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Transferring schools was supposed to be a fresh start for Isagi Yoichi.

New environment. New teammates. New chance to prove himself. What he hadn’t accounted for was joining an elite-level football team that also functioned as a chaotic high school drama club. To be fair, the talent was insane. This team was built differently—fast, aggressive, self-driven maniacs who were dead set on making it pro.

But their personalities? A disaster.

There was Chigiri, the long-haired velocist whose sprint speed was matched only by his ability to deliver devastating sarcasm at a moment’s notice.

Kunigami, who looked like he belonged on the cover of a fitness magazine and spoke like he had a moral code passed down from the gods. He was the kind of guy who called referees sir and probably helped old ladies cross the street.

Reo Mikage was, for lack of a better term, unfair. Rich, talented, academically brilliant, good at literally everything. He was the school prince—but none of it mattered, because his attention was locked on one person: Nagi Seishiro.

Tall, white-haired, lazy beyond comprehension—but somehow an absolute genius at football. Nagi could casually pull off moves that most people wouldn’t even dream of attempting. He was effortless perfection, but only when he felt like it.

Then there were others, like Aryu, who refused to play if something wasn’t “stylish” enough. Niko, the quiet first-year who looked painfully shy but had godlike game sense. And Gagamaru, who played goalie like he was trying to physically merge with the goalpost.

It was madness. It was, for a lack of a better term, fantastic.

And somewhere in all of this, Isagi met Bachira Meguru.

Bachira was supposed to be a loner, but within two seconds of meeting, he had attached himself to Isagi like a barnacle. He was insane, but in the most entertaining way possible—playful, unpredictable, the kind of guy who treated football like a game of tag.

They clicked immediately.

So when, on the second day of training, Isagi’s gaze landed on Rin Itoshi for the first time, his first instinct was to grab Bachira’s sleeve and whisper, “Who the hell is that?”

Bachira followed his line of sight. Then grinned, wide and knowing.

“Ohhh,” he said. “That’s Rin Itoshi. He’s one of the best players on the team. Probably the best next to his brother.”

Isagi barely heard him. Because—

Holy shit. Rin Itoshi was unfairly beautiful.

Not in a soft way. Not in a pretty-boy, delicate way. No—Rin was aggressive and determined in everything he did, eyes like knives, expression set in permanent disinterest. But what caught Isagi’s attention the most were not his doll-like eyes, his incredible physique or his shiny turquoise hair.  It was his football. Lethal.

Isagi watched, utterly mesmerized, as Rin cut through the field like a goddamn weapon, his movements fluid, calculated, devastatingly effective. His passes were pinpoint. His shots were absolute. He played like a man who already knew he was better than everyone else.

Isagi’s heart was doing something weird.

Bachira, reading his expression perfectly, chuckled. “He’s also super popular, probably one of the most popular guys in school. But he’s never dated anyone.”

Isagi tore his gaze away long enough to register that. “Seriously?”

“Yup,” Bachira said. “And thousands of people have tried . Trust me.”

“Then why hasn’t he—”

“Because of Sae.”

“As in the star of the team?” Isagi knew the guy from a distance, so uptight he treated the club like he dignified the field. Legend was any striker who trained with him for more than a week awakened.

“His overprotective nightmare of an older brother,” Bachira confirmed. “Sae raised Rin to be a football machine. No distractions, no relationships, no fun.”

Isagi looked back at Rin.

Watched as he effortlessly curved a shot into the top corner like he was bored of even being good at it.

He exhaled slowly. Then turned to Bachira.

“I’m gonna date him.”

Bachira choked .

“What?”

“I’m gonna date Rin Itoshi.”

“Did you not hear anything I just said?”

“I did.”

“And?”

Isagi looked back at Rin, completely enthralled, borderline lovestruck, already mentally planning his strategy. “I’m a man of my word.”

Attempt #1: The Direct Approach

Isagi waited. Timed it perfectly. After a brutal practice session, as everyone was cooling down, he wiped the sweat from his neck, strolled up beside Rin, and said, casually,

“Hey, wanna grab a drink after practice?”

Rin, mid-stretch, didn’t even look at him.

“No.”

Isagi blinked. “Cool, cool. Rain check?”

Rin finally turned his head just enough to level him with a blank, soul-crushing stare.

“No.”

Okay. Not a strong start.

Attempt #2: The Thoughtful Approach

If directness failed, Isagi would go for thoughtfulness.

The next day, he sat beside Rin at lunch, slid a neatly packed bento onto the table, and said, “I made extra.”

Rin stared at the box.

Then, in one fluid, deliberate motion, he reached into his bag, pulled out a perfectly portioned meal, and placed it in front of himself.

Then continued staring at Isagi like he was an actual idiot.

“…Right,” Isagi muttered, shoving the box back into his bag. “Of course you meal prep.”

Attempt #3: The Group Approach

“Yo, Rin,” Isagi called, draping an arm around Bachira. “We’re all going to karaoke after school. You in?”

Rin’s stare could have frozen a volcano. “Why would I do that?”

“…To have fun?”

Rin looked at him. The kind of look one gives to a man who just suggested tax fraud.

“I don’t do fun.”

Isagi sighed. “Yeah, that tracks.”

Attempt #4: The Reluctant Compliment

During a water break, Isagi muttered without thinking, “That shot was kinda hot.”

Rin, taking a sip, paused. “…What.”

“Huh?”

“What did you just say?”

“Nothing.”

“Say it again.”

“I said your shot was accurate.”

“…That’s not what you said.”

Attempt #5: The Accidental Success

The school festival was approaching, and Rin was actually paying attention. Not a lot. Not obviously. But enough that Isagi saw his chance.

He turned, casual. “You coming to the festival?”

“No.”

“You should,” Isagi pressed. “It’ll be fun.”

Rin shot him a flat look. “I just said I don’t do fun.”

“Okay,” Isagi said, grinning, “but what if I made it fun?”

A pause.

A long, long pause.

Then—finally—Rin exhaled. “…Fine.”

Isagi’s heart nearly exploded.

“But,” Rin added, dead serious, “keep your mouth shut about it.”

Isagi held up his hands. “Scout’s honor.”

Jinpachi Ego prided himself on many things. His revolutionary training methods. His ability to mold high schoolers into ruthless, goal-obsessed football prodigies. His sheer intolerance for distractions. On stripping away weaknesses and forging players into something greater—something beyond human attachment and fleeting emotions.

He had seen players claw their way to the top and others collapse under the weight of their own mediocrity. His players were meant to sharpen themselves into weapons, into unstoppable forces of raw, unyielding ambition. After all, football was a sport of ego. Of individuality. A sport that rewarded singular ambition, unshaken focus, and complete dedication to self-mastery.

It was not a sport that rewarded what he had just witnessed.

The door had been slightly ajar, just enough for him to catch the unmistakable sight of Reo Mikage pressed against a stack of training bibs, one hand fisted in Seishiro Nagi’s jersey, while Nagi—bigger, languid, completely unbothered—tilted his head to deepen the kiss. A deep kiss. And that was definitely a hand creeping under Reo’s shirt.

Ego did not make a sound. He did not react. He did not feel. He simply reached out, gripped the door handle, and slid the door all the way open.

The effect was instantaneous.

Nagi, ever the picture of laziness, barely lifted his head from where it had been firmly occupied against Reo’s jawline. “Coach?”

Reo, the more self-aware of the two, at least had the decency to look horrified, scrambling back like he’d been caught committing a crime. “Coach, wait, this isn’t—”

Ego slammed the door shut. He did not have time for this. He did not want to have time for this.

He had to pause and take a long, long breath.

Because if he reacted instinctively—if he allowed himself even one second of honest emotion—he might actually have a stroke. He did not care. But if he ignored it, the issue would spread.

Which was why, later that evening, the entire team was summoned for an emergency meeting.

The players sat stiffly in the room, every single one of them looking like they were about to be fired. Ego stood before them, hands behind his back. He exhaled through his nose.

“You are all here,” Ego began, voice level, arms crossed, “because some of you have decided to waste my time.”

A faint shuffle. Mutters. Reo looked like he wanted to sink into the floor.

“I am going to say this once.” Ego’s gaze swept across them, sharp and cold. “I do not care about your personal lives. I do not care what you do off the field. But if you insist on making me deal with this kind of nonsense , then we need to be very clear about some things. If anything, anything, interferes with your training, then you are compromising your potential. And if you are compromising your potential, then you are wasting your time and mine’s.”

The team sat in tense silence, crammed together on the benches, waiting for him to drop the bomb.

“Your bodies are tools. Your only concern should be optimizing them for performance. Yet some of you,” his eyes flicked briefly to Reo and Nagi, “have decided to waste energy on things that do not matter.”

Reo tensed. Nagi sat up straighter.

Ego continued. “So let’s be clear. If I ever catch any of you engaging in anything that distracts from your training, I will personally make sure you never set foot on a professional field.”

More silence. Someone coughed.

Ego sighed, rubbing his temple. “Listen, I’m not your father. I’m not your teacher. If you want to screw around like idiots, do it in a way that doesn’t make me have to acknowledge it.”

He turned, already done with this entire conversation. “That’s all. Get back to practice.”

He had made his point. That was the end of it.

Or so he thought.

A week later Ego was supervising the team’s practice.

Ego had long since honed the ability to sense when something was wrong. Not in an obvious way. No, disruptions in his system were subtle things—shifts in focus, lapses in judgment. He got intuitions. Warnings. Creeping senses of doom clawing at the edges of his otherwise perfectly maintained well oiled football machine.

Which was why, standing at the edge of the field, he immediately noticed when Rin Itoshi was not locked in the way he should be. Not missing shots. Not slacking off. But looking at something. Or rather, someone.

Ego followed his gaze.

Some random nobody standing by the benches. Some distant extra who wasn’t even on the team. A background character. Not even a teammate. A civilian.

Rin Itoshi, of all people, was not focusing. Rin. His best work in progress. His most promising player. His diamond in the rough.

Whereas Nagi and Reo were predictable—co-dependent but ultimately in alignment, two players willing to push each other to be better— Rin was something else entirely. Rin wasn’t just another player with talent.

Rin was it. The one who had the potential to be everything Ego preached: self-driven, ruthless, the blueprint for an egoist.

Ego called out, “Itoshi.”

Rin turned, unconcerned. “Yeah?”

Ego narrowed his eyes. “What are you looking at?”

Rin followed his gaze. His expression remained unreadable. “Some guy.”

Ego inhaled through his nose. the stray thought crossing his mind: And why, exactly, are you looking at some guy?

Before he could ask, Rin answered—straightforward, unaffected. “I’ve been seeing him.”

Ego’s entire brain blanked. For a full three seconds, his mind refused to process the sentence. He didn’t react. Didn’t blink. Didn’t process it, because this was not an option.

He could afford Nagi and Reo playing around. He didn’t like it, but he could tolerate it because at least they weren’t straying from their shared vision. But Rin? He was one of the few players in this program with the potential to be exactly what Ego envisioned. A true egoist. A weapon.

If he let himself get caught up in this,  then everything: his progress, his discipline, his path to becoming a complete forward, would crumble.

Ego’s jaw set. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Rin."

Rin crossed his arms, meeting his gaze levelly.

"I don't care, I frankly do not give a shit about that," Ego began, voice already exhausted, "but you know the rule."

"Which is?"

"No distractions."

"I'm not distracted."

"Yes, you are."

"I'm not."

Ego sighed, feeling the weight of years of training crumble under the absolute stupidity of teenage romance. If he let this continue, Rin would fall into the same trap as the others. He'd lose focus. Get caught up in things that did not matter.

But he couldn't just order Rin to stop. That wouldn't work. Rin didn't take orders-he took challenges.

Ego needed something airtight. He needed a solution. A perfect, airtight rule to shut this down permanently. And then, like divine intervention from the goddess of football, it came to him.

From the corner of his vision, he spotted Sae Itoshi, Rin's older brother and the undisputed star of the team, standing at the gate, waiting for his sibling.

Sae, with his impossible talent. His singular drive. His unwavering, absolute indifference to everything except football.

A slow, insidious smirk crept across Ego's face. "You can date."

Rin frowned. "What?"

"You can date," he repeated, voice smooth. "When Sae does."

Rin blinked once, slow. Then, voice flat: "That's not a real rule."

"It is now."

Another pause. Rin glanced toward his brother, who was watching the field with complete disinterest, utterly detached from everything except the game itself. And that was when Rin's scowl deepened.

Perfect. Ego turned away, already satisfied. "Glad we had this talk."

The night air outside the haunted house was  thick with high-pitched screams and nervous laughter, but Isagi barely registered any of it. His pulse thundered in his ears—though, to be fair, he wasn’t sure if it was from the haunted house or the fact that Rin Itoshi was currently kissing him senseless.

And it wasn’t some hesitant, fleeting thing. No—this was hungry, reckless, Rin grabbing onto him like he was trying to drown something out, like he had no intention of letting go. His fingers curled into Isagi’s hoodie, yanking him closer, his mouth demanding, desperate, like he needed this.

Isagi Yoichi was dying.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a rational part of him was screaming, Rin Itoshi is kissing you. But the rest of his brain? Melted. His fingers clenched into Rin’s sleeves, trying to anchor himself in the sheer absurdity of the moment, in the way Rin’s lips slotted against his perfectly, in the sharp sting of nails dragging ever so slightly along his wrist.

Then Rin made a frustrated, breathless sound, and it sent something hot and electric down Isagi’s spine. Before he could even think, he tilted his head, deepening the kiss, pressing back just as hard. More. He wanted more—

And then, just as suddenly, Rin tore himself away.

Cold air rushed in, and Isagi stumbled forward from the sheer force of his own momentum. Dazed, breath unsteady, he blinked up at Rin.

Rin was panting, his eyes dark and sharp, his mouth slightly swollen. A fucking vision.

Isagi’s brain short-circuited.

The first thing out of his mouth was, “So… does this mean we’re dating now?”

The words hung between them. Rin’s expression immediately deadpanned.

He glanced around—eyes flicking toward the festival crowd before grabbing Isagi’s wrist and yanking him into the shadows between the haunted house and the next attraction.

“Shut up,” Rin hissed, voice low but urgently sharp.

Isagi blinked, still reeling. “Huh?”

“We can’t just—” Rin exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. His other hand was still gripping Isagi’s sleeve, like he hadn’t quite thought about letting go. “We can’t start dating.”

The high from the kiss plummeted.

“What?” Isagi’s stomach twisted. “But—we just—I thought—”

“It’s not about you, dumbass.”

Isagi opened his mouth, but Rin cut him off, voice lower now, like he didn’t even want to say it out loud.

“It’s Ego’s rule.”

Isagi frowned. “Ego?”

Rin scowled. “Jinpachi Ego. Our head coach.” He sighed, crossing his arms. “He has this insane rule—I can’t date anyone unless Sae starts dating first.”

“…What.”

Isagi stared at him. He must’ve misheard. That was the stupidest thing he’d ever— “Why the hell does Sae have anything to do with—”

Rin groaned, tipping his head back like this was physically painful to explain. “It’s not like I agreed to it.”

“Then why—”

“Because.” Rin shot him an annoyed look. “I tried before.”

Isagi’s brain lagged. “Tried what?”

Rin’s gaze flicked away, like he wasn’t thrilled about talking about this. “There was this guy,” he muttered. “I wanted to fool around, no big deal. But Ego—” He let out a humorless huff. “He threw a fucking fit.”

Isagi’s jaw dropped. “Ego didn’t let you date because of training?”

Rin scoffed. “Obviously, it wouldn’t affect shit. So I pushed. And then he—” His eyes narrowed, like he was reliving the sheer indignity of it all. “He got this smug look and went, ‘Fine. You can date when your brother does.’”

Isagi’s stomach plummeted.

“Wait,” he said slowly, “so Ego was being sarcastic?”

Rin glared at him. “Do I look like someone who wouldn’t take that personally?”

Oh, Isagi could see it now. He could picture the entire scenario perfectly—Rin, still a stubborn, arrogant, insufferable bastard even off the field, doubling down just because Ego made it seem impossible.

He swallowed. “So… Sae’s never dated?”

Rin let out a slow exhale. “Never. And he’s not interested either. He’s an asshole that’s too focused on football.”

Isagi processed this.

“So,” he said, “basically, Ego knew Sae wasn’t gonna date, so he made the rule as a joke?”

Rin looked murderous. “Yes.”

Another beat of silence. Then—

“Wait, wait, wait,” Isagi said, grinning now, because he finally put it together. “That means—”

Rin’s glare sharpened.

“That means you want to date me.”

“Not the point.”

“That means you like me.”

“I said—”

Isagi’s grin widened. “You so like me.”

Rin scowled. “Forget I said anything.”

Too late. Isagi wasn’t forgetting anything. Not the kiss, not Rin’s words, and definitely not the new mission this conversation had just given him:

Find someone to date Sae Itoshi. And then Rin Itoshi would be finally his. 

Bachira’s room was a mess of blankets, half-eaten snacks, and soda cans—exactly what you’d expect from two teenagers procrastinating sleep. The clock blinked 11:42 PM, but Isagi was losing his mind.

“I made out with Rin Itoshi.”

Bachira, lazily sprawled across his futon, tossed a chip at him. “Yeah, we’ve established that. Move on.”

Isagi did not move on.

He dropped onto his back, hands covering his face, voice muffled. “Do you even understand what this means?”

Bachira grinned, clearly entertained. “That you’re obsessed?”

“That’s not—” Isagi groaned, rolling onto his stomach. “This could actually go somewhere. Unless I’m just—” He hesitated. “A distraction.”

That made Bachira pause.

“…Huh,” he mused, rubbing his chin. “I mean, it’s possible.”

Isagi’s stomach dropped. “Why would you say that?”

“C’mon, Rin’s one of the most wanted guys in school. You think you’re the only one after him?”

That, unfortunately, made sense.

Rin had options. Yukimiya—stupidly handsome, always smiling, the kind of guy who could charm an entire room with zero effort. And Hiori—quiet, smart, actually a functional human being.

People who were objectively great choices.

Isagi, clutching his hair: “Fuck.”

Bachira hummed, still scrolling through his phone. “Yeah, it’s pretty bad.”

Isagi, getting an idea so stupid it might actually be genius: “I need to find Sae Itoshi a date.”

Bachira slowly lowered his phone.

“…What.”

“Think about it,” Isagi said, sitting up like a man with a mission. “Rin and I can’t date unless Sae does.”

Bachira blinked. “Yeah, because your crazy coach is a psychopath.”

“Right. So, logically—” Isagi leaned forward, eyes dead serious. “All I have to do is get Sae a girlfriend.”

Silence.

A long, long silence.

Bachira wheezed. “You—holy shit, you’re actually insane.”

“I prefer to call it ambition.”

“No, I mean, I love this plan, but also, you’re doomed.”

Isagi ignored that, already shifting gears. “Okay, let’s go over what we know about Sae.”

Bachira snorted, sitting up. “That’s easy.”

Together, they listed everything:

• The best player the school’s ever seen.
• A huge fucking asshole to literally everything and everyone.
• Once made three girls cry on Valentine’s Day.
• Possibly allergic to human affection.
• Smug. So, so smug.

If soccer had a patron saint of being an unpleasant jackass, it was Sae Itoshi.

Isagi sighed. “Great. So, basically, we have to match him with a saint or a lunatic.”

Bachira, still mindlessly scrolling, muttered, “Maybe we should just find him a soccer player.”

Isagi turned. “What?”

Bachira shrugged. “Think about it. Dude barely acknowledges anyone who doesn’t play football. If we wanna set him up, it’s gotta be someone who actually gets how his brain works.”

“…That’s not the worst idea,” Isagi admitted.

They started going over their options, but none of them were great.

Kunigami? No shot. He was way too righteous to deal with someone like Sae. Reo? He was rich enough to buy Sae a whole team, but he was also fully obsessed with Nagi. Chigiri? Would probably fight Sae within five minutes. Besides, if they messed with the team dynamics, Ego would kill them personally.

Which left them back at square one.

Isagi groaned, falling backward onto the floor. “We’re screwed.”

From outside the window: a sharp, wet sound. The unmistakable crack of a punch connecting. Then— cheers.

Bachira and Isagi froze. Then scrambled to their feet, rushing to the window.

Outside, under the dim glow of the streetlights, a crowd was gathering. And in the center of it all, Shidou Ryusei. The school’s delinquent. The walking menace. The guy who got into fights because he was bored.

And tonight, it looked like he was beating the absolute shit out of someone.

Bachira winced but kept scrolling on his phone. “Damn. Wonder what the guy did.”

Isagi went still. Bachira froze mid-scroll.

Isagi noticed immediately. “What?”

Bachira’s eyes gleamed like he just found gold. “Dude.”

“Dude, what?”

Bachira turned the screen toward him.

A video, taken in the dim glow of streetlights. A crowd gathered around, cheering. And in the center of it—Shidou Ryusei. Hair a mess of blonde and pink, an easy, almost manic grin on his face as he humiliated someone in street soccer—dragging the ball past them effortlessly, flicking it into the goal like it was a joke.

Isagi sat up fast. “…Holy shit.”

Bachira’s grin stretched. “You’re thinking what I’m thinking?”

Isagi’s heart pounded. He didn’t just have a plan anymore. He had a nuclear bomb.

Rin had made a lot of mistakes in his life.

Letting himself get dragged to the school festival was one of them. Kissing Isagi Yoichi like he meant it—like he actually wanted him—was an even bigger one.

Because Rin was losing his mind.

The festival bustled around him in waves of noise—bright stalls, laughter, music drifting through the cool autumn air. Students ran past in festival gear, their voices blending into an indistinct hum of excitement. But Rin barely noticed any of it.

Because his mind was stuck on a loop, replaying every single second of that goddamn kiss.

He kissed first. He’d grabbed Isagi by the hoodie, pulled him close, kissed him like he was pent up, reckless, completely out of his mind.

The realization had been sitting in his chest all day, pressing down like a weight. He hadn’t just let it happen. Hadn’t just gone along with it. That was what pissed him off the most. Because Rin Itoshi wasn’t supposed to need anything.

Yet, even now, even after spending the entire day forcing himself to forget, his body still remembered. The press of Isagi’s mouth, the way his fingers had curled into Rin’s sleeve, the sharp tug of something hot and unbearable running down his spine—His lips still burned from it.

Rin exhaled sharply, stuffing his hands into his pockets. It had been reckless. Stupid. He shouldn’t have done it. Just a moment of weakness. Nothing else. His stomach twisted. He wanted to shake it off, get rid of the strange pull lingering in his chest. But no matter how far he walked, it followed him.

“Rin.”

He turned to Yukimiya Kenyu standing beside him, looking completely at ease, festival yukata fitting him a little too perfectly, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

“How’s your day been?” Yukimiya asked, eyes warm.

Rin blinked, disoriented for a second. “Fine.”

Yukimiya chuckled. “That’s it?”

Rin shrugged.

“You eaten yet?” Yukimiya asked, nodding toward the food stalls. “I was gonna grab something.”

Rin hesitated.

It wasn’t obvious flirting—not like what he got from other people. Just an offer. It was smooth, effortless, Yukimiya offering something without pushing for anything in return.

A way out of his own head.

For a second, Rin considered it. Not because he was interested. Not because he cared. But because it would be easier than standing here, feeling like this. And before he could even answer, a hand closed around his wrist.

Firm. Cold. Familiar.

And just like that, Rin was yanked away. So fast, and so efficiently one might think he was a cancer tumor being removed. He barely had time to react before they were moving through the crowd, festival lights blurring past him.

He didn’t need to look to know who it was. Didn’t need to hear the clipped voice mutter, “We’re leaving.”

Sae.

Rin ripped his arm free, teeth clenched. “Sae—what the fuck?”

Sae barely looked at him, eyes still set ahead. “You shouldn’t be wasting time here.”

Rin’s blood boiled instantly.

“I was having a conversation.”

Sae’s gaze flicked to him, unreadable. “With Yukimiya?” When he was being an ass, Sae always made sure to use his detached, almost bored voice. “Are you actually entertaining shit like that now?”

Rin’s jaw tensed, he hated being at the receiving end of the nagging over the most stupid shit on the whole entire planet. “Why is it any of your business?”

Sae finally stopped walking, finally turned to face him fully. “It is when you start acting like an idiot.”

Rin’s hands curled into fists. “You think I’m an idiot just because I don’t live like you?”

Sae exhaled sharply, shaking his head, like this entire conversation was beneath him. “I think you’re wasting your time.”

Rin bristled. “And I think you’re a control freak.”

Sae snorted, amused in a way that only made Rin want to punch him in the face. Sae’s eyes narrowed. “And look where that got me.”

Rin laughed, it sounded sarcastic and humorless. “You mean at the top? Congratulations. Hope you like being miserable.”

Sae’s expression didn’t change, but something behind his eyes flickered— that one thing he could never predict or understand, an emotion Rin was too angry to care about right now.

“I get it,” Rin spat. “You think I’m a waste of time. You think I’m weaker than you. You think I’ll never be as good as you are.”

Sae didn’t deny it. That pissed Rin off more than anything.

“You think you can afford distractions?” Sae asked, sharply. “You’re not even close to good enough for that.”

Rin’s pulse spiked violently. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Sae tilted his head slightly, gaze calculated, cutting. “You’re not as strong as me. You don’t have the talent to waste time.”

Rin’s breathing turned shallow, rage boiling over. “You’re so fucking full of yourself,” he groaned. “You think you’re some god no one can reach?”

But Sae just stared him down, voice detached. “I think you haven’t done a single thing to prove me wrong. You’ll never surpass me if you keep making mistakes like this.”

Rin stepped forward, shoving Sae back, hard. Sae barely even moved. He didn’t stumble or even react at what he’d just done. Saw, as always, just watched him. Unimpressed.

Rin’s breath was ragged, pulse hammering.

“I won’t just surpass you.” He lowered his voice which made it sound more venomous.

Sae’s jaw tensed slightly. Rin’s glare sharpened.

“I’ll destroy you,” he spat out. “And your expectations of me.”

Silence. Sae exhaled slowly, something in his expression appeared, almost distant.

And that hesitation made Rin feel even worse. Because Sae wasn’t angry. He wasn’t even annoyed. He just looked at Rin like he’d already decided something for him, like he’d already given up on him.

Rin’s stomach twisted violently. He hated that look. Without another word, he turned and walked away, not looking back. Because if he did, if he caught even a glimpse of whatever the hell was on Sae’s face… He might start to understand it. And that was something he didn’t want to deal with.

The lockers rattled with the force of the impact. Isagi grunted, the cold metal biting into his back.

Isagi barely had time to react before Shidou Ryusei loomed over him, fingers curled around his collar in a loose grip—not tight enough to be a real threat, but enough to make his point. All sharp teeth and smudged eyeliner, like some unhinged rockstar who hadn’t slept in days. His uniform was a disaster, shirt untucked, blazer missing, collar loose like he couldn’t be bothered to fix it.

“Try again, Yoichi,” Shidou drawled, tilting his head like a predator sizing up prey. “Because right now, it sounds like you’re wasting my time.”

Isagi clenched his jaw, willing himself to not react. “I need your help.”

Shidou let out a bored sigh and shoved him back against the lockers—harder this time, like he was testing how much he could get away with. Isagi bit back a curse.

“Don’t care,” Shidou said flatly.

Isagi forced his voice to stay steady. “You will.”

Shidou snorted. “Doubt it.”

“I’ll pay you.”

The words hung between them for a beat.

Then, finally, Shidou paused. His hand loosened slightly, just enough for Isagi to catch the flicker of interest in his eyes.

“Go on,” Shidou muttered.

“If you pull this off, I’ll give you cash. Enough cash. And I’ll do your homework for a month.”

Shidou’s lips curled. “Weak.”

Isagi gritted his teeth. “New cleats. On top of that.”

That finally got a reaction.

Shidou leaned back slightly, studying him. The arrogant amusement never left his face, but his posture shifted just enough to let Isagi know he was actually thinking about it now.

“Alright,” Shidou drawled. “I’m listening.”

Isagi exhaled. “I need you to take Itoshi Sae on a date.”

Shidou laughed.

Loud, obnoxious, full-bodied laughter that had students turning their heads. He had to brace himself against the lockers, like he physically couldn’t handle how hilarious this was.

“You—holy shit—you’re serious?”

Isagi crossed his arms. “Yes.”

Shidou wheezed, wiping at his eye like he’d just heard the funniest joke of his life. “Oh, this is gold. You want me—” He pointed at himself, still grinning like a maniac. “—to take that stuck-up corpse on a date?”

“Yes.”

Shidou grinned, but this time there was something else behind it. Something calculating.

“You do know Sae Itoshi has the personality of a papercut, right?” Shidou pressed, stepping in again, forcing Isagi to look up at him. “Nobody gets past that ego. He’s a miserable, boring, soulless bastard.”

“Exactly,” Isagi muttered. “That’s why I need you.”

Shidou snorted. “Oh? You think I’m special?”

“No, I think you’re a relentless, selfish jackass who likes a challenge.”

Shidou lit up at that.

“Damn,” he purred. “You do know me.” Shidou hummed, considering it. He rolled his shoulders, eyes flicking over Isagi like he was weighing his options.

Then, finally, he let out a sharp breath. “Triple the cash.”

Isagi’s stomach dropped. “What?”

Shidou grinned, slow and cruel. “You heard me. Triple the cash, two months of homework, and I get to pick whatever cleats I want.”

Isagi’s fingers twitched. “That wasn’t the deal.”

“It is now,” Shidou said easily. “You want a miracle, Yoichi? Gonna cost you.”

Isagi’s pulse hammered. Shit.

Shidou just waited, completely at ease. Because he knew. He knew Isagi had no other option. No backup plan. No one else who could make this work. And he was enjoying it.

Isagi exhaled sharply through his nose. “Fine.”

Shidou’s grin stretched. “Good boy.”

Before Isagi could snap at him, Shidou clapped a hand on his shoulder—almost friendly, except for the way his grip lingered just long enough to make a point.

“One date,” Shidou reminded him. “No promises.”

Then, with a lazy stretch, he turned on his heel and walked off, hands in his pockets, whistling like this whole thing was a joke.

Isagi nearly collapsed with relief. “Thank you.”

Shidou snickered. “Don’t thank me yet. If I actually pull this off, you might have to start calling me god.”

Shidou wasn’t one to hesitate.

If he wanted something, he took it. If something pissed him off, he wrecked it. There was no in-between, no stopping to think about consequences or logistics or whatever useless shit people wasted their time on.

But for some goddamn reason, he was watching Sae Itoshi.

Not in an obsessive way. (Please. He had better things to do.) But in a what the hell is this guy’s deal way. Not that there was much to watch. Sae wasn’t interesting. Not in any way that mattered.

Sae stood just outside the field, the last to leave practice, still in his uniform. His bag was slung over one shoulder, his hair damp from sweat, his expression bored like he’d rather be anywhere else. Rin Itoshi had walked past him minutes ago, not even looking at him, and Sae had let him go without a word.

Shidou couldn’t wrap his head around him.

He was clean-cut, disciplined, controlled—the type of guy who treated life like a neatly scheduled itinerary. He was supposed to be some untouchable genius, a prodigy, a walking headline. He was handsome, rich, famous. Overall, someone who should have the world at his feet, the kind of guy who should’ve had people flocking to him, who should’ve had everything. And yet, Sae had no one.

No friends. No social life. Just soccer and whatever unholy amount of arrogance was keeping him upright.

Shidou didn’t get it. He could sniff out people’s weaknesses like it was second nature, spot the cracks in their egos, dig his fingers in just to watch them break. But Sae had no cracks. Just that deadpan expression, that stupidly perfect posture, and that ridiculous ability to make people throw themselves at his feet while he barely even looked at them.

Shidou knew what it was like to be different. He knew damn well. People looked at him and saw an unhinged freak. He thrived on that, liked knowing he made people uneasy, liked pushing buttons just to see what would happen. He liked being weird. But Sae Itoshi wasn’t weird. Sae was distant,  forever unreachable. And for some reason, that bothered him. Too much for his own liking.

Shidou was about to leave, so he could shake off the stupid train of thought, when some random guy came storming toward Sae.

Oh, this should be fun.

The dude was pissed, standing in front of Sae like he was about to start something.

“You think you’re untouchable, huh?” the guy spat.

Sae blinked at him, completely unfazed. “What?”

“You embarrassed my sister,” the guy snarled. “She came to you with genuine feelings, and you treated her like garbage.”

Sae sighed, adjusting the strap of his bag. “Not my problem.”

The guy’s fists clenched. “You could’ve let her down easy—”

“I could’ve,” Sae agreed. His gaze lifted, cool and detached. “I didn’t.”

