hear me?”
He stared at you. Words couldn’t come out of his mouth, the fear of tears taking over him was way too overwhelming. At that moment, the hole he felt in his chest filled up with a warm flame as he realised how much you cared for him and how precious you were to him. However, it was above him to voice such a feeling. So he hugged you tightly, burying his face in your neck. He smelled your perfume, the same one you had for years, the one you had when you two met. It eased some of the tension in his muscles.
“I have to go..” He murmured. Indeed he had to change, listen to his coach’s assessment of the match and reply to journalists. “I’ll see you later.” He added as he kissed your forehead before disappearing into the changing room.
Your heart tightened. That World Cup ended on a note of unfulfilled potential : no world title for the Japanese players, and no love confessed. If you had to put all these emotions into a perfume, it would be a bittersweet one with orange blossom, almond and neroli. But then, who would buy a perfume to scent the bittersweetness of an unfinished story?
Years passed by. Your meetings with Sae were regular and love between you continued to grow as he continued to be oblivious to it. You still worked in the same perfume shop you two met. And he still travelled between Japan and Spain. He never told you, but deep down you sensed he never got over the loss of the last World Cup. He was working harder than ever, to come back stronger.
Sometimes, you wondered if it was worth it to wait for him to realise you were in love with each other. Or maybe he knew and refused to acknowledge it. Every option hurt more than the last, and doubt seeped into your heart. You were no Penelope, how could you rely on the untold feelings of an emotionally dumb man and wait years for him? So you were tempted to find someone else, to change your mind with whatever you could. But your heart belonged to him, and much to your despair, you always crawled back to him in the deepest hours of the night. You were also tempted to tell him, but you didn’t want to ruin the friendship you grew over the years, and what if he didn’t like you back? What if he didn’t love you more than football? Was it worth it, to unveil your love to him, to just become a couple for the sake of it? Moreover, it wasn’t like he was an unattractive man. Women were at his feet, famous ones, rich ones… You were no match with your small perfumery shop and knowledge. On paper, these women were a perfect match for him, so how could you not feel insecure? Many times you wondered if he gave in the temptation of these women. Your thoughts grew more and more venomous and rotten as you lost more and more sleep each night.
Sae knew. He knew he felt more for you than he did with other people. He loved to be around you as you made him feel at home, he loved your scent, your rants about perfumes, he adored the way sunlight would hit your skin at the end of the day. It made him want to hold you against him and never let go. Never would he have guessed he’d feel this way for someone who had nothing in common with him or football. Much to his despair, he faced another struggle : sharing his feelings to you. He wasn’t blind, he saw the way you looked at him and he wanted to tell you everything that’s laid on his heart for now five years. But it was above his strength. Each time he would gather the courage to do so, he would chicken out. What if he misread you? What if you were in love with another man? He couldn’t bear the idea so he kept it all to himself. Bittersweetness filled his heart as you were everything he could think of. There was nothing he was seeing everyday without thinking of you. To top it all, Hortense, the label of the perfume you chose for him made him their effigy. They even created a perfume for him, Sae Itoshi. They even named it Boy genius. He never wore it though, since you never recommended it to him. Still, he wondered if you liked the perfume, it somehow mattered to him. Though, he never asked you your opinion on it, too afraid of your judgement.
Without surprise, the following World Cup arrived. Five years have gone by since your first meeting. You joined him in Spain, country where it was organized. Without surprise, the same circus happened : tabloids wondered who you were again, fans started to get more heated towards you and paparazzis tried to get more pictures of you with Sae. You did your best to not let it upset you. You were not a public person, you were just Sae’s friend, right? You couldn’t understand all the attention you were getting, people were here for the sport, not the gossip, weren’t they?
You managed to survive through the month without being skinned alive by anyone. The mood was electric and magnificent. There was no denying that these kinds of events were magical. As a spectator, it was amazing, but you also saw the other side of it : players were under enormous pressure. Having the country’s weight and expectations on their shoulders wasn’t easy.
Sae, obviously, showed nothing. However after five years of knowing each other, you started to understand how he was working. You were by his side, often just sitting in silence on the couch as he was watching his next opponents matches to analyze their techniques. You knew your presence was soothing him, so you didn’t try to do too much. You were just there, by his side. And it was all that he needed.
The night before the finale, as you were both sitting on the couch, he paused the match and turned to you.
“If I win tomorrow…” He started.
“Mmh?” You hummed, listening to him but still focused on the video playing on your phone.
“Will you tell me what you planned to tell me four years ago?”
A pause.
You turned off your phone and glanced at him, thrown off by this request.
“You still remember that?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know, it was four years ago, it was a long time ago.”
“I’m curious about what you wanted to tell me back then.”
“That’s ridiculous…”
“It’s not ridiculous. It mattered to you back then, so it matters to me now.”
“...”
“Will you keep that promise and tell me if I win?”
You smiled faintly, looking away. “If that’s what you want.”
“I want that if you want that.”
“Then yeah, I want that.”
A ghost of a smile appeared on his face. “I have no choice but to win now.”
“Looks like it.”
“I’m not winning for the country tomorrow. I’m winning for you.”
Your stomach dropped and butterflies blossomed in. Was he realising the weight of his words or was he just that dumb? The way he was gazing at your face proved he knew what he said and the effect it had on you. Nervously, you chuckled.
“Don’t be stupid.”
“I’ll be stupid for you.”
You scoffed. “Focus on the match tomorrow, don’t get distracted now.”
“Mmh.” He grabbed the TV remote and started to watch the match again.
You dismissed him not out of rudeness, but because it threw you off. How could one just drop a bomb like that on an evening before the biggest match of his life? You were almost having a heart attack. Damn. That man will be the death of you.
The next day, tension was at its strongest. The game was uptight. Fortunately, the outcome wasn’t the same as four years prior. In extra time, Japanese players managed to shoot a beautiful, well-deserved goal. The referee blew the whistle to end the match. You couldn’t believe your eyes, Sae was finally a World Champion, after all these years of hard work he finally made it.
You couldn’t help but let the tears overwhelm you, almost enough that you didn’t see him climbing the stands to get to you. Most people had gone on the field to celebrate, everyone but you and now Sae who joined you. He grabbed your cheeks and wiped your tears.
“Why are you crying?” He asked, almost concerned.
“For you, idiot.” You chuckled, cupping his jawline. “Because I’m proud of you. Because I’m so so very much happy for you.” You smiled through the tears.
A smile appeared on his face, a rare, real, precious smile. It made you tear up even more.
“I won for you, you know that.” He rested his forehead against yours. “So now you have to tell me the secret you’ve been keeping from me.”
You chuckled. “You’re not losing your bearings, are you?” You paused, trying to regain some composure.
Music was loud, people were cheering, Sae’s coach and teammates were celebrating and soon he’d have to go back down to lift the trophy and get his medal. And yet, at this very moment it was only you and him in your little bubble no one could burst. Time seemed to slow down. Emotions were powerful, heavy, overwhelming. You had to get it out your chest or you might just explode.
“I love you.” You finally admitted. After five years, the words stuck in your throat finally freed themselves. It felt so good to finally say it. “Fuck…I love you so much Sae… I love you so much it hurts.” Tears were flowing, out of relief and happiness.
He stared at you, realisation daunting him. Your words hit his heart in a way he would’ve never imagined. At that moment, he was at the top of the world.