Shit.

Shidou grinned, already enjoying himself. He barely knew Sae Itoshi, but damn, that was a brutal way to reject someone.

The guy didn’t appreciate it. With a yell, he swung—aiming straight for Sae’s face.

Shidou didn’t think. His body moved before his brain did, instincts kicking in, surging forward and slamming his fist into the guy’s ribs. A sharp gasp. The impact was solid, satisfying—And then, before Shidou could relish it, a fist collided with his jaw.

The force sent him flying—back slamming against something hard. Sae’s car.

Shidou groaned, head spinning. He barely had time to process the pain before his gaze flicked up— And froze. Because for one second, he was looking straight at Sae. And Sae was looking back.

And fuck.

Sae’s expression was pure disgust, like he’d just witnessed something offensive. But in the dimming sunlight, against the sleek shine of his very expensive car, his hair still damp, his shirt clinging just a little to his collarbone—

Shidou got it. Understood, completely, why people lost their minds over him. The thought barely had time to register before another fist was flying at his face.

Shidou smirked. Nah. If this guy wanted to play dirty, he’d show him how it was done. He didn’t block. Didn’t dodge. Instead, in one fluid motion, he twisted—his foot cutting clean through the air, landing a brutal spinning kick to the guy’s stomach. The impact sent him soaring. Feet lifted off the ground. Then—slam.

Unconscious.

Shidou cracked his neck. “Oops.”

Silence.

When he turned back, Sae was still watching him. But something had shifted.

His arms were still crossed. His posture was still controlled. But his gaze had changed. There was a something else there now. A look slightly more sharper. Amused. And then, Sae tilted his head.

“…You play soccer?” His voice wasn’t flat this time. It wasn’t bored. It was almost curious. Something interested.

Shidou wiped the blood from his lip with the back of his hand. Smirked.

“You tell me, princess.”

Sae’s lips tugged at the corner—barely, just barely—before he turned, walking away.

And Shidou, who had never backed down from a challenge in his entire life, felt something kick to life in his chest. This might actually be fun.

Chapter Text

It had been a week since Rin kissed him.

Seven days, sixteen hours, and some minutes Isagi wasn’t counting, because he wasn’t that pathetic.

Except maybe he was. Because Rin hadn’t mentioned it once. Hadn’t even looked at him differently. Isagi couldn’t figure out if that meant Rin regretted it or if Rin was just Rin, and that meant pretending it never happened until it forced itself into existence again.

It was stupid. Because what had he expected? Rin Itoshi wasn’t the type to suddenly start passing notes under desks or waiting for him after practice or saying his name like it meant something.

So Isagi waited. And waited. And maybe he wasn’t exactly waiting—because waiting meant hoping, and he wasn’t about to be some tragic romantic idiot—but he was paying attention.

Which was why, when Anri stormed into the clubroom talking about grades, Isagi saw a chance to force Rin’s hand.

And took it.

“Everyone, listen up! The school’s faculty is reviewing the academic progress of our first and second year athletes,” Anri stood at the front of the room, clipboard in hand, flipping through her clipboard, looking a little too cheerful for something that could get half the team benched. “Since the team is expected to perform well at Nationals again, they want to ensure that all of you are keeping up with your studies. There are some… concerns.”

There was a collective groan from the room.

“Bachira,” she continued, “your English grades are concerning.”

Bachira blinked. “Oh. Cool.”

Kunigami sighed heavily beside him. “That’s not cool.”

“Otoya, you need to improve in Japanese.”

Otoya stretched, lazy. “Eh. Kanji’s a scam anyway.”

“Chigiri, your science grades need work.”

Chigiri frowned deeply. “What does physics have to do with outrunning defenders?”

Anri, ever so sweet, took a moment to calm down. Looking like she was reconsidering every decision that had led her here.

And that was when Isagi (because he was an idiot) raised his hand. “We should make study groups,” he said, grinning.

Everyone turned to look at him. Even Rin.

Isagi cleared his throat. “We’re already used to training together—it’d be easier if we studied together, too.”

Then Reo hummed, thoughtful. “That’s not a bad idea.”

Kunigami nodded. “Makes sense.”

Anri smiled at them, suddenly looking way too relieved. As if she regained hope her little team of high school athletes could handle their academics on their own. “That could work! If you all support each other, I’m sure we’ll see improvement.”

“Great!” Isagi said, grinning like he wasn’t about to commit academic fraud.

“I can tutor math, Reo can handle science, and Rin—” He turned, aiming for casual, but failing completely. “You can tutor English.”

Rin, who had been half-listening at best, immediately straightened. “What.”

“You’re good at English, right?” Isagi said, all bright-eyed and innocent, like he hadn’t just decided this without asking.

Rin narrowed his eyes. “That’s not the point.”

“Oh, come on.” Isagi’s grin widened. “You wouldn’t let Bachira fail, would you?”

Rin’s expression darkened. But he didn’t say no.

And that was all he needed.

Anri stood there and examined their faces, proud of their make do solution. “Perfect! You’ll all meet twice a week after practice in the library! Good luck!”

Most of the team had filtered out when Isagi saw his shot. Rin was lingering by his desk, flipping through a workbook with far too much focus, like he was trying to burn through the pages just by looking at them.

Isagi leaned against the desk beside him, casual. “You’re really just gonna ignore me forever, huh?”

Rin’s hand tightened around his pencil, but he didn’t look up. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Isagi exhaled, shaking his head. “You know.”

A muscle in Rin’s jaw twitched. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

“I don’t have time for this,” Rin muttered, flipping another page aggressively.

Isagi watched him, tipping his head slightly.

“Did you forget already?” he asked, voice softer now, like he was actually curious. “Or are you just pretending?”

Rin’s grip on his pencil tightened. “Isagi.”

“Right,” Isagi mused. “So pretending, then.”

Rin snapped his workbook shut. “Why do you care?”

It was sharp, almost defensive, but not dismissive.

Isagi exhaled through his nose, letting his fingers skim against the edge of Rin’s desk. “Because I do.”

The words hung there for a moment. Rin didn’t move, didn’t look at him. But he also didn’t leave. And that was progress.

Isagi nudged a pen on the desk with his fingertip, voice lighter now. “You know, tutoring’s a good excuse to spend time with me.”

Rin scoffed, finally looking at him. “You think I want to spend time with you?”

Isagi smiled back at his irritated eyes. “Well, you haven’t walked away yet.”

Rin opened his mouth—but the words didn’t come out, like he was realizing it too late.

Isagi watched, amused, because for all his avoidance, for all his irritation—Rin wasn’t shutting him out. And maybe Isagi wasn’t great at reading calculus problems, but he sure as hell could read this.

He sat back, stretching. “Guess I’ll see you at our study sessions, huh?”

Rin rolled his eyes, grabbing his bag. “If you actually knew math, you wouldn’t need them.”

Isagi laughed. Then, before Rin could escape completely— “Hey,” he said, voice quieter.

Rin paused.

Isagi tilted his head and swallowed his pride. He decided to be a tad bit embarrassing just this once. “I meant what I said.”

Rin stared at him for a second. “Shut the fuck up, Isagi.”

But his ears were red when he turned away.

Isagi smiled to himself, heart beating too fast, too loud, too much. Yeah. They’d get there.

The automatic doors slid open with a soft hiss.

Sae Itoshi stepped out of the convenience store, a plastic bag swinging lazily at his side, his other hand occupied with his phone. His expression was blank, eyes flicking over the screen, posture composed—completely unaware, or maybe just entirely indifferent to the fact that someone was waiting for him.

Leaning against the side of the store, arms crossed, Shidou grinned.

“So,” he drawled, teasing him in a smooth voice. “What’s it gonna take to get your number?”

Sae didn’t even look up.

“You won’t,” he said flatly, stepping past him.

Shidou’s grin widened. He fell into step beside him easily, hands slipping into his pockets. “Aw, don’t be like that, Sae-chan. You don’t even know what I’ve got yet.”

At that, Sae finally glanced at him—briefly, unimpressed, the way someone might look at an insect that wasn’t worth squashing.

“You’ve got a loud and annoying mouth,” he said. “And bad taste.”

Shidou laughed, head tipping back slightly, such a fierce and prickly attitude contained behind gorgeous lashes and an equally stunning face. “So you’ve been thinking about my taste?”

Sae exhaled sharply, shifting the plastic bag to his other hand. “You’re unbearable.”

“I’ve been called worse.” Shidou hummed. “But you’re into unbearable people, Right?”

Sae didn’t respond, already walking toward his car, steps measured and untouchable, like nothing could ever reach him unless he allowed it.

Which was exactly why Shidou stepped in front of his car door, blocking his way.

Sae stopped, he looked as if he’d just drank a full glass of spoiled milk. His eyes flicked up, looking as if he’d had a thousand similar encounters before. “Move.”

Shidou grinned, this was really his vibe, the whole push and pull thing. He never got tired of pulling, so he said, “Make me.”

Sae stepped forward after a brief pause, not aggressively, not even impatiently—just unconcerned, as if Shidou weren’t even an obstacle.

The space between them shrunk, the evening air stretching thin, and for a moment, Shidou had the strangest feeling that if he wasn’t careful, Sae might just walk through him.

His fingers twitched. Fuck, he’s really, really pretty.

It wasn’t just the bold lines of his face, or the way the sun and the crystal street lamps made his face and body skin glow—it was the distance, the untouchability of him. The kind of presence that said, nothing and no one matters to me.

Which meant Shidou wanted to make himself matter just to fuck with his sense of control and uptight personality.

Sae sighed, clearly unimpressed. “Move or I’ll make you.”

Shidou smirked. “Tempting.”

Sae’s jaw ticked.

“The only thing I’d ever be interested in you for is soccer,” he said coolly. “So unless you have something worth showing me, you can get lost and fuck off.”

Shidou’s pulse jumped. Not at the insult—but at what wasn’t said. Sae hadn’t dismissed him outright. Hadn’t told him to fuck off permanently. Which meant there was an opening.

Shidou let his smirk stretch wider, as a type of invitation and white flag declaration of sorts. His brain was moving. “Alright, then.”

Sae narrowed his eyes.

“If you’re so interested in my abilities,” Shidou said smoothly, “you’ll come to my next match.”

Sae blinked once, slow, as if it was such an unbelievable statement he’d clarify later. “What?”

“My next street game,” Shidou elaborated. “If you wanna see something impressive, you should show up.”

Sae scoffed, shifting his weight slightly. “I didn’t say I was interested.”

“But you didn’t say no, either.”

Sae’s eyes darkened, the light from the streetlamps catching in his irises.

For a second, Shidou swore he saw something like amusement, but it was gone before he could be sure.

Instead, Sae exhaled, bored. “Do whatever you want.”

Shidou’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out lazily, still watching Sae as he answered.

“What’s up? You want a debrief or sum?” he greeted, dripping with amusement.

On the other end, Isagi sighed. He sounded strangely anxious and confused. “Are you done yet?”

Shidou chuckled, turning slightly away as Sae finally moved past him, pulling open his car door with calm detachment.

“Getting impatient, are we?”

“Just don’t screw it up,” Isagi muttered. “Please.”

Shidou let his gaze flick back to Sae, watching as he slid into the driver’s seat, completely unbothered, fingers tapping lightly against the wheel like this was already forgotten.

Shidou grinned, stretching his arms behind his head as he turned away. He felt more calculating and cold than ever, like some sort of mad genius scientist who’d suddenly figured out the missing ingredient to his formula.

“Oh, don’t worry.” He licked his lips. “I think I’ve got him figured out.”

The library was nearly empty when Isagi walked in. The air was scented with old paper and dust. A faint hum of the air conditioning was the only sound aside from the occasional turn of a page.

And there, seated at a back table, was Rin.

Isagi had expected to be the first one here. Instead, Rin was already hunched over an open notebook, pencil moving steadily across the page, eyeing the problem over and over again. His bag was neatly tucked beside him, a stack of textbooks arranged with actual intent, and from the way his shoulders were squared, he wasn’t just pretending to study—he was actually working.

Isagi hadn’t really thought Rin would take this seriously. For some reason, that made his chest feel a little too warm. He glanced around quickly— Ego, gone. Anri, nowhere in sight. Sae, on the field. Safe.

Sliding into the seat across from Rin, Isagi leaned his elbows against the table, tilting his head slightly.

Rin didn’t even look up.

“You’re early,” Isagi said, watching him carefully.

Rin exhaled through his nose. “I don’t half-ass things.”

That made Isagi grin. “Yeah, I’m starting to get that.”

Rin’s pencil scratched against the paper, the movement precise, deliberate. He wasn’t ignoring him, not exactly, but he wasn’t engaging either.

Isagi let the silence stretch for a moment before trying again.

“You’ve had a hell of a first year, huh?”

Rin didn’t react at first. But then, without looking up, he muttered, “What do you want?”

Isagi hesitated for only a second. “Just saying—you’re kind of amazing.”

Rin finally glanced at him, brief and unimpressed. “Flattery’s not gonna make me tutor you harder.”

Isagi laughed under his breath. “That’s not what I—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “I mean it. You’re the best first-year here. Probably one of the best players in the entire school.”

Rin didn’t respond, but his fingers twitched slightly around his pencil.

“And I know people say Sae’s the most talented player or whatever,” Isagi continued, slower now, like he was feeling out the words as he went. “But I don’t think that’s true… I think it’s you.”

At that, Rin’s pencil stilled.

For a second, Isagi wasn’t sure if he was about to be told to shut up, or if Rin was actually listening.

Then, slowly, Rin scoffed. “That’s a stupid thing to say.”

Isagi smiled slightly. “Is it?”

Rin exhaled sharply, shaking his head like this conversation was beneath him —but he didn’t walk away.

And to Isagi, that said more than anything.

Rin clicked his tongue. “That guy’s already out there, he’s never had a single bad day. I’m just—” He cut himself off.

He tapped his fingers against the table. “You don’t have to be him, you know.”

Rin’s gaze flicked to him, something unreadable passing through his expression.

“I’m not trying to be him,” he muttered.

“Good,” Isagi said simply. “Because you’re better.”

Rin’s jaw tensed, but it wasn’t anger—it was something else, something closer to uncertainty.

Isagi smiled, watching him carefully. “And you’re not nearly as much of an asshole.”

That earned him a flat and unimpressed stare, “So what?”

Isagi laughed , tilting his head. “You’re way cuter.”

Rin stopped altogether. For a fraction of a second, he just sat there, completely still. Then—without looking at him, without even acknowledging the comment—he flipped a page, his grip on his pencil noticeably tighter.

Isagi’s grin widened.

He liked seeing this side of Rin , the side that wasn’t just sharp glares and quiet determination. The side that got thrown off balance, just a little. Maybe— just maybe —he wanted to push a little further. “…Has it always been like this? Between you two? Or-”

Rin’s pencil stilled against the page. For a moment, he said nothing. Then, quietly, “Why do you care?”

Isagi shrugged. “Dunno. Just wondering.”

Rin didn’t look up, but his shoulders shifted slightly, something tighter settling into his posture.

“We were close once,” he muttered. “I didn’t find his presence repulsive back then.”

The way he said it—it wasn’t bitter, wasn’t sharp like the way he usually spoke about Sae. It was just… flat . Empty. And for some reason, that hit deeper than if he’d sounded angry.

Isagi hesitated before murmuring, “That must’ve been nice.”

Rin didn’t answer. But he didn’t shut down the conversation either.

And maybe it was the dim lighting, maybe it was the quiet between them, but for a moment, he looked tired.

Not the usual irritated exhaustion he showed when people annoyed him, but something deeper. Something that made Isagi’s chest feel too tight.

His fingers curled slightly against the table. “Hey.”

Rin looked up, eyes sharp and aware, like he already knew what was coming.

Isagi hesitated. Then, voice softer, “About… that night at the festival.”

Rin’s entire body stiffened.

The air between them shifted— charged with something unspoken, something neither of them were naming.

Isagi exhaled. “I—I liked it.”

Rin didn’t say anything at all.

Isagi hesitated, heart pounding a little too loud in his ears. “I mean, not just that. I like… having you as a teammate. And maybe…” He trailed off, fingers curling slightly.

He didn’t finish the sentence. Didn’t know how to.

Rin still wasn’t looking at him. Then, after a long pause—“It doesn’t matter.”

The words weren’t sharp.

They were quiet, almost careful, but they still cut deep.

Isagi inhaled slowly.

Rin exhaled. “As long as my piece of shit brother is a pain, we won’t do more than this.” His voice was even, detached, but there was something else there. Something hesitant.

“I’m not suited for distractions,” Rin finished.

Isagi stared at him. Then, without thinking, he moved his hand closer, knuckles brushing lightly against Rin’s, lingering just enough to be felt.

Rin’s fingers tensed slightly, but he didn’t move away.

Isagi exhaled, voice quiet but certain. “I’ll make sure there are no obstacles in our way,” he murmured. “And maybe…”

Maybe what? Maybe I’ll prove you wrong? Maybe I’ll make you want this?

Maybe—

The door to the library creaked open.

Rin immediately pulled back , turning his head just as Reo strolled in, oblivious.

“Why are you two this early? You’re such tryhards,” Reo greeted, dropping his bag onto the table. “We should go over the study plan before the others show up.”

Isagi cleared his throat, sitting up straight. “Yeah. Good idea.”

Rin said nothing, reaching for his notebook again. But his hand, resting lightly on the table, was still slightly flushed.

And Isagi, despite Rin’s words, the uncertainty between them and everything else—couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

“You ever think Shidou just ran off with the money?”

Isagi sighed, tilting his head back against the park bench, watching the early evening sky shift into deeper shades of blue. “Don’t even joke about that.”

“I’m serious,” Bachira said, spinning lazily on the balls of his feet. “He doesn’t exactly seem like the reliable type. We might never see him again. He could be halfway to another prefecture by now, laughing about how he conned you.”

Isagi groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. “I shouldn’t have trusted him.”

Bachira plopped down beside him. “You didn’t trust him. You paid him. That’s different.”

Isagi exhaled sharply. “I don’t trust him to actually follow through.”

“Smart.”

He was taking too long. The deal had been simple—Shidou plays his part, and in return, Isagi makes sure Sae Itoshi has no choice but to endure his presence. Easy. Or, at least, it should have been. 

Isagi scowled. “What’s taking him so long?”

“Maybe Sae-chan’s actually making him work for it,” Bachira mused, tapping a finger against his chin. “Wouldn’t that be funny?”

“No.”

Bachira, spinning idly on his heel, hummed. “Would be kind of funny.”

“Not to me,” Isagi muttered. “I don’t have that kind of cash to throw around.”

Bachira plopped down next to him, resting his chin on his palm. “I mean, you did willingly give Shidou actual money. If that’s not desperation, I don’t know what is.”

“I’m not desperate,” Isagi grumbled, crossing his arms.

Bachira looked at him for precisely two seconds before deciding that was bullshit and delusional.

“…Okay, maybe a little,” he admitted. “But it’s for a good cause.”

Bachira poked at his cheek. “What, world peace?”

“Something harder,” Isagi muttered to the sky, wishing for the gods to answer with some miracle. “Getting Sae a date.”

Bachira laughed, full and bright. “Yeah. But hey, look on the bright side—if you actually pull this off, maybe we should try for world peace next.”

Before Isagi could properly sulk, Reo, Nagi, Chigiri, and Kunigami strolled over, looking far too relaxed for people who were supposed to be his friends.

“You guys are late,” Isagi grumbled, standing up.

Kunigami didn’t appreciate the remark going by how his entire face strengthened up to counter him. “You, of all people, are saying that?”

Isagi ignored him. “Come on, let’s go already.”

Chigiri smiled as he approached, his outfit looked impressive and well put, even if he was wearing a sweater and some briefs. “What’s got you so worked up? We could’ve just met at the arcade.”

“Shidou’s taking too long,” Isagi muttered, already walking ahead. “He should’ve been done by now.”

The group collectively winced, the name didn’t strike any particular fond memories other than those of noses breaking and people bleeding.

“What are you even doing with Shidou Ryuusei? I heard the guy’s been like seven years in high school.” Reo sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “This better not be another one of your stupid plans.”

Isagi looked offended, but tried to dismiss it as best as he could. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You have the worst ideas,” Nagi said, yawning. “It’s kinda funny even.”

“I do not.”

Kunigami huffed. “Last time, you tried to cheat your way through a math test.”

“And almost dragged me down with you,” Reo added.

Isagi waved them off. “That was different. This is serious.”

“Serious, huh.” Chigiri repeated, amused.

Bachira perked up. “Yes! Because that’s not all Isagi-chan was whining about.”

Isagi felt his life flashing before his eyes, his social life being terminated, his pride smashed into the floor like a deflated ball. “Bachira.”

The traitor grinned. “He was also going on about Rin!”

And then, because Isagi was an idiot, he said, “Yeah, I’m trying my shot with Rin, okay? And nothing’s working.”

Silence. Chigiri laughed. Kunigami looked shocked and something in his face seemed merciful.

Reo actually looked impressed in a deeply condescending way. “Wow,” he said. “That might be the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.”

Isagi saw through his backhanded commentary bullshit. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re an idiot,” Chigiri said.

“Rin Itoshi?” Kunigami repeated, shaking his head. “You seriously think you have a chance with Rin Itoshi?”

Isagi hated how dismissive they sounded. Like it was some kind of pathetic joke. He knew Rin was difficult. He knew he was dense, impossibly uptight and rude at times, and focused only on football. But— It wasn’t impossible.

…Right?

“Isagi, Are you stupid or something?” Nagi added, looking vaguely annoyed that this conversation was even happening. “You’re wasting your time.”

Bachira grinned, nudging Isagi. “Not if he wants to waste his time.”

Kunigami chuckled, shaking his head. “You must be having a rough time… And you’re also kinda ballsy.”

Reo leaned back slightly like a criminal psychologist, taking in everything about this new sudden development. “You confessed?”

“No,” Isagi groaned, pressing a hand to his forehead. “It’s not—it’s not like that.”

Chigiri joined the Isagi evaluation, amused. “Then what’s it like?”

Isagi hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I know it’s hard, okay? But every time—It’s… he’s impossible. One second, I think I’m making progress, the next, he shuts down completely. It’s like trying to talk to a brick wall that occasionally insults you. It’s like he doesn’t even see me unless we’re talking about football.”

Bachira was the one who knew the most about this. Surely, he’d bring something valuable to this conversation as he was leaning forward. “You like him, though.”

Isagi scowled because he didn’t like being lectured on things he already knew. “That’s not the point.”

“Maybe it should be,” Chigiri said, tapping a foot against the ground. “You do realize he only ever focuses on football, right?”

That much was obvious, so Isagi furrowed his brows. “Yeah, obviously. That’s not exactly new information.”

Kunigami gave him a pointed look. “Then why do you think he’s not making a move?”

Isagi could answer that. “Because—” He faltered. “Because he’s Rin?”

Chigiri and Kunigami exchanged a look.

Isagi narrowed his eyes. “What?”

Kunigami sighed. “You seriously don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?”

Chigiri leaned against a nearby tree, crossing his arms. “Rin doesn’t think about anything besides football. So, of course, he doesn’t see you.”

“I’m literally around him all the time.”

“Yeah,” Reo said. “During practice. In the library for study groups. Watching games.”

Kunigami nodded. “You only ever interact in a football setting.”

“Which means,” Chigiri added, “he doesn’t approach you outside of it because he literally has never been outside of a soccer setting, genius. He doesn’t know how to.”

That… shut Isagi up.

Because now that he thought about it— Yeah.

Every moment he’d spent with Rin had been on the field, in a team setting, surrounded by football. The only times they’d talked about anything else—anything remotely personal—Isagi had been the one to bring it up.

Rin had never started a conversation about anything other than training, stats, or upcoming matches.

Because football was all he had space for.

Isagi exhaled, shaking his head. “So what, I’m supposed to just—force him into something else?”

Chigiri shrugged. “If you want a real shot, you have to make space for it first.”

Kunigami nodded. “I mean, yeah. You have to give him a space where football isn’t the default.”

Isagi hated that that made sense. He hated that it was so painfully obvious.

Bachira grinned. “Which is where we come in!”

Isagi looked at him warily. “Do I want to know?”

Bachira clapped his hands together. “We need to get Rin-chan out of ‘football mode.’ And the best way to do that—”

“Is a party,” Chigiri finished.

Isagi blinked. A party. It was… not the worst idea. In fact, it might actually work. Only problem?

“We don’t have anyone to host one,” Isagi muttered. “None of us are allowed to throw parties during exam season.”

The group paused.

“Why are you all staring at me?” Reo sighed.

Bachira grinned. “Reo-chan, our knight in shining wealth!”

Isagi turned to him, hopeful. “Your grades are good, right? Your parents aren’t gonna be on your ass about school.”

Reo pinched the bridge of his nose. “And what, exactly, do I get out of this?”

Chigiri smirked. “He’s got a point. What’s in it for him?”

Isagi scowled, shifting on his feet. “I’ll… cover for you.”

Reo raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

Isagi sighed. “On White Day. I’ll cover for you so you and Nagi can actually go out without your parents or Ego knowing.”

Silence. Reo considered it. “Deal.”

Rin didn’t like being in the locker room alone with Reo Mikage.

It wasn’t that he disliked Reo—if anything, he was probably one of the few people on the team Rin could actually stand. But the problem with Reo was that he talked too much. And when he wasn’t talking about football, he was talking about Nagi.

And Rin really didn’t want to hear about Nagi right now.

But Ego had shoved a stack of formation sheets into their hands and told them to “work it out,” so now Rin was sitting on the bench, staring at a page full of tactical notes while Reo leaned against the lockers, texting Nagi like a lovesick idiot.

Rin sighed. “Are you gonna focus or—”

“Dude,” Reo cut him off, grinning at his phone. “Nagi and I had the stupidest date last week. We got stuck in an elevator for forty-five minutes. Thought he was gonna die.”

Rin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mikage.”

“I mean, he wasn’t,” Reo continued, ignoring him completely. “I was fine, but he kept saying, ‘Reo, if I don’t die in here, get me a new controller for my birthday.’”

Rin stared. “That is so stupid, you’re both unbelievable.”

Reo beamed. “Right?”

Rin exhaled sharply, forcing himself to concentrate on the damn formations, but Reo wasn’t done.

“Anyway, it turned out fine,” he said, flipping his phone around lazily. “Some security guy pried the doors open, and Nagi was just lying on the floor, texting me from two feet away, like, ‘Reo, I’m bored.’”

Rin almost laughed. He didn’t, but almost.

Reo smirked. “I saw that. You’re entertained.”

“I’m not.”

“You so are.”

Rin sighed, flipping a page aggressively. “Can we focus?”

Reo hummed, leaning back against the lockers. “You ever been on a date, Rin?”

Rin stiffened instantly. “Why the hell are you asking me that?”

Reo shrugged. “You just seem…” He tilted his head, assessing him like a puzzle. “Tense.”

Rin didn’t respond. Because of course he was tense.

Because every time Reo talked about how much fun he had with Nagi—how effortless it was, how stupid and ridiculous and easy it felt—Rin felt something sour crawl up his spine. Because he could still hear Isagi’s voice, bright and shameless, saying, “I just wanted to hang out.”

Could still feel the way Isagi looked at him, like he was something worth chasing. Could still picture the way Isagi leaned in too close, smiling like he knew he was getting away with it.

The way Rin let him.

His jaw tensed. He shoved the thoughts away.

Reo was still talking. “I get why you’re all wound up, though.” His voice was casual, but there was something knowing behind it. “Ego and my parents won’t ever let me and Nagi go public, so I get it. But still, it’s worth it.”

Rin frowned. “What is?”

Reo’s expression softened, just slightly. “Being in love.”

Rin’s pulse jumped uncomfortably. He scowled. “That’s ridiculous and a fucking waste of time.”

Reo laughed. “It’s really not.”

Rin exhaled sharply, flipping through the papers in his lap. “I don’t have time for distractions.”

Reo snorted. “Riiight.”

Rin glared at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Reo smirked. “It means you should stop sulking and come to my party on Saturday.”

Rin scoffed. “I don’t sulk.”

“You’re literally sulking right now.”

“I promise you I quite literally do not give a fuck.”

Reo rolled his eyes. “Okay, whatever. Point is—you need to get out. Come to the party.”

Rin snorted. “Right. Because your crowd definitely wants me there.”

Reo grinned, completely smug. “Maybe not everyone.” He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice like he was letting Rin in on some grand secret. “But someone definitely does.”

Rin froze for a second. His heart did something weird, something he immediately stomped down and buried deep, deep into the ground.

“That’s bullshit,” he muttered, shifting back.

Reo raised an eyebrow. “You really think so?”

Rin crossed his arms. “It’s impossible.”

“Oh?”

“My parents won’t let me, unless Sae’s there.”

Reo blinked. Then groaned dramatically, slumping against the lockers. “God, that’s tragic.”

Rin smirked. “Not really.”

“Yes, really.” Reo sat up, shaking his head. “Sae’s like—if killjoy had a face.”

Rin could see his point, though Reo’s description seemed a lot lighter. “You’re not wrong.”

“Seriously, what’s the deal?” Reo frowned, actually curious now. “Is he always that controlling?”

Rin tensed for a second. Then—shrugged it off.“It’s just how he is,” he muttered.

Reo studied him for a moment. “You gonna be like that when you’re older?”

Rin shot him a look of pure disgust. “Fuck no.”

Reo grinned. “Good. Then stop acting like an old man and come to the damn party.”

Rin scoffed. “I already told you. It’s impossible.”

Reo hummed. “For now.”

Rin didn’t like the way he said that. A lovesick idiot like Reo would probably never get it. He rolled his eyes. “Let’s just finish the formations.”

Reo smirked. “Sure, sure. But if you show up on Saturday, I won’t say I told you so.”

Rin scowled. “I’m not going.”

Reo grinned wider.

“Uh-huh,” he said. “Whatever you say, Rin.”

The thing about street soccer was that it was lawless. There were no referees. No whistles. No neatly painted lines or polished fields. Just asphalt, sweat, and the kind of players who didn’t give a shit about anything but winning.

Which was why Shidou never expected Sae fucking Itoshi to actually show up. Sae? In the middle of some run-down, graffiti-tagged park in the shadiest part of town?

No way.

And yet—There he was.

Leaning against a rusted goalpost, arms crossed, expression as unreadable as ever, watching the match warm-ups like he wasn’t completely out of place in a beat-up park surrounded by guys who had probably never played a sanctioned match in their lives.

Shidou grinned. Soccer-obsessed weirdo.

He had half a mind to make a show of welcoming him properly, but before he could, some guy on the opposing team yelled across the field.

“Shit, we’re missing someone. Where the hell is Ren?”

Ren, apparently, wasn’t coming.

One of the other guys snorted. “That coward probably bailed when he heard Shidou was playing.”

Shidou laughed, stretching his arms over his head. “Can’t blame him.”

A few curses were exchanged, and for a moment, it looked like the match might have to be canceled—until a new voice cut through the argument.

“I’ll play.”

Shidou turned, slow and intrigued.

Sae had stepped forward, hands in his pockets, gaze cool and bored like he wasn’t about to step into a game completely out of his element.

The reaction was immediate. Some of the guys looked at each other before laughing outright.

“The fuck?” one of them scoffed. “Rich boy wants to play street ball?”

“You lost Itoshi? This isn’t some preppy academy field,” another added, grinning. “You think you can handle it?”

A third guy grinned, nasty. “You sure you won’t cry when you hit the pavement?”

Shidou turned slowly, watching Sae’s expression not change at all. Just that same bored detachment, like these guys were nothing more than background noise.

Shidou whistled low. “Oi, oi, don’t be so mean. He’s supposed to be some kind of genius, right?” He leaned toward Sae, lips curving. “Well, here’s your chance to prove it, Sae-chan.”

Sae’s eyes flicked to him, completely unimpressed.

“You’re annoying.”

“And you’re here,” Shidou shot back, grin widening, showing he was thrilled. He jogged over, stopping just in front of Sae, “So let’s make it interesting.”

Sae’s eyes flicked to him.

Shidou tilted his head. “Bet you’ve never played in a place like this before, huh, Sae-chan?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Sae said flatly.

“Alright then.” He leaned in slightly. “How about a little wager?”

Sae exhaled, already looking bored. “No.”

“Oh, come on,” Shidou purred. “Where’s your sense of fun?”

Sae did not respond to that, which was an answer in itself. Shidou pressed on anyway, eyes bright with mischief.

“If my team wins,” he said, “you give me your number. And you agree to go on a date with me.”

A few of the other players whistled. Someone muttered, this guy’s insane.