“Idiot…” He breathed out, smiling contently. “I love you too…” He hugged you tightly.
The rest of the day happened in a blur. Excitation everywhere, congratulations flowing, celebrations with whoever was passing by… What else could you wish for? You had your man, who was a freaking World Champion.
Things calmed down the next day. You woke up next to Sae in tangled sheets. He was still sound asleep. Poor guy was probably exhausted from everything. He probably needed vacations. You grabbed your phone to scroll on social media for a bit. After a while, you found an extract from an interview Sae gave the day before.
“What are you feeling now that you have reached the rarest trophy? What are you planning now?”
“I have won more than just a trophy, I won everything I could wish for. For now, I plan on spending time with someone I care deeply for. We’ll see about my career later. But I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.”
You smiled to yourself. Sae shifted, half-asleep, throwing an arm over your waist and burying his face in the back of your neck, making you the little spoon.
“Morning World Champion.” You teased.
You felt a small amused breath reach your skin. “Morning.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Exhausted. My limbs are sore. I want to spend the day in bed with you.”
You chuckled quietly. “That can be arranged.”
You put down your phone and turned around to mold into his body for a hug. He wrapped his arms around you, securing you and making sure you couldn’t leave his embrace.
“You smell good.” He murmured, burying his nose in your hair.
“I’m not wearing any perfume though.”
“I know, I like your perfume and the scent of your skin.”
“How does it smell?” You asked him.
“Mmh…” He paused, thinking, still very much half-asleep. “Sweet and perfect. Just like you.”
You chuckled quietly. “You could be a great perfume seller.”
“Got that from you.” He countered, satisfied. He needed nothing more right now, just you, his gold medal and a calm day without any training, any journalist or paparazzis. At that moment, he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life holding you like that every morning.
a/n : Inspired by the World Cup (obviouslyyy) and also inspired by he fact I worked a month in a perfume shop and I became obsessed with smelling each perfume lmao x) I suck at describing football because I don't know anything about it lmao (shame on me). I had a really great time writing this and I really enjoyed myself, so I hope you like it! I did not proofread since I'm working and I don't have time, so I apologise if there's any grammar mistake or inconsistency! Also I didn't know how to end this so the end is a bit messyyyy
wc : 5.7k
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Today’s shift has been a nightmare for you. The independent perfumery you were working for was desert. Not a soul in sight. You sighed, laying your hands on the cash register, silently hoping for someone to stop by. Sure, your location wasn’t ideal : in a small–but cute– pedestrian-only alley in the heart of the town. Almost nobody walked by here, since all the interesting things were on the opposite side of the city. It was a wonder this perfumery was still alive and well. Loyal–and wealthy– customers were probably the reason for it.
You glanced at your watch, 3 more hours to go. The amount of sleep you got this night because you wouldn’t stop overthinking. You could do this. It’s not as if you already cleaned the floor thrice, reorganized the drawers and shelves twice and made sure you had stock for every perfume.
If only you’d known that in a couple minutes the trajectory of your life would be changed forever, you’d have never believed it. It happened as you were checking a drawer for a click and collect. L’Eau d’Eclipse by Pierre-Marie Manoury. Not a bad choice, it smelled good : a mixture of fresh and floral with notes of vanilla and ylang-ylang. If you had to be perfectly honest, it was a perfume for rather old ladies. You’d never wear that, too scared of coming across as someone with old-fashioned tastes.
You spiralled deeper into your thoughts about the fragrance when you heard the delicious echoing sound of the bell meaning someone had at last walked through the door. You straightened up, put on your best customer friendly smile and greeted the pink-haired guy. He looked familiar, though you couldn’t place a name on that face. The first thing that struck you was his teal eyes, deeply hypnotising. Then, how wealthy he appeared to be, that was always a good omen for the register.
“Hello! Welcome to Velinora, how can I help you?”
“Hello… I’m looking for perfume.” He replied flatly, glancing around at the very much empty shop, seemingly uninterested by you.
“Really? Never would’ve guessed.” Your sarcasm seeping through, you noticed the unamused look he gave you. You cleared your throat. “I mean I can definitely help you with that.”
You cringed internally, already thinking the approach to the customer was a flop. You sucked it up, it was just a bad moment to live through and then you would never be haunted by that tonight, wouldn’t you?
Seeing the guy wasn’t very willing to give more information on what he was looking for, you tried to get the goods out of him.
“What kind of perfume, fragrances, are you looking for?” You questioned, already scanning the shelves with the precision of a sharp chef’s knife.
“I don’t really know.” He replied bluntly, taking a tester in his hands and checking the bottle out before placing it back.
“Great. Very helpful.” You ignored the side eye he gave you. “Is it for you or is it a gift?”
“For me.”
“Alright, it’ll be a bit easier then. Do you already wear perfume? Or do you have a brand, a scent you like? That would be a good indication.”
He sighed, obviously annoyed. “Can’t you just… give me a random one? I don’t care about the brand or the scent. I just need one.”
You frowned, tilting your head as you stepped back. Sure, you had some brands to value more than others and this was the perfect occasion to sell a particularly difficult and niche perfume : Terra di Luce by Strapponelli, it was an oaky, spicy, with hints of lava rock fragrance which almost no one liked, including you. But what he said offended you on a personal level. You would never let that slide, not when you spent hours learning the notes of perfumes, the slight differences and the magic that rested behind the scents.
“Let me stop you right there.” You smiled politely, but you wanted to slap him. How could he say that?? If it was up to you and you didn’t have a business to run, the guy would already be kicked out. “You can’t just… pick a random one. Perfumes are personal.” You explained. “It has to be unique, it has to be you having an emotional link with it.”
The guy scoffed, staring at you. He barely even raised an eyebrow. His arrogance was testing your last nerves.
“You think that’s ridiculous? It’s not. Every perfume has a story that led to its creation. I won’t go down that path or I’ll ramble for hours. So to make it short : no. I can’t pick one for you. You have to smell, and like the perfume. So tell me, why are you buying perfume today?” You asked, trying hard to stay polite. If your boss heard your stern voice, he'd actually have a heart attack : you should never talk to a client this way— you heard his voice ringing in your head.
The teal eyed guy stared at you for a couple seconds, then resigned himself. He slid his hands in his pockets. “My manager told me it’ll be a good idea to have a recognizable scent. Marketing stunt. He gave me one but I don’t like it. Smells too sour.”
“Now we have something.” You smiled faintly. “See? Wasn’t too hard.” You taunted. Seeing he was still not going with the flow, you went on immediately. “May I ask what job you do?”
He stared at you, a hint of surprise flashing in his bright eyes. Then, he replied carefully, as if you were mocking him. “I’m a professional football player.”
“Okay so you need perfume that sticks, not something light.” You replied immediately, your brain working quickly and not catching on what he just told you. You were about to grab a bottle when you realized who was really standing in your shop. Sae Itoshi. One of the most—if not the most—trendy football player of the season. You weren’t a fanatic of that sport, but he was famous enough that you heard of him even in your small perfumery world.
You slowly turned to Sae Itoshi. You pointed at him and a playful smile appeared on your face. “I’m not giving you a discount of any type.”
The pink haired man frowned, seemingly taken aback. He had been certain he’d eventually get a reaction from you once you understood who he was. But that? It was unexpected. “I’m sorry?”
“You’re rich, aren’t you? Why should I make you pay less?” You scoffed, placing your hands on your hips, entertained.
“...Customer service perhaps?”
“Yeah but you’re not a customer, you’re a freaking star.” You countered. “I believe paying 350 for a bottle of perfume isn’t a financial crisis for you.”
“...fair.”
To be honest, it was the 3 hours of sleep that made you act this way. Sure you were naturally playful and blunt. However, you were certainly not this way with a stranger, a customer, and a famous one at that. It would only be later you realized how you treated him. It cost you 4 hours of sleep and overthinking that night.
“Okay so let’s get into this.” You started, turning around already searching for thee perfume for thee Sae Itoshi.
“Does it really have to be such a big deal? Just get me a cologne…”
You whipped around. “Cologne? That won’t stick on you. Not if you want to wear it during matches. The sweat won't mix well with the scent anyway.” You paused, taking a tester from the shelf and spraying the perfume on a piece of paper. “What you need is a pure perfume. Maybe even an elixir.”
You handed him the paper, watching his reaction as he smelled it. He nodded faintly in approval.
“Smells good.”
“It does, doesn’t it? Strong, blunt and enchanting. Yet, it still has a hint of vulnerability and tenderness to it while being fresh.Seems like a perfume for guys like you”
Sae stared at you, as if you just bared his heart and revealed the naked truth. A disturbing feeling settled between his ribs, he was definitely bothered by your words and your ability to read him so effortlessly, even if you knew nothing about him personally. The way you didn’t even realise you threw him off made him feel some kind of butterflies in his stomach.
“What’s inside?” He asked, his eyes still staring at you. His interest was picked, and now you were the center of his attention and will be for a while— meaning the rest of his life, but neither of you knew that yet.
“So, that’s Midnight Velvet by Hortense. Inside we have Bergamot, orange blossom, ginger and cardamom. The woody note comes from patchouli.” You told him. “Do you want to try another one?”
He nodded. You spent the next 10 minutes making him try other fragrances. He was paying unwavering attention to what you were rambling on. Some would even say he was more focused on what you were telling him about perfumes than what his coach was telling him during training. In reality, he was more focused on how your voice sounded and how your face seemed to lighten whenever he agreed to your words.
“Do you actually learn the ingredients in each perfume?” He asked.
“Well, I do try to remember all of them so I can help customers in the best way possible.” You admitted, suddenly feeling self-aware.
“That’s impressive.”
“Is it?” You chuckled nervously. It wasn’t every day that you were complimented by a world class football player. Awkwardly, you cleared your throat and looked away, trying to find a way out of this. “So… which one do you like more?”
“The first one.” Sae replied. “Do you think it’s the one that suits me best?” He would never admit that for some unknown reason, having your opinion on the matter suddenly felt like the most important thing. And he would never admit he knew from the first second Midnight Velvet was the one for him, but if he had told you, you wouldn’t have rambled for 10 minutes, which would have made him feel bad.
“Midnight Velvet?”
“Yeah.”
“Well perfume is personal you have to choose. I can’t choose for you if you don’t—”
“I’m asking for your opinion, though. Do you think it’s the one that suits me best?” He repeated, holding eye contact.
You blinked, surprised. “Uhm… yeah. I think Midnight Velvet suits you best.” You smiled.
“Then I'll buy this one, if you don’t mind.”
“I obviously don’t mind.” You countered, finally recovering your playful side. “I mean that's my job, to make you buy things. The more the better.”
He let out a small amused huff, which felt like a victory. Taking the package of the said perfume, you led him to the register. As you scanned the fancy box, you caught him staring at your skilled hands.
“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but how come you’re in Japan? I thought you were playing for Madrid.” You stated, making small talk.
Sae’s teal eyes snapped back to your face. He took in your features and the lines of your eyes, your nose and your mouth. He didn’t want to forget them. “Passeport business and Federation talk.” A beat. “You follow football?” He pondered.
“Not really, I just know the big names and watch the big games when I have time. My father is more of a fan.”
“I see…”
“You can pay, it’s over there.” You pointed to the device.
“You follow enough to know me.” He countered as he paid without checking the price.
You shrugged. “It’s not as if you’re an unknown anymore.”
Taking back his card, he agreed. “You know me, but I do not know you. What’s your name?”
Taken aback, you muttered your name without thinking. It felt odd in your mouth, but it was yours. Why the hell would he want to know your name?? You were just some stupid perfume seller. Compared to him, you were nobody.
“That's a pretty name. I like it.” He smirked before stepping out of the shop and leaving you to wonder if all this was just a hallucination. Your eyes stayed on his form until he was out of sight, far from the shop.
You ran your hand down your face, sighing heavily. You could already feel a headache forming. Out of all the weird things to ever happen in your life, this was definitely one of the weirdest.
Checking the register, you noticed he left a card. It wasn’t a credit one, more like a business one? You turned it around and saw a phone number. Could it be…? You quickly grabbed it and stuffed it in your pocket to avoid anyone seeing this. Looking around, you noticed no one was in the shop. Geez, you probably looked like a ridiculous shy mess.
The night was spent staring at the dark coloured card, with the golden outlines. Very fancy. Should you text the number to see the outcome? Definitely not. You’d only embarrass yourself…
So days passed by, and you slowly forgot about the unexpected events of that day. Well, forgetting is a strong word, you’d never forget it actually, more like it didn’t seem as important as it seemed back then. You focused on your cozy daily life, taking care of your cats, your perfumes and your small flat.
Approximately a month later, you found yourself in the same situation as the day you met Sae Itoshi. And as you noticed the similar setting while standing behind the counter, the pink haired man stepped into the shop. You froze, your brain trying to catch up with what was happening.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He flatly stated.
“Good morning to you too.” You countered, recovering from your previous choc.
A faint smile appeared on his handsome face. “Good morning.”
“What makes me worthy of your presence today?” You smirked.
“I used all the perfume. And you didn’t text me even though I left my business card.”
Your eyes widened slightly, impressed. “You finished the bottle already?”
“I did. Got many compliments about my scent with it. Thanks to you and your amazing advice.”
“Aw, you’re going to make me blush.” You chuckled.
“So I came back.” He leaned on the counter, his teal eyes fixated on you. “Here, just for you. To buy another bottle.”
“You could’ve gone to any other shop, you know that?” You smiled, putting away the perfumes you were registering, to make more room for Sae’s arms.
“I know. But I wanted to buy it here. Makes it more special to me.” He paused, long enough for the weight of his words to land. “And I wanted to know why you didn’t text me.”
“Why didn't I text you? I can’t just text an international football star, can I?” You scoffed.
“The question is why couldn’t you? I gave you my personal phone number.”
You stuttered, completely flustered by his unexpected behaviour. You shrugged, talking out your phone and the business card he gave you back then. You texted him immediately. The sound of a notification from his pocket confirmed to you this wasn’t a fake number. Your knees almost gave out, but you fought your hardest to keep your composure. You barely remembered how that day even ended.
The following year felt like the beginning of a fever year. Sae and you would text each other regularly, messages seeping through different time zones whenever he was training in Spain. The pink haired man came back to Japan more often since you two met, and always found excuses to stop by the perfumery : broken bottle, Lost bottle, left behind in a five stars hotel… He would never miss an opportunity to luckily miss perfume and buy a new one with you.