Sae’s lips parted slightly, but not in surprise—just in disbelief. Then, after a short pause, he deadpanned, “If my team wins, you stay the hell away from me. Forever”

Shidou laughed, delighted.

“Fifty minutes,” Sae continued, rolling his shoulders. “No positions. Last goal wins.”

Shidou licked his lips, eyes gleaming. “Now we’re talking.”

(Kickoff)

Sae Itoshi, it turned out, was a freak of nature.

Shidou wasn’t exactly shocked, but he was pissed off in the best possible way. He was a freak. Not in the usual way—Shidou had seen talented players before, had played against national-level guys, guys with skill, with technicality, with instinct.

Because Sae hadn’t just adapted to street soccer—he had mastered it in record time.

The rough pavement, the uneven bounces, the zero structure or predictability of the game—it didn’t slow him down at all.

And Shidou, who thrived on chaos, found himself grinning like a maniac.

Especially when, about ten minutes in, one of the bigger guys on the opposing team slammed into Sae full force, sending him sprawling onto the concrete.

Shidou’s muscles tensed instinctively, steps faltering for half a second—

Then he saw it.

Sae, pushing himself up, not even fucking hesitating, barely brushing the dust off his hands before slicing through the game like he’d never hit the ground at all.

Not only that—he sent a clean, perfect assist down the field before most guys would have even reoriented themselves.

The goal was scored in seconds.

Shidou barked out a laugh. “Not so bad, underlashes prince.”

Sae jogged past him, barely sparing him a glance. “Still standing, aren’t I?”

Shidou clicked his tongue, feeling something wild and hot coil in his chest. “You like it rough, then?”

Sae sighed, deeply unimpressed. “You’re exhausting.”

“You love it.”

No response. But— Sae’s lips twitched, just the faintest hint of a smirk, and Shidou’s stomach fucking flipped.

Oh, yeah. This was getting fun.

(The Final Play)

The game stretched on, the line between winning and losing razor-thin. It was ten minutes left on the clock when Shidou felt something shift. Something in him.

Sae was too fucking good.

Because Sae Itoshi didn’t just play soccer—he changed the rhythm of the game itself. Every touch, every movement, every choice felt so calculated, so fucking clean. Sae had no reason to be this good in a lawless match like this. Yet he was.

Every pass, every move, every goddamn decision was too clean, too controlled.

And Shidou hated it.

Hated it in a way that made him want more, want to tear through it, want to see if he could shake that ridiculous control apart.

He had to win. Not just because of the bet. Not just because he wanted Sae’s number. because Sae ignited something inside him, something wild, something that made him want to see how far he could push himself, how far he could push Sae.

So when the ball landed at his feet in the final stretch of the match, when he saw Sae’s eyes lock onto him across the field, Shidou grinned.

And he fucking went for it.

His blood was burning, his instincts firing, every nerve in his body alive with the thrill of the fight.

Pushing forward, dodging, weaving, slipping through gaps that barely existed, tearing down the field with the kind of reckless, breakneck speed that no academy-trained player would ever dare attempt.

And just as he reached the goal, just as the last defender lunged for him— Shidou struck.

The ball hit the back of the net with undeniable finality.

Game over.

For a second, everything was still. Then Shidou turned, breath still heaving, and looked straight at Sae.

And for the first time that night, Sae Itoshi looked shocked. Sae Itoshi’s expression cracked. It was barely anything—just a flicker in his eyes, the faintest crease of his brow, the smallest part of his lips.

But it was there.

Shidou laughed, the sound bright, triumphant. He strolled over, loose and easy, like he had all the time in the world. Stopping just in front of Sae, he tilted his head, grinning.

“So,” he drawled, voice honey-smooth, “ready to give me your number?”

Sae stared at him for a beat longer. “I want you to join the soccer club.”

Shidou froze.

He blinked. “Huh?”

Sae exhaled, annoyed but serious. “You’re reckless, undisciplined, and you play like an animal.”

Shidou felt a slight warmth creeping up on his cheeks. “Flatter me more, babe.”

Sae ignored him. “But you have raw talent. And if you actually trained properly, you could be something.”

Shidou watched him carefully, heart still pounding from the match, still wired from the way Sae had looked at him just now.

And maybe—maybe this was just a different kind of invitation. Maybe Sae did want him around.

Shidou smirked. “I’ll think about it,” he said.

But the answer was already yes.

Rin Itoshi wasn’t guilty of anything.

That’s what he told himself as he sat at his desk, tapping his pencil against his math textbook. His hair, still damp from the shower, dripped onto the towel draped over his shoulders. The air in his room smelled faintly of soap and exhaustion.

He should’ve been focused. Instead, his phone was buzzing against the wood of his desk.

Rin glanced at the screen. Isagi Yoichi calling.

He hesitated. His first instinct was to ignore it—but before he could even think about what he was doing, he was already swiping to answer.

“…What?”

“Rin!” Isagi’s voice came through, bright and too enthusiastic for a school night. “I didn’t think you’d actually pick up… What’s up?”

Rin scowled, flipping his textbook shut. “Do you have a point?”

“I’m studying,” Rin could hear the faint shuffle of papers in the background. “It sucks. I figured annoying you would make me feel better.”

Rin huffed. “Not my problem.”

“You say that,” Isagi said, and Rin imagined him smiling from the other side of the phone, “but you’re still on the phone.”

Rin clicked his tongue, trying his hardest to not overthink the fact that he was on the phone with his rival. “Shut up.”

Isagi just laughed. The conversation stretched, meandering into something ridiculous—Bachira nearly falling down the stairs, Gagamaru diving face-first into a food stall at the festival, Kunigami being Kunigami.

It was stupid. Completely unnecessary. But Rin found himself listening.

Not just listening, but engaged. He hated it. Hated how natural this was, how easily Isagi pulled him into his orbit. He should’ve hung up. Should’ve cut the conversation short.

But then—

“I wish we could talk like this outside the library or on the phone,” Isagi said suddenly, pulling him back to reality. “You should come to Reo’s party.”

Rin froze. “What?”

“I mean—yeah.” Isagi cleared his throat, like he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “It’d be fun.”

Rin frowned, sometimes Isagi said out of pocket shit. Never like this. “Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Why do you want me there?”

There was a pause. Then—“Because I just wanna spend more time with you.”

Rin stared at his phone, stomach twisting in a way that pissed him off. That was so lame. So stupid. Who the hell just said shit like that out loud like it wasn’t a big deal?

His mouth opened, but before he could respond—The front door opened. Sae was home.

Rin immediately hung up.

Rin stormed out of his room, towel still draped around his shoulders, ready for war. Sae was in the kitchen, pulling a protein shake out of the fridge, unbothered as ever.

“I’m going to Reo’s party,” Rin announced, voice firm.

Sae didn’t even look up from his stainless steel cup. “No, you’re not.”

Rin knew this wouldn’t be easy, that Sae was a barrier of discipline and ability, who’d never let him have a normal life. That didn’t stop from making his jaw clench. “I am, and I don’t give a single fuck about what you think.”

Sae finally turned, raising an eyebrow like Rin had just announced he was dropping out of school to join a circus. “For what?”

“For a party. Like a normal human being.”

Sae’s response was as cold and illogical as his actions were. “You’re not a normal human being.”

Rin’s blood boiled instantly. What did Sae know about him anyways? When did he develop the authority to determine Rin’s normality? 

“Oh, right,” he snapped. “Because normal human beings have their entire lives dictated by their control freak brothers.”

Sae took a slow sip of his shake. “I’m not stopping you. Go if you want.”

Rin stared at him, suspiciously, waiting for the next cold assessment of his that’d turn his world upside down and make him feel like shit. “Seriously?”

Sae set the bottle down. “Sure.” He held Rin’s gaze, voice cold. “Go waste time you don’t have.”

Something in Rin’s chest twisted violently. There it was. The same bullshit Sae always pulled. The implication that Rin was less. That he didn’t have the luxury of distractions. That every second spent on anything other than football was a second wasted.

Rin’s fingers curled into fists.

“You know what?” he said, hoping his brother felt half of the hatred he kept in his body. “You’re the reason for half my fucking problems.”

Sae didn’t even blink. “Make it all of them,” he said coolly.

Rin had the idea of giving him a middle finger, of saying something back and proving he wasn’t a crybaby loser. But that was too much, so he turned on his heel, rage boiling over, ready to lock himself in his room and be done with it.

His phone buzzed. A message from Yukimiya Kenyu.

[You still up?]

Rin’s teeth clenched. His whole body was still oozing with frustration over being the only teenager in the world who’d never attend stupid teenager stuff, his head still ringing with Sae’s words.

[Maybe. Why?]

A response

[I figured you could use a distraction.]

[Need to get out of the house?]

Rin paused. Then—

[Where?]

Shidou Ryusei wasn’t bothered by things. In fact, he never thought too hard about things.

It wasn’t in his nature. Life was short, instincts were loud, and everything else was just noise. Thinking too much made people slow, predictable, boring. That was the whole point of living the way he did—acting first, thinking later. No hesitation, no dwelling, no getting caught up in pointless crap like regret or overanalysis.

So when Isagi had bribed him to go after Sae Itoshi of all people, he’d figured—why not?

It was just a game. A transaction. An easy way to score some cash while entertaining himself in the process. And yet. Sitting on the curb outside his apartment, kicking at loose gravel with the toe of his sneaker, he was still thinking about the match.

It was pissing him off. Not in a bad way. Not in a that-wasn’t-fair way. Not even in a rematch, now way.

It was worse.

Because he’d won. He’d scored the final goal, had gotten the exact reaction he wanted, had forced Sae fucking Itoshi to actually react to something. And yet. It wasn’t enough.

Sae had barely cracked, just that flicker of something behind his eyes—shock, disbelief, maybe even something closer to interest—but before Shidou could sink his teeth into it, the guy had shut down again. Like a goddamn cold and calculating machine that focused solely on soccer. Unavailable and untouchable to the general public. But Shidou wanted to touch, just to see if he could.

His phone buzzed, dragging him out of the loop of thoughts he definitely wasn’t stuck in. He pulled it out, glancing at the screen.

Isagi Yoichi.

Shidou grinned, answering on the third ring. “Damn, Yoichi. You miss me already?”

A deep, suffering sigh from the other end. “Please tell me you actually did it.”

Shidou laughed, at times Isagi resulted an interesting person, specially when he was so bluntly insistent on a shitty assignment. “Did you ever doubt me?”

“Constantly.”

Shidou also found his natural talent for shit talk amusing and hilarious. “Then this must be a humbling moment for you. I got the number, you might wanna start showering me with gratitude. You’re welcome.”

Silence. “You’re serious?”

“You’re really underestimating my charm.”

Isagi exhaled, like he was physically restraining himself from saying something insulting. Shidou wanted to know what it’d be like the day he final got cursed off. “Okay, good. Now—next step.”

Shidou leaned back against the curb, stretching his arms. “Already giving me more work? You just keep getting greedier.”

“I need you to take Sae to Reo’s party.”

Shidou kept quiet for a second. “You’re pushing it, Isagi.”

“It’s not pushing it, I just—”

“No, no, let’s back up,” Shidou interrupted, trying to mock him as best as he could. “The deal was one date. That’s what you paid for. Now you want me to be his babysitter? What the fuck will you ask next? Matching Christmas sweaters?”

Isagi groaned, frustration bleeding through the speaker straight to Shidou’s ear. “I just need him there.”

Shidou hummed, this could turn into an interesting transaction if he brought the necessary cards. “And what do I get out of this?”

“You already got paid.”

“That’s cute,” Shidou sounded unusually sweet and sultry. “But this isn’t part of the original package, Isagi-kun. I don’t do freebies.”

He could barely hear anything on the other end of the line, perhaps just Isagi Yoichi’s weird frustration for his stupid plan.

“Fifty thousand yen,” he said, tightly this time. “If you get Sae to the party.”

Shidou wasn’t expecting that at all.

“Fifty thousand?” he repeated, tapping his fingers against his knee. “Damn. You must be desperate.”

“Are you in or not?” Isagi snapped.

Shidou exhaled through his nose, considering. A stupid amount of money, enough for him to not think of things for a while. He didn’t need the money. He’d have done it for half of that, maybe even less.

But this wasn’t about the cash. Not really.

This was an excuse. To keep picking, to keep testing, to see if Sae Itoshi could be pushed further.

Because something in Shidou’ gut was telling him that Sae wasn’t as untouchable as he pretended to be. And that—not the money, not the deal, not even the potential of getting under Isagi’s skin—was what made Shidou lean into the phone.

“Alright, Isagi-chan,” he murmured, entertained to the highest degree and showcasing some appreciation. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Slipping out of the house was too easy.

Sae had shut himself in his room after their fight, probably dissecting old game footage, drawing up another perfect five-year plan. He hadn’t even looked at Rin when he walked past him.

Rin shut the door behind him, stepping into the cool night air, his breath visible against the dark. His feet carried him forward without thinking, shoulders tense, hands jammed into his hoodie pockets.

He didn’t want to think.

Not about the argument. Not about Sae’s flat, unimpressed stare, as if he’d already decided Rin wasn’t worth arguing with. Not about the way Isagi’s voice had sounded on the phone earlier, so easily available and stupidly warm, like the fact that he wanted to spend time with Rin was the most obvious thing in the world.

So when Yukimiya’s sleek car pulled up beside him, headlights slicing through the shadows, Rin barely hesitated before slipping into the passenger seat.

The door clicked shut, sealing him inside.

Yukimiya turned to him, a lazy, knowing smile on his lips, eyes glinting in the muted blue of the dashboard lights.

“Rough night?” he murmured.

Rin scoffed, looking out the window. “Drive.”

After a few minutes, Rin became aware Yukimiya was good at disarming people.

That was the first thing Rin noticed. He drove without hurry, hands resting lightly on the wheel, movements slow and deliberate. The streetlights shone above them, everything looked a spooky share of gold, and for a while, neither of them spoke.

“You ever thought about college?” Yukimiya asked, very effortless, like he wasn’t really asking at all.

Rin frowned. “What?”

“College,” Yukimiya repeated, shifting gears seamlessly as they turned onto an open stretch of road. “Soccer after high school. You got plans?”

Rin scoffed, staring out at the passing skyline. “No.”

Yukimiya hummed, tapping his fingers against the leather steering wheel. “Sae probably has a plan for you, though.”

Rin’s jaw tightened. “Yeah. He does.”

Yukimiya chuckled softly, indulgent.

“And you just let him decide?”

Rin turned to glare at him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Yukimiya tilted his head slightly, not taking his eyes off the road. “It means you don’t seem like the type to take orders well.”

Rin clicked his tongue, crossing his arms. “I don’t.”

“Then why let him?”

Rin didn’t respond. Because he didn’t have an answer to that.

Yukimiya laughed, soft and pleased with himself.

“You should let yourself enjoy things more, Rin,” he murmured. “You always look like you’re carrying something too heavy for one person.”

Rin stiffened slightly. Because it wasn’t a lie. But hearing it said out loud made it feel heavier. So he didn’t respond.

Yukimiya didn’t push. He just kept driving, fingers tapping lightly against the wheel, a quiet rhythm that matched the steady hum of the engine.

It wasn’t like talking to Isagi.

Isagi’s presence was loud, even when he wasn’t saying anything. He was always there, pushing, challenging, breaking into every inch of Rin’s space without asking for permission.

Yukimiya was the opposite. He didn’t demand attention. He didn’t pressure Rin into anything. He just made it easy. And maybe that was why, when Yukimiya spoke again and asked him another stupid question, Rin actually answered him. He let the silence settle between them before he spoke again. This time, he sounded  more measured.

“Have you ever wanted something outside of football?”

The question felt too careful. Like he was pressing against something fragile, something Rin didn’t even want to acknowledge.

Because the truth was—he didn’t know.

There had been a time, maybe, when he had wanted to travel, when he had wanted to do something other than chase the next perfect pass, the next perfect goal. But that was before. Before football became the only thing that mattered. Before Sae turned his back on him. Before Rin convinced himself that if he wasn’t winning, he was nothing at all.

But there was one thing he wanted now. And it was so, so fucking stupid. Because it had nothing to do with football.

It had to do with a boy with bright dark blue eyes and a wicked astute mouth, a boy who pissed him off just by existing, a boy who had started creeping into every part of his life without permission.

Rin swallowed, shoving the thought down.

“Why are you being so nice?” he muttered instead.

Yukimiya’s lips curled at the edges, it was a smooth type of slow motion, like he had already expected the question.

“Maybe I just like you,” he mused, voice barely above a murmur.

Rin scoffed, turning back toward the window. “Bullshit.”

Yukimiya let out a breathy chuckle, the sound let Rin know something weird: he sounded pleased. “But what if I did?”

Something in the way he said it made the air feel thicker, made Rin’s fingers twitch where they rested against his knee.

Yukimiya Kenyu’s words felt like he was coaxing something out of him, like he wasn’t just making conversation but laying something down, waiting for Rin to pick it up. And Rin absolutely hated that. Hated that it was working.

He exhaled sharply, closing his eyes for a second. “Just drive.”

Yukimiya smiled, but didn’t push further.

The car kept moving, soft music playing under the hum of the road, and for a moment, Rin let himself sink into it.

But at some point, the car slowed.

Rin blinked. They weren’t at a convenience store. They were in some quiet alleyway, parked under the dim glow of a streetlamp.

Yukimiya shifted slightly, turning toward Rin, his movements were all very deliberate, pausing in between each love of his arm and head, like he was giving him time to realize what was happening.

“You looked like you needed a break,” he murmured, dipping his voice just slightly. “So here’s your chance.”

Rin stared at him. "A break from what?"

"Everything," he replied, whisper–like.

Rin stiffened immediately.

Because the way he said it, how his voice curled around the words ever so softly it was almost too gentle, made something in Rin’s stomach twist. His instincts were screaming. He wasn't stupid, he knew what this was.

It felt like being eased into something dangerous. He thought, maybe, stupidly handsome Yukimiya had built the whole night into this moment, piece by piece, carefully guiding Rin right where he wanted him.

Rin knew that very well, but that made him feel uneasy as fuck. Suddenly, he understood why: this wasn’t what he wanted.

Yukimiya wasn’t irritating or reckless or full of dumb ideas. Yukimiya didn’t lie to their club advisor just to sit with him for two extra hours. Yukimiya didn’t make him feel off balance, out of breath, completely fucking lost in his own body. Yukimiya wasn’t Isagi. And for the first time tonight, that fact actually pissed Rin off.

But Sae’s words echoed in his head. Go waste time you don’t have.

And that was why Rin was here. Not because he wanted this. Not because he cared. But because if Sae thought Rin was wasting time, then Rin would waste it spectacularly.

Yukimiya was still watching him, gazing softly at him, patient, letting Rin decide for himself what would happen next. So when he leaned in, waiting for his answer; Rin tilted his head slightly, closed the gap between them, and kissed him first.

It was thoughtfully prepared. It was not reckless, just somewhat wild. And it was nothing like kissing Isagi Yoichi.

Yukimiya responded immediately, pulling him in closer, touch confident, firm, soothing in a way that felt almost disturbing. His hands slid lightly over Rin’s sides, fingers brushing against fabric, lacking any pushing, never demanding—just enough to make Rin aware of the way he was being touched.

Rin let him. Because if he thought about Isagi now, he would lose his mind. So instead, he let Yukimiya, who was comically sweet and far too patient, pull him deeper. Let himself be swallowed by the heat of it and pretend.

Shidou wasn’t the type to care about school. But today, he had business.

So when the final bell rang, he didn’t bother stopping by his own classroom. He walked with purpose, hands in his pockets, ignoring the sea of students until he reached one specific door.

Sae Itoshi was exactly where he expected him to be—leaning against the windowsill, checking his phone, perfectly composed like the noise of the hallway didn’t exist.

Shidou took a moment to appreciate the view.

Then, with a grin, he strolled up and leaned against the wall beside him. “Yo, Sae-chan.”

Sae barely glanced at him. “You joining the soccer club?”

Shidou tsked, tilting his head. “Now, now. That’s not how this works.”

Sae exhaled through his nose, already unimpressed. “That was the deal.”

“That deal,” Shidou corrected, amused, “was made because you lost.”

Sae didn’t react. But his fingers stilled against his phone for just a second too long, and Shidou noticed.

So he pushed.

“I mean, technically, I could walk away,” he mused, stretching his arms. “Make you regret not taking me seriously.”

Sae sighed, finally pocketing his phone, looking at him directly for the first time. “What do you want?”

Shidou leaned forward slightly, voice low and amused. "You're not really in a position to be making requests, now, are you?" Shidou continued, grinning, "But, since you're so handsome, l'll make an exception."

Sae looked bored, but he wasn't walking away. Which meant Shidou was winning.

“I’ll join,” he said. “On one condition.”

Sae waited.

Shidou leaned in slightly, voice low, teasing him just right. “You go with me to Mikage’s party on Saturday.”

Sae’s expression didn’t change. But there was a pause. Barely there. A hesitation—gone in a fraction of second too long, but Shidou had seen it. The moment where his mask almost cracked.

“I don’t have time for that,” Sae said flatly.

“Didn’t ask if you had time.”

Sae gave him a pointed look. “I don’t go to parties.”

Shidou smirked. “Sounds like a shitty excuse to not admit you’re looking forward to our little rendezvous.”

"It's a fact."

"Mm," Shidou hummed. "No, a fact is that part of our deal was a date." He grinned, sharp, dangerous. "So unless you're a sore loser.."

Sae exhaled sharply, gaze shifting—not irritated, not dismissive, just… thinking.

Shidou watched him, pulse picking up slightly.

Sae was impossible to read. He was sharp, blunt, and wholly unbothered by almost everything—but right now, he was considering it. And that made something buzz pleasantly in Shidou’s chest.

Finally, Sae pulled his phone back out.

“I’ll text you my address,” he said.

Shidou’s grin widened.

“But,” Sae added, tone cool, warning clear, “you’d better prepare. Ego and Anri will want an interview before you join.”

Shidou hummed, it sounded like a fair deal. But he couldn’t miss the chance to confirm it, so he said as he was tilting his head: “You worried I won’t pass?”

Sae’s eyes flicked back to him. “I think you’ll be annoying,” he said simply.

Shidou barked out a laugh. “Only for you, babe.”

Sae rolled his eyes, turning to leave, but his posture was looser than before.

And Shidou, watching him go, couldn’t stop the slow, satisfied curl of his lips. Because he’d won.

Chapter Text

Shidou Ryuusei wasn’t built for interviews.

He was built for street fights, for breaking past defenders with nothing but bloodlust, for watching goalkeepers piss themselves when they realized they were just a second too slow. Sure, he’d talked his way into plenty of places—onto teams, into fights, into people’s beds—but a formal sit-down? In an office? In a stupidly expensive leather chair, across from a man whose entire personality was built around hating joy?

This was new.

“Shidou Ryuusei,” Jinpachi Ego said, voice flat, disinterested, like he was reading off the name of someone already destined to waste his time.

Shidou smirked, lounging in his chair like he owned the place. “In the flesh.”

Ego blinked once, then turned to Anri Teieri, who sat beside him with a polite but strained smile, hands folded neatly over a stack of papers that Shidou was pretty sure were just lists of all the reasons they shouldn’t let him in.

Anri cleared her throat. “Thank you for coming in today, Ryuusei.”

Shidou grinned. “Pleasure’s all mine, sweetheart.”

Sae—who was sitting next to him, arms crossed, face unbothered— made a noise that sounded dangerously close to a sigh.

Anri cleared her throat, shifting through some papers.

“Shidou-kun,” she started, eyes flicking up to meet his. “You’ve made quite a name for yourself in the street soccer circuit. I assume you know why we never reached out?”

Shidou smirked. “Because I don’t play nice?”

“Because you don’t play with a team,” she corrected, her tone professional but cool.

Shidou chuckled. “Same thing.”

Ego’s expression didn’t change.

“This is stupid,” Ego said, tone bored. “You are here because Itoshi Sae has lost his mind.”

Sae—who had been silent the entire time—turned to look at him, eyes full of disdain.

Shidou snorted. “Gotta say, glasses, you really know how to make a guy feel welcome.”

Anri made a small noise in the back of her throat, like she wanted to die.

“I already know who you are. I’ve known about you for years. A goal-scoring monster, an offensive powerhouse who knocks down his rivals like flies.” Ego continued, unfazed “But there’s a reason I never scouted you.”

Shidou leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes gleaming. “Do tell.”

Ego clasped his hands together. “You don’t fit in, You don’t match any of my players’ styles. You are a selfish, undisciplined problem child with no ability to function in a team setting.”

Silence. Anri visibly winced.

Sae exhaled sharply, like this was already going exactly as he expected.

Shidou grinned. “Damn. Say it like you mean it.”

Ego’s eye twitched.

“Ryuusei,” Anri cut in quickly, clearly trying to do some kind of damage control before Ego threw him out the window. “While it’s true that you have an incredible talent, there’s concern about whether your playstyle would disrupt the team’s structure. Given that we’re already one of the best high school programs in the country, adding an unpredictable element like—”

“Like me?” Shidou interrupted, smirking. “C’mon, sweetheart. You can just say it. You think I’m a liability.”

Anri smiled tightly. Ego’s voice was dry. “She’s being polite.”

“Man, this is so adorable,” Shidou said, grinning wider.

Sae finally rubbed his temples, clearly realizing this was going to be a long conversation.

Ego exhaled, leaning back slightly. “I don’t run a charity. I don’t take in stray dogs.”

Shidou’s grin sharpened. “Then why the fuck am I here?”

Ego tilted his head slightly, gaze sharp. “That’s what I’d like to know too.”

Sae finally spoke. “Because you’re wrong.”

Ego turned to him, slow and deliberate. “Oh?”

Sae met his gaze head-on, calm, absolute.

“You might be the coach,” he said, “but I know this team better than anyone.”

Ego didn’t react. “Do you?”

Sae didn’t flinch. “Yes.”

Silence stretched between them, tense, weighted, like a chess match where neither side wanted to move first. Then, smooth, assured, unwavering— “Shidou already found someone who can match him.”

Ego exhaled through his nose. “And who would that be?”

Sae’s lips curled. “You’ll see soon enough.”

Ego’s fingers tapped against the desk once. Shidou watched the exchange like it was the best soap opera he’d ever seen.

Anri shifted uncomfortably. “Sae—”

Ego lifted a hand, stopping her. His gaze was sharp, locked onto Sae like he was calculating something. Then, after a long silence—he sighed.

“Fine.”

Sae’s expression didn’t change.

Ego leaned forward, steepling his fingers. “One week.”

Shidou tilted his head. “One week for what?”

Ego’s gaze narrowed. “If you can’t prove your worth in that time, you’re out.”

Sae scoffed. “We’ll show you results in less than that.”

Shidou laughed, slapping his knee. “Oh, I like you.”

Ego sighed like he had already regretted everything. “If this blows up in my face, you’re never seeing the end of it, Itoshi.”

Sae didn’t react, but Shidou could see it—the tiniest flicker of smug amusement in his expression.

“Don’t you fucking dare to waste my time.”Ego leaned back. “Get out.”

Shidou stood, stretching. “This was fun. We should do it again sometime.”

Ego stared at him. “I am going to make your life a living hell, do be prepared.”

Shidou grinned. “Can’t wait.”

Anri visibly choked. Sae, for the first time in his life, looked like he actually regretted something.

Shidou laughed all the way out the door.

That evening, the entire team stood in the locker room, murmuring among themselves, confused and half-annoyed.

Isagi furrowed his brows. “What the hell is this about?”

“I swear, if it’s another fucking lecture about self-discipline—” Chigiri muttered.

Bachira grinned. “Maybe we’re getting a new sponsor?”

Gagamaru blinked. “Didn’t Reo’s family already do that?”

Reo sighed, thinking it may have to do with whatever he and Nagi chose to do on their spare time. He wasn’t ready for another humiliation ritual.

Then—Ego entered. The room fell silent.

His gaze swept over them, sharp, measuring, like he was assessing the worth of every single one of them. Then—flat, straightforward, with no room for discussion—he said:

“Shidou Ryuusei will be joining our practices.”

Silence.

“What.”

Isagi’s stomach dropped.  The locker room erupted.

“Are you fucking serious?” “That guy?!” “No way.”

A mix of shock, disbelief, and outright disgust filled the room. Only one person didn’t react.

Sae. He just stood there, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable.

And across the room, Shidou met his gaze, a wild grin stretching across his face. Sae tilted his head. Now, it was time to see him spread his wings.

The cafeteria was buzzing.

Lunch break always brought out the worst in the school—too many voices, too much movement, too much background noise that made it impossible to think. Rin didn’t mind the chaos. He knew how to ignore it. What he hated was when people brought it to him. Unfortunately, that was exactly what was happening now.

Bachira slid into the seat across from him first, grinning like he belonged there. Which, apparently, he did now.

“You hear about Shidou?”

Rin barely glanced up from his food. “No.”

Bachira beamed. “He’s joining practices starting tomorrow.”

Nagi landed in the seat beside him with all the enthusiasm of a corpse, while Reo took his usual, too-poised place next to him.

“Ego’s really losing it,” Reo said flatly.

“Or desperate,” Nagi mumbled, already half-asleep.

Bachira leaned forward, wiggling his eyebrows. “I think he’s kinda hot.”

Rin stared at him. “Do you ever shut the fuck up?”

Bachira kicked his feet out under the table, delighted.

“I think it’s funny,” Isagi cut in suddenly, sliding into the seat next to Rin without a second thought. “Ego must be losing his mind if he’s letting someone like Shidou in.”

Rin barely twitched. “It’s not funny. It’s Sae being an entitled asshole and using our team like a fucking experiment.”

Isagi blinked. Something in his gaze flickered. What was it? maybe surprise, amusement, interest. Rin had been more aggressive than usual with that comment, and Isagi caught it.

Bachira grinned like he was waiting for a fight.“You really are brothers.”

Rin scowled. Nagi snorted into his rice.

“Anyway,” Reo said, waving a hand, “Shidou’s Ego’s problem now.” He leaned back in his seat, stretching. “At least he’ll make practice more interesting.”

Rin exhaled through his nose but didn’t disagree. He could already picture it—Shidou tearing through drills like a feral animal, testing everyone’s limits for fun. Not his problem. He was about to go back to eating when a familiar voice cut through the noise.

“Yo, Mikage.”

Yukimiya.

Rin stiffened. He didn’t have to turn around to know it was him. Could already feel him there, could already picture him exactly. The way he walked through rooms like he knew everyone would be looking. Rin knew how he moved. Knew how he touched. And yet, he didn’t turn around. He just kept his eyes on his tray, waiting.

Yukimiya stopped at their table, Otoya and Karasu standing beside him.

“Everyone’s coming to the party, right?” Yukimiya asked, glancing at the group.

Isagi nodded without hesitation. Bachira hummed in agreement.

“Yeah,” Reo added, smirking a little. “I mean it’s in my house so it’s not like I can miss it.”

Nagi grunted. Rin said nothing.

It wasn’t until Yukimiya’s gaze landed on him. In a mix of steadiness, warmth and expectation, that Rin realized he was waiting for an answer.

He clenched his jaw, not looking up. “I’m not going.”

There was a small pause in Yukimiya’s expression, almost imperceptible. His voice stayed smooth, but something shifted. “Pity,” he murmured. “Sounds like it’ll be fun.”

Isagi leaned forward slightly, tilting his head.

“Maybe,” he said, voice too casual, too easy, “you can expect a surprise.”

Rin’s stomach twisted. There was something in the way he said it—playful, but pointed. Like he was setting something in motion.

“Well, I hope I see you guys there! Have fun!”Yukimiya’s expression stayed composed, but his gaze flicked between the two of them.

Then, before leaving, his hand brushed lightly against Rin’s back. Just a small, fleeting touch. Barely noticeable. But Rin could still feel it. The moment they were gone, Rin let out a slow breath.

Isagi was watching him. Still leaning forward, still amused.

“Surprise, huh?” Rin muttered.

Isagi smiled while taking a bite of his food, like a little kid hiding a stupid secret. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll come to the party after all.”

Rin shot him a flat look. Isagi didn’t flinch. He just kept watching. And the worst part? Rin let him.

Isagi started talking about nothing. About how the cafeteria’s curry was a biohazard. About how Bachira kept trying to smuggle snacks into the locker room. About the team’s latest group chat disaster. Rin didn’t tell him to shut up. He should have. He wanted to. But the longer Isagi talked, the more Rin just… listened. He liked listening. And Isagi—that bold, confident, relentless idiot—knew it. He leaned in, resting his elbow on the table, voice looser, more assured.

It wasn’t forced. It wasn’t awkward. It was like he belonged here, next to Rin, talking like this had always been normal. Like he knew Rin would let him stay. And Rin hated how true that was.