One night, as you were about to go to sleep after a rough day of dealing with particularly annoying clients, your phone’s screen lit up to Sae’s notification. You knew it was mid-afternoon in Spain, meaning he would be busy training and not texting you.
You frowned, reading the message.
Sae : What are you doing this July?
You : Working, I guess. Why?
S : How about coming to the US with me?
Y : LMAOOOOO
S : I’m serious.
Y : I can’t afford a trip to the USA.
S : I’ll pay for everything, you don’t have to worry about anything.
Y : Why do you even want to go on a trip with me in July in the US?
S : It’s the World Cup, idiot.
Y : Wait wait wait
Y : Are you fucking serious? You want me to accompany you at the freaking World Cup ???
S : Are you coming or not? I have to tell my manager right now if I have people coming. For the visas.
Y : Sae, I can’t just leave for one month… I have to check with my boss if that’s possible…
S : Take it or leave it.
Y : … Okay I’m coming.
S : 👍
You put down your phone, taking a moment to pinch your arm to make sure you weren’t dreaming. The wincing pain confirmed that it was very much real. Thee Sae Itoshi was bringing you to the World Cup, aka the most important sports event in the whole world. How the hell were you going to announce your departure to your boss? There was no way he would agree to let you leave more than a week. But then again, it was a once in a life opportunity… You decided to let the night bring wisdom and sink in your well deserved mattress.
Things went so fast you barely had time to really understand how important you were in Sae’s eyes. Not even his parents were invited to the World Cup, but you were. You realized that weeks later. You had somehow managed to convince your boss to let you leave for a month. You merely threatened him to take him to court with the evidence of all the unpaid hours he made you do. Anyway, you had landed in the United States of America by Sae’s side.
You attended every single one of his games, and even showed up to his training sessions. What else could you do? Tabloids wondered who you were, asking Sae about you in interviews, but he would always dismiss the subject by saying you’re nothing more than an assistant. That label didn’t bother you at first, because you were mostly focused on the unreal nature of your presence here. Then, it started to annoy you since Sae’s behaviour towards you meant anything but just an assistant or a friend.
Then it struck you, Sae was oblivious. He didn’t even realize how he was acting towards you. The whole “bringing breakfast to you in the morning”, the “searching for you in the stands after a goal”, “asking if you’re proud of him after every match” and “making sure you’re okay because of the heat and the crowded place” isn’t exactly just friend material.
You realized that on the day of the tournament. Sae and Japan managed to reach the final, thus possibly winning the first World Cup for his native country. He was nervous, painfully so. Although, you didn’t mind the view : he was standing at the hotel’s kitchen counter in your room, shirtless, visibly frowning. You’d grown fond of the man and his emotionally constipated nature. You stood up from your bed to join him for breakfast. With a smug smile you sat in front of him.
“You look like hell.” You teased.
He gave you a half bothered half deadpan look. “I’m stressed.”
“Didn’t know the great Sae Itoshi could be stressed.” You countered.
“It’s the World Cup Final. Stakes are high. Of course I’m gonna be nervous.”
“Fair.” You pouted. “Do you plan on wearing your perfume?”
“Obviously, it’s my lucky charm. Why wouldn’t I want to be lucky on the biggest day of my life?”
“Fair once again.” You chuckled. “What’re you gonna do if you win?”
He shrugged. “Lift the trophy.”
You deadpanned him. “After, you idiot.”
“Sleep for two days straight.”
“That’s in no way fun.”
“Never said I was a fun man.” He munched on the bread.
You scoffed. “Still.” You gazed at him, trying to read his face. “Alright. If you win, I’ll tell you something.”
That caught his attention, his eyes landed on you. “Tell me what?”
“Well I’m not going to tell you now, silly.” You giggled. “I’ll tell you if you win. Otherwise you’ll never know. Or I’ll tell you next time you win a World Cup.”
“Then I have no choice but to win tonight, haven’t I?”
“That’s pretty much the deal.” You affirmed, locking your eyes in his.
The match was intense. Worthy of a World Cup Final. At multiple times, you really thought Japan was about to win. Unfortunately, their opponent was too strong, too organized as a team. They beat Japan’s team in extra time. 3-2.
You were far from Sae when the referee blew the whistle to end the match, though it was as if you were next to him. Your heart broke for him. Without surprise, his face showed nothing, but his eyes, oh his eyes spoke volumes. Empty, devastated and recalculating every minor mistake he made. You quickly went to the changing room to catch him before he went in. As he saw you, he tried to ignore you and avoid you out of shame.
“Don’t you dare ignore me, Itoshi.” You grabbed the side of his shirt. “I don’t care that you lost. I’m not disappointed. I’m proud you fought until the very last second, you hear me?”
He stared at you. Words couldn’t come out of his mouth, the fear of tears taking over him was way too overwhelming. At that moment, the hole he felt in his chest filled up with a warm flame as he realised how much you cared for him and how precious you were to him. However, it was above him to voice such a feeling. So he hugged you tightly, burying his face in your neck. He smelled your perfume, the same one you had for years, the one you had when you two met. It eased some of the tension in his muscles.
“I have to go..” He murmured. Indeed he had to change, listen to his coach’s assessment of the match and reply to journalists. “I’ll see you later.” He added as he kissed your forehead before disappearing into the changing room.
Your heart tightened. That World Cup ended on a note of unfulfilled potential : no world title for the Japanese players, and no love confessed. If you had to put all these emotions into a perfume, it would be a bittersweet one with orange blossom, almond and neroli. But then, who would buy a perfume to scent the bittersweetness of an unfinished story?
Years passed by. Your meetings with Sae were regular and love between you continued to grow as he continued to be oblivious to it. You still worked in the same perfume shop you two met. And he still travelled between Japan and Spain. He never told you, but deep down you sensed he never got over the loss of the last World Cup. He was working harder than ever, to come back stronger.
Sometimes, you wondered if it was worth it to wait for him to realise you were in love with each other. Or maybe he knew and refused to acknowledge it. Every option hurt more than the last, and doubt seeped into your heart. You were no Penelope, how could you rely on the untold feelings of an emotionally dumb man and wait years for him? So you were tempted to find someone else, to change your mind with whatever you could. But your heart belonged to him, and much to your despair, you always crawled back to him in the deepest hours of the night. You were also tempted to tell him, but you didn’t want to ruin the friendship you grew over the years, and what if he didn’t like you back? What if he didn’t love you more than football? Was it worth it, to unveil your love to him, to just become a couple for the sake of it? Moreover, it wasn’t like he was an unattractive man. Women were at his feet, famous ones, rich ones… You were no match with your small perfumery shop and knowledge. On paper, these women were a perfect match for him, so how could you not feel insecure? Many times you wondered if he gave in the temptation of these women. Your thoughts grew more and more venomous and rotten as you lost more and more sleep each night.
Sae knew. He knew he felt more for you than he did with other people. He loved to be around you as you made him feel at home, he loved your scent, your rants about perfumes, he adored the way sunlight would hit your skin at the end of the day. It made him want to hold you against him and never let go. Never would he have guessed he’d feel this way for someone who had nothing in common with him or football. Much to his despair, he faced another struggle : sharing his feelings to you. He wasn’t blind, he saw the way you looked at him and he wanted to tell you everything that’s laid on his heart for now five years. But it was above his strength. Each time he would gather the courage to do so, he would chicken out. What if he misread you? What if you were in love with another man? He couldn’t bear the idea so he kept it all to himself. Bittersweetness filled his heart as you were everything he could think of. There was nothing he was seeing everyday without thinking of you. To top it all, Hortense, the label of the perfume you chose for him made him their effigy. They even created a perfume for him, Sae Itoshi. They even named it Boy genius. He never wore it though, since you never recommended it to him. Still, he wondered if you liked the perfume, it somehow mattered to him. Though, he never asked you your opinion on it, too afraid of your judgement.
Without surprise, the following World Cup arrived. Five years have gone by since your first meeting. You joined him in Spain, country where it was organized. Without surprise, the same circus happened : tabloids wondered who you were again, fans started to get more heated towards you and paparazzis tried to get more pictures of you with Sae. You did your best to not let it upset you. You were not a public person, you were just Sae’s friend, right? You couldn’t understand all the attention you were getting, people were here for the sport, not the gossip, weren’t they?
You managed to survive through the month without being skinned alive by anyone. The mood was electric and magnificent. There was no denying that these kinds of events were magical. As a spectator, it was amazing, but you also saw the other side of it : players were under enormous pressure. Having the country’s weight and expectations on their shoulders wasn’t easy.
Sae, obviously, showed nothing. However after five years of knowing each other, you started to understand how he was working. You were by his side, often just sitting in silence on the couch as he was watching his next opponents matches to analyze their techniques. You knew your presence was soothing him, so you didn’t try to do too much. You were just there, by his side. And it was all that he needed.
The night before the finale, as you were both sitting on the couch, he paused the match and turned to you.
“If I win tomorrow…” He started.
“Mmh?” You hummed, listening to him but still focused on the video playing on your phone.
“Will you tell me what you planned to tell me four years ago?”
A pause.
You turned off your phone and glanced at him, thrown off by this request.
“You still remember that?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know, it was four years ago, it was a long time ago.”
“I’m curious about what you wanted to tell me back then.”
“That’s ridiculous…”
“It’s not ridiculous. It mattered to you back then, so it matters to me now.”
“...”
“Will you keep that promise and tell me if I win?”
You smiled faintly, looking away. “If that’s what you want.”
“I want that if you want that.”
“Then yeah, I want that.”
A ghost of a smile appeared on his face. “I have no choice but to win now.”
“Looks like it.”
“I’m not winning for the country tomorrow. I’m winning for you.”
Your stomach dropped and butterflies blossomed in. Was he realising the weight of his words or was he just that dumb? The way he was gazing at your face proved he knew what he said and the effect it had on you. Nervously, you chuckled.
“Don’t be stupid.”
“I’ll be stupid for you.”
You scoffed. “Focus on the match tomorrow, don’t get distracted now.”
“Mmh.” He grabbed the TV remote and started to watch the match again.
You dismissed him not out of rudeness, but because it threw you off. How could one just drop a bomb like that on an evening before the biggest match of his life? You were almost having a heart attack. Damn. That man will be the death of you.
The next day, tension was at its strongest. The game was uptight. Fortunately, the outcome wasn’t the same as four years prior. In extra time, Japanese players managed to shoot a beautiful, well-deserved goal. The referee blew the whistle to end the match. You couldn’t believe your eyes, Sae was finally a World Champion, after all these years of hard work he finally made it.
You couldn’t help but let the tears overwhelm you, almost enough that you didn’t see him climbing the stands to get to you. Most people had gone on the field to celebrate, everyone but you and now Sae who joined you. He grabbed your cheeks and wiped your tears.
“Why are you crying?” He asked, almost concerned.
“For you, idiot.” You chuckled, cupping his jawline. “Because I’m proud of you. Because I’m so so very much happy for you.” You smiled through the tears.
A smile appeared on his face, a rare, real, precious smile. It made you tear up even more.
“I won for you, you know that.” He rested his forehead against yours. “So now you have to tell me the secret you’ve been keeping from me.”
You chuckled. “You’re not losing your bearings, are you?” You paused, trying to regain some composure.
Music was loud, people were cheering, Sae’s coach and teammates were celebrating and soon he’d have to go back down to lift the trophy and get his medal. And yet, at this very moment it was only you and him in your little bubble no one could burst. Time seemed to slow down. Emotions were powerful, heavy, overwhelming. You had to get it out your chest or you might just explode.
“I love you.” You finally admitted. After five years, the words stuck in your throat finally freed themselves. It felt so good to finally say it. “Fuck…I love you so much Sae… I love you so much it hurts.” Tears were flowing, out of relief and happiness.
He stared at you, realisation daunting him. Your words hit his heart in a way he would’ve never imagined. At that moment, he was at the top of the world.
“Idiot…” He breathed out, smiling contently. “I love you too…” He hugged you tightly.
The rest of the day happened in a blur. Excitation everywhere, congratulations flowing, celebrations with whoever was passing by… What else could you wish for? You had your man, who was a freaking World Champion.
Things calmed down the next day. You woke up next to Sae in tangled sheets. He was still sound asleep. Poor guy was probably exhausted from everything. He probably needed vacations. You grabbed your phone to scroll on social media for a bit. After a while, you found an extract from an interview Sae gave the day before.
“What are you feeling now that you have reached the rarest trophy? What are you planning now?”
“I have won more than just a trophy, I won everything I could wish for. For now, I plan on spending time with someone I care deeply for. We’ll see about my career later. But I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.”
You smiled to yourself. Sae shifted, half-asleep, throwing an arm over your waist and burying his face in the back of your neck, making you the little spoon.
“Morning World Champion.” You teased.
You felt a small amused breath reach your skin. “Morning.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Exhausted. My limbs are sore. I want to spend the day in bed with you.”
You chuckled quietly. “That can be arranged.”
You put down your phone and turned around to mold into his body for a hug. He wrapped his arms around you, securing you and making sure you couldn’t leave his embrace.
“You smell good.” He murmured, burying his nose in your hair.
“I’m not wearing any perfume though.”
“I know, I like your perfume and the scent of your skin.”
“How does it smell?” You asked him.
“Mmh…” He paused, thinking, still very much half-asleep. “Sweet and perfect. Just like you.”
You chuckled quietly. “You could be a great perfume seller.”
“Got that from you.” He countered, satisfied. He needed nothing more right now, just you, his gold medal and a calm day without any training, any journalist or paparazzis. At that moment, he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life holding you like that every morning.
thinking about ex boyfriend!michael kaiser ૮ ˶′ﻌ ‵˶ ა
cw: suggestive
ex boyfriend!michael kaiser who was the one to dump you because he wanted to focus on his career and thought you were needy and far too much of a distraction. needless to say things didn't end on good terms.
ex boyfriend!michael kaiser who can't fathom the mere possibility of you ever moving on from him; he's fully convinced that you still think about him on a daily basis. all of these thoughts are filled with his own self-projection, but he'd much rather choke before actually recognizing it.
ex boyfriend!michael kaiser who believes that anyone who comes after him would be nothing but a downgrade from your part. he'd still be mad as fuck if you decided to get into a relationship with someone else though.
ex boyfriend!michael kaiser who still holds onto things instead of getting rid of them. it could be even something as simple as one of your shirts that you accidentally left at his place or a gift that you gave him; they're reminders of you finding him lovable.
ex boyfriend!michael kaiser who convinces himself that all of his last harsh words were necessary for you to fully let go of him. the relationship itself was far from perfect anyway, but at least it meant something.