Isagi smiled to himself. If only he fucking knew.

4 days until the practice match

The first time they trained together, Shidou thought Sae fucking hated him.

Which was fine. Shidou hated plenty of people. But hatred had heat, energy, something personal.

Sae’s indifference was worse. He didn’t tell Shidou to fuck off, didn’t sneer at him, didn’t even try to assert dominance like most arrogant football prodigies did. Instead, he just played. Not with him. Around him. Like Shidou wasn’t even there. That was the part that made his blood boil.

It wasn’t just that their play styles clashed, just that Sae wasn’t even giving him a chance to sync up.

And if there was one thing Shidou hated more than being ignored, it was being underestimated. So, the next session, he watched.

Not because he wanted to learn—fuck that, entirely. He wanted to prove a point.

3 days until the practice match

Sae played like he saw the future.

Every move, every pass, every shift in momentum was placed like a chess piece, five steps ahead of reality. He didn’t need to look at his teammates. He just knew. It was methodical. Too clean. Too rigid.

Shidou played like he was the future. There was no plan, no overthinking—just his pure and usually correct instinct. He felt the field before he saw it. He reacted before he even realized why.

It was ridiculous. Chaotic. But undeniably dangerous.

And Sae, for all his precision, hadn’t played with someone like him before. Which meant he was going to learn.

2 days until the practice match

By the third session, the silence between them had changed.

Not entirely gone. Sae was still an asshole, who barely spoke to him unless it was necessary, but there was something else now.

A presence. The way Sae’s eyes flicked toward him more often, the way his passes started leading into Shidou’s movements instead of forcing him to adjust. It was subtle.

And the first time they truly linked up, with Sae sending a perfectly weighted pass, Shidou sinking into it like it had been designed for him—it felt natural. Like they had been playing together for years.

At the end of the session, when Shidou scored off a near-impossible angle, he turned back to find Sae watching him.

Expression unreadable. A slow exhale, just barely there. Not quite a sigh. Not quite a laugh. Something in between.

1 day until the practice match

The practice field was empty, the night pressing in soft and slow around them. The floodlights cast long, stretched-out shadows over the grass, turning the world into something almost weightless, like the space between them was just waiting to be closed.

Sae stood near the benches, towel slung around his neck, his posture loose but still composed. Shidou, of course, had made himself comfortable—sprawled against the goalpost like he had all the time in the world.

“Oi, Itoshi-hime,” Shidou called out, voice lazy, grin easy. “What do you even see in me?”

Sae didn’t react. Didn’t twitch. Didn’t look. Didn’t even give him the courtesy of a sigh.

Which only made Shidou grin wider.

He let the silence drag, stretching out between them, waiting—because Sae might have patience, but Shidou had persistence.

Then—without looking up, voice flat—

“I don’t.”

Shidou barked out a laugh. “That right? So you just went out of your way to vouch for me out of the goodness of your heart? Didn’t know you were such a saint.”

Sae exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

Shidou stepped away from the goalpost, rolling his shoulders, eyes flicking toward him, watching.

Sae hadn’t left yet. Which meant he wanted to hear the rest.

“C’mon,” Shidou said, tilting his head, tone turning light, teasing. “You’re not the type to take on charity cases, so what is it?”

No response.

Shidou hummed, stepping closer. “Could it be…” His grin sharpened. “…you like me?”

Sae finally looked at him then, expression unreadable but gaze steady.

“I’ve never seen anyone play the way you do,” he said, voice even, matter-of-fact.

Shidou’s grin twitched.

There was no hesitation in Sae’s voice, no irritation, no amusement. Just pure observation, like stating a fact about the weather.

Coming from anyone else, Shidou would’ve shrugged it off. But this was Sae.

It was the closest thing to flattery Shidou was ever going to get. And he was going to savor it.

“Never seen anyone like me, huh?” Shidou mused, stuffing his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “Guess that makes me pretty special.”

Sae didn’t answer. Didn’t deny it. Which, really, was as good as an agreement.

“Doesn’t explain why you went to bat for me, though,” Shidou continued. “Thought you weren’t the sentimental type.”

Sae was quiet for a beat. Then—finally—“I have a gut feeling.”

Shidou arched a brow. “That right?”

Sae shrugged, glancing toward the empty field. “I think you can become unstoppable.”

Something sharp and warm coiled in Shidou’s stomach.

Not because he didn’t already believe that about himself.

But because Sae did. And maybe that shouldn’t have mattered. But it did.

The silence stretched between them, heavy with something neither of them were willing to put into words.

Shidou let it sit, let it settle in his chest, let it turn into something a little more dangerous before saying,

“You know, Sae…” Sae’s brow twitched, just barely. Shidou smiled, slow and lazy. “…I’m glad we’re doing this together.”

A flicker—a shift in the air so small it was almost imperceptible. Sae didn’t move. But he heard it.

And for a second, Shidou could’ve sworn he saw something hesitate in Sae’s gaze.

Something lingering. So, naturally, he pushed.

“Means the date’s still on, huh?” he said, voice all smooth confidence.

Sae exhaled. “We’re not going on a date.”

Shidou placed a hand over his heart. “You keep saying that, but you haven’t exactly shut me down.”

Sae turned away. “Go home, Shidou.”

Something was brewing. And this time—Sae knew it, too.

Rin had spent his whole life learning how to shut things out.

Football made it easy. It was ruthless, consuming, everything he needed it to be-a reason, a purpose, a way to not think about anything else.

Then came Isagi. Isagi, with his sharp, cutting words. His infuriating smirk. His ability to make Rin feel like he was burning alive just by standing too close. Isagi, who slipped past every single mental wall Rin had built, without even trying. Isagi, who laughed too easily, talked too much, grinned too wide. Isagi, who made Rin’s entire world shift without even noticing.

And Rin, who was good at shutting things out, who had never let himself get caught up in anything, had no idea how to deal with it.

Which was why, like clockwork, he was in Yukimiya’s car again.

Letting someone else touch him. Letting someone else pull him in, press him down, kiss him like he was something to be wanted instead of just admired from afar.

The air was damp and fuzzy, the soft buzz of distant traffic barely reaching them. Yukimiya kissed him with purpose-steady, certain, fingers already teasing, coaxing Rin further in. It started slow, almost playful, but it didn't stay that way.

Yukimiya’s grip tightened, hands sliding lower, pulling Rin closer. Rin let it happen. It was easier than thinking. Easier than acknowledging what his body was telling him—that something wasn’t right, that something was missing.

“Good boy,” Yukimiya murmured, his voice smooth, teasing, his lips brushing against Rin’s ear. “Doesn’t it feel much better when you’re not holding back?”

Rin exhaled sharply, barely stopping himself from flinching.

Not because it felt bad.

But because—what if it was Isagi whispering in his ear like this? What if it was Isagi’s voice, rougher, more impatient, more urgent? What if it was Isagi’s hands on him, not Yukimiya Kenyu’s—gripping his waist, dragging him forward, pinning him down?

Rin’s breath caught, his fingers twitching against the fabric of Yukimiya’s jacket. Suddenly, he wanted to know. What it would be like if Isagi was the one touching him. What it would be like if Isagi was the one pressing him against the seat, breath hot against his neck, muttering something filthy between kisses. Would Isagi be careful? Or would he be rough, demanding, impatient—grinning at Rin’s reactions, pushing him until he broke? Would he moan against his skin, say his name like he couldn’t help it, laugh against his mouth when Rin got too flustered to respond?

Yukimiya’s tongue slid against his, and Rin forced himself to focus, to reciprocate, to stop comparing every second of this to someone who wasn’t even here.

Yukimiya’s hands— always so respectful, so measured, started to wander with intent. The grip on his hip tightened, the slow drag of his fingers against his jaw turned firmer, the warmth of his breath against Rin’s skin lowered to his throat.

“Can I?” Yukimiya murmured, voice soft, inviting.

Rin hesitated. Just for a second. But that second was enough for Yukimiya to pause, to press his forehead lightly against Rin’s and wait.

“Yeah,” Rin muttered. Because this was fine. This was normal. He could do this.

He could want this. If he just focused. If he just— Imagined it was Isagi.

Rin swallowed, heart thundering, body suddenly hyperaware of every single thing. Of the way his hands were creeping lower, fingers skimming the waistband of his sweats, waiting for permission.

“You’re burning up,” Yukimiya murmured against his throat, dragging his tongue along the sensitive skin there. “Does it turn you on to be touched like this?”

Rin shuddered, his breath catching. He didn’t answer. Because he couldn’t. Because the truth (the awful, unbearable truth) was that it wasn’t Yukimiya’s touch that made his body react. It was the thought of Isagi. It was the fantasy of Isagi being here with him instead. And that realization hit him like a gut punch.

Yukimiya hummed in approval, dragging his fingers lower. Rin swallowed, gripping tightly at his sleeves, suddenly feeling like he couldn’t breathe.

For a while, Rin let himself sink into it. Into the warmth, the heat, the slow build of something that should have felt good—but didn’t feel right. Because every time Yukimiya touched him, every time he whispered something low into his ear, Rin’s thoughts drifted. To someone else.

If it was Isagi, would it feel different?

Yukimiya’s hands dipped even lower, fingertips teasing along his inner thigh, and Rin felt something heavy settle in his stomach. Fingers skimming over sensitive skin, teasing, waiting. Just a slight nudge so he could start properly fondling him.

Then—

“Is this okay?” he asked, always polite, always careful, always waiting for Rin to say yes.

Rin froze.

Because this wasn’t real. It wasn’t Isagi. And no amount of pretending, no amount of closing his eyes and imagining someone else could make it right.

So visibly, abruptly, Rin pulled away.

Yukimiya stopped immediately. Pulling away all together. And for a second, there was silence.

“…Rin?” His voice was calm, steady, knowing “Do you want this?”

Rin swallowed, forcing himself to nod. “Yeah.”

Yukimiya studied him for a moment. Then, without hesitation, without an ounce of doubt—“Do you want to take the next step?”

Rin’s blood went cold. Yukimiya’s expression was soft, unreadable, completely unbothered by whatever answer Rin was about to give.

“No pressure,” Yukimiya continued. “Nothing you say will change my mind. We can keep it like this if that’s what you want.”

Rin’s face felt unreasonably hot. Because—fuck. It wasn’t like he’d never thought about sex before, but thinking about it and being faced with it were two entirely different things.

Yukimiya pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek, his voice turning smoother, more coaxing.

“We could get a room.” His lips brushed against Rin’s ear, his breath warm, teasing.

Rin’s stomach twisted again. It was obvious the growing thing on his stomach wasn’t arousal, it was discomfort.

“A love hotel, maybe?” Yukimiya continued, his tone shifting into something deliberately erotic. “I could show you a really good time.”

Rin visibly cringed. Yukimiya stopped immediately. Then— To Rin’s absolute mortification, he laughed. A quiet chuckle, shaking his head.

“Rin.” Yukimiya pulled back, still amused, resting his arm against the headrest. “You’re so obvious.”

Rin’s face burned. “Shut up.”

“You do not want this.”

“That’s not—”

“You were literally wincing.”

Rin crossed his arms, looking away. “I just—need to think about it.”

Yukimiya smiled, not unkindly. “You don’t have to force yourself, you know.”

Rin clenched his jaw, staring at the dashboard like it personally offended him. “It’s not like I don’t want to.”

Yukimiya hummed, unconvinced but not pressing.

Rin exhaled sharply. “I just… need time.”

Yukimiya leaned back, his posture still easy, relaxed, unbothered. “That’s fine,” he said simply. “You shouldn’t worry about it.”

Rin stiffened. “I’m not worried.”

“I mean it,” Yukimiya said, voice light, casual. running a hand through his hair. “We can take it slow. Besides, this is just fun, right? Nothing serious.”

Rin stared. Something in his chest twisted, uncomfortable. Because that was supposed to be a good thing. That was what he wanted.

Wasn’t it?

Yukimiya smiled again, soft and knowing, like he had already figured something out that Rin hadn’t. He reached out, brushing a strand of Rin’s hair behind his ear, his touch gentle, fleeting.

“Don’t think too hard about it,” he murmured.

Rin exhaled slowly, trying to ignore the way his stomach still felt weird.

“…Yeah,” he muttered. “I won’t.”

Except— He already was.

The match was set. Ego announced the rules beforehand. Six versus six. Thirty minutes. If Shidou failed to show results, he was out.

Ego and Anri sat on the bench, watching.

On one side of the field: Sae. Shidou. Chigiri. Gagamaru. Aryu. Otoya.

Against: Rin. Isagi. Reo. Bachira. Kunigami. Karasu.

It was a stacked game. But Shidou wasn’t interested in the teams. He was here to prove that he and Sae weren’t just good. They were unstoppable.

(Kickoff)

The whistle blew.

Sae took control immediately, seizing possession and cutting through space like he was building something only he could see. Shidou was used to people hesitating before passing to him, taking a fraction of a second too long to decide if they trusted him or not.

Sae didn’t hesitate.

The ball left his foot like he already knew where Shidou would be. And the second it reached him, Shidou moved.

His instincts kicked in, legs driving forward, the goal already framed in his mind. His body thrummed with anticipation, the ball an extension of himself.

But just as he prepared to strike, Isagi cut into his line of vision. Annoying, like he’d been planning that outcome in his head. Because he thought about it first and was waiting for him to act first.

Shidou barely had time to pivot, the space around him collapsing—Rin pressing close, Reo reading the pass, Bachira watching for an opening.

Fuck.

He tried again, pushing through, but the ball was stripped away at the last second, sent back into enemy territory. And the next time he got it—same thing. His style was too readable now. They had figured him out.

Ten minutes passed, and the frustration curdled in his veins.

Then his opening. It was fast, precise. Chigiri setting him up, the ball perfectly placed for a clean strike.

He hit it. And missed. The ball clipped the post, bouncing wide.

A sharp inhale. A pause. Then—Sae’s voice, low, steady, cutting through the noise.

“I didn’t vouch for a fucking loser.”

Shidou gritted his teeth. Turned, about to snap something back. But Sae wasn’t even looking at him. He was looking at the field. At their opponents. At the match still happening.

Like he already knew Shidou was better than this. Like he was daring him to prove it. And Shidou—heart pounding, rage simmering—hated that it worked.

Hated that something about those words lit a fire inside him.

With four minutes left, he exhaled. And Sae—standing just close enough to feel the shift in his energy—smirked. “Go berserk for me.”

And Shidou did.

(2 minutes left)

Everything fell away. All that was left was Sae, the ball, and the goal.

They moved together now, the game no longer a battle between them. Something more dangerous. Shidou didn’t need to call for the ball. Sae already knew where he wanted it.

A touch forward. A flick to the side. A sudden burst of speed, Chigiri pulling defenders wide, creating just enough of a gap for Shidou to slip through.

And Sae was there. Of course he was there. Waiting. Watching. Setting him up for the final blow.

Last second, last touch— Shidou scored.

The whistle blew. They won. And Shidou felt in his chest, the explosion he’d been waiting on all week to finally happen. Though, it all felt unknown. The pounding in his chest didn’t feel like something he knew like overwhelming joy. Rather, it was something new. Something terrifying.

(Game over)

Adrenaline still pumped through him. His body was still burning, still thrumming with electricity.

Sae stood there, composed as ever, but something about him looked different.

Maybe it was the way his shoulders had relaxed slightly. Maybe it was the way he met Shidou’s gaze without the usual air of irritation. Maybe it was because, for the first time, Shidou felt like he had played real football.

And before he could think twice—before he could stop himself— He lunged forward, grabbing Sae by the waist, pulling him close.

The reaction was immediate. The entire field froze. Because Sae didn’t let people touch him. Sae barely let people breathe in his space.

And yet— He didn’t shove him away. Didn’t curse him out. Didn’t tell him to fuck off. Just let out a slow breath.

And in the calmest, most infuriating voice ever—“I expect a better result next time.”

Shidou grinned.

Because of fucking course.

(The Decision)

On the bench, Anri looked like she had just seen a ghost. Ego sighed, rubbing his temple.

“Tch,” he muttered, adjusting his glasses. “I suppose we’re stuck with him now.”

“Shidou Ryuusei, if you ever take that long to score in an official match. You’re out.” Then, without looking at Anri—without hesitation, without room for argument—“Stop looking at me with that stupid face. I’m not giving you a warm welcome speech. Anri-chan, get his measurements for a jersey.”

Shidou smirked. He was in.

The energy in the locker room was electric.

The aftermath of the match buzzed between them, everyone still caught between shock and disbelief.

Not because Shidou had scored the winning goal, that was inevitable. Not because Sae had dominated the field, that was expected. Rather because, somehow, they had done it together. And Sae had let him.

Bachira leaned against his locker, eyes practically sparkling. “Okay, but what the hell was that?”

Chigiri shook his head, still in disbelief. “They played like they’ve been doing this for years.”

“Terrifying,” Karasu muttered. “I don’t like it.”

Otoya snorted. “What’s worse is that Shidou looks like he’s in love.”

Isagi, who was still trying to process everything himself, took one look at Shidou grinning like a lunatic across the room and didn’t disagree.

But the one truly losing it was Rin.

He was pacing near his locker, arms crossed, an ever-deepening scowl etched into his face.“They’re disgusting,” he muttered.

Isagi glanced over. “What?”

Rin shot him a glare. “Those two idiots. They’re fucking disgusting, it makes me wanna puke.”

Isagi shrugged. “I mean… they were kind of insane together.”

“They were gross.” Rin looked physically pained, like just thinking about it made him want to throw up. “I need air. Come with me.”

Isagi blinked. “Huh?”

But Rin was already walking toward the door, not even waiting for an answer. Isagi sighed, rolling his shoulders before following after him.

The bathroom was empty when they walked in.

Rin stopped near the sinks, gripping the edge of the counter like he was debating something. Isagi waited, half-expecting him to start ranting about Sae, or Shidou, or whatever had gotten under his skin.

Instead, Rin turned. And kissed him.

Isagi’s brain short-circuited. It wasn’t like before. Not like the first time, when Rin had kissed him with fire, with teeth, with frustration burning under his skin. This was soft. Gentle. Nice in a way that felt intentional. Like Rin wasn’t trying to prove anything and was just… doing it. Because he wanted to.

And fuck if that didn’t make Isagi’s chest feel like it was about to explode.

The kiss was short, with barely enough time for Isagi to react. When Rin pulled back, his face was still the same as ever, just slightly worked up, but his ears were a little pink.

“I’m not going to Reo’s party,” he muttered, looking off to the side. “Figured this was my chance.”

Isagi blinked. His brain was still playing catch-up. Still stuck on Rin kissed me. And not just kissed me. Kissed me like that.

Then Rin let out a small huff, eyes flicking back to his. “You’re annoying.”

And somehow, that was what snapped Isagi back into reality. The sheer Rin-ness of it. Still, he couldn’t stop smiling. Because of fucking course Rin would say something like that after kissing him.

Isagi leaned in slightly, grinning. “You’ll see me at the party.”

Rin narrowed his eyes. “I just told you—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Isagi said easily, “but I’ll still see you there.”

Rin looked exasperated, his brows made him look disgustes and offended. “Are you fucking deaf or something? I just told you—”

“Yeah,” Isagi said, still smiling. “But you like me.”

Rin didn’t answer. Didn’t deny it. Just turned away, pushing open the door. And as Isagi watched him go, his heartbeat still racing, his lips still tingling. He realized he’d never been more certain of anything in his life.

Rin would be at the party. He just needed a little faith.

Reo Mikage had always considered himself a capable person.

He was organized, he was resourceful, he was good at handling people. All essential qualities when balancing school, football, and parents who monitored his life like a corporate investment. But none of that—not one ounce of his well-developed skillset—prepared him for getting ambushed by Itoshi Rin.

The moment Rin had approached him after class, Reo had known something was off. That, alone, was weird, strange even.

Rin didn’t seek people out. He didn’t pull them aside, didn’t wait around awkwardly outside classrooms like some lost freshman. If he wanted something, he got it himself—or ignored it entirely.

So, when Reo exited his Japanese studies class and found Rin standing there, looking like he was about to punch through a wall, he had every right to be skeptical.

Reo slowed to a stop, frowning. “Uh.”

Rin exhaled sharply. “Come with me.”

Reo blinked. “No?”

Rin’s eyes narrowed. “Mikage.”

Reo narrowed his eyes right back. “Itoshi.”

A silent standoff. Then Rin, ever the physically aggressive dumbass, grabbed his sleeve and started dragging him down the hall.

“Jesus,” Reo muttered, barely keeping up. “What’s your problem?”

Rin didn’t answer. Which was never a good sign. And then— The supply closet.

Reo stopped short, genuinely offended. “Okay, no.”

Rin yanked the door open. “Get in.”

“Absolutely not.”

Rin shot him a lethal glare.

Reo crossed his arms. “Do you have any idea how bad this looks?”

Rin exhaled, beyond irritated. “Mikage—”

“I have an image to maintain.”

“I will end you.”

Reo sighed aggressively, stepping inside. “If anyone sees us, I’m telling them you kidnapped me.”

Rin shut the door behind them, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket, looking as if he wanted to be anywhere else but here.

Reo glanced around the dimly lit space. “This better not be about football.”

Rin exhaled. “If you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill you.”

Reo blinked. “So it’s about murder?”

Rin scowled.

Reo sighed, crossing his arms. “Alright. Out with it. What the hell is this about.”

Rin hesitated. But then out of fucking nowhere—“I kissed Isagi.”

Reo's brain stalled.

He stared, waiting for Rin to clarify, to say something-anything-that would make that sentence make sense.

“…What.”

Rin clenched his jaw. “At the festival. And yesterday. After the match”

Reo stared. And Rin—it was subtle, but Reo saw it—looked like he was bracing for impact.

Reo narrowed his eyes. “Okay. And?”

Rin shifted, looking deeply uncomfortable. “And I liked it.”

Reo felt something click into place.

Not completely-but enough. He blinked very slowly. “Alright… why should I be the one hearing about this?”

Rin let out a frustrated noise, dragging a hand through his hair. "I couldn't stop thinking about it, alright? It was—it was just a stupid kiss, but it wouldn't go away, and-"

Reo squinted. “Again, not really seeing the problem—”

“So I started hooking up with Yukimiya.”

Reo actually recoiled. Taking a second to process the information Rin was providing him.“You’re joking.”

Rin did not look like he was joking. “You heard me.”

“Dude… You what?!” Reo’s stomach turned. “Yukimiya?! As in Kenyu Yukimiya?! Why did you even-“

“I thought it would help,” Rin muttered. “Like, if I could just—redirect it.”

Reo stared. “What the fuck? Did it work?”

Rin clenched his jaw. “No.”

"That's-that's because it’s literally the dumbest thing l've ever heard! The plan was obviously too fucking stupid." Reo hissed. "You're making out with Yukimiya because you kissed Isagi and you liked it too much?"

"It's not like that." Rin shot him a glare, but it lacked heat.

Reo sighed, frustrated. “Okay, fine. Then what is it like?"

"It's not bad with him." Rin clenched his jaw, frustration rolling off him in waves.

"But it's not Isagi."

The words came out low, like they weren't meant to be spoken. Reo froze. Because that was the real problem, wasn't it? Rin wasn't actually looking for something else. He was looking for something that wouldn't be Isagi Yoichi.

And failing.

Reo exhaled, shaking his head. "Okay, fine. You've clearly got a crisis going on. What do you want from me?"

Rin hesitated. Then— “Yukimiya asked me to sleep with him.”

Reo actually choked on air.

Rin didn't acknowledge how absolutely deranged that was to drop on someone in a supply closet, just crossed his arms and scowled at the floor. "And I don't know what the fuck to do about it."

“What?!”

Rin winced. “Not so loud, idiot.”

Reo, hands on his head, trying to process, wheeled around. He was physically sufferin. "Rin, I seriously don’t know what the fuck do you want me to say to that."

Rin glared at him. "What?"

"What the hell do you mean, what?!" Reo gestured wildly. "You are-you-oh my god."

Reo was physically suffering. “Are you kidding? Why would he ask you that?”

“It’s not that big of a deal… but I don’t know yet,” Rin muttered, shoulders tense. His frown showing his deep irritation. As if somehow, Reo was the one who—“That’s the problem.”

"You seriously think sleeping with Yukimiya is going to make you stop thinking about Isagi?"

Rin's silence was all the confirmation he needed.

Reo took a step back, fully regretting ever stepping into this closet. “You—you can’t be serious. You don’t even like him like that.”

Rin stiffened. “I don’t dislike it.”

Reo stared at him.

Rin sighed. “He’s… I mean, he’s good at it.”

Reo’s skin crawled. “Oh my god.”

“I mean, he knows what he’s doing,” Rin muttered, gaze flicking away like he was vaguely embarrassed. “He’s smooth. Handsy. Knows where to touch. And it’s not like I hate it, but…”

Reo braced himself. “But?”

Rin sighed, running a hand through his hair. “…Every time we do it, I just think about Isagi.”

Reo actually put his face in his hands. Because he really wished he didn’t just heard that.

Rin muttered, frustrated, “Like, the entire time. I close my eyes, and it’s him. I try not to think about it, but it’s like—it won’t stop happening.”

Reo, visibly in pain, exhaled sharply. “Dude. You’re so down bad.”

Rin scowled. “Shut up.”

Reo sighed. “Then let me help. Here’s a thought—don’t sleep with someone just to make yourself forget about another guy.”

Rin exhaled, rubbing his temples. “I don’t know what else to do.”

Reo shook his head. “Then do nothing. Sit with it. Figure it out.”

Rin looked deeply uncomfortable. Reo sighed, leaning back against the wall. “First times are supposed to mean something, you know?”

Reo cleared his throat, pushing forward. “Like, they should be special. You’re not supposed to do it out of spite, or because you think it’ll make you feel something different.” He shifted awkwardly. “You’re supposed to… I don’t know, actually want it.”

Rin stared. Then—suspiciously— “…So you haven’t done it.”

Reo immediately turned red. “What—That’s not the point.”

Rin tilted his head. “I figured you and Nagi—”

Reo wheeled around, horrified. “WE HAVEN’T, OKAY?”

Rin actually looked stunned.

Reo crossed his arms, muttering. “We’re planning to. We just… want to wait until it’s the right time.”

Rin frowned. “That’s a thing?”

“Yes, you unromantic freak.”

Rin scowled. “Shut up.”

Reo sighed. “Look, I’m not saying you have to be in love or whatever, but you should at least be sure.”

Rin was quiet. Reo waited. Then—finally—Rin exhaled. “…Fine.”

“Rin, please never fucking ever approach me like that. Ever. Again. If you need help, just text me. Okay? I swear I-“ Reo rolled his eyes. “Good talk.”

Rin muttered something under his breath, pushing open the supply closet door like he was already regretting this conversation. Reo let him leave first, watching as he disappeared down the hallway.

Then, once he was sure Rin was gone, Reo slumped against the wall, groaning. This was not his problem. And yet, somehow, it was.

The treadmill hummed beneath Rin’s feet, steady and unchanging, unlike the absolute disaster that was his brain.

His legs moved on autopilot, but his head was somewhere else—still stuck on the conversation with Reo, still looping around the same exhausting questions.

Why did he like Isagi, but not Yukimiya?

It should’ve been simple.

Yukimiya was attractive, talented, and effortless. He had confidence, charm, the kind of presence that made people turn their heads when he walked into a room. He was a fucking model.

And yet, kissing him felt off. Not bad, exactly. Just… empty to no end. Like it was missing something.

Meanwhile kissing Isagi—both times— felt so natural it was terrifying. Isagi wasn’t as smooth as Yukimiya. Wasn’t as mature, wasn’t as composed. He was stubborn and loud and irritating, but he was also so damn persistent.

Always there. Always approaching Rin without hesitation. Always pushing forward, waiting for Rin to catch up.

Yukimiya never made things difficult. He had agreed to keep things casual, had never pressured Rin to define whatever the hell they were doing. It was easy.

And yet, Rin wanted difficult. Wanted someone who challenged him, who wouldn’t let him run, who met him at every turn and demanded something more.

And that person had always been Isagi.

Rin’s fingers tightened against the treadmill’s handle. If there weren’t any obstacles, he realized, I’d kiss Isagi like I fucking meant it.

Not an impulse. Not a fleeting moment. But because he wanted to. Because he wanted him. And that made him feel awful.

Like he had been toying with Yukimiya for no reason. Like he had been lying to himself the whole time.

He slowed the treadmill, stepping off and grabbing his phone, stomach twisting when he saw his notifications.

Two messages.

One from Yukimiya:

[image attachment]

[Wore this for the night. Shame you won’t be there. Would’ve liked to see you.]

Rin stared at the picture for a moment—Yukimiya in some designer shirt, hair styled in a way that made him look like he belonged on a magazine cover.

And then, the second message— From Isagi:

[I’ll be expecting you at the party.]

Rin’s breath caught. Because that wasn’t just a text. That was a challenge. A promise.

Isagi was waiting for him. And Rin knew what that meant.

It meant he had to tell Yukimiya the truth. And he had to pursue Isagi and tell him the truth. That he liked him. That even if they couldn’t be together, he liked him, so much it was burning his brain out of common sense.

Only problem?

He had no fucking clue when or how he was going to do it.

He dropped his phone on the bed, running a hand through his hair, trying to figure it out—But the door to his room swung open.

Sae stood there, looking painfully casual.

“Treadmill’s useless if you just stand there,” he said flatly.

Rin scowled and stopped to time the treadmill almost funnily in time. “The hell do you want?”

Sae didn’t blink. He just looked at Rin like his existence had a factory mistake too bothersome to fix. “You need to shower.”

Rin blinked back. “What?”

Sae leaned against the doorframe and pulled out his cellphone showcasing the time. It was strange, him interrupting. So he said: “We’re leaving for Mikage’s party, you have twenty-five minutes.”

Rin’s brain short-circuited.

“What.”

Sae didn’t clarify the fact that he’d positively dropped the most unbelievable statement of the century, his breath seemed annoyed at his questioning, he said the next thing as if it was natural. “Shidou’s picking us up.”

Rin’s jaw nearly dropped. His emotionally unavailable, stick-in-the-mud brother was willingly going to a party? With Shidou? What the fuck was happening?

Rin gawked. “Why the hell are you going?”

Sae didn’t answer. Didn’t even bother to make up some excuse. Just tilted his head and said, “You’ll get left behind if you keep standing there like an idiot.”

And then, as if that was the end of the conversation, he turned and walked off.

Rin stood there, stunned. Then, slowly, his lips twitched. Because for all the weirdness of the situation—for all the absolute bullshit that had led up to this moment— he was going to the party. And somehow, that made him happy.

He turned toward his bathroom, walking past his phone without a second glance. But just before he shut the door, Rin muttered a quiet, barely-there— “Thanks.”

Shidou was still buzzing.

Not just from the fight. Not just from the thrill of pulling off a deal that should’ve been impossible. Something else was sitting beneath his skin, restless and unsettled. He knew how this was supposed to go. He’d take Sae to the party, play along, cash in, and that would be the end of it. So why the hell did it feel like something wasn’t ending?

Before he could think too hard about it, his phone rang. Isagi.

Shidou smirked, answering. “Man, I’m starting to think you’re into me or something. What the fuck do you want now?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Isagi sounded exasperated. “I still can’t believe you actually pulled this off.”

Shidou grinned, stretching lazily in his seat. “Believe it, baby. I work miracles.”

“This isn’t a miracle, this is a nightmare,” Isagi groaned. “We’re actually playing on the same team. What kind of cursed timeline is this?”

Before Shidou could answer, there was some muffled shuffling, then—

“Shidou, my man!” Bachira. His grin was practically audible. “Congrats on making it into hell with the rest of us!”

“Appreciate it,” Shidou drawled. “Wasn’t expecting a warm welcome.”

“Oh, it’s not. We’re all just excited to see how fast you piss off Ego.”

Shidou snickered. “Give me a week.”

Bachira laughed, but before he could say more, Isagi grabbed the phone back.

“Wait—so you’re actually taking Sae to the party?” His voice was tighter now, something anxious creeping into it.

Shidou rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, keep your panties on.”

“You—” Isagi exhaled sharply. “Just don’t mess this up.”

Shidou smirked. “No promises.”

He hung up before Isagi could yell at him again.

For a second, he just sat there, tapping his fingers against the wheel. Then, before he could stop himself, he checked the rearview mirror. Paused. Tilted his head. His lip was still busted, but whatever. He ran a hand through his hair, huffed a laugh, then turned the keys, revving the engine to life.

He peeled out of the parking lot, rolling the windows down as New Wave rock blasted through the speakers. Something electric, sharp, thrumming with energy. He focused on not thinking about how Sae would look tonight. Not thinking about it at all.