ex boyfriend!michael kaiser who tries to downplay the feelings he had for you. he'll sometimes just refer to what the two of you had as something casual—people always come and go, after all. it didn't matter how hollow he truly felt as long as the others didn't see a single glimpse of his insecurities.
ex boyfriend!michael kaiser who won't go out of his way to immediately mess around with other women after your breakup. if he considered you a distraction, then so are they. he doesn't offer himself to other people that easily, nor is seeking comfort in others while feeling distraught a habit of his.
ex boyfriend!michael kaiser who despite not getting romantically involved with other people he finds the rumors of him dating celebrities to be amusing—solely because he likes to think about you seeing them and missing him.
ex boyfriend!michael kaiser who looks at your socials from time to time just to see what you're up to, trying to think of this as just completely normal behavior.
ex boyfriend!michael kaiser who confronts you after finding out that you've allegedly been seeing someone recently. even if you're not dating said person, just the option of you being interested in them is enough to wound this man's ego.
ex boyfriend!michael kaiser who will at first try to keep some physical distance despite coming over to your place—his excuse? he just needed to pick up some of his stuff that he left, and also a great opportunity to mock you for even thinking of replacing him.
ex boyfriend!michael kaiser who against all his previous efforts of not succumbing to his own temptations, he still finds himself touching you all over after being granted permission.
ex boyfriend!michael kaiser who for the first time in ages murmurs some apologies about not only the breakup but how he treated you in the past too. the recent distance and silence between the two of you must've made him vulnerable.
ex boyfriend!michael kaiser who is love starved and makes it clear in the way he kisses you like there's no tomorrow. anyone would think that he's trying to suck the life out of you with the way his lips touch yours, barely giving you any space to breathe properly while tightly holding you to himself.
"Oh my gosh! It's all wrong," you fell to your knees in tears.
Sae, who had been making dinner in the kitchen, immediately abandoned the stove at the sound of your voice. He rounded the corner far quicker than he normally would have, his heart sinking as a dozen worst-case scenarios flashed through his mind.
"Amor?" he asked, kneeling beside you. "What happened?"
"Our living room is so ugly," you choked out, gesturing dramatically toward the furniture you'd rearranged into what had to be its fifteenth layout of the day.
Sae stared at you. Then he looked around the room.
The couch sat a few feet to the left. The coffee table had been rotated. A lamp had somehow ended up beside the television.
"...What?"
"It doesn't work!" you cried. "None of it works. The couch is too big, the rug washes everything out, and don't even get me started on those stupid pillows."
His gaze drifted to the throw pillows you'd bought together nearly a year ago.
"The beige ones?"
"They're awful."
"You picked those."
"I know!" you groaned, dropping your face into your hands. "I had terrible taste."
Sae let out a quiet sigh before crouching in front of you, gently pulling your hands away from your face. "I think it looks fine."
"No, you don't."
"I do."
"You're lying because you love me."
He smirked as he rubbed your back, "..maybe."
Despite everything, a watery laugh escaped you.
"There she is," he murmured, brushing his thumb beneath your eye to catch another tear before it could fall. "Feel better?"
"No."
You looked around the room again before fresh tears immediately welled in your eyes.
"It's still ugly."
"...You're crying again."
"I know!"
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
Sae simply watched you.
You'd never been one to cry easily. Frustrated? Sure. Annoyed? Definitely. But crying over furniture?
That wasn't like you.
Neither was crying because the café had run out of your favorite pastry three days ago. Or getting irritated enough to argue with him over whether clouds looked "too gray."
At first, he'd assumed you were overwhelmed from work.
Now...
"...Can I ask you something?"
You sniffled, nodding.
"When was your last period?"
The question caught you completely off guard.
"What?"
"Your last period."
You opened your mouth, already prepared to answer.
"...It was..."
Silence.
You frowned.
"...Wait."
You glanced toward the calendar hanging on the wall.
Then toward your phone resting on the coffee table.
Your expression slowly shifted from confusion...
...to realization.
"...No."
Sae watched as you unlocked your phone with shaky hands.
You opened your calendar.
Started counting backwards.
Counted again.
Your breathing became noticeably quieter.
"...There's no way."
He didn't say anything.
Didn't want to.
You looked up at him, your eyes impossibly wide.
"I... I'm late."
"How late?"
"...Almost three weeks."
The room suddenly felt impossibly still.
You stared at each other for several long seconds, neither of you quite ready to say the thought hanging between you.
Finally, Sae reached over and gently took your hand.
His voice was calm, the same steady tone he used whenever he wanted to keep you grounded.
"Let's not jump to conclusions."
You nodded quickly.
"Okay."
"But..."
He gave your hand a small squeeze.
"...I think we should buy a test."
You searched his face, looking for panic, fear, uncertainty.
Instead, all you found was quiet reassurance.
You let out a nervous laugh.
"I just had a complete breakdown over throw pillows."
A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"If you're pregnant..."
His eyes flickered toward the living room before meeting yours again.
"...our child is going to hear the story of how their mother threw a fit over pillows."
You laughed through the tears that had somehow returned, leaning forward until your forehead rested against his shoulder. "They really are ugly."
"I'll buy new ones tomorrow."
"You don't have to."
"I know."
His hand settled against the back of your head as he held you close.
"But if replacing a few pillows makes you smile again..."
He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple.
"...then I'd say it's worth it."
my neck is sprained so im in pain but yay sae
& tysm for 1k followers, i can't believe that many people read and enjoy my lil ficssssss.
Feel free to ask me any questions you may have since there are so many new people!!
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The moment Katsuki falls in love with you, he’s standing in front of you like a giant dog with his tail tucked between his legs while you go off on him, genuine shock written on his face.
He doesn’t even know what to do, he’s so caught off guard.
One second he was being his usual self, short tempered, too blunt, a little brash.
The next, you’re in front of him absolutely laying into him.
And not in that nervous, stumbly way people usually do around him either.
No.
You’re pissed.
“Get it together or get lost Katsuki. You’re a grown ass man, figure it out.” you snap, voice sharp.
And all he can do is stare at you.
It’s the first time he’s ever seen you angry.
He’d honestly started to think you didn’t have it in you, always so damn patient and sweet.
He’s standing there, mouth slightly agape.
A whole pro hero.
One of the strongest people around.
Getting chewed out by someone half his size and somehow losing.
He knows he looks dumb right now, he’s vaguely aware of it at least.
But the way you defend yourself, the fierce look in your eye that’s unwilling to back down.
It stirs something in him, something… hot and almost primal.
When you finally finish your rant, chest heaving and anger slowly simmering, he’s practically staring at you with stars in his eyes.
Your angry little frown deepens, “Anything to say?”
“No ma’am”, is all that comes out, cool and calm.
You huff, turning around and grumbling under your breath.
And he just watches you leave, heart beating hard under his ribs.
He thinks about it for the rest of the week.
..Then the week after that.
Then one day, retelling the story to Kirishima who’s got that dumb smug grin on his face, he realizes he hasn’t stopped thinking about the look in your eyes since.
And that’s when he knows.
He’s completely screwed.
————————————————————————
A/N: went for a run & this came to me…. took a breather so I could write it LMFAO
If there was one part of soccer Sae didn't care for, it was the mindless interviews.
A post-match interview? Fine.
A sponsorship shoot? Tolerable.