When he pulled up to Sae’s house, he whistled under his breath. Rich, rich.

He shot off a text.

[come outside, princess. don’t keep me waiting.]

A minute later, the front door opened. Sae stepped out first, Rin right behind him.

Shidou barely had time to process Sae before Rin’s face twisted in horror.

“What the fuck is that?” Rin gestured violently at Shidou’s very beautiful, very lived-in Dodge Challenger.

Shidou grinned. “That, Rin-chan, is my ride.”

Rin looked personally offended.

“We’re taking my car,” Sae said, unlocking his BMW without looking back.

Shidou huffed a laugh, following along.

It was an obvious seating arrangement. Sae in the passenger seat. Rin, looking painfully awkward, sulking in the back.

Shidou could feel Rin glaring at him in the rearview mirror, but he wasn’t paying attention.
Because Sae was scrolling through the console, switching the music.

The synth-heavy intro filled the car first, smooth, atmospheric, something slow-burning and dreamlike. Shidou blinked. He hadn’t expected that.

Sae rolled the window down, elbow propped against the frame. The wind slipped through, ruffling the strands of his hair, sending a few loose pieces across his forehead. Then, he leaned back. Let his eyes slip shut. Tilted his head just slightly toward the night air, letting it rush against his skin. And just like that, he looked different. Loose. Free of the ever-present tension that clung to him like armor.

Shidou had never seen him like this.

Never seen his lashes rest against his cheekbones, never seen the sharp lines of his face soften in the low glow of the dashboard. The way the wind touched him—how he just let it happen, like for the first time, he wasn’t thinking. Like for the first time, he was just existing, unapologetically so.

Shidou’s fingers curled tighter around the wheel. Because fuck. He wanted to say something, throw in a comment, an insult, something to ruin the moment and pull himself out of whatever the hell this feeling was—

But he didn’t.

Instead, he turned his eyes back to the road, let the 80’s synth hum through the speakers, let the wind tangle through Sae’s hair. And tried really fucking hard not to stare.

Isagi had been looking forward to this all week.

It was pathetic. Stupid, even. He had spent an embarrassing amount of time making sure his outfit wasn't shitty, that his cologne wasn't too strong, that his hair actually looked decent for once.

Embarrassing in a way that made him want to crawl out of his own skin if he thought too hard about it. But still—he couldn’t help it. Fuck it-for the first time in his life, he was actually excited about something that wasn't football.

Because tonight, at this stupid party, he was finally going to get Rin alone. Finally going to talk, without Ego’s watchful eyes or Sae hovering or the entire team standing in the way.

Just them.

Because something had been happening between them. Something unspoken, unshaped, but undeniably there.

Something that had been building for weeks, lingering in every too-long glance, in the way Rin let their conversations stretch a little further than necessary.

And Isagi had convinced himself—had stupidly, foolishly, earnestly convinced himself— that Rin felt it too.

That maybe tonight, things would finally fall into place. And tonight, he was going to prove it. He wasn't expecting much. Rin was still Rin: prickly, difficult, dense as hell when it came to anything outside of football.

But Isagi had felt it. And Rin had too.

Then, he saw them.

The Itoshi brothers walked into the penthouse like they had just stepped onto a battlefield.

Sae, leading with his usual untouchable arrogance, Shidou beside him like some gleeful hellhound, and Rin— Rin, trailing slightly behind, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

Isagi’s breath hitched. And for a second-just a second, he forgot how to breathe. Because Rin looked good. Like, really good.

Rin’s hair was still damp, his usual scowl muted into something tense, unreadable. His hands were shoved into his pockets, his shoulders were rigid, like he had been fighting with himself just to be here. And then—he saw Isagi.

His entire posture shifted. Like the sight of him had just pulled him out of his own head, just slightly.

Isagi’s chest tightened.

Without a word, Rin muttered something to Sae, peeled away from his side, and walked toward him. For a moment, it was just the two of them. For a moment, Rin was choosing him.

“Hey,” Isagi said first, the grin forming on his face almost impossible to suppress.

Rin exhaled through his nose, shifting on his feet. “I need to talk to you.”

Isagi felt giddy, stupid, excited in a way he hadn't been since he first started playing football.

Isagi’s heart picked up. “Yeah?”

His hands twitched at his sides, and for the first time ever, Isagi noticed that Rin wasn't just his usual brand of socially inept-he looked genuinely on edge. Rin hesitated. His eyes flicked away, like he was choosing his words carefully. That wasn’t like him. Like something was wrong. Like something was weighing on him.

Isagi took a step closer, lowering his voice slightly. “This is a first. Didn’t think you knew how to start a conversation.”

Rin scowled. “Don’t be annoying.”

Isagi grinned. “No promises.”

Rin inhaled sharply, his fingers twitching at his sides. “I just—”

He cut himself off, exhaled, and looked up at Isagi again. “I just wanted to—”

A pair of hands slid around his waist.

It happened so naturally, so effortlessly, that for a moment, Isagi thought he was hallucinating. Like some hidden part of Rin’s life had just crashed into view, something Isagi was never meant to see. Warm hands rested over Rin’s hips, familiar, practiced, like they had been there before. Like they belonged there.

Isagi’s stomach dropped. Rin went rigid.

Before he could even register what was happening, before he could even make sense of the tension Rin was carrying in his shoulders, lips pressed against Rin’s shoulder blade.

Isagi felt the air get knocked out of his lungs.

“Oh! Nice to see you, Isagi-kun. Rin…” a smooth voice murmured against Rin’s ear. “I’m so glad you made it.”

Yukimiya Kenyu.

Isagi froze.

He barely registered the fact that Otoya and Karasu were standing nearby, watching with mild amusement. All he could see was Yukimiya: third-year, model, stupidly popular, effortlessly charming Yukimiya. with his arms wrapped around Rin like he belonged there.

And Rin didn’t pull away. Didn’t step back. Didn’t shake him off.

Isagi’s breath caught in his throat.

And then—Yukimiya dropped the bomb. “This time, we won’t need to sneak out.”

There was a moment where nothing made sense. Where everything in Isagi’s head was static noise, blaring, crushing, suffocating. Where the entire party faded into the background, like someone had just knocked all the sound out of the world.

Because Rin—Rin, who barely let people stand too close to him, who treated personal space like a battle zone, who never let anyone linger unless he wanted them to— Was letting Yukimiya touch him. And he wasn’t stopping him. Because Rin had been sneaking around with him. Because this wasn’t new. Because this had already been happening. Because Isagi had never had a chance in the first place.

A stupid, sharp, ugly thing tore through his chest, twisting something awful in his ribs.

He had been so fucking blind. Had built something in his head that was never real. Had let himself think—just for a second—that maybe he was different. That maybe Rin wasn’t like the others. That maybe Rin wanted him too. But he was wrong. Of course he was wrong.

And just to make things worse, Sae Itoshi appeared.

Sae had always been a presence. Cold, cutting, impossible to ignore. But right now, he was thunder. He stepped in with his usual arrogance, but there was something else. Something like indignation, something seething, something Isagi had never seen before.

“This is why you were so insistent on coming?” he muttered, voice low but blistering.

Rin’s head snapped toward him.

“It’s not—”

Yukimiya sighed, stepping in smoothly. “Maybe now isn’t the time, Sae.”

Sae turned to him, eyes flashing with something razor-sharp and lethal.

“You can shut the fuck up. I can’t believe you’re trying to hook up with a fucking first-year.”

Yukimiya’s smile thinned. Rin went stiff, pale.

And Isagi, standing there, still reeling, still breaking apart, couldn’t take it anymore. He stepped back. Rin’s head snapped toward him, panicked.

“Isagi—”

But Isagi had already turned. Had already started walking away.

“Wait—just—let me explain—”

But Isagi didn’t want to hear it.

Didn’t want to hear whatever excuse Rin was going to make, whatever weak justification he had for this. Because at the end of the day— It didn’t fucking matter. Rin had made his choice.

And it wasn’t him.

So he forced a smile, forced something snarky , tired and bitter, and shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, voice even, steady, not shaking even though it felt like the world was falling apart under his feet.

Rin’s breath hitched. Isagi swallowed. He spoke softer, defeated, “I get it. Have fun.”

Isagi walked away before Rin could say anything else, before he could reach for him, before he could make this hurt any more than it already did.

Shidou Ryuusei had been to a lot of parties.

He’d seen a lot of things—fights, hookups, cops busting in right when shit got fun— but nothing, nothing, had prepared him for the sight of Sae Itoshi throwing back vodka shots like his life depended on it.

Shidou stilled in the doorway of the penthouse bar, blinking slowly.

Sae was alone, standing by the counter, his usual pristine composure cracking at the edges , eyes locked on something across the room as he downed one shot after the other.

Shidou’s gaze followed his. And there, under the neon lights, was Rin.

Rin, grinding against Yukimiya on the dance floor. Rin Itoshi, letting Yukimiya touch him like he belonged to him.

“Yikes,” Shidou clicked his tongue, eyes flitting back to Sae.

The guy’s expression was unreadable , but something about the way he was holding himself—rigid, silent, still but too tense to be unaffected— made Shidou’s mouth curl.

Bingo.

Shidou sauntered over, propping himself against the bar, smirking as Sae slammed down another shot glass.

“Didn’t take you for a lightweight,” Shidou teased, eyes gleaming. “Didn’t take you for a drinker at all, actually.”

Sae exhaled sharply , finally acknowledging him with a slow, unamused glance. “I don’t,” he said flatly.

Then why the fuck are you drinking?

But Shidou didn’t have to ask. Because Sae’s eyes involuntarily flicked back to the dance floor. For a fraction of a second. And that was enough.

Shidou tilted his head, watching the way Sae’s grip tightened around the empty shot glass. The way his jaw clenched just slightly. The way his entire body closed off when Yukimiya’s hands slid lower on Rin’s hips. And suddenly, Shidou understood something Sae probably didn’t even want to understand himself.

“You’re a terrible liar,” Shidou murmured, voice laced with amusement.

Sae didn’t look at him.

“Rin’s old enough to do whatever the fuck he wants. If he wants to make mistakes, it’s his problem.”

The words were too casual. Too controlled. Like Sae had to force himself to say them.

Shidou’s grin widened. “Mmh. Sure.”

Sae finally turned to him, gaze sharp. “What?”

Shidou leaned in slightly, letting the silence stretch. Letting Sae feel it. Then— soft, knowing, like he was savoring the words on his tongue— “You don’t like seeing him like that.”

Sae’s entire body deflected the question. Shidou saw it. The split second of reaction before Sae crushed it down, shoved it into whatever box he had stuffed all his unwanted emotions into. But it had already happened. Shidou, who had spent his entire life pressing buttons just to see what would happen, was very fucking interested now.

But before he could dig deeper, a new voice joined the conversation.

“Well, well. If it isn’t our prodigal genius.”

Shidou turned.

Standing just a few feet away, sipping whiskey like he owned the fucking place, was Oliver Aiku. Shidou had heard about him. Former star of the team, two years older, now in college, always smirking like he knew something you didn’t.

And the moment Shidou saw him, he immediately wanted to punch him in the face. Not because Aiku had done anything yet. But because Sae had reacted. Not outwardly, not noticeably. But enough.

Sae’s dismissiveness sharpened , his posture shifting in that way that meant he was getting ready to leave before a conversation even started.

Aiku grinned, looking Sae up and down. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I could say the same,” Sae said coldly.

Shidou noted the way Sae’s voice had flattened out completely. That wasn’t indifference. That was avoidance.

Aiku took a slow sip of his drink. “Still stiff as ever, huh?”

Shidou smirked, eyeing the tension brewing between them. “Someone wanna clue me in on what’s going on here? Or are we gonna keep pretending this isn’t awkward as fuck?”

Sae set down his glass, looking seconds away from walking the fuck away.

”Who the fuck are you?” Asked Aiku, looking down over his shoulder.

”The name’s Ryuusei, should write it down so you know what to scream later.”

But Aiku—clearly the kind of guy who liked getting under people’s skin— grinned wider. Then, without looking, his gaze flicked back toward the dance floor. Back to Rin. Then he said something that made the entire world stop. “Didn’t think your little brother was such an easy fuck, Sae.”

Silence.

And before Shidou could even react , before he could turn and process what the fuck Aiku had just said— Sae moved. No hesitation. No warning. Just pure, unfiltered rage.

The first punch landed hard, a sharp crack against Aiku’s jaw. Aiku stumbled back, cursing , blinking like he hadn’t expected it. Like he had never expected Sae to react like this.

And Shidou, who had seen Sae be cold, detached, dismissive, arrogant, had never seen him angry. Not like this. Not like he’d been waiting for an excuse to hit something.

Aiku recovered fast, shaking off the blow, expression darkening. And when he threw his own punch, aiming for Sae’s face— Shidou caught his wrist.

Aiku’s eyes snapped to him, furious. “The fuck?” he snarled.

Shidou grinned, teeth sharp, wild energy coiling under his skin.

“C’mon, old man,” he murmured, voice mocking, lazy, taunting. “You wouldn’t win this one anyway.”

Aiku yanked his arm back, jaw tight, but didn’t swing again.

Because Sae— Sae, who had been shaking with something raw, something real— Had suddenly stilled. Like whatever had ignited in him had burned itself out too fast. Like the anger had given way to something else. Something uglier.

Shidou emptied his lungs with a loud gasp, dramatic.

“Alright, princess,” he muttered, slinging an arm around Sae’s shoulders. “Let’s get you the fuck outta here before you embarrass yourself even more.”

Sae didn’t fight him. Which was suspicious. And Shidou, in all his brilliance, figured out why exactly three seconds later. When Sae bent over and vomited all over his boots.

Shidou stood there watching the disgusting scene play out like some sort of cheap trashy comedy. A fter a long, painful silence— “You absolute little bitch.”

Shidou had seen a lot of shit in his life.

But a drunk Sae Itoshi slumped against him in the grass of some rich kid’s penthouse garden, loose-limbed and miserable, barely keeping himself upright? It was something else.

The night air was cool, a stark contrast to the heat of the party inside, muffled bass thudding distantly against the windows. The city skyline stretched out in the distance, but all Shidou could focus on was the guy beside him—Sae, perfectly disheveled, blinking slow and heavy like his body was still trying to process the vodka that had wrecked him.

“You,” Shidou mused, resting an arm lazily behind his head, “are a fucking lightweight.”

He made a quiet, dismissive noise. “Shut up.”

Shidou smirked. “No, really, I’m impressed. Five shots and you’re gone? That’s gotta be some kind of record.”

Sae exhaled sharply, tipping his head back, looking at the sky instead of at Shidou.

Shidou watched him, tilting his head.

“You didn’t strike me as the type to get wasted over some high school drama. In fact, I didn’t think you even gave a shit about your brother.” he said. “But I guess even geniuses have their off days.”

Sae didn’t react at first. Didn’t roll his eyes, didn’t snap back.

Just stared blankly at the stars, as if they had the answer to whatever the fuck was brewing in his head.

Then, quietly, he muttered, “Rin’s an idiot.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Shidou grinned. “You’re gonna have to be more specific, pretty boy. That describes, like, eighty percent of the team.”

Sae let out a low, humorless chuckle, shaking his head slightly.

“A fucking popular jock like Yukimiya Kenyu? What kind of fucking idiot would fall for someone like that?” Then, quieter, more to himself than anyone else, “He’s supposed to be better than me.”

Shidou’s grin froze. For the first time all night, Sae wasn’t hiding behind some cold, asshole-ish deflection.

For the first time, there was something real there. Something unspoken but loud as hell.

And Shidou noticed.

He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. “You know, if you’re trying to make sense, you’re doing a piss-poor job at it.”

Sae finally turned to look at him, eyes hazy, but sharper than they should’ve been for someone that drunk.

Shidou tilted his head.

“You think he’s gonna get his heart broken?” he guessed.

Sae huffed, dry, bitter.

Shidou exhaled through his nose. “Hate to break it to you, but that’s part of growing up.”

Sae didn’t answer. Didn’t argue. Just looked away again. And Shidou, for once in his life, for the very first time ever, let the silence sit.

Because there was something here. Something bigger than Rin making out with some pretty-boy striker. Something that had nothing to do with Rin at all.

But Shidou wasn’t about to pry it out of him while he was drunk off his ass.

So he shifted gears instead.

“What’s Aiku’s deal?” he asked, kicking at a loose rock on the ground.

Sae scoffed, shaking his head. “Not worth talking about.”

Shidou grinned. “C’mon, captain. Don’t tell me some washed-up ex-player is getting under your skin.”

Sae let out a slow breath, like he was weighing whether to answer. And then, almost too quiet to catch, “It’s not about him.”

Shidou caught it.

Didn’t say anything about it. Didn’t press. Just stored it away for later. Then, before he could switch topics again: Sae’s hand, warm and steady, brushed against his.

Shidou froze. It wasn’t deliberate, wasn’t even hesitant—just a touch, casual and weightless.

But Shidou wasn’t stupid.

He turned his head slowly, watching as Sae’s fingers hovered over his own, barely curled, like he hadn’t even realized he was doing it.

“…What,” Shidou said, voice lazy, teasing, “are you doing?”

Sae didn’t pull away. Didn’t answer. Instead, he turned to him, half-lidded, unreadable, lips slightly parted. Voice low, thick with something dangerous: “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

Shidou’s breath hitched.

Because fuck.

Sae was closer now, close enough that Shidou could see the flush creeping up his neck, smell the expensive cologne under the alcohol, feel the heat radiating off him. Before Shidou could respond—Sae’s fingers curled around his jaw, tilting his head up.

And he kissed him.

Shidou saw fucking stars. The kiss was heated, reckless, sloppier than it would’ve been if Sae had been sober. But god, it felt so good.

Sae wasn’t careful. He wasn’t hesitant. He just took. And Shidou, who had spent his entire life chasing pleasure, chasing adrenaline, chasing the next best thing, let himself fall into it.

They tumbled onto the grass, Sae straddling his hips, the weight of him pressing down, grounding. And for a moment, just a moment, Shidou thought, fuck, this is actually happening. Sae’s fingers dipped lower, reaching for his belt.

And Shidou had to be snapped back to reality. Abruptly, he pulled away, gripping Sae’s wrist, stopping him.

Sae blinked.Confusion splattered across his face—genuine confusion, like it had never even occurred to him that Shidou might say no. Shidou exhaled, shoving him back just enough to create space.

“Nope,” he said, voice still light, still teasing, but firm. “Not happening.”

Sae stared at him.

“What?”

Shidou tilted his head. “I’m not doing shit unless you’re in your right mind. As a matter of fact, I’m sorry for kissing you.”

Sae’s brow furrowed, something raw flashing across his face before he masked it.

“You wanted this,” he said, quieter now, almost accusing.

Shidou’s expression didn’t change.

“Yeah,” he admitted, because he wasn’t a liar. “But not like this.”

Sae’s lips parted slightly, like he wanted to argue. Like he wanted to say something sharp, defensive, dismissive. But then he looked down at himself. At his messy shirt, his unsteady hands, his slightly parted knees against Shidou’s sides. And realization—actual, awful, sinking realization— settled over his face.

Shidou let him sit with it. Didn’t push. Didn’t say anything cocky or cruel. Just let him breathe.

After a long pause, Shidou stretched, checking his phone. “It’s late.”

Sae had the chance to breathe, slow, careful. No expectations attached and no vicious judgement interrupting that.

Shidou smirked, confident, pleased that after all the things he’d witnessed tonight he now got this. “I’m taking you home.”

Sae didn’t argue. Didn’t complain, didn’t deflect. Just nodded, gaze fixed on some invisible point in the distance.

Shidou stood, brushing dirt off his pants before holding out a hand. Sae looked at it for a long moment.

Then, finally, he took it.

Chapter Text

Isagi was gone. And Rin felt it. The absence of air in his lungs, like a thread snapping inside his ribs, like something he should’ve held onto tighter. He pushed too far. Took too long. Played the wrong game and lost the only thing that mattered.

The party blurred—flashing neon, bodies pressing close, bass rattling through his ribs—but none of it could drown out the crushing, unshakable weight that settled in his chest: he’d done it, broken the heart of the only boy he really, really liked

“Hey.” Yukimiya’s hand wrapped around his wrist, careful, filled with something between apology and intent. “I didn’t think your brother would pull that shit. You okay?”

Rin blinked, dazed. Sae.

Sae, whose words sank under his skin like lead. Whose shadow stretched too long over every fucking thing Rin tried to keep for himself. But deep down, Rin knew. This wasn’t Sae’s fault. It was his.

His, for letting this happen. His, for not choosing when he had the chance. So he swallowed, voice hollow. “Sae ruins everything. Every fucking time.”

Yukimiya’s grip tightened slightly. Not possessive, just there. “Then stop thinking about him.” A slow smile, smooth as velvet. “Come dance with me instead.”

Rin let himself be pulled. Pushed. Turned in Yukimiya’s hold, pressed his back against him, tilted his head just enough for their bodies to slot together. Something reckless, something sharp. Yukimiya took everything like a man starved. His hands slid lower, feeling him up like he wanted to have his way with him right there and then.

“Oh?” Rin ground against him. A sharp inhale. Yukimiya’s fingers dug in, pulling him flush, pressing against him like he meant it. “So now you want to have fun?”

Rin let him. Because it wasn’t like he and Isagi were ever anything. Wasn’t like he hadn’t made it clear from the start. No expectations. No promises. Just this.

So why did it feel like a mistake? Why did every touch burn in the wrong way? Why did his pulse feel more like panic than pleasure?

Yukimiya’s mouth latched onto his neck, hot, wet, greedy. Rin couldn’t help but shudder as he felt fingers tracing his naked stomach skin.

This was too much. Too knowing. Too much of someone who actually wanted him—not as a rival. Not as competition. Not as a game to be won. As something else entirely.

And for some reason, that made Rin feel sick.

“I brought condoms,” he muttered in his skin. “Just in case.”

For a terrible second—he thought about it. Thought about nodding. Maybe if he just let go, if he just lost something first, if he gave himself away before it could be taken— It wouldn’t matter anymore.

But then Yukimiya rolled his hips forward and Rin’s entire body revolted. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

His head was somewhere else. His chest was splitting open. He wasn’t here. He was watching Isagi walk away. He was watching his back disappear.

And he couldn’t fucking stand it.

Rin ripped himself free. Yukimiya’s hands fell away immediately.

“Rin?”

His voice was careful now. Concerned. Not angry, not upset—just confused.

“I—” His throat burned. His eyes stung. “I can’t.”

“Do you need air?”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t. I need… to be alone.” Rin shook his head. “I need to find Isagi. I need to fix this.”

Yukimiya went still, his touch stopped and he seemed genuinely disturbed and disappointed, but more than anything: concerned over how Rin seemed to be forgetting how to breathe.

And before Rin could move—

“Yeah, no. We’re done here.” Reo said, voice firm but not unkind. “You don’t look fine, and we both know it.”

Rin flinched. He hadn’t even noticed him there.

“…Take care of him,” he said, looking at Reo. Yukimiya hesitated for a moment, but slowly, carefully, he let go.

Reo nodded. “I will.”

Rin was pulled away. His pulse was roaring. His eyes were burning. And just before they reached the door, just before they disappeared into the crowd: a single, traitorous tear slipped down his cheek.

The bathroom was quiet except for the steady rush of water from the tap. Isagi leaned forward, gripping the edges of the sink, letting the cold splash against his face.

Breathe. Stop thinking. Stop—

“Yo.”

Fucking hell. Isagi stiffened, gripping the counter. Tthere, standing in the doorway like a polished prince with perfect posture, was the last person he wanted to see.

Yukimiya smiled. Like nothing was wrong. Like Isagi’s heart wasn’t currently being carved out of his chest.

“Have you seen Rin?” Yukimiya asked smoothly, stepping inside. “He mentioned wanting to talk to you.”

Isagi’s jaw locked. “Is that so? You guys looked really busy.”

Yukimiya sighed, leaning like Isagi was the one being difficult. “Don’t be like that.”

Isagi wanted to punch something.

Instead, he exhaled sharply. “What do you want?”

Yukimiya hesitated, as if debating whether to say what was actually on his mind. “I need to ask you something.”

Isagi should’ve walked out. Should’ve avoided him and pretend he never heard him. But instead—he stayed.

”…Yeah?”

Yukimiya studied him for a moment, smiled a little, like he already knew this was going to be too much. “You and Rin are close, aren’t you?”

Isagi narrowed his eyes. Not because it wasn’t true, but because what the hell did that even mean?

Yukimiya raised a hand. “I just mean—you understand him, don’t you?”

Did he? Yeah. Too well.

And Yukimiya? Nope. Not even a little.

But Isagi didn’t say that. He just crossed his arms. “What’s your question?”

Yukimiya exhaled, leaning back against the sink. “I just… need to get this off my chest.”

Isagi braced himself.

“I really like spending time with Rin,” Yukimiya admitted, pacing slightly. “I never expected this to turn into anything serious. It started casual. Something fun— Rin made that very clear from the start. No expectations. No strings. Just a way to unwind. But it’s different when you actually have him, you know?” His lips curled slightly, a touch wistful.

Isagi was going to die. He really made the worst possible choice of the night.

“And God, was I fine with that at first. I mean, have you seen him? It’s ridiculous.” Yukimiya continued, “He’s just so… staggeringly beautiful. The kind of beauty that’s almost disorienting up close. You don’t really get it until he’s right there in front of you. It’s like, suddenly, he looks at you, and it’s like that’s all there is. And don’t even get me started on his lips.”

Please get started on something else. Please.

“Softest damn thing I’ve ever felt. But it’s frustrating, because Rin never just kisses you. He withholds. Like he’s waiting for you to earn it. But when he does give in— It’s game over. That’s what makes him so damn interesting.” Yukimiya huffed a quiet laugh, as if reminiscing it.

Isagi tensed, his stomach turned. His fingers twitched. Interesting?

Rin was so much more than interesting. But Yukimiya didn't even see it.

Didn't see how meticulous Rin was, how he triple-checked his training schedules, how he ran drills alone until it was too dark to see, how he never ate bell peppers but always picked them out of his food with ridiculous precision.

Didn't see the way Rin's face scrunched up when he was confused, or the way he got quiet when he was thinking, or the way he pushed people away but somehow always made sure they were still there.

“But the worst part is that he knows exactly what he’s doing. He knows how good he looks, how insane he makes you feel. And yet—he still pretends like he’s not affecting you. Like he’s oblivious… But he’s not. Not even a little.” He physically sighed as if he was recalling it something particularly good.

He didn't fucking see it.

Rin was calculating, focused, unknowingly funny, frustrating, determined, kind in ways he never even realized. Because Rin wasn’t just a prize to be won.

Isagi knew Rin. Knew his routines, knew how he liked his tea, knew every fucking thing about him. And yet— he was the one Rin kept at a distance. 

It was so unfair it made him sick.

“Stop,” Isagi choked out, struggling to breathe.

Because fuck everything about this conversation and Rin. Fuck Rin Itoshi, for making him feel like the biggest circus clown ever.

Yukimiya blinked, then chuckled, pressing a hand to his chest. “Ah. Forgive me. That was a bit much.”

A bit?

“I guess what I’m trying to say is” Yukimiya said, looking at him seriously now. “This isn’t just casual for me. I’m not interested in just having him. I want something real… I want him. Properly. I want to take him out, introduce him to my friends, hold his hand without him feeling like he needs an excuse. Meet his parents. The whole damn thing.”

Isagi inhaled slowly, trying to breathe through the ache in his chest.

Of course. Of course Yukimiya wanted Rin seriously. Of course Rin had let him in enough to fall for him.

Because Isagi wasn’t the one Rin wanted.

“Anyway,” Yukimiya said, straightening slightly. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?”

His breath caught. Yukimiya was genuine. Nice, earnest, good. All the things Isagi should've hated him for. But the problem wasn't Yukimiya.

The problem was Isagi. It had always been Isagi. So he forced himself to speak. “And what do you want me to do about it?”

Yukimiya hummed, as if considering. But he raised a hand, stopping him. “I won’t push. I just think… You get him. So perhaps you can tell me how all of this works.”

“Well, maybe Rin is just an asshole and there’s that.”

“You don’t mean that.”

He was right. Because Isagi didn't mean it. Because he was so fucking infatuated with Rin it actually hurt. So that meant, he needed to let him go.

Isagi sighed sharply, pressing a hand to his face, forcing himself to sound steady. Against all of his better judgment: “Rin can’t date anyone unless Sae does.”

Yukimiya blinked. “What?”

Isagi nodded, exhaling. “It’s Ego’s rule.”

Yukimiya looked… thoughtful.  “Wait—so that’s why he keeps pushing me away?”

Isagi didn’t answer. Just finally forced himself to move. “…There’s one guy who might be able to help.”

He pulled out his phone, scrolled through his contacts, and turned the screen toward Yukimiya.

Shidou Ryusei.

Yukimiya blinked. “You can’t be serious.”

“A really stupid guy tried to get someone to date Sae,” Isagi muttered. “Maybe if you do the same, you’ll get Rin. This guy’s reckless. And he’s the only person who’s managed to get under Sae’s skin.”

A slow, amused smile spread across Yukimiya’s lips. “Well… That is interesting.”

Isagi nodded. “You want Rin? Figure out Sae.”

Yukimiya exhaled, shaking his head. “That’s all?”

“Pretty much.”

Then—the final fucking knife to the chest.

“Yoichi-kun, you wouldn’t happen to know Rin’s favorite food, would you?” Yukimiya asked, still grinning.

Isagi inhaled. Yes. Of course he knew that.

“…Ochazuke,” he muttered. “Sea bream ochazuke.”

Yukimiya lit up.

“Perfect.” Yukimiya chuckled, smoothing out his shirt. “You’re a terrible wingman but you were incredibly helpful.”

Isagi scoffed, rubbing his temple. “I never signed up for this.”

Yukimiya shot him a deliberately smug smile. “Nonetheless.”

“Just so you know, Rin may not look like it but he’s a weird guy. So please don’t break his heart. Okay?”

“Wouldn’t even dream of it.”

And then—like it was nothing—he turned and walked out.

The moment the door clicked shut, Isagi let out a breath. His chest felt hollow. Like he had just made the right choice. Like he had just made the worst fucking mistake of his life.

Shidou hated waiting. And yet, here he was.

Standing outside a cramped, weirdly looking bathroom stall, arms crossed, listening to his school’s golden boy try to puke himself inside out. Another gag. A wet cough.

Shidou sighed.

This is what my life has come to, he thought. Playing nursemaid to the most uptight prince while he cries over vodka shots.

His phone buzzed. He pulled it out, glancing at the screen. Isagi Yoichi.

Shidou snorted, answering. “What do you want now? I’m on babysitting duty and it’s your damn fault.”

Silence. No sarcastic retort. No fuck off, Shidou.

Just silence. Shidou frowned.

“Take the money,” Isagi muttered, flat and hollow. “Don’t bother. It’s over.”

Shidou blinked.

“What?”

“Just take the money,” Isagi repeated, voice dead. “Maybe Yukimiya will call you. If he does—don’t tell him anything about me. He’ll ask about Sae.”

Shidou narrowed his eyes. Yukimiya? What the hell did he have to do with anything? What was up with Isagi Yoichi and his weird ass—

“It’s over,” Isagi muttered. “Rin chose someone else.”

Shidou froze. And in the stall behind him, Sae gagged. It was almost poetic. Now he understood the vulnerability of his position and the sheer madness of everything.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he said while running a hand down his face “You’re telling me—after all that effort—you threw yourself at Itoshi Jr. like a goddamn lovesick idiot, and he still picked the pretty boy over you?”

Isagi didn’t answer.

Shidou let out a low whistle. “Damn. That’s rough buddy.”

Still, silence. No comeback. No go die, Shidou.

Just quiet. Shidou sighed. Alright. He’d need to bite.

“Okay, dumbass,” he muttered. “I gotta ask—do you even like him?”

There was a long pause.

“I can’t think about that right now,” Isagi mumbled, in a soft, hesitant and pathetic way that was very unlike him. “I just—I just told Yukimiya to go for it.”

Shidou stared at the ceiling.

“This is the most humiliating thing I’ve ever heard,” he muttered.

Isagi let out a short, bitter laugh. “Yeah? Join the fucking club.”

Shidou groaned. “Are you serious? You spent weeks humiliating yourself for that bastard just to hand him over to some pretty boy model with good lighting?”

“Pretty boy with good lighting is ridiculously accurate,” Isagi admitted. “How did you even come up with that?”

“You’d get how much of a genius I was if I weren’t too busy being surrounded by complete dumbasses.”

Isagi exhaled sharply. “Shidou.”

“What?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Shidou grinned. There it was, hope for the fact Isagi wasn’t about to gloom away his remaining pride. But still, this was a disaster.

“Listen,” he said. “If you like him, you can’t just give up. But you also can’t be a fucking doormat.”

Isagi stayed quiet. Shidou leaned against the sink, crossing his arms.

“Make him work for it,” he said. “Nothing hurts more than a wounded ego. Especially if they have Itoshi blood.”

Isagi scoffed. “What the hell does that mean?”

Shidou rolled his eyes.

“You think guys like Sae and Rin just get over shit?” he said. “Like, oh no, a minor inconvenience? Guess I’ll just move on.” He snorted. “No. They stew. They get all fucked up about it. They make it their life’s mission to prove they’re better than whatever embarrassed them.”

Shidou tilted his head, voice turning almost mocking.

“So, make Rin embarrassed. Make him regret it. Make him sit there and marinate in the absolute dumbassery of his decisions.”

Isagi exhaled sharply. “And how do you propose I do that, genius?”

Shidou smirked. “Easy,” he said. “Don’t chase him.”

“What?”

Shidou rolled his eyes.

“Dumbass,” he said. “You’re handing him everything. Showing up when he needs you. Waiting for him. Giving him all this fucking control.”

He scoffed.

“What has Rin done for you, huh?” Shidou asked. “Has he chased you? Has he tried for you? Has he done a single fucking thing that you didn’t have to pull out of him like a goddamn wisdom tooth.” he said. “You like him? Fine. But make him earn it.”

Isagi groaned. “This is the worst pep talk I’ve ever gotten.”

Shidou scoffed. “You think I give a shit? You’re the one who needs therapy, dumbass. I’m just a guy watching you tank your own love life.”

Isagi let out a long, pained sigh. “I need to go.”

“You need a better plan.”

“Goodbye, Shidou.”

Click. Shidou rolled his eyes, slipping his phone into his pocket. And just as he did—the stall door creaked open.

Sae stumbled out, looking like he’d been through war. His hair was a mess, his shirt slightly wrinkled, and he was wearing his sunglasses indoors.

Shidou took one look at him, at last, he’d chosen this as his Saturday plan.

Reo didn’t stop until they were outside the room. For the first time since they started training together—he looked genuinely pissed off.

“You need to get your shit together,” Reo said bluntly.

Rin exhaled sharply. “I’m trying to—”

“No,” Reo cut him off. “You’re trying to bullshit your way out of this, on your terms. But that’s not how it works.”

Rin exhaled sharply, already irritated. "It's none of your business."

Reo let out a slow, disbelieving laugh. "None of my business?"

Rin clenched his jaw. "No."

"Okay." Reo nodded, voice eerily calm. "So you're telling me you can't figure out why it looks really fucking bad that you were just grinding on Yukimiya after what you did to Isagi?"

Rin bristled. "I didn't do anything— It’s a misunderstanding.”

“Oh fuck off.” Reo looked out of place, tense and furious at the same time. “That’s the thing, Rin—it doesn’t matter.”

Rin clenched his jaw, but Reo kept going.

“Isagi? Yukki? They’re both my friends,” he said, firmly. “And whether you accept it or not, so are you. But you’re messing this up. And I can't sit here and let you keep fucking up. You always do this. You pretend you don't care, you pretend nothing's wrong, you pretend you didn't just break his fucking heart."

Rin felt words sticking to his tight throat. Because fuck. He knew. He knew, but it was too late to stop now.

“You knew,” Reo said, leveling him with a look. “The whole time, you knew how much he liked you.”

Rin’s chest tightened.

“And you still kissed him.” Reo’s voice was measured, serious and cutting. “And then you turned around and did the cruelest thing you could’ve done.”

“It wasn’t like that—”

“You know exactly what is it that you want. Yet, you're playing around with their feelings. Yukki’s a good guy, and from what it looked like to me, he actually likes you.” Reo leaned in slightly. “So why does it look like you’re about to cry?”

He didn’t know what to say.

That he had been stupid? That he had spent so long running in the wrong direction only to realize too late that he had left the person who mattered most behind? That he was fucking terrified he had ruined everything?

Reo stared directly at his eyes, watching him closely, "I can't just stand here and let you ruin every good thing you have."

And then, before Rin could fall apart right there, before the heat behind his eyes could spill over : footsteps. A door swinging open.

Isagi. Standing in the hallway. Face wet. Rin’s breath caught. Because for all his planning, all his frustration, all his conviction. He hadn’t planned for this.

The drive back felt lighter.

Not in the usual way—not like things had been settled, or anything had been fixed. But the air between them, the weight of the night, the sharp edge of Sae’s personality—it had softened.

Shidou didn’t know if it was the alcohol still humming in Sae’s system or if the bastard had finally decided he didn’t hate his company, but for once, things weren’t unbearable.

And that was weird. Because Sae Itoshi wasn’t supposed to be easy.

Yet there he was, head leaning against the window, his breathing even, the tension in his shoulders finally loose. Like he wasn’t in a rush to get anywhere, like he wasn’t about to cut Shidou off mid-sentence, like—for once—he was actually enjoying himself.

Shidou tapped his fingers against the wheel, smirking. “Y’know, I feel like I’m in one of those cheesy-ass sports movies.”

Sae didn’t react. So, Shidou pressed on, because he was Shidou.

“Think about it,” he drawled. “Handsome, up-and-coming star player gets driven home by the team’s newest, most talented recruit. The tension’s there, the stakes are high, the audience is screaming—”

Sae finally blinked at him, unimpressed.

Shidou grinned. “The only thing missing is a dramatic rain scene where you confess your undying love for me.”

Sae exhaled sharply, somewhere between amusement and exhaustion. “You talk too much.”

“That’s what makes me so charming,” Shidou quipped.

Sae huffed. “That’s what makes you so damn weird.”

Shidou snorted, drumming his fingers against the wheel. “Alright, come on, golden boy, give me something. You drunk people always got some deep, tragic confession brewing under there.”

Sae was quiet for a moment. But unexpectedly, softly—“I want to leave Japan.”

Shidou blinked.

Of all the things he thought Sae would say, that wasn’t one of them. Sae was still looking out the window, voice steady but low, almost like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

“For college,” he continued. “I don’t want to stay here.”

Shidou licked his lips. “Yeah?”

Sae hummed.

Shidou nodded slowly. “I get it.”

And he did. More than he wanted to admit. Sae tilted his head slightly, like he was actually listening.

Shidou exhaled, rolling his shoulders back. “I dunno, man. Japan’s great and all, but…” He clicked his tongue. “I don’t know if it’s got what I want.”

Sae hummed again. “You don’t know what you want?”

Shidou shrugged, gripping the wheel. “Not really.”

Sae blinked at him. “Huh.”

It wasn’t much, but it felt like a lot. Because Sae was still watching him, actually paying attention, actually seeming like he gave a shit. Shidou felt his chest do something weird.

Sae shifted against the seat, gaze flicking back to the road. “I think I’d like Spain.”

Shidou snorted. “You would. All the bougie, expensive shit in one place.”

Sae scoffed but didn’t deny it. So unexpectedly, almost too casually, “What about you?”

Shidou blinked, because—what the hell was this? A conversation? A real one? Shidou rubbed the back of his neck. “Dunno. I was thinking of, like… music, maybe. Art, if I don’t get famous playing football first.”

Sae actually looked at him. Like he wasn’t expecting that answer. Like he was genuinely curious. And that was dangerous.

Because Shidou wasn’t used to that look. Didn’t know what to do with it. Didn’t know what it meant. So he kept his eyes on the road, heart knocking weirdly against his ribs. Sae didn’t say anything. But he didn’t look away, either.

“Well, it sounds a lot like you. Fits you perfectly.”

Isagi had one objective. Leave. Disappear into the crowd, go home, never think about Rin Itoshi again. Except, of course, Rin Itoshi had a habit of ruining everything.

Because the moment Isagi stepped into the hallway, a hand yanked him back, dragging him toward a door, shoving him inside. The lock clicked.

Isagi whirled around. “Are you—insane?”

Rin stood in front of the door, breathing hard. His hands shaking at his sides, as if he had run here.

“No,” Isagi said, “you don’t get to do this.”

Rin stilled.

“It’s not your fucking responsibility to like me back,” he muttered, “But it’s also not my job to sit there and let you fuck me up because you don’t know what the hell you want.”

Rin visibly tensed. “It’s not—”

“Oh, really?” Isagi scoffed. “Then what the hell is it?”

Silence.

“I kissed you twice,” Isagi muttered while his own stomach twisted. “And the whole time, you were with him.”

“You don’t understand a thing.”

“Oh? I don’t understand?” He turned to look at Rin, sharp and disbelieving. “That’s fucking rich coming from you.”

Rin’s fists clenched. “You think you know everything.”

“I think I know enough.”

“Like hell you do.”

“Like hell I don’t.”

Rin let out a harsh breath, frustrated, restless, desperate. “You don’t fucking get it.”

“Then explain it,” Isagi snapped. “Because from where I’m sitting, it just looks like you’re a selfish asshole.”

Rin bristled. “I just need you to-.”

“No, seriously,” Isagi pressed, voice rising and humorless. “Why the fuck did you kiss me, Rin? Why would you? just to turn around and act like it didn’t mean anything?”

“Yukimiya is perfect,” he continued, feeling as if his throat burned from chewing glass. “He’s polite, good-looking, good at school, probably has a skincare routine… He’s patient, isn’t he? He waits for you. He’s safe…”

Rin said nothing.

“And yet,” Isagi felt the air consuming his lungs as if it were toxic gas, “somehow, that still wasn’t enough for you.” His pulse pounded.

“Somehow, you still kissed me.”

Rin’s hands curled into fists. “I—”

“Why?” Isagi’s voice rose. “Was it a joke to you? Was it just to—switch things up?”

Rin let out a harsh breath. “I like you, you fucking idiot.”

Isagi froze.

But Rin kept going.

“I like you,” he repeated, voice rough, raw, too much. “I don’t know what to do with it. I don’t know how to—handle it.”

Rin moved. Climbed over the  bathroom seat and straddled him, pressed a hand against his mouth.

Isagi’s pulse pounded.

Rin’s breath was ragged, uneven. His fingers trembled against Isagi’s jaw. “I know I fucked up,” Rin murmured.

He didn’t say he was sorry. And somehow, that hurt more. Isagi wanted to shove him away, wanted to make him say it, wanted to demand something real—

But then Rin kept talking.

“I thought if I ignored it, it’d go away. That if I just found someone else, it wouldn’t matter.” His exhale was shaky. “But it didn’t.”

Rin let out a short, bitter laugh. “I don’t want him.”

Isagi stared.

“I don’t want any of it, I just want you.” Rin swallowed, throat tight and shaky grip. “He— He actually listens when I talk instead of arguing with me every five seconds like a dumbass… You get that, right?”

Isagi didn’t answer. His breath hitched. Because what was he supposed to say back? I liked you so bad it made me miserable to see you with someone else? You make me feel pathetic for not reading your mind?

Rin let out a frustrated sound. “And it’s so damn boring.”

Isagi’s chest tightened. Rin’s fingers dug into his hair.

“I should like him, I really should. He makes sense. He’s what people would expect. He’s the easy choice. I should want him back.” He swallowed hard. “But I don’t. I never have. Not once, no matter how many times I convinced myself I could make it work, he’s just there.”

His voice dropped.

“But you—” Isagi’s pulse pounded. “You’re always there.”

“You drive me crazy,” he admitted. “You never shut up. You get under my skin. You make my life miserable.”

His hands tightened into fists.

“And for some stupid reason, I can’t get you out of my head.”

Isagi’s chest ached.

“I kissed you because I thought I just needed to get it out of my system,” Rin muttered. “But it didn’t work. It just got worse.”

“And It’s eating me alive.” His breath shuddered. “Every single time I think about you. It’s you, and it’s you. And there’s no damn way it’s not you. So I came to this stupid fucking party to tell you exactly that. And I just-“

Isagi felt wrecked. He wanted to say something. Anything. But Rin was falling apart. And Isagi’s first instinct was to hold him.

So he did.

He wrapped his arms around Rin, fingers digging into the back of his shirt, holding him like he was afraid he’d disappear. Rin clutched him back.

And then— Rin kissed him. Soft. Slow. Like he didn’t know if he was allowed to. Like he wasn’t sure he deserved to. Isagi—he wanted to lose himself in it.

But he couldn’t.

So, as much as he wanted to let himself be stupid and selfish and hopeless— He pulled away.

“If you want to say you’re sorry,” Isagi murmured, voice thick, low. “Then fucking prove it.”

Rin’s lips parted, stunned.

“Because I refuse to stay here and be your damn plaything just because you choose to be a coward.” Isagi whispered as he left.

Rin stumbled after him.

And that’s when it happened. A sharp, painful thud. Followed by: “FUCK.”

Isagi whipped around. And there was Rin.

Face down on the floor. Groaning in pain.

Isagi blinked. “What the fuck just happened?”

Reo, who had just arrived at the scene, stared down at Rin with a look of pure disbelief.

“Guys? What the fuck?! Did you just hit him?!”

Rin hissed, clutching his hand. “Shut the fuck up.”

“I’ll take him to the hospital.”

Rin’s head snapped up. “What?”

This was going to be a long fucking night.

 
They pulled up to Sae’s house just past midnight.

Shidou sighed, leaning back against the seat, turning toward Sae—only to freeze. Because Sae was touching him. Not much, not obvious, but there. Fingers barely grazing his upper thigh, slow, deliberate.

Shidou swallowed. Sae’s expression was hazy and overtly focused, but his fingers pressed in just slightly. His voice was soft, borderline needy. “I’m sober enough to know I want this.”

Shidou inhaled sharply. He wanted it too. Wanted it so fucking bad.

“You could take me inside, if you wanted.” Sae moved. Unbuttoning the first few buttons of his own shirt, dragging his fingers over the exposed skin of his collarbone, teasing, filthy. Completely unfazed. Like he was just considering something. “Or you could just fuck me right here.”

His fingers traced the dip of his throat. Shidou swallowed hard. Because that was not subtle.

He was actually struggling to say no. Because Sae wasn’t just some guy. Sae was untouchable. Sae was the best fucking thing he’d ever played with. Sae was right there, looking at him like that, pressing in closer, waiting.

The undercurrent of something dangerous humming between them, the way Sae looked at him like a puzzle he wanted to solve with his own hands.

Shidou’s head dipped forward, so fucking close to closing the space. To giving in. His head dipped forward, close enough to feel Sae’s breath against his lips, close enough that if he leaned in just a little more—

But he stopped.

Because if he let this happen, if he let himself have this, he wasn’t sure if he could keep pretending it wouldn’t mean anything. Because Sae wasn’t the kind of person who did things twice. And Shidou wasn’t the kind of person who could handle being someone’s mistake.

So he swallowed thickly, forcing his entire body to cool down in a matter of seconds.

“Go to bed before you start doing weirder shit.”

Sae’s fingers twitched, his face went blank—the kind of blank that meant he had already shut the door, locked it, and thrown away the key.

Then, dryly, coldly: “Fine.”

And with that, he stepped out of the car.

Shidou clenched his jaw. Watched him go. And felt like absolute shit. Because maybe, maybe,that had been a mistake.

But even as he sat there, gripping the wheel, watching Sae disappear into the house, he knew he’d made the right choice.

Even if it didn’t just feel quite right.

The hospital trip had been quick. Rin’s Finger Wasn’t Broken. Just sprained. Nothing serious. Which, honestly, was worse. Because now they were left with the bigger problem: explaining it to Ego.

Isagi gripped the wheel like he was trying to strangle it, not really sure if he could handle having him being too close. Too quiet. Because right now, in his stupid, suffocating beat up Toyota, Rin was next to him, in the passenger seat.

His finger throbbed dully under the fresh wrap from the hospital, but he barely noticed it. His whole body felt heavy, like the weight of the last few hours had finally settled into his bones.

“We’re so fucking dead.”

Rin glanced at him. “Huh?”

“How the hell are we supposed to tell Ego about this? Like, ‘Oh yeah, coach, Rin didn’t break his finger in practice, he sprained it chasing me through a fucking house party, and because he was being a dumbass, tripped and ate shit.’”

Rin scowled. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Then Anri’s gonna give us a lecture about responsibility, our teammates are gonna clown us into the afterlife, and you—” Isagi shot him a look. “You’re gonna stand there and pretend you’re not embarrassed.”

“I’m not embarrassed.”

Isagi scoffed. “You literally fell on your face.”

Rin muttered something under his breath and turned toward the window. The Tokyo skyline blurred past them, neon and distant. The kind of night that should’ve been fun, should’ve been spent anywhere but here.

But none of that mattered.

The silence stretched. It wasn’t comfortable. It was the kind of silence that was waiting for someone to ruin it.

And of course, Isagi did.

“I just want to be clear,” he started, tone painfully even. “When we explain this to Ego, you’re taking full responsibility.”

Rin scowled. Thrown. “It’s not like I meant to fall on my face.”

“Oh, no, of course not,” Isagi said, mockingly. “You just—what? Heroically launched yourself after me like a dramatic asshole?”

Rin’s ears burned. “I wasn’t trying to be dramatic.”

“Then what the hell were you trying to be?”

Rin went quiet because he didn’t actually have an answer for that.

Isagi huffed, shaking his head. “God. Ego is going to kill us.”

“No, he’s going to kill you,” Rin corrected. “You’re the one who ran.”

“You’re the one who chased me.”

They glared at each other. Then, at the same time—they looked away. The silence that followed was worse.

It lingered, taunting.

So, Rin spoke. “I’m not going home.”

Isagi frowned, glancing at him. “What?”

“I’m not going home,” Rin repeated, eyes fixed on the window. too measured. “I’m not dealing with that idiot tonight. I’ll just stay at a hotel.”

Isagi didn’t know why, but something about that made his stomach twist. “You don’t want to see Sae?”

Rin didn’t answer. Which was an answer.

Isagi drummed his fingers against the wheel. His first instinct was to pry, to dig, to figure out what the hell had happened between them.

But then—he forced himself to stop. That wasn’t his problem anymore. So instead, he exhaled sharply. “…Just stay at mine.”

“What?”

He could already hear himself regretting it. But it was too late. The words were already out.

“I have a guest room,” Isagi muttered, keeping his eyes on the road. “It’s closer. And cheaper than a hotel. Just stay there.”

For a second, Rin just stared at him. His lips parted.

He was going to say thank you. And Isagi panicked. He could hear Shidou’s words in his head. Make him work for it.

So, before Rin could get a single word out—

“Save it,” Isagi said quickly, forcing indifference.

Rin looked stunned.

“It’s not a favor,” Isagi added, shrugging like he didn’t care. “Just so we’re even.”

Something flickered across Rin’s face. “Even?”

“Yeah.” Isagi’s grip on the wheel tightened. “Things are over, right? This just makes it official.”

Rin’s jaw clenched.

“Don’t make it weird,” Isagi continued, carefully detached. “It’s just for the night. You’re leaving before I wake up.”

Rin scoffed, looking away. “I wasn’t gonna stay for breakfast.”

“Good,” Isagi said.

“Good,” Rin shot back.

But this time, it felt heavier. Neither of them spoke for the rest of the drive.

Shidou Ryusei Had Too Many Problems. Just two, to be more precise.

The first was Isagi fucking Yoichi. Not in a literal sense (though, that would’ve been hilarious), but in the what-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-this-guy sense.

Because what kind of person spends weeks orchestrating some elaborate plan to hook up their rival’s asshole older brother with a perfectly unhinged delinquent, only to get his own heart ripped out and still help said rival anyway?

Isagi’s whole thing with Rin was a cautionary tale. A fable about why love was bullshit. And Shidou, for all his chaos, wasn’t that stupid.

So funnily enough, the second problem was Itoshi Sae.

Because, despite the fact that Sae had been all over him in his car last night, despite the fact that Sae had practically handed himself over like some decadent, overpriced meal served in a silver platter at a five-star restaurant— He hadn’t answered a single one of Shidou’s texts.

Not that Shidou had sent many.

(Three. He'd sent three. Which wasn't even excessive, okay, because one of them was a meme and the other was a stupid question about training schedules.)

But still. Nothing.

And what the fuck was he supposed to do about that? Was he supposed to apologize? For what? For not sleeping with someone?

The deal with Isagi was done. He didn’t owe Sae anything. And yet—here he was, dragging himself to the school’s practice field like some lovesick idiot.

Because he needed something. What, exactly?He wasn’t sure. But he figured Sae would tell him. Even if it was just to say fuck off.

Shidou knew exactly where to find him.

Because, despite everything, despite the party, despite the drinking, despite the sheer amount of bullshit Sae had gone through the night before— There was only one place he’d be on a Sunday morning.

And sure enough, there he was. Wearing sunglasses. Shidou grinned. Then he laughed. Because that was fucking funny.

Sae, with his post-alcoholic misery, nursing a headache under a pair of pretentious designer sunglasses, kicking around a ball like his life depended on it.

If Shidou were a weaker man, he’d be a little smitten. Instead, he strutted toward him, already half-prepared for Sae to tell him to piss off.

And, unsurprisingly, Sae spotted him, barely tilted his head, and promptly ignored his existence.

Shidou rolled his eyes. “Aw, come on, babe, don’t act like you didn’t miss me.”

Sae sighed. “Leave.”

Shidou grinned wider. Because Sae was pissed. Which meant, despite pretending to be too good for emotions, despite acting like he didn’t care—He cared.  That made Shidou’s entire morning.

But before he could start pressing the issue, he noticed something.

Someone.

Because across the field, walking towards them with the confidence of a man who had never known fear, was Yukimiya Kenyu.

The guy had walked onto the field with zero survival instincts, all calm and collected like he wasn’t about to make the worst mistake of his life.

Shidou turned to Sae, thrilled, fully expecting him to swing and witness the public slaughtering. Instead, Sae sighed. Like he was already tired.

Which, frankly? Funnier than violence.

Yukimiya stopped a few feet away, posture perfect, mind clearly absent. “I need to talk to you.”

“No.”

“It’s important.”

“I don’t care.”

But Yukimiya pressed forward. “I get that you don’t like me.”

Sae exhaled. “I don’t think about you.”

Brutal.

Still, Yukimiya stayed firm. “I know you probably think I’m an idiot.”

Sae finally turned, adjusting his sunglasses. “Oh?” he said, utterly bored. “And why would I think that?”

“Because I got with your little brother.”

Shidou bit his knuckle. Oh, fuck. Interesting strategy. Let’s see if it pays off.

And for the first time, finally, he looked at Yukimiya properly. Not with anger. Not with anything remotely human. Just with the same expression someone gives when stepping on gum.

Yukimiya, impressively, held his ground. "I'm not playing around," he continued, tone obnoxiously sincere. "I'm serious about Rin."

Sae stilled. Not his stance, not his shoulders—but the air around them. Then, slowly, like the words physically pained him “You’re actually a fucking pervert.”

Shidou wheezed. This guy had spent all night whispering filth into Rin's ear like they were in some underground nightclub, and now-suddenly— he wanted to respectfully court him? Was he about to offer a dowry or something?

Yukimiya blinked. “What?”

Sae’s lip curled. “You have  the audacity to come here, after spending the night with Rin, sleeping with him, to ask for my permission to date him?”

“Sleeping with—” Yukimiya stopped, visibly confused. And then, something shifted. His face paled. His brows furrowed. “Rin didn’t—”

“Get the fuck out of my sight.”

There was a moment-a sharp, terrible moment-where Sae's grip tightened, where the air felt split-wire tense, where Yukimiya was about to get his ass handed to him.

Then, Shidou's phone vibrated. He blinked, glancing down.

New Email. From Ego. Tagged: URGENT.

Shidou hesitated. Then, still grinning, shoved his phone in Sae's face.

“You might wanna hold that thought right there pretty boy,” he said cheerfully “We’ve got news.”

Rin woke up to the sound of violent knocking. Then, the door flew open. “Rin, Get the fuck up!”

Rin’s entire soul left his body.

His eyes snapped open, heart pounding as he sat up so fast his vision spun. Across the room, standing in the doorway like a man on the brink of psychological collapse, was Isagi Yoichi.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Rin croaked, voice rough with sleep.

Isagi ignored him. Instead, he stormed toward the bed, shoving his phone in Rin’s face.

“READ THIS.”

Rin barely had time to process anything before his entire screen was flooded with text. With a deep, dread-filled sigh, he snatched the phone from Isagi’s hand and read.

Subject: [URGENT] Congratulations, You’re Useless.

From: Ego Jinpachi (Football head Coach)

To: Isagi Yoichi, Itoshi Rin, Shidou Ryuusei, Itoshi Sae.

Let me preface this by saying there’s nothing I truly despise more than players who don’t listen, wasted talent, and unnecessary phone calls.

So imagine my delight when, on my one day of rest, instead of enjoying a quiet breakfast, my morning was derailed when I had to answer a very aggressive phone call from the CEO of Mikage Corporation, regarding an “incident” at his son’s penthouse.

According to footage from the estate’s security team, one of our starting players was seen leaving the premises with a bloodied hand.

Now, I'll admit. When I first received this call, I assumed the worst. Surely, it was Shidou. Surely, it was him (a new recruit with no sense of direction, not one of my regular players) who went feral, put someone in the ICU, and single-handedly threatened to derail our upcoming season.

But no.

When questioned, Mikage Reo—your teammate, by the way— lied through his damn teeth and told his father that the injury was a result of a physical altercation between the two of you.

And now, because Reo’s father is understandably horrified that his financial investment is being wasted on two morons who can’t even be in the same room without resorting to violence, he has threatened to pull our funding.

Do you understand what that means? It means that instead of strategizing for Nationals, I have to waste my valuable fucking time dealing with whatever juvenile, testosterone-filled dick-measuring contest you have going on. And after reviewing every painstaking second of the embarrassing aftermath of your alleged catfight, l've reached the following conclusion:

You're both fucking benched. Effective immediately, for the next two weeks. Both of you will sit out every upcoming match for the next two weeks—including all practice games, scrimmages, and drills—until you can prove you’re capable of acting like functioning human beings.

Since you clearly don’t know how to function in the same space without nearly compromising our entire program, you will now be spending mandatory “cooperative” training sessions together.

And because I know neither of you possess the self-awareness necessary to grasp the full weight of your idiocy, let me clarify:

• Itoshi Rin → Shidou Ryusei (If this bothers you, congratulations. You’ve finally learned what consequences feel like.)
• Isagi Yoichi → TBA (Announcement pending. Not that you deserve one. In the meantime, feel free to reflect on how utterly pathetic it is that I have to discipline you for behavior even Shidou has managed to avoid.)

If either of you cause any more problems, your suspension will be extended. You have one job. Play football. Stop wasting my time.

P.S. Itoshi Sae, you’re receiving this because you should start praying that the email I just received from Oliver Aiku’s university, titled “Itoshi Sae Incident,” is a recruitment opportunity and not a lawsuit.

Ego Jinpachi

Chapter Text

Ego was already watching them when they walked in.

“Sit.”

Shidou flopped into his chair like a kid dragged to detention for the eighth consecutive time. Sae, posture perfect, settled beside him with the same cool indifference he always had.

“Well,” he said, voice smooth, sharp, and slightly amused, “since you have decided to personally shit on my strategic planning, let’s take a moment to reflect on the full scope of this disaster. But I do believe you already know how irreversibly fucked we are.”

Shidou, already texting, didn’t look up. “Storytime, sounds fun.”

Anri slapped a file onto the desk. Ego gestured lazily.

“Let’s start with exhibit A—the fact that, thanks to your brilliant decision-making, Aiku won’t be speaking properly for at least a month.” He tilted his head, as if genuinely pondering something. “Which means Japan’s most politically cushioned footballer—the one who, might I remind you, has an entire university, athletic board, played for this fucking team in the past and has half the JFA wrapped around his finger—now looks like the tragic victim of unchecked locker room savagery.”

Shidou, still texting, scoffed. “Tragic.”

Ego’s eye twitched. “Send one more message, and I will personally write a 50-page dissertation on sportsmanship and force you read it out loud before every fucking practice.”

Shidou, unbothered, sent another text.

[you look so pretty when you act cold and dismissive]

Sae’s phone, facedown on the table, lit up.

He didn’t react. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and said, completely impassively— “I don’t see what the big deal is.”

Anri swallowed so hard the echo could be heard through the entire office, slow: “Sae.”

Sae shrugged, crossing his arms. “It was an argument. He’s fine.”

“Well,” Ego let out a slow, mockingly impressed exhale. He said, “congratulations, Itoshi. That might just be the single dumbest sentence I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth.”

“Sae, the Waseda Athletics Committee is furious. They’re threatening to go public.” Anri slid a document forward.

“If they file this complaint, it will be national news.”

Shidou leaned back lazily. “Damn. Fancy letter.”

Anri ignored him. “That’s a formal complaint to the JFA.”

That finally got a reaction out of Sae.

Subtle—just a slight clench of his jaw. But Shidou caught it.

“You do understand what that means, don’t you, Itoshi?”

Sae, bored: “I’m benched.”

“That you are. Indefinitely. Until you learn to swallow your pride, shut your mouth, and act like a player instead of a spoiled, egotistical little diva who believes the world is the size of the backyard mommy and daddy built.”

Sae’s expression didn’t change. “It’s not my problem.”

Ego leaned forward.

“Oh, but it is. Because guess what, Itoshi?” A pause. "I don't give a damn about your pride and whatever idiotic pissing contest type of argument caused this." Ego said. "I don't care about your image. But what I do care about is keeping my best player on the field. And right now, you are more trouble than you're worth."

Sae finally looked at him. Just a fraction of a glance.

“Do you know how many midfielders there are in Japan? How many kids your age are dying to be where you are? And yet—” He gestured vaguely. “You sit here. Like some kind of discount football royalty, acting like the world owes you a throne.”

Sae’s fingers twitched. Ego tapped his desk. “If you think I won’t replace you, try me.”

Then, flatly—Sae said, “Then replace me.”

Anri scoffed. “You say that like there’s someone else.”

Ego burst into a laugh. “Oh, of course. Let me just summon a midfielder out of thin air.” He snapped his fingers mockingly. “Maybe I’ll dig one up from a graveyard. What do you think, Anri-chan? If I stitch together enough mediocre players, will I get a new decent player?”

Anri sighed.

Shidou snickered. “I’d pay to see that.”

His phone buzzed.

[Don't text me]

Shidou snorted under his breath, texting back anyway.

[why? watching you self-destruct, is hot ngl.]

Ego, ignoring him, leaned in again.

“But let’s not waste time on trivial details like the entire team collapsing or the fact that I now have to rebuild every formation weeks before nationals. No, no, let’s focus on the real issue.” His eyes gleamed. “Since everything is about you let’s focus on how Sae Itoshi—the prodigy, the golden boy, the rising star—might just be blacklisted before he even graduates.”

Sae’s jaw locked. Anri took the lead with a bunch of printed correspondence.

“Sae, if you lose JFA backing, you don’t just lose your position. You lose your career.”Anri pressed forward, firmer. “Do you know of any reputable clubs who’ll risk their reputations on a rookie midfielder with a disciplinary record?”

Sae’s shoulders tensed.

Anri sighed, voice softer. “We’ve negotiated terms. Waseda’s committee is willing to drop the issue If you apologize at the inaugural match—”

“No.”

Anri’s jaw clenched. “Sae—”

“I’m not apologizing.” His voice was final. No reaction.

Anri sighed, rubbing her temple. "Sae, please be reasonable. You don't even need to mean the apology. Just say the words."

"No."

Shidou, who had been half-listening while typing out a particularly inappropriate text to Sae, glanced up at that.

Because Ego and Anri weren't wrong. Sae wasn't dumb. It was obvious Japan was too small for him, too limited and constrict. If he wanted to play in the biggest leagues If he really wanted to play for the biggest leagues—if he really wanted to build his own name, untethered from his previous achievements—he needed JFA backing. Needed them to open doors, not slam them shut. And yet-he sat there, for some reason that went beyond pride, unwilling to budge or make a single statement.

Ego let out a slow exhale, his smile sharpened. “Well, since Itoshi has chosen career suicide, let’s move on.”

He turned to Shidou. “Do you understand why the hell are you even here?”

Shidou shrugged. “Glad you asked coach, been wondering that myself.”

“Aiku named you in his official statement.”

“What?”

Ego gestured vaguely. “Something about you egging him on or laughing like an asshole. Either way, Waseda’s committee wants to know if you played a role.”

Shidou grinned. “Nice to know I leave an impression.”

Anri looked deeply tired. "This is serious."

Shidou rolled his shoulders. "Not my fault Aiku bruises like a peach."