One of those painfully awkward videos where they sat professional athletes in front of puppies and expected them to reveal their deepest secrets?
Absolutely not.
Most interviews followed the same formula.
'How does it feel to score?'
'What's your workout routine?'
'Who inspires you?'
Questions that have been asked a thousand times and would be asked another thousand after, so when Sae entered the media room after his match, he was already halfway checked out.
The journalists sat in neat rows, hands poised over notebooks and laptops, waiting for their turn. The first few questions went exactly as expected.
"How do you feel about today's victory?"
"It was expected."
"What do you think separated your team from the opposition?"
"We played better."
The room collectively deflated with every short answer.
Good.
Maybe they'd end this faster.
Then someone spoke from the third row.
"During the second half, you stopped making overlapping runs and started occupying deeper spaces."
Sae's eyes shifted.
You weren't even looking at your notes.
You were looking directly at him.
"The commentators said it was because the opposing midfield was pressing higher," you continued. "But from where I was sitting, it looked more like you were baiting their defensive line into stepping forward."
Several reporters blinked.
One quietly stopped typing.
Sae tilted his head.
For the first time all afternoon.
"...Go on."
The moderator looked surprised.
You didn't.
"When their center-backs stepped up, they left space behind them. Twenty-three minutes later, your through ball created the winning goal."
You glanced at your notebook.
"Was that adjustment planned before the match, or was it something you recognized in real time?"
The room fell silent.
Because that wasn't a fan question.
It wasn't a tabloid question.
It was a gameplay question.
And a good one.
Sae leaned back in his chair.
"It wasn't planned."
A few heads snapped toward him.
Long answers were apparently a rare event.
"Their right center-back kept abandoning his position whenever their midfielder lost possession."
You nodded immediately.
"The number four?"
"Yeah."
You scribbled something down, it wasn't anything of substance you just wanted to look a little more put together.
Sae found himself watching you longer than necessary.
"Did you notice it before halftime?" you asked.
"I noticed it after twelve minutes."
A slight pause, "You?"
"About seventeen."
One of the reporters nearly dropped his pen.
Sae stared then, unexpectedly, a small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Slow."
A few journalists looked genuinely horrified.
You simply shrugged.
"I wasn't on the field."
The moderator looked like he had accidentally wandered into a private conversation.
The rest of the interview continued similarly.
Every question you asked dug deeper.
It was like there was no one else in the room. No other interviewer dared to ask a question, likely because they were trying to write down everything he was telling you.
Not once did you ask about his dating life.
Not once did you ask who he was friends with.
Not once did you ask him to rank teammates or reveal embarrassing stories.
And for perhaps the first time in years, Sae found himself answering because he wanted to.
By the end of the interview, he'd spent nearly twenty minutes speaking almost exclusively to you.
Something that didn't go unnoticed.
As the session wrapped up, the moderator thanked everyone for attending.
Most reporters immediately packed their things.
You did too, no attempt to linger or a request for a photo, you just grabbed your bag and left.
۶ৎ
Sae watched you leave.
"...What's her name?"
The moderator nearly choked.
"The journalist?"
"Obviously."
The man blinked then told him. He felt so starstruck that Sae Itoshi was talking to him that he handed him a card with the name of your company and some of your contact information.
Sae committed it to memory before standing and walking away.
Across social media, clips from the interview exploded within hours.
'WHY WAS SAE ACTUALLY TALKING???'
'HE ANSWERED IN FULL SENTENCES.'
'Who is that reporter???'
'Not him smiling because she challenged him.'
'Did anyone else catch him asking for her name after the interview????'
'SAE ITOSHI YOU ARE NOT SLICK.'
Even the players noticed.
The next morning, Sae walked into training to find several teammates waiting.
With grins.
Dangerous grins.
"Good morning, Sae," Shidou sang.
Sae immediately turned around.
"No."
"You don't even know what I'm going to say."
"Yes, I do."
"That journalist seemed nice."
Sae kept walking.
"She understood soccer."
The entire locker room erupted.
He'd never admit it, but they were right. He did remember you and he already told his manager and publicist that you were the only person he wanted to be interviewed by for the foreseeable future.
— A picture of you and Sae holding hands went viral and everyone is curious about the woman Sae chose to spend his time with
Sae didn't want to hide you.
He never saw the point in pretending you didn't exist or acting as though being in love was something to be ashamed of. If anything, he was proud of you. Proud to stand beside you. Proud to know you. Proud to be loved by someone who had somehow managed to slip past every wall he'd spent years building around himself.
But he also knew exactly how cruel the media could be.
He'd spent most of his life under a microscope. Every mistake was analyzed, every expression scrutinized, every interaction twisted into something it wasn't. People who had never spoken a word to him somehow believed they knew everything about him.
He could handle that.
You shouldn't have to.
So for the last two years, Sae had done everything in his power to keep the spotlight away from you.
And somehow, despite being one of the most recognizable footballers in the world, he'd managed it.
The media knew he was dating someone.
They just didn't know who. The first time the two of you appeared in headlines had been completely accidental.
A story posted to Shidou's Instagram during a New Year's Eve party had spread across the internet overnight.
The photo itself was nothing remarkable.
The image was slightly blurry, the lighting terrible, and half the people in the frame were making complete fools of themselves. Yet none of that was what people focused on.
Instead, all attention landed on the corner of the picture where you sat curled comfortably against Sae's side on the couch, your head rested against his shoulder and one of his arms was draped loosely around your waist.
For a man who often looked irritated by human interaction, the image was startlingly intimate.
The internet lost its mind.
Articles appeared within hours.
Fans began dissecting every pixel of the photograph.
Who was she?
How long had they been together?
When had this happened?
How had nobody noticed?
Unfortunately for them, the photograph revealed almost nothing.
Your face was obscured, and your name remained unknown. Sae, unsurprisingly, refused to answer questions.
That should have killed the story.
Instead, it made people even more interested.
Over the following months, occasional photographs surfaced.
A blurry airport sighting.
A grainy restaurant picture.
A fan spotting the two of you walking through Madrid late at night.
Every image offered another tiny glimpse into a relationship that somehow remained completely private despite public fascination.
The photos only created more questions.
In one picture, you were laughing at something he'd said.
In another, Sae was carrying your shopping bags despite looking mildly annoyed about it.
There were photographs of him opening car doors for you, waiting patiently while you stopped to pet dogs, and once, memorably, standing in line at a coffee shop while holding your purse.
That picture alone had generated thousands of comments.
People weren't just fascinated by you anymore.
They were fascinated by the version of Sae that existed around you.
Because the man the public knew and the man standing beside you seemed like two entirely different people.
Still, nobody could figure out who you were.
The mystery became almost legendary among fans.
Every few months, a new theory would emerge.
A model.
A professional athlete.
A childhood friend.
One particularly ridiculous rumor insisted you were secretly the daughter of a European royal family.
Sae never bothered correcting any of them, watching people be wrong was surprisingly entertaining.
Then came the photograph.
The photograph.
A fan had spotted the two of you walking through Madrid one afternoon and snapped a picture before either of you noticed.
The image itself was simple.
No dramatic kiss.
No romantic embrace.
No grand declaration of love.
Just the two of you walking hand in hand through a crowded street.
Yet within hours, it had become one of the most shared photos of Sae on the internet.
Everyone focused on your intertwined fingers, and how relaxed he looked.
Almost nobody noticed the ring.
At least not at first.
A week later, the topic inevitably found its way into a post-match press conference.
Sae had expected it.
The reporters practically vibrated with curiosity.
The moment the moderator opened the floor for questions, hands shot into the air.
"Sae, there's been considerable public interest regarding the woman you've been seen with recently."
He looked unimpressed.
"There usually is."
Several reporters exchanged looks.
One pushed forward anyway.
"Many fans have become curious about your relationship. Is there anything you'd like to say regarding the recent photographs?"
The room fell silent.
Sae glanced briefly toward the reporter.
Then back toward the cameras.
"Not really."
Collective disappointment washed across the room.
A few journalists visibly slumped in their seats.
Another reporter immediately jumped in before the topic could die.
"Many people have been referring to her as your girlfriend."
For the first time during the entire exchange, Sae frowned.
It wasn't a dramatic reaction.
Barely noticeable.
But it was enough.
Enough for every journalist in the room to realize something was wrong.
Or rather...
Something was inaccurate.
"My girlfriend?" he repeated.
The reporter nodded.
Sae stared at him for a second.
Then shook his head.
"She's not my girlfriend."
The room exploded.
Questions immediately began flying from every direction.
"What do you mean she's not your girlfriend?"
"Are you still together?"
"Did you break up?"
"Then who is she?"
The moderator's attempts to restore order were completely ignored.
Sae watched the chaos with an expression that suggested everyone present was being incredibly stupid.
Then, without another word, he reached for his phone.
A few seconds later, notifications began lighting up across the room.
One post.
From Sae's official account.
The image was beautifully simple.
Your hand resting in his.
His thumb brushing across your knuckles.
And sitting prominently on your finger was a diamond large enough to make the internet collectively lose consciousness.
The caption contained only three words.
She's my fiancée.
For several seconds, complete silence filled the room.
"Is that the answer you were looking for?" He asked, now more annoyed than ever.
Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
A reporter actually dropped his phone.
Then all hell broke loose.
Meanwhile, miles away from the chaos he'd created, Sae slid his phone back into his pocket, stood from his chair, and calmly left the press conference.
He had dinner reservations with his fiancée.
And unlike the rest of the world, he had no interest in talking about her when he could simply spend time with her instead.
and he’s definitely not someone who’d give you kisses for as long as you’d like.
but maybe you had the wrong idea about your boyfriend all along.
because lately, he has been pulling you close at random times, kissing you longer than he usually does. his lips linger on yours far more times than you had verbally asked him to kiss you. it does get embarrassing sometimes to ask him for them, but really, why can’t he just take the hint?!
although, it seems you didn’t really have to ask for it anymore, because he voluntarily gives those kisses to you himself.
you pushed him away gently, a little breathless from the long time sae had your lips on his.
“what’s gotten into you?” you asked him, your head tilting a little to the side in curiosity.
sae mimicked your action, his gloved hands still on your back. he had only gotten back from training, still in his tracksuit, still a little tired, and yet he decided to come after your lips the moment he opened the door to your apartment.
“i can’t kiss my girlfriend now?”
you hit him lightly on the shoulder with a half-mocking scowl on your face. “did you do anything to put you in guilt? you’ve been very… sweet in terms of giving me kisses lately.”
sae scoffed, tracing his thumb against your back. “are you saying i have been giving an unsatisfactory performance in the past?”
“no— it’s just—”
his lips were on yours again before you could finish your sentence. there wasn’t even anything else, just his lips on yours over and over again this past week.
“sweet,” was all he said before licking his lips.
oh… oh. you get it now.
“you… it’s my lipstick, isn’t it?”
sae shrugged and let you go, leaning to the counter behind him, both arms crossed. “you changed it.”
“and you like it.” a teasing smile couldn’t help but form on your face.
he shrugged again—acting so nonchalant as if he didn’t want to taste your ‘sweet’ lips every second. “you should use it more often. buy more of it.”
The rest of Class 3-A had already headed up to their rooms, leaving only Kirishima and Bakugo behind in the common room.
Kirishima sat on the sofa, unwrapping the support tape from his hardened forearms with a satisfied sigh. "Man, your blast radius is getting insane, man. I could barely keep my hardening up during that last set."
Across the sofa, Bakugo didn't reply. He was staring down at the ground, a towel slung over his shoulders, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. There was a strange, heavy silence hanging around him that Kirishima noticed immediately.
"Hey..." Kirishima paused, tilting his head. "You alright? You look like you're about to explode on a wall."
"Shut up, Kirishima..." Bakugo growled, his voice unusually low, rough, and entirely devoid of its usual aggressive tone. He clicked his tongue, his red eyes darting toward the elevator to make absolutely sure they were alone.
He took a sharp, aggressive breath through his nose, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.
"I have... a problem." Bakugo spat out and glared at the floor, the words sounding like they physically pained him to say. "There's this... unsettling, suffocating feeling in my chest. It’s a pain in the ass. It ruins my focus and every time I try to blast it away, it just gets hotter."
Kirishima blinked, looking genuinely concerned. "Wait, like a medical issue? Did you take a hit to the ribs during training? You should go see Recovery Girl—"
"It’s not a damn injury, idiot!" Bakugo barked, his face twisting into a fierce scowl as he finally looked up. "It only happens when she walks into the room. When that extra stands next to me. I can feel her standing next to me and instead of telling her to back off... my brain just glitches out. I can't think straight. It’s frustrating."
Kirishima froze mid-action, he stared at Bakugo’s furious, blushing face. He processed the words, connected the dots to a certain female from their class, and suddenly, a massive, unhinged grin broke across his face.
Kirishima let out a loud, disbelieving laugh, throwing his head back. "Oh, my god. Are we... are we seriously talking about this now?!"
"Stop laughing, Shitty Hair, or I'll murder you!" Bakugo threatened, a tiny spark snapping from his palm.
"Bro, it has been over two years and a half!" Kirishima yelled happily, leaning forward on his knees, completely amused by his best friend's sudden problem. "Bakugo, literally half the class thought you two were already dating. You literally listen to her tactical advice without screaming, and you're just now realizing you have feelings for her?!"
"I don't have feelings!" Bakugo roared, though the crimson flush spreading across his face completely betrayed him. "I don't get distracted by extras! I'm asking you because you're... you're a sentimental loser who understands this soft, emotional crap! How the hell do I make it stop?!"
Kirishima’s laughter softened, replaced by a warm, genuinely proud smile. He knew how hard it was for Bakugo to admit to needing help, especially regarding his own heart.
"You can't make it stop, man." Kirishima said softly, rubbing the back of his neck. "That’s the thing… She's not an extra to you, that's the whole problem. And honestly? It's incredibly manly that she catches your attention like that."
Bakugo glared at the floor, his chest heaving as he absorbed Kirishima's words.
"Tsk." Bakugo muttered, standing up and marched toward the elevator. "You're useless. I'm going to my room."
"Hey! Don't run away from your feelings, man!" Kirishima called out, grinning as he chased after him down the hallway. "If you need help picking out a gift or figuring out how to ask her to hang out without yelling 'Die!', your best bro has got your back!"
"Shut up, Shitty Hair! I don't need a guide on how to handle a girl!"
But as Bakugo stormed down toward the elevator, his fist clutched tightly over his chest, he knew Kirishima was right.
He was completely caught. And for the first time in his life, he didn't want to blast his way out.
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