Ego gave him a look. "If you actually contributed to this disaster, I suggest you figure out how to keep your ass out of it."

Shidou stretched. "Pass."

Ego turned back to Sae. And then—his voice turned casual.

“You know, I was willing to overlook the rumors once, thinking you were old enough to handle your own damn issues.” A pause. “I won’t make that mistake twice.”

The air changed. It was small. Barely noticeable. But it was there. Sae’s fingers twitched at his sides just slightly. It reminded him of the incident night, of the way he looked repulsed; pissed and overly thoughtful at the slight of Aiku.

Ego’s smirk widened. “You’re making it far too easy to believe what we’ve been told Itoshi.”

Something cracked. Sae stood. “I’m done here.”

Ego didn’t stop him. “Of course you are.”

Sae walked like nothing had touched him. As if Ego’s words hadn’t dug into his ribs, hadn’t hollowed him out. Shidou tried to pretend he wasn’t behind him, staring at the sharp, disciplined lines of his back, hungry for something he couldn’t name. But he was hungry.

Sae was running. And worse, running like he thought Shidou wouldn’t chase him. This was something deeper. Something ugly.

“You know,” Shidou murmured, voice low, lazy, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you actually gave a shit about what Ego said back there.”

Sae didn’t flinch. Didn’t even acknowledge him.

“Damn,” he muttered, slipping his hands into his pockets, tongue clicking against his teeth. “Don’t shut me out now, princess. That was the most fun I’ve had all week.”

Still nothing.

Not a flicker of irritation. Not a single goddamn reaction. Just smooth, methodical footsteps, like Sae wasn’t even capable of stumbling. Like he’d trained himself out of it.

That pissed him off. Not because he wanted to see Sae fall apart—he did, but not like this. When he was already splitting at the seams. When he was already a fucking ghost inside his own body.

So Shidou touched him, deciding to test the waters. Not thinking, not planning—just instinct and perhaps need.

His gaze met Shidou’s, blank and unreadable, but his pulse—his fucking pulse—was right there under Shidou’s fingertips, giving him away. Shidou could feel it, steady but not unaffected. Sae could lie with his words, could lie with his face, could lie with every single thing in his fucking body, but his heartbeat was real.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” His voice was smooth. Controlled and not irritated. Not like he meant it.

Shidou tilted his head, letting his gaze drop to Sae’s mouth, then back up to his too-calm eyes.

“Or what?”

It would be so easy.

To push him back against the wall, press his thigh between his legs, lean in and see if that perfect fucking composure of his could withstand a real challenge. To slip his hand up Sae’s throat, feel the breath catch in his chest, make him remember exactly what he was trying so hard to forget.

He could do it. He could take whatever pathetic scraps of control Sae had left and burn them to nothing. Could drag his nails up his ribs, let his teeth sink into the delicate, sensitive parts of him— that fucking sharp collarbone—

Could wreck him.

But Shidou didn’t want him like this: hollow, unraveling, absent, like a damn ghost. He wanted Sae like he’d seen him on the field and always: aware, deliberate, whole. So he could watch him fall apart on purpose.

“Gonna tell me why you’re so determined to fuck yourself over, or do I have to keep playing detective?” he murmured, voice dropping into something softer. “Why’d you let that four eyed freak get to you, huh?”

Sae’s lips parted slightly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Is this… about the car?” Sae stilled. Not in the way normal people did. “So it is.”

Sae’s breath came even.

Shidou let out a short, sharp laugh. “That’s cute.”

Sae didn’t react. Just blank, unfeeling silence. Like none of it had happened. Maybe it was just a fever dream.

Shidou’s brain became infested with one thought: he could fix this. Make him fucking feel something instead of pretending the blood in his veins was ice. He could remind him, make him say it, make him admit it: how good he’d felt under his hands

But that wasn’t fun.  Not when Sae wanted to forget, pretending it had never mattered.

Shidou licked his lips, “Is that how we’re playing this?”

“It was a mistake.” Sae’s gaze didn’t waver. Dismissive in a way that scraped like a blade— “A forgettable one.”

Sae turned. Shidou didn’t stop him. Just watched him go, something dark and unforgiving curling low in his ribs.

Because, he was sure of it. Sae could run all he wanted. Shidou would always catch up. 

Monday was hell. Isagi wasn't stupid. He knew people talked. Knew they whispered, gossiped, made up whatever bullshit stories they could to fill the gaps.

But the moment he stepped inside, he felt the shift. The way heads turned. The way people leaned in, murmuring behind their hands, throwing glances between him and—

"Holy shit, I still can't believe it—Rin Itoshi is actually dating someone?"

"Not just someone-fucking Yukimiya Kenyu. Dude, did you see them at the party?"

"Wait—so Rin Itoshi is into guys?"

"Right? I thought that dude was literally asexual. I thought he'd die a virgin out of sheer willpower."

"Well, not anymore. Apparently, Yukki took care of that and popped his cherry"

"Shut the fuck up-what?”

“Yup. And it makes sense though… Yukki is like the hottest third year after Sae Itoshi. Who wouldn’t fold? Rin is so cool but man, he obviously needed to loosen up.”

"Yeah, but did you hear the real thing?"

Isagi walked faster. Trying to avoid what he’d just seen.

Rin, who sat on the other side of the room, looking like he wanted to commit his second violent offense and get benched again. Which, fair. But still, Isagi swallowed any remaining sympathy and walked past by him. Ignoring the 10 unread text messages on his phone.

But it didn’t stop. If anything, it got worse.

"Five seconds later, he fought Isagi?"

"Dude, what even happened there?"

"You haven't heard? Apparently, Isagi's been super pissed about Rin taking his spot as the next ace."

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah, it was a whole thing at the party. They had a huge fight. Reo had to break them up."

Isagi felt like his brain was going to leak out of his ears. This was a fucking disaster. And then it got worse. Because when he sat down, his friends were already grinning.

Bachira smiled. “Damn, Tough weekend, huh?”

Isagi groaned. “Can we not talk about it?”

Kunigami sighed. “Damn, man. You okay?”

Isagi pinched the bridge of his nose. “Define ‘okay.’”

Reo smirked. “I think, in this case, ‘okay’ means ‘not in an emotional coma over watching your rival-slash-hopeless-crush pick another guy in public.’”

Isagi glared. “You don’t need to say it like that.”

“Just making sure we’re on the same page.”

Chigiri crossed his arms. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll stop.” Then, softer, “You good, though?”

Because for all the relentless clowning, his friends actually cared. Isagi gave a tight-lipped smile. He appreciated it. Really. But that didn’t change the fact that his heart still fucking hurt. Still, he shook his head. “It’s fine. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“I mean, he’s an asshole,” Chigiri muttered, nudging him slightly. “So honestly? You’re better off. We’re just making sure you’re okay,”

“Yeah,” Bachira added. “I mean, you actually liked him.”

They weren’t teasing him. They weren’t rubbing salt in the wound. They just… looked at him. Waiting. Because they knew. They knew how hard he tried. And for the first time since the party, Isagi actually wanted to talk about it.

He sighed. “I mean, it doesn’t matter anymore, right?”

No one responded.

Chigiri just tilted his head. “Doesn’t it?”

Isagi hesitated.

Kunigami spoke. “Look, man, I’m not gonna pretend Rin isn’t a fucking idiot.”

Reo nodded. “And an asshole.”

Bachira smirked. “And a total dick.”

Isagi huffed a small laugh.

“But still,” Kunigami continued, “you’re our idiot. And honestly? If you’re pissed? You should be.”

Isagi’s chest tightened. Because that was the thing. He was. He was pissed. He was hurt. But somehow, he didn’t feel alone.

“So,” Kunigami started, arms crossed, “let’s get to the real question—what the fuck happens to the team now?”

Isagi blinked. “Huh?”

Reo sighed, not seeming very enthusiastic at this conversation at all. “You and Rin are benched for two weeks.”

Bachira nodded at that statement, his eyes full of normal childish curiosity now filled with something akin to concern. “And apparently, Sae’s benched too?”

Chigiri raised a brow. “But why?”

Kunigami leaned forward. “That’s the thing—no one fucking knows.”

Isagi hesitated. Because he knew. Sae had gotten into a physical fight. Sae, who never lost control. Sae, who never let his emotions dictate his actions. Sae, who had left the party with Shidou.

Chigiri sipped his drink. “Yeah…” He turned to Reo. “What’s this about your captain getting benched?”

“I don’t know.” Reo frowned. “They’re saying Shidou’s a bad influence. That he’s the reason Sae got into a fight.”

Reo tensed, as if he knew the consequences were creeping up on them.

Kunigami scoffed. “Bullshit. Sae Itoshi doesn’t get ‘influenced.’”

“Yeah, if anything, he’s the bad influence,” Chigiri added.

Bachira hummed, drumming his fingers against the table. “But if he gets benched, that means…”

The table went even quieter. Because if the Sae rumors were true— It was bad. Everyone knew Sae Itoshi wasn’t normal. He was their star player, the foundation of their team, the reason they had been undefeated for three straight years at nationals. If Sae left—if Sae was forced to leave—they were fucked.

“What was he even doing?” Kunigami asked, skeptical. “Since when does he start fights?”

“Since when does he even party?” Chigiri added.

Reo hummed. “Since when does he hang around Shidou?”

That shut them up. Because yeah. What the fuck was up with that?

Chigiri smirked. “I mean, if you leave Sae Itoshi alone with Shidou Ryuusei for too long, something is bound to happen.”

Isagi sighed. “Well, it’s not like we can do anything about it now.”

And just as those words left his mouth, the cafeteria noise dipped. People started turning their heads. Shidou fucking Ryuusei walked in and stopped in front of him.

He leaned down, smirking, voice too casual.

“Yo, Isagi.”

Isagi closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. And accepted his fate. 

Shidou Ryusei Was Not a Patient Man. And yet, here he was, sitting across from Isagi fucking Yoichi.

The cafeteria buzzed around them, but Shidou barely heard it. His mind was too caught up elsewhere—on a certain redheaded asshole who hadn’t responded to a single one of his texts.

Sae was ignoring him.

Which—okay, fine. That wasn’t exactly shocking. Shidou had expected some level of resistance. Sae was the type to act like the world owed him something, like nothing was worth his time unless it was already under his control.

Despite what Shidou told himself, despite the fact that this had started as just another game, just another challenge—he actually wanted to know.

Wanted to know why, for a split second in Ego’s office, at the mention of leniency—Sae had actually reacted. Not a big reaction, not even something most people would notice, but it had meant something.

And if there was one thing Shidou hated, it was not knowing. Which was exactly why he needed this idiot to help.

Isagi sighed, leaning back in his chair. “You’re staring.”

Shidou grinned. “Can you blame me? You’re just so pretty when you’re suffering.”

Isagi groaned, rubbing his temple. “What do you want?”

Shidou stretched his arms over his head, voice lilting with amusement. “What? Can’t a guy just check in with his favorite benched player? You’re my favorite tragic protagonist.” He tilted his head. “How’s life after losing your boyfriend?”

Isagi tensed. “Shut the fuck up.”

interesting. Shidou did an exaggerated pout just to press "Damn. And here I thought we were besties."

Isagi snorted. "We are not besties."

Shidou smirked. "Yeah? Then why'd Rin sleep over?"

Slowly,: "How do you even know that?"

Shidou just grinned, far too pleased with himself.

"Easy. He didn't go home, and he's not clinging to Yukimiya today."

"That doesn't mean—"

“C’mon,” he teased. “Rin Itoshi, all broody and fucked up? People talk, Isagi.”

Isagi's ears went pink. "You're wrong."

Shidou tilted his head. "Am I?"

"Yes."

Shidou hummed, then leaned in, dropping his voice to a stage whisper. "So, was it rough?"

Isagi blinked. "What."

“Look at all these damn fools.” Shidou leaned forward, grinning. “They think you two fought over soccer.”

Isagi rolled his eyes. “Because we did.”

Shidou tsked. “See, that’s where I disagree.” His grin turned playful and insinuating. “I think you two had a hate fuck session so intense, Rinrin got his hand permanently fucked up in the process.”

Isagi’s entire body locked up.

“You are a sadist, then.” Shidou laughed, delighted. “That reaction was beautiful. Almost makes me think I’m right.”

Isagi gritted his teeth. “You’re not.”

“Sure, sure,” Shidou said, waving a hand. “Anyway. I need a favor.”

“No.”

“You didn’t even hear it.”

“Don’t need to.”

“Touchy, touchy.” Shidou propped his chin in his palm, eyes gleaming. “Okay, fine, I’ll make this quick—It’s about Sae.”

Isagi stared. “…What.”

That got his attention.

Shidou hummed. "Aw, come on. Don't be like that. It's a good cause."

"Nothing that involves you is ever good."

"Rude." Shidou smirked. "Look, I just need you to snoop around Sae's room and-" Isagi stared at him like he'd just asked him to break someone’s legs and thrash their car. "—find out how I can make him stop ignoring me."

“No?”

“I need to figure out what I can do to make him talk to me again,” Shidou said, tone completely casual, like this wasn’t the stupidest fucking thing he could possibly say.

Isagi exhaled sharply. “Are you insane?”

“Debatable.”

“Why do you even care?”

Shidou hesitated. Just for a second.

Because there were a lot of reasons he could give. The college excuse? Easy enough to sell. But perhaps this conversation needed a little bit of honesty before it’d get any worse.

"Because," Shidou said, still grinning, "I don't like being ignored."

Isagi scoffed. "You don't like Sae. You just hate that he doesn't give a shit about you."

"Why can’t it just be both? Come on, Yoichi," he mocked Isagi’s tone while chewing a piece of broccoli, drumming his fingers on the table. "You know how guys like Sae work, right? Gotta figure out what makes 'em tick."

“Not my fucking problem, either.”

But the real reason—the fact that he needed to figure Sae out, that he wanted to break past whatever walls that bastard had built—that was not something he was willing to say out loud.

So instead:

“Listen, I’m just trying to get into art school,” Shidou said smoothly. “And if I wanna do that, I need to play official matches. Can’t exactly do that if our team’s fucked.”

Isagi narrowed his eyes. “That’s bullshit.”

Shidou shrugged. Was he really that much of a bad liar? He had to practice his negotiating skills more. “It ls, Yukimiya’s paying me.”

“He seriously went through with that?”

Shidou nodded. "Yeah, dude showed up all serious, asked if I could get Rin back on the field and ease the pole out of his ass. See, he thinks Rin's avoiding him because of soccer drama or whatever."

"That's the dumbest shit l've ever heard."

"Oh, for sure… I mean you gave him the idea in the first place, lover boy."

"Did you take the money?"

Shidou laughed since the answer was pretty obvious but perhaps not enough for Isagi to get where he was going with this. "Obviously."

Isagi reacted with visible disgust in his face, an acceptable reaction if he hadn’t started this mess in the first place. Shidou laughed at that. "So. You in?"

"Why me?" Isagi muttered, muffled.

Shidou shrugged, this was the perfect time to drop it with some perfectly timed humor . "Because Rin clearly feels guilty about cucking you."

Isagi lunged. Shidou cackled, dodging out of the way. "Say that again, and I'm putting you through the fucking table."

"Relax," Shidou laughed. "I'm just saying. He looks guilty as hell."

Isagi muttered something under his breath. Probably an insult. Shidou didn’t care.

Instead, he leaned back, stretching lazily. “Point is, if I can make up with Sae, I can get back on the field.” He tilted his head. “And maybe, if I play my cards right, I can get you and Rin unbenched before playoffs.”

That made Isagi pause. Hook, line, and sinker.

“Ego’s not gonna unbench me just because you and Sae make up,” Isagi muttered.

“Maybe not,” Shidou admitted. “But if I can get Sae back in, it’s a step in the right direction. And who knows? Maybe Sae wants to play with his baby brother again.”

Isagi scoffed. “That’s never happening.”

Shidou hummed. “Maybe not. But if you don’t help me, it’s definitely never happening.”

Isagi was quiet. Thinking.

“…Fine,” Isagi muttered.

Shidou beamed. “That’s my boy.”

“But if I get caught,” Isagi warned, voice flat, “I’m breaking both your legs and selling your liver in the black market to cover the medical bills.”

Shidou laughed, slapping the table. “Fair trade.”

Math was supposed to be an easy subject.

It was logical. Straightforward. Numbers followed rules. Equations had solutions. Everything fit together neatly—unlike the absolute disaster that was his life.

Rin stared at his notebook, where his mechanical pencil had pressed into the page, leaving behind deep, useless indents. The actual numbers blurred together, incomprehensible. He had spent the last twenty minutes not thinking about math at all.

Instead, his mind had been stuck on Sunday.

On the polite warmth of Isagi’s mother, smiling too kindly as she poured him tea, gushing about how much Isagi talked about him. On the way his stomach had twisted when he heard it—because she didn’t know, she had no clue what had happened between them, what Rin had ruined with his own hands.

He had apologized, of course. A deep bow, proper words, a stupid, formal attempt to correct something that couldn’t be corrected.

And then there was Shidou outside of his fucking house lingering like a moth to light.

Rin’s jaw clenched at the memory. That mess of a human being, walking behind Sae like a shadow that refused to be shaken off. He had seen them when he got home, the way Shidou followed him, step-for-step, like he was watching something he was going to destroy later.

It wasn’t Rin’s business. He told himself that. Repeated it in his head. But it didn’t stop bothering him. Rin turned his phone over, scanning his notifications with a vague sense of dread.

Not a single reply from Isagi.

Message after message, all left on read. He had tried apologizing. He had tried reaching out. He had tried making things right, even though nothing was.

And Isagi had given him nothing in return.

His fingers hovered over his phone before he forced himself to put it down. Because at the end of the day, it didn’t matter how much he thought about it. What mattered was fixing it.

Rin pressed the eraser of his mechanical pencil against his notebook, watching the indentations it made in the paper instead of actually solving the equation in front of him.

His phone screen buzzed, lighting up just enough to catch his attention.

A message from Yukimiya.

Rin’s stomach clenched. He should have probably expected this. It wasn’t that he didn’t care. It was that he had no fucking clue where to even begin. There were too many things left unfinished. Too many conversations left dangling, unsaid, unresolved. But right now, Rin could only focus on one thing.

And that thing was Isagi.

So the moment recess started, Rin made a beeline for Bachira.

He had barely opened his mouth before Bachira turned around and gave him a well meant, slow thumbs down.

“Try again,” Bachira said, grinning, but his eyes weren’t playful. “Actually, don’t.”

“I just—” Rin looked agitated at nothing more than confronting his crush’s best friend. “I need to—”

“Nope,” Bachira cut him off. “Not my problem. Not my business. If Isagi wanted to talk to you, you wouldn’t be here talking to me. Bye-bye.”

And just like that, he skipped away. Fine.

Next, Chigiri.

“Not interested.” Chigiri didn’t even let him get a full sentence out.

“I just need to—”

“Don’t care.”

Rin pressed his lips together, forcing his voice even. “I just need to know how to fix this.”

Chigiri laughed. Actually laughed. “Oh, now you care? Maybe you should’ve thought about that before.”

“I know.”

Chigiri crossed his arms. “Then figure it out yourself.”

And then, Kunigami.

Who looked Rin dead in the eye and said, “No.”

Rin barely contained his irritation. “I didn’t even ask anything yet.”

“You were going to,” Kunigami said. “So no.”

Rin clenched his jaw. “I just need to know—”

“Rin.” Kunigami’s voice was calm but sharp. “Fix it yourself.”

The frustration clawed up Rin’s throat. He was trying. He was trying to fix it. But it wasn’t that simple. It had never been simple.

None of them were wrong. His final attempt was Nagi and Reo.

Reo crossed his arms, looking bored. “You’re actually serious about this, huh?”

Rin exhaled through his nose. “Yes.”

Reo hummed. “So if you’re serious, why did you let it get this bad in the first place?”

Rin had no answer to that.

And Nagi, barely even looking up from his phone, muttered, “Too much effort.”

Rin didn’t argue. Because the truth was—he deserved this. But it didn’t change the fact that he still had to try.

Which was why when he walked in the afternoon, the club rooms were quieter than usual, the air stale with the weight of conversations no one wanted to have.

This wasn’t training. Not in the way Rin wanted it to be. No running, no drills, no grueling conditioning until his body felt like it would collapse. Just sitting in a room with people who didn’t want to be there, talking about things they didn’t want to talk about. It was some stupid mandatory session about team cohesion, or conflict resolution, or whatever the school had labeled it this time.

Rin didn’t care. He had bigger things to think about. He had Isagi to think about. And that’s when he decided. Decided, without hesitation, that it didn’t matter what it took. Didn’t matter how many times he had to try, fail, and try again.

He was going to fight for Isagi. No matter the cost.

The sound of the door opening made him snap back to reality. Isagi walked in. Now. He had to say something now. Rin straightened in his seat, turned, opened his mouth—

Isagi beat him to it. “We need to talk after this.”

Rin blinked, thrown off. That was not what he was expecting. Isagi’s tone was flat, neutral.

Rin didn’t like that. Didn’t like the feeling that he had already lost before he even had the chance to start. And yet—he nodded. Because for the first time since everything fell apart, Isagi was looking at him again.

That was enough to make him hope.

The office had never felt more suffocating. It was not due to the tension, or due to the guilt, but due the crushing certainty that they were about to be verbally skinned alive. Rin and Isagi sat, stiff, quiet, far too aware of their impending execution.

On the other side, Ego sat with a slow, creeping grin, fingers laced together as if he were debating which one of them he’d like to dissect first. Beside him, Anri was flipping through a clipboard, looking like she’d rather be anywhere else.

And then there was Reo.

Balanced precariously on a rolling chair in the corner, the picture of a man who had just realized he was about to suffer for someone else’s crimes.

The silence stretched for so long that it became unbearable.

“To begin,” Anri said, trying to sound calm, “Reo will be joining us today as a key witness to the incident—”

“A key witness,” Ego cut in, “who just so happened to have the biggest mouth in Japan.”

Reo stiffened.

Ego’s glasses glinted. “Since you couldn’t keep your damn mouth shut about this to your father, the least you can do is share the torture.”

Reo looked like a man seeing his entire career flash before his eyes. “I—I tried my hardest—”

“And yet,” Ego continued, voice practically oozing disappointment, “you failed. If I ever need someone to leak state secrets under zero pressure, I know exactly who to call.”

Reo looked like he wanted to crawl under the chair and die. But Ego was already moving on. His eyes flicked to Isagi.

“Now then,” he murmured, like he had been waiting for this. “Isagi Yoichi.”

Isagi tried not to visibly tense.

“Tell me,” Ego continued, “why do you think I recruited you?”

Isagi swallowed. “Uh… because of my football sense? That’s what Anri-san told me.”

Anri nodded encouragingly, as if that could possibly soften the incoming blow.

Ego exhaled sharply, like he had just been forced to witness something fundamentally stupid. “Incorrect.”

Isagi blinked. “Then… why?”

Ego leaned forward, smiling that eerie, calculated smile again. “Because I—naively—thought your skills could bring out the best in my players. That you could make them thrive. That your talent would bloom, like—”

A pause. Flat, cutting, completely serious.

"—like a stray dog that finally gets fed and, in a moment of divine realization, discovers it had the potential to be a wolf all along."

The silence was deafening. Reo looked like he was debating his life choices. Rin clenched his jaw, looking anywhere but at Ego.

“That’s—I don’t even—”

“No, no, please,” Ego gestured grandly, “by all means, enlighten me. Tell me how it felt to be standing on my field, wearing my uniform, and deciding that the best use of your talent was to play bullfighting with my offensive pillar on a fucking house party.”

Ego’s smile disappeared.

“I brought you in to play, Isagi. Not to potentially knock my offensive pillar off the damn team and injure yourself in the process.”

Isagi’s lips parted, defensive. “So you’re playing favorites now?”

Ego gave a low chuckle. And then, his expression went blank. “Players are whatever to me.”

Isagi’s stomach dropped.

Ego leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other, expression as smooth as ever.“What I care about is talent. Your talent. His talent. Which is why I’m so utterly, bone-deep disgusted by what I had to witness and bear.”

Ego’s voice dipped into something lower, meaner, dripping with disdain. “You two can destroy each other on the field. In fact, I expect it. I encourage it. But off it?” His smile curved into something truly unhinged. “I expect you to behave like professionals, or at the very least, creatures with with at least a single functional brain cell between you.”

Neither of them spoke. They didn’t dare.

Ego exhaled, almost tiredly. “If this were a real club, your contracts would have already been rescinded, and you’d be paying some very real financial consequences.”

Isagi felt a chill creep up his spine. Ego’s gaze snapped to Rin.

“And you.” Rin felt his stomach turn. “You would’ve been fined for being a stuck-up little diva who lets his emotions dictate his decision-making.”

The insult landed with surgical precision.

Ego’s smile widened. “That’s right, Itoshi. You’re a liability. Congratulations.”

Reo looked like he wanted to slide under the chair.

But Ego wasn’t finished. His glare snapped to Reo.

“And you.” Reo froze. “You would be banned and blacklisted for being a snitch who can’t grasp the basic concept of locker room silence.”

Reo made a strangled noise. “I am so sorry coach, I swear I am experiencing deep regret and—”

“Good.”

Ego stood up abruptly, adjusting his glasses.

“Well. Enjoy your hand-holding therapy session. I, on the other hand, have to salvage what’s left of this team and prevent us from becoming the most publicly humiliated high school team in Japanese football history.”

He turned to leave. Then, he hesitated. Slowly, he turned back to Reo.

“And Reo,” Ego murmured, voice like a blade against glass, “if I hear so much as a whisper of today’s session leaking to your father, I will personally ensure your next contract is a lifetime subscription to a futsal hobby club.”

Reo turned pale but grabbed his stuff and left the room. And then, without another word, Ego walked out. But his absence didn’t make the air any easier to breathe.

If anything, it made things worse. Because now, it was just them. Rin. Isagi. Anri. And no distractions left to hide behind.

Rin and Isagi sat, tense and miserable, except now, they were left alone with their club advisor, smiling all gently and expectantly like they were about to embark on some heartfelt journey of self improvement.

Which, quite frankly, was horrifying.

Rin sat perfectly still, arms crossed, his posture too stiff, too forced, like if he sat still enough, he could make this moment pass faster. Isagi, meanwhile, shifted every few seconds, fingers drumming absently against his knee, a nervous energy settling into his bones.

So instead of focusing on him, Isagi focused on Anri, somehow wishing her sympathy would extend. Clipboard in hand, radiating the kind of calm, professional patience that made Isagi’s stomach sink.

Because if there was one thing worse than getting chewed out by Ego, it was being left alone with someone who actually wanted them to talk.

He exhaled slowly, looking down at his hands.

This was stupid. They could’ve let time smooth things over. Let everything get buried beneath practices and schedules and the inevitability of having to work together. But now they were trapped in this room, with nothing between them but silence and everything they hadn’t said.

And worse than all of that— Rin was here. Sitting next to him. Silent. Unmoving. And Isagi hated that it still made his chest feel tight.

Anri adjusted her glasses. “Alright then, now that your coach’s gone, it’s time for a more constructive approach. let’s start simple. Let’s talk about what happened.”

Isagi exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean… it’s not really that deep—”

“It was my fault,” Rin cut in. Flat. Certain. Isagi’s head snapped toward him. There was no hesitation. No guilt. Just a quiet, settled acceptance. Seemingly, he had already made peace with the idea. Something about that made Isagi feel uneasy.

“Oh? And why do you think that?” Anri asked, while she most likely annotated their answers in her notebook.

Before Rin could answer, Isagi scoffed. “Because he can’t hold a proper conversation and actually open up.”

Rin turned to look at him, eye twitching like he had something to be offended for. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, sorry,” Isagi said, flat, unimpressed. “Did you want me to say it more gently? Alright. You have the communication skills of a teaspoon.”

Rin let out a slow breath, controlled but irritated. “Did you read that in a self-help book?”

“No, I figured it out after spending too much time around you. Because it’s true.”

Anri sighed, deeply, like she had just realized she was babysitting two children. “Did your argument have to do with personal matters?”

A loud, weighted, unmistakable silence. A silence thick enough to feel. Isagi felt it settle into his chest, heavy and uncomfortable.

Anri tapped her pen against her clipboard. “Not answering is still an answer, you know.”

Isagi exhaled sharply. “It’s not—”

“Not relevant,” Rin finished.

“Mmmhmm.”

“Alright,” Anri said, too chipper. “That means it’s time for trust exercises!”

Isagi looked away, fingers tightening over his knee. There was no way out of this.

“Rin, say something that bothers you about Isagi. Isagi, you’ll do the same. Neither of you can contradict the other.”

Rin exhaled. “I’m not particularly bothered by him.”

Isagi let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Oh, thanks—”

“—but his sudden avoidance is making things harder.”

The air shifted. Not much. Not enough for Anri to notice. But enough for Isagi to feel it.

His fingers curled tighter over his knee. “Well, maybe if you didn’t insist on pushing me away and acting all confusing all the time, I wouldn’t need to push anything away.”

Rin turned to him, calm, unreadable. “I can’t have a Time Machine, Isagi.”

“Maybe you should build one.”

“I can’t undo things, no matter how hard I wish I could.”

Isagi’s breath caught. For the first time in weeks, he felt the weight of everything they hadn’t said.

Rin looked down, his hands clasped together like he was holding himself still. “I can only try to not repeat the same mistake. And try my hardest.”

Isagi felt how those words made his brain twist and his heart get squished. That sounded too much like an apology. But it still wasn’t just that. And he didn’t know if he was ready to accept it.

Anri then flipped a page on her clipboard, smiling like she wasn’t about to ruin their lives. “Now, say something you like about each other. And it has to be unconditional.”

Isagi’s stomach dropped.He glanced at Rin, who looked equally as horrified.

Anri gave a bright, expectant look. “Isagi, you go first.”

He exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair, stalling. This was so much worse than the last exercise. Because admitting something that bothered him about Rin? That was easy. That was natural. That was familiar territory. This was stepping into unknown, uncharted space, where one wrong move could tip him over the edge.

Still, he had to say something.

He licked his lips, staring at the wall like it held the answer. “I think Rin is so hardworking and talented it’s almost unfair.”

Rin blinked. Isagi pushed forward quickly, before the weight of what he said could settle. “Like—I mean, he never stops. Even when everything’s against him. Even when no one’s there to push him forward. He just keeps going. I don’t know how he does it, but it’s—”

His throat felt tight. He hadn’t meant to say it like that. Hadn’t meant to sound so… So much.

Rin’s eyes were on him now, focused and unreadable.

Isagi forced a breath out, looking away. “It’s like when I’m riding my bike,” he muttered, not really thinking, just reaching for something that made sense. “Like—the sun’s always ahead of me. No matter how fast I go, it’s always just out of reach. But I keep chasing it anyway, because… because something about it makes me want to try.”

A shift. Not a big one at that, maybe something not anyone else would notice.

But Isagi felt it.

The way Rin inhaled, just slightly too deep. The way his hands tightened over his arms, his posture locked in place, like he had just been hit by something he didn’t expect. Like he knew exactly what Isagi meant.

Isagi’s chest felt too tight. This was too much. Too open and real. He wanted to take it back, smother it, move on before it became something permanent.

But Anri (oblivious, well-meaning, ruining his life) smiled. “That was a lovely metaphor, Isagi-kun.”

Rin still hadn’t moved. Still hadn’t looked away from him.

Anri turned her attention next. “Rin, your turn.”

For a second, Rin didn’t speak. Didn’t even shift. And then, slowly, like every word had to be carefully pulled out, he spoke. “Isagi is stubborn.”

That was safe. That was expected. “But he’s also the only one who makes me play my best.”

Isagi gulped down so loud he felt everyone could hear him. Because it wasn’t just what Rin said. It was how he said it. Careful. Controlled. Like he didn’t want to admit it, but it was the only answer he had.

Rin exhaled, barely moving, voice quieter now. “It’s like—no matter what I do, he’s always there. Pushing. Chasing. Making me want to keep going. I don’t even realize it half the time, but then I look up, and—”

Isagi’s heartbeat was too loud. Rin’s fingers tensed slightly against his sleeve.

And then— “It’s like there’s something always hovering behind me. Pushing me forward. Making me move faster, play harder, try more than I should. And sometimes, it feels like… like an Angel of Death, waiting for me to slip up.”

Isagi’s breath hitched. Rin swallowed, staring at the table, like he wished he hadn’t said it nor meant to say it quite like that.

Isagi didn’t know what to do with the way his chest ached. Didn’t know how to process the fact that Rin had just described the exact thing he felt too. Because it wasn’t just about football. It wasn’t just about competition.

It was the fact that they were always there.

Trailing after each other, waiting, pulling, forcing the other to keep going. A shadow at their backs. A light just ahead. Isagi had never been able to explain it before. Now Rin had put it into words. And it was too late to take it back. They looked at each other. For once, neither of them had a snarky remark. The silence stretched.

Isagi could hear the faint hum of the air conditioning, the distant murmur of voices outside the office. But everything in this room felt different now. Like something had shifted between them, and neither of them knew what to do about it.

Anri smiled, still oblivious to the fact that she had just witnessed a life-altering moment. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

Isagi barely heard her. Just as he realized something terrifying: he didn’t hate this feeling at all.

“Well, I think we’ve made great progress today! I’ll be sure to let Ego-san know that you both survived. You’re free to go—just try not to kill each other on the way out.”

Rin and Isagi stood up so fast it was suspicious. As they left, they refused to look at each other. Which, of course, only made the tension worse.

“Angel of death, huh?” Isagi muttered.

Rin groaned. “Forget I said that.”

“Nope. I think I’ll hold onto that one.”

Rin shoved him, Isagi laughed, and for a brief moment, it felt like everything between them could be easy again.

Shidou had always thought people were easy to figure out.

They had patterns. Habits. Weaknesses. People were puzzles that wanted to be solved. If you paid enough attention, you could learn the rhythm of their movements, the places where their masks cracked, the things that made them human enough to break.

Shidou had built his world on this knowledge. It made life easy and predictable.

But then, there was Sae Itoshi. Who moved without rhythm. Who defied logic. Who didn’t seem to want for anything at all. For as long (three and a half whole weeks) as Shidou had known him, Sae had remained an anomaly. A game that refused to be played. The more he watched him, the more he followed, the more he let himself linger, the less it felt like a game. A contradiction in human form. And that was fine, for a while.

Specially after Shidou had chosen to skip the official team practice to understand what the golden boy Sae Itoshi might do when he couldn’t keep all of his free time hostage to soccer training (and maybe get a clue as to how to win him back but he’d never confess that out loud)

1st Stop: the Stationery Store 

Shidou had prepared himself for a lot of things.

But not for Sae, with his measured steps and indifferent posture, walking into a stationery store and picking up a journal. Not just any journal—leather-bound, sleek, the kind of thing people bought when they wanted their words to mean something.

The sight of it sent a strange, unfamiliar feeling crawling up Shidou’s spine. Sae Itoshi was not the kind of person who documented things. He wasn’t the kind of person who recorded memories, or wrote down thoughts, or kept track of anything at all beyond what was necessary. His words had always been spare, sharp, limited to what was functional and efficient.

And yet, here he was, standing in the soft glow of a shop filled with delicate things, holding onto a journal like it was meant for him.

Shidou didn’t like that. Because it meant there were things inside Sae’s head that no one else knew. Things he carried but never spoke of, things he might have wanted to forget but felt compelled to write down instead.

Shidou could have ignored it. Could have let the moment pass. But he was incapable of that kind of patience. So now, he wanted to know what else Sae kept hidden from the outside world that was so secretive no one else could know.

2nd Stop: Gacha Machines

The journal was one thing. The gacha machine was another.

Because nothing in Shidou’s world had prepared him for the sight of Sae Itoshi standing in front of a capsule toy machine, putting in a coin, and spinning the dial like some sleep-deprived college student looking for divine intervention.

The plastic capsule clicked into place, smooth and mechanical, and for a second, everything felt surreal.

Shidou watched, wide-eyed, as Sae cracked it open.

A tiger keychain.

Shidou stared, wondering if he had entered some alternate timeline where Sae collected small trinkets for fun. But then—another spin.

The next capsule held a horror manga charm.

Shidou inhaled sharply, blinking like that would make the scene make sense. It didn’t. None of it did.

Sae Itoshi—who moved through life like he had already seen everything it had to offer, who didn’t do anything unless it served a purpose—standing here, wasting time and spare change on randomized toys.

It wasn’t rational. It wasn’t precise. It wasn’t him. But it was. That realization sent him spiraling down.

Because this version of Sae—the one indulging in meaningless distractions, standing under the glow of vending machines like someone who had space in his life for small, unnecessary things—was not the version the world knew.

The strange and unexpected feeling creeping up on his spine told him, that maybe, he liked this version of Sae more.

3rd Stop: The Football Store

For the first time all day, something made sense. A football store. A place where Sae belonged.

Shidou exhaled in relief, arms crossing over his chest as he followed him inside. And just as instantly he noticed something wasn’t right.

Sae was standing in front of the cleats, turning over a box in his hands: a sleek black pair with small details in navy blue. Not white. Sae had always worn white. It was part of him, part of his image, a reflection of a player who knew exactly who he was. At least, Shidou thought that’s what it was, the guy didn’t have a very particular fashion style nor sense, his clothing choices were always pristine and effortlessly elegant, even his training gear screamed sophisticated and refined. That was one of his perks: his play style was beautiful and clean.

Did Shidou misread his personal style? That possibility became more apparent as the pink haired player was, lingering, considering, something unreadable in the way his fingers traced the stitching.

What could it be that had this beautiful monster shifting? Just what exactly made his gears turn? Shidou became afraid he had a vague but firm answer slipping by: something he wasn’t a part of.

And that, more than anything else today, made him feel sick.

4th Stop: A Café

By now, Shidou was exhausted.

Because every fucking time he thought he was getting closer to understanding, Sae would do something to remind him that he never would.

Like ordering milk cake and dark coffee in a pompous and overpriced establishment.

Sae, who barely seemed to like food, who never indulged in anything unnecessary, sitting at a café table, fork sliding through something soft and sweet and absolutely not what Shidou would have ever expected.

And maybe it shouldn’t have mattered. Maybe this should have been another quirk to store away, another curiosity to pick apart.

But Shidou couldn’t stop staring.

Couldn’t stop thinking about the contrast, about the way Sae didn’t hesitate when he brought a bite to his lips, about the way he looked so at ease with something delicate and sweet on his plate. Had he always been so much of a sweet tooth? Was it only an experiment for the time being? Is this the type of places he frequents when nobody is around to judge him?

And for the first time, Shidou had to wonder: what else don’t I know about you?

5th Stop: The Bookstore

Shidou had been quiet this whole time. For once, he had let himself watch and not overthink during the entire process to figure out how this day off revealed Sae Itoshi’s true personality and hidden layers thereof.

Sae walked into the bookstore.

This time, Shidou felt something else.

Because the moment Sae entered, he lingered longer than before. His movements weren’t just absent-minded—they were searching.

A Japanese-Spanish dictionary. A horror novel. And finally, the vinyls. Sae’s fingers hovered. Paused. Over Spanish rock.

For the first time all day—Sae hesitated. Just as he moved on. Didn’t buy it. Didn’t even look back.

Shidou wished to understand if he was being a victim of his mind playing nasty mind games over his Sae starvation. If not, he was sure he’d just witnessed how Sae Itoshi had stopped himself from wanting something. With the ritualistic nature of someone who’d been doing that for a long time.

That was his final revelation of the day: Sae, the arrogant genius who had the entire world at his feet, had spent his whole life pretending he didn’t want things.

That made Shidou feel something he wasn’t ready for.

Final Conclusion

Shidou had wanted to figure him out. Had wanted to get inside his head, make him stop ignoring him, understand. But instead he was fucked: Sae wasn’t something to figure out. He was something to want.

Shidou could have ignored it. Could have let the moment pass. But he was impulse driven. So now, he wanted, and he was sure of that, more than anything else. 

Rin hadn’t expected Isagi to talk to him today.

Maybe ever again, if he was being honest. Isagi still wasn’t sure what to do with everything that had been said. Wasn’t sure what to do with the fact that Rin had put into words the exact thing he’d been avoiding thinking about.

And yet, here they were, walking down the hallway in a silence that was unfamiliar but not unbearable. Small progress.

Then, out of nowhere, Isagi stopped walking.

Rin took another step before noticing, turning slightly. “What?”

“About what I said earlier…” Isagi exhaled. “I need a favor.”

Rin blinked, processing.

Then, slowly, “From me?”

“Yeah, From you.”

Rin frowned. “That’s new.”

“Don’t make it weird.”

“It is weird.”

Isagi rolled his eyes, Rin’s expression had shifted slightly. In all honesty? he was trying to figure out whether or not to be annoyed or surprised or—pleased.

Isagi sighed, already exasperated. “Look, it’s about your brother.”

Rin’s entire body tensed before he could stop himself. Isagi noticed. Of course he noticed.

“Go on,” Rin said, forcing his shoulders to relax.

“We need to figure out why he’s being difficult,” Isagi said, shifting his weight slightly, like he was thinking carefully about how to phrase it. “He’s benched. He’s being weird. And since he’s impossible to talk to—”

Rin looked sideways. “You don’t say.”

Isagi gave him a look. “—the only way to get answers is through his room.”

Rin felt something cold wash over him.

“His room,” Rin repeated.

“Yeah.”

“You’re suggesting we go through Sae’s personal things.”

“Investigate.”

“That’s a fancy word for breaking in and entering.”

“It’s not breaking in if you have a key,” Isagi pointed out.

Rin stared at him. “You think I have a key to his room.”

“You don’t?”

“If I had a key to his room, he would’ve burned my body and buried me in the garden years ago.”

Isagi sighed. “Then I guess we’ll have to find another way in.”

Rin ran a hand over his face. This was insane. And yet— He found himself exhaling, conceding, stepping into the inevitable. Because if Isagi thought this might fix things, then maybe… Maybe it was worth it.

“Fine,” Rin muttered. “Only if this helps us get unbenched.”

Rin had spent his entire life in this house. And yet, tonight, as he unlocked the front door, stepping inside with Isagi behind him, he was suddenly aware of everything. It felt like a foreign place.

Maybe because Isagi was here. Maybe because he was seeing it through someone else’s eyes. Maybe because, deep down, he knew this wasn’t just a normal night.

“Damn,” Isagi muttered, staring at the ceiling like it had personally offended him. “This place is huge.”

Rin thought about his house from Isagi’s perspective.How quiet it was. How absurdly big the entryway looked when someone else was here to notice it. How everything in this house was perfect, untouched, more like a gallery than an actual home. And how Rin felt like a visitor in it too.

“It’s just a house,” Rin muttered, leading him inside.

Rin tried to act normal. This wasn’t unbearably awkward. And he hadn’t spent the entire car ride trying to figure out how to be a normal person and failing miserably.

“Right. A house with a chandelier,” Isagi said, pointing at the frankly unnecessary amount of glass hanging from the ceiling.

“It’s not that big.”

“Rin. This entryway is bigger than my backyard.” Isagi snorted, still glancing around.

Rin had no response to that. He just watched him, noticing how his shoulders tensed slightly—like he wasn’t sure where to stand, where to exist in all this space.

That made Rin feel worse. So, before he could overthink it— “Want a tour?” He blurted out.

Isagi blinked, like that was the last thing he expected. “Are you actually offering?”

“Do you want a tour or not?”

Isagi snorted, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, okay. Show me how the one percent lives. I guess Reo’s wasn’t enough.”

Rin led him through the house, trying to ignore how deeply, painfully aware he was of every room, every expensive thing, every little sign that their lives had never been the same.

Rin led him through the house, trying way too hard to act normal. Living room. Kitchen. Indoor gym. Library.

(Isagi stopped at that one. Stared at it. Like the idea of a house with a library was a personal attack.)

Isagi didn’t gawk, didn’t stare, didn’t act weird about it. But he did notice things: the home gym that was probably bigger than the school’s, the wall of imported cookbooks in the kitchen that no one in Rin’s family had ever actually used. Or the quietness of it all—the eerie, pristine silence of the house. Rin could feel it too, the way Isagi felt slightly out of place. And he hated that. So he kept talking. Trying to make it less weird. Trying to make it feel normal. Trying, just this once, to be a good host.

“This is excessive,” Isagi muttered, looking at the number of shelves.

Rin shrugged. “It’s just books.”

“You don’t even read, Rin.”

“I could start.”

“Oh, yeah? Pick one right now.”

Rin stared at the shelves. The only title he recognized was “The History of Italian Football” and some novel his mom had probably left there for aesthetic purposes.

Isagi waited.

Rin cleared his throat. “Moving on.”

Isagi laughed, but followed. By the time they got upstairs, Rin felt mentally exhausted.

Who knew being a functioning human being was this difficult? He stopped in front of his room, opening the door. “Here.”

Isagi stepped inside, pausing.

For a moment, Rin worried that it looked weird. But Isagi just… looked.

“Horror manga?” Isagi finally asked, nodding at the bookshelf.

Rin nodded. “Yeah.”

“Didn’t think you’d be into that.”

“What did you think I’d be into?”

“Textbooks. Cold, empty rooms. Maybe medieval torture or something pretentious.”

“That’s my brother.”

“Sometimes I forget you are the normal one.”

Rin sighed, walking toward his desk and he noticed Isagi had stopped moving.

Staring at something. He’d just noticed the photo on his bedside table.

Rin noticed the small shift in his stance, the brief hesitation in his fingers. Like he wasn’t sure if he should look closer or pretend he didn’t see it. Perhaps he wasn’t supposed to see it.

Rin already knew what it was. Didn’t need to turn his head, or even need to check. Because he already knew the damn thing was still there. Cracked frame. Dust along the edges. The last remnant of a version of them that no longer existed. Him and Sae. Standing side by side. Looking like brothers. Funny because to an onlooker it would seem that some time ago, they were everything people expected when they heard the word “brothers.” Not that they’d ever been anything close to that.

Isagi didn’t say anything, at first. But Rin could feel it. The weight of the moment. The hesitation. The silent, unspoken question of why haven’t you thrown this away?

And Rin hated that it was even a question at all. Because he didn’t have an answer. Or maybe, worse, he had too many. He should’ve thrown it out. Should’ve gotten rid of it the second Sae made it clear there was nothing left to salvage. But he hadn’t.

And now Isagi was looking at it. And it almost seemed like he was going to say something. Maybe he was about to ask, pry, dig into something Rin didn’t even know how to explain with words because of how awful it had felt. But he didn’t, Isagi decided to turn away. And just like that, the moment was gone.

Rin exhaled, shoulders stiff. All because what should’ve been a relief, wasn’t.

“We should check Sae’s room before it gets late,” Isagi muttered.

Rin swallowed. “Yeah.”

Rin hadn’t been in Sae’s room in years. Not since they were kids. Not since things had been easier, cleaner, before everything had curdled into whatever the hell they were now. But standing here now, it was like stepping into someone else’s world.

The first thing Rin noticed was how cold it felt. Not temperature-wise, just… emotionally vacant. Suffocatingly neat. Everything in its place. Nothing out of order, and not a single sign of personality. (Which, yeah. Made sense.) That made obvious Sae had designed the room not to live in, but to exist in. With everything precisely curated. A reflection of someone who had always been in control, even when everything around him wasn’t. It was a weird thought. One Rin didn’t like.

He glanced toward Isagi, who glanced around, frowning at the skincare products lined up perfectly, the stamps from Spain, the almost sterile feeling of the space.

Isagi flipped one of the stamps over. “Did he travel a lot?”

“He did his first year of high school in Madrid,” Rin said, voice carefully even. “Then he came back a fucking douchebag.”

Isagi hummed, glancing at the stamps again. “Weird. Why only a year? He doesn’t seem like the type to get homesick.”

Rin shrugged. “Do I look like the Sae whisperer?”

“I mean, technically, yes.”

Rin scoffed. “I have literally never understood him.”

“So, what? He just left and came back one day being an asshole?”

“Pretty much.”

Isagi frowned, thoughtful. Rin recognized that look. Recognized the way Isagi was putting something together, even if he didn’t have all the pieces yet.

And for some reason, that made Rin uneasy.

“We should check his closet,” Isagi said suddenly.

Rin blinked. “Why?”

“That’s where people hide things.”

“You’re going to get us murdered.”

“If he kills us, at least we’ll die with answers.”

Rin sighed. “Fine. But don’t blame me if there’s nothing interesting or useful.”

The first few things they found were normal.

A blue box. A leather-bound notebook. An old Madrid school jacket that was way too big. Some cassette tapes labeled with Spanish songs.

“Duncan Dhu?” Isagi muttered in his best attempt to pronounce Spanish, snapping a picture. “Does he have a Walkman?”

“Not that I’ve ever seen,” Rin said.

Isagi examined the jacket next, frowning. “Why is this so big?”

Rin frowned too. “Maybe he stole it.”

“Your brother is loaded, why would he steal a jacket?”

“For the thrill?”

“…Actually, yeah. That makes sense.”

And then— Among the things, a small yellow bottle. With a red thunder on the packaging.

Rin squinted at the label. “…Something about inhaling?”

Isagi frowned. “A drug?”

A weird, nervous energy settled over them.

It became somewhat obvious this was the moment of truth, where they had just stumbled onto something they weren’t supposed to. Isagi snapped a picture, sending it to Shidou. Rin typed into Google.

“This doesn’t make sense,” Isagi muttered. “Nobody on the team does drugs. We get tested constantly. So what is this—”

Shidou called. A thunderous laugh. The kind of laugh that meant immediate disaster.

“Man, how the hell did you two even find Itoshi’s popper?” Silence. “Wait, hold up, did you go through his condoms and lube too?”

This was not even remotely within the realm of things he had ever been prepared for. He had lost championships. He had lost matches. He had lost his goddamn mind because of Isagi more times than he could count. This was worse than all of that.

Rin threw his phone like it had personally betrayed him. Yeeted that shit across the floor with the wrath of a man who wanted to erase the last ten seconds of his existence.

Isagi, visibly concerned, bent down to pick it up. “What the fuck was that?”

Rin pointed at the phone like it was a ticking bomb. “Read it.”

Isagi, still clueless, still innocent, grabbed it and paused, stared. His expression shifted from confusion to blank horror in real-time, like a man being shown footage of his own death.

He didn’t move. Rin just watched as the soul left Isagi’s body. A light had been turned off behind his eyes. Like he had been hit with a truth so awful, so incomprehensible, that his brain simply refused to process it.

Rin swallowed, praying to whatever god was out there that he had somehow misread this entire thing. That he had been wrong. That there was some other explanation. So, with pure, raw desperation, he bent down, grabbed the phone back, and read the words himself.

And there it was. In black and white:

Alkyl nitrites act as muscle relaxants, causing the relaxation of involuntary smooth muscles such as the throat and anus.

…

Rin put the phone down very carefully. Then, just as carefully, stood up. And proceeded to stare into the abyss.

Because what the fuck. What the actual, unfathomable fuck.

This wasn’t even about Sae being a human being with a sex life. This was about the fact that Rin had just spent his entire evening trying to unravel a dark, hidden mystery about his brother, only to find out the mystery was that he had an extremely specific, extremely horrifying sex aid hidden in a shoebox next to cassette tapes.

That was a violation of something fundamental. Of what? Rin didn’t know. Maybe just the last fragile remains of his sanity.

And now Isagi knew too. Which was worse.

Which was so much worse. Because Rin was trapped in this moment forever. This would never go away. They would never be able to speak to each other again without remembering this. And just as that realization settled deep into his bones—

They heard footsteps.

“Rin? You home?”

Rin snapped into action so fast he almost knocked Isagi over. His brain had already shut down, his body running on pure survival instinct.

Fight or flight.

And since fighting wasn’t an option, that left one thing.

Flight.

Rin grabbed Isagi’s wrist and yanked him forward so hard it was a miracle his arm stayed attached. He didn’t even know where he was going. Didn’t care. Just had to get the fuck out of this room and erase this night from existence.

Sae was still downstairs, near the entrance.

Which meant there was only one option. Rin dragged Isagi down the hallway, shoved him into his room, and slammed the door shut. They both stood there, absolutely fucking rattled. Listening. Waiting. Breathing way too fast.

Outside, Sae’s voice. “Rin?”

Rin slapped a hand over Isagi’s mouth before he could even think about making a noise.

“What the fuck do you want?!” Rin called out, it sounded too loud, too unnatural. He corrected that: “ I just got out of the shower!”

Silence.

“You’re taking out the trash tonight.”

Footsteps. Fading. Disappearing. Until finally: silence.

Rin and Isagi stood there, frozen. Didn’t do anything except slowly, painfully process the last ten minutes of their lives.

Eventually, Rin removed his hand from Isagi’s mouth.

Isagi wiped at his face like he had just been assaulted. “Was that necessary?”

Rin rubbed his temples. “I didn’t feel like giving him an explanation.”

“Right,” Isagi muttered. “Because “I was snooping in your closet and found your ass relaxer” doesn’t sound great in conversation.”

Rin visibly cringed. “Please. Never say those words again.”

He sat down on his desk’s chair, thinking about nothing in particular, still trying to reboot his brain. Isagi, meanwhile, was lying face-up on Rin’s bed, looking like he had just gone through an out-of-body experience.

Eventually, he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Holy shit.”

Rin exhaled. “Yeah.”

“That was horrible.”

“It was.”

“I wish I could remove my own brain and wash it.”

“Same.”

A long, suffering silence.

“You know,” Isagi muttered, staring at the ceiling, “we could’ve just—not done that.”

Rin closed his eyes. “Don’t remind me.”

“I didn’t think we’d find—that.” Isagi sat up suddenly, pointing a finger at him. “This is what happens when you lead on an investigation. We end up emotionally compromised and knowing too much about your brother’s sex life.”

Rin winced, palms pressing into his eyes like that might erase the memory. “Please stop talking.”

Isagi huffed, flopping back onto the bed. “I’ll stop when I’m emotionally healed, which, by the way, will be never.”

Rin shifted.

Then, before he could second-guess himself, he blurted out—

“Let’s start training again.”

Isagi paused.

Slowly, he turned his head toward him, blinking like he had just been spoken to in another language. “Huh?”

Rin crossed his arms tighter. “If we’re getting out of the bench sooner, we need practice.”

Isagi stared at him, expression unreadable.

Which made Rin’s stomach twist slightly, because for the first time tonight, this was something that actually mattered. Sae, the popper bottle, the absolute horror of everything that had just happened… none of it actually had anything to do with Isagi. This was about them. And this was Rin trying. So he pushed forward, even if it made him uncomfortable.

“I have a sports club membership. We could use the field,” he said, trying to sound casual but probably failing. “Reo is willing to play midfielder for us if that’s what it takes.”

Isagi’s expression shifted slightly. Something about that hit harder than expected, plus, he wasn’t used to hearing Rin say “us.” He smiled. Not smug, sharp, or teasing. But real. The kind that Rin had never been on the receiving end of before.

And just as Rin’s brain was processing that in real-time, Isagi stepped closer. Too close. Rin’s breath caught. He could feel it—the warmth, the space between them disappearing, the sudden realization that Isagi was really, really in his personal space.

Was he going to—

“Try harder if you’re really sorry,” Isagi murmured. Soft. Almost teasing. But still firm.

Rin decided to translate that as if he was saying: I hear you, but you’re not done yet.

Isagi turned and left the room. The door clicked shut behind him.

Rin stood there, frozen.

And then, slowly, and carefully he looked up at his ceiling and grinned. Because even if tonight had been the worst night of his goddamn life—For the first time in weeks, he wasn’t failing.

Something about today felt different.

Not just the usual game-day jitters, not just the slow, creeping pressure of the first match of the season. The season was starting. Their inaugural match, against one of the prefecture’s top teams. None of that explained the tense aura of the locker room.

It was the absence. No Rin. No Isagi. No Sae. Three of their strongest players. All missing.

Shidou sat on the bench, rolling his shoulders, stretching the stiffness from his body, watching his teammates move with the kind of forced determination that only came with pretending nothing was wrong. He’d never admit it, but practice had been painfully dull without the three biggest pains in his ass.

He was bored out of his goddamn mind. Because what was the fun in playing if there was no one to piss off?

The last few practices had been a miserable slog. Not because Karasu and Reo were bad midfielders—but because they weren’t Sae.

Sae, who made everything ten times more exciting. Who was too good, too composed, too precise, and so, so much fun to mess with. Shidou missed that. Missed the push and pull of getting under Sae’s skin, watching him barely hold back the urge to throw something at his head. Which was why he had spent all week following him around.

(Well. More than usual.)

And, yeah—he hadn’t exactly gotten far.

He had also been a little off. A little more tense than usual. Which only made Shidou more interested.

Now it was only a matter of getting him back on the field.

So when the door swung open, and Ego and Anri walked in looking mildly murderous—Shidou grinned.

“Didn’t I tell you to cancel the press announcement?” Ego was already pissed.

Shidou could hear it in his tone—the kind of barely-contained frustration that made him so much fun to mess with.

“I tried!” Anri snapped back, scrolling through messages on her phone. “But the reporter told me they got an insider exclusive from someone claiming a member of our team would be making a very important statement.”

Oh, this was even better than he expected.

The whole locker room went still. Everyone noticed. No one acknowledged it. Shidou was delighted since he already had an idea or two about who the sneaky insider was.

Ego’s expression darkened. “Those petty Waseda bastards think they can play dirty, huh?”

Anri sighed. “It could be them trying to stir things up before the game, but—”

“But what?” Ego snapped. “You think Sae is actually going to say something?”

And before Anri could answer, before the thought could even fully settle—Shidou cut in.

“Well,” he said, stretching his arms over his head lazily, all casual amusement. “Since the press is already expecting someone from our team to talk, I’ll do it.”

The whole locker room turned to look at him. Ego laughed. Not a haha, that’s funny laugh. More of a Jesus Christ, I am actually going to strangle you laugh.

“Yeah,” Ego said, mocking. “Because the best thing I could possibly do right now is let you sabotage my team on live television.”

Shidou grinned wider. “Aw, coach,” he teased. “That hurts.”

“I’m serious, dumbass. You’re not talking to the press.”

“I was present during the incident,” Shidou pointed out, tilting his head. “So technically, I can give a statement that’ll keep Waseda’s committee from making things worse.”

Anri hesitated. Which meant he was winning.

“It’s not like there’s real footage,” Shidou reminded her, all smooth confidence. “All they have are reports. And I was mentioned, wasn’t I?”

Ego was already glaring at him. But Anri was considering it. Because she knew Shidou was right, hyper aware that if done well, this could actually work. This was a golden opportunity.

So Shidou latched onto it and pushed further. “If I do this, then Ego unbenches Sae, Isagi, and Rin.”

That made the tension snap.

Several of his teammates visibly stiffened. He could feel the weight of Ego staring holes into his skull.

“Sorry, didn’t know you were the new coach,” he said, mocking. “Please, tell me more about my job. Clearly, I’ve been doing it wrong this whole time.”

“C’mon, Ego-san, be reasonable for once.”

“No, seriously. Since when do you make the calls? Should I hand you a clipboard? Maybe a fucking whistle?”

“I’m your one shot,” Shidou shrugged, unbothered. “And I promise—this will be very beneficial to the team.”

Ego scoffed. “Because you’ve always been so concerned about teamwork.”

“I need this team for my art school applications, remember?”

Ego stared at him. Shidou kept smiling. The locker room was so tense you could cut it with a knife.

“Fuck it,” Ego muttered, turning to Anri. “Your call.”

Anri crossed her arms, clearly weighing the options.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Anri muttered, “Fine. But if you so much as hint at something stupid—”

“What?” Shidou smirked. “Me? Stupid? Anri-san, please. You wound me.”

Anri cut in, voice sharp. “I know your type, Shidou. Here’s what’s going to happen: You are going to go out there, and you are going to deliver the cleanest, most PR-friendly statement of your goddamn life, or I will personally make sure the only art you’ll be making in the future is on a prison wall.”

Ego gave Shidou one last, long look.

“Fuck it,” he muttered. “Let him go. And if he messes this up, I’m taking him off the roster for the rest of the season.”

“Aw, coach,” he teased in a beaming voice that was full of victory. “You do care.”

Ego sighed. “Get the hell out of my locker room before I change my mind.”

And just like that Shidou Ryusei walked out onto the battlefield, knowing damn well he was about to conquer the most important battle of his football career.

He couldn’t wait.

NHK SPORTS NEWS: HAKUHO ACADEMY OPENS THE SEASON WITH A CONTROVERSIAL STAR

(Aired Friday Night – Tokyo, Japan)

[STUDIO SEGMENT]

ANCHOR: “Tonight, the Tokyo Prefecture Soccer League kicked off with an exciting match, as Hakuho Academy faced one of the top contenders in the region. A standout performance from third-year forward Shidou Ryusei, who scored two goals with the help of standout midfielder Itoshi Sae, secured the team’s 2-0 victory. However—his post-match interview quickly became the bigger headline of the night. Let’s take a look.”

[CUT TO PRE-GAME INTERVIEW – ON-FIELD]

Shidou Ryusei stands in front of the press backdrop, still in his uniform, sweat-drenched and grinning like a man who just set something on fire and is waiting to see if anyone notices.

The reporter, a middle-aged woman with years of experience handling difficult athletes, offers a professional smile, but there is something uneasy in her eyes—like a rabbit sensing an incoming storm.

REPORTER: “Shidou-kun, thank you for agreeing on this pre-game interview. Congratulations on your addition to the team, we’ve been told you have an important announcement?”

Shidou exhales dramatically, placing a hand over his heart like he’s just been through an ordeal. His smile is cocky, but his voice carries a forced sincerity—like an actor playing the part of someone regretful, even though he’s thoroughly enjoying himself.

SHIDOU: “Yeah, thanks for having me. So—before we get into it, I wanna take this chance to apologize.”

There is a slight shift in the crowd. The reporters lean in, intrigued.

REPORTER: “Apologize? Could you clarify?”

Shidou nods solemnly, though his expression betrays the fact that he is enjoying himself far too much for someone supposedly expressing remorse.

SHIDOU: “Yeah. See, last week, I was involved in a little… incident with an older player. Just a misunderstanding. Emotions were high. Got a little physical.”

A murmur ripples through the press pool. The reporter’s fingers tighten slightly around the microphone, but she keeps her expression neutral.

REPORTER: “An altercation? Could you tell us who this player was?”

SHIDOU: (tilting his head, all mock innocence) “Mmm. I could.” (pauses, then grins like he’s enjoying a private joke) “But I don’t think his name is that important as he is a fellow athlete.”

The reporter visibly tenses.

REPORTER: “I see. And what exactly caused this… incident?”

Shidou shrugs, like this is the most natural thing in the world.

SHIDOU: “Lover’s quarrel.”

There is a long pause. Someone in the press pool coughs. The camera zooms in on the reporter’s face as she processes that statement.

REPORTER: (blinking, clearly trying to recalculate the trajectory of this conversation) “A… lover’s quarrel?”

SHIDOU: (clicking his tongue, shaking his head in mock disappointment) “Yeah, you get it. You know how it is.”

REPORTER: (hesitant, choosing her words carefully) “You’re saying… this was about a girl?”

Shidou smirks.

SHIDOU: “No, no. You’re not getting it.”

A beat. Then—he leans just slightly closer to the mic, voice dropping into something almost teasing.

SHIDOU: “It was about a boy.”

Dead. Silence.

The reporter blinks rapidly, like her brain just blue-screened.

A cameraman visibly shifts behind her, like he wants to make sure he’s still standing in reality.

REPORTER: (processing, visibly uncomfortable now) “A… a boy?”

Shidou smiles wider.

SHIDOU: “Yeah. See—this player was being a little too bold, flirting with my boyfriend right in front of me. Can you believe that?” (he scoffs, crossing his arms, shaking his head) “I mean, obviously, I got a little mad. I’m just a man, y’know?”

The press corps is struggling to breathe.

REPORTER: (now looking visibly distressed) “You’re saying… a college player was romantically pursuing your… boyfriend?”

SHIDOU: (nodding, eyes dangerously amused) “Mhm. But don’t worry—he figured it out. Knew he didn’t stand a chance. I mean, my boyfriend’s the kind of guy who turns heads, you know? Even older guys get tempted.”

He winks at the camera.

A low, horrified murmur passes through the reporters.

The reporter inhales slowly, visibly gathering every ounce of patience she has left.

REPORTER: (tightly) “Shidou-kun, would you be able to clarify who exactly—”

SHIDOU: (cutting her off, sighing dramatically, as if burdened by all the attention) “Sorry, sorry. Can’t say more. Privacy. Respect. You get it.” (grins wider, eyes glinting dangerously) “But hey—if he ever wants to talk it out, my boyfriend and I are more than happy to have a little chat. Perhaps we can become friends and whatnot. No hard feelings.”

The weight of collective secondhand embarrassment crushes the stadium.

Shidou, looking satisfied, suddenly brightens, turning back to the camera.

SHIDOU: “Anyways! Sorry for the inconvenience, everyone. Hope you all root for us this season. And, uh—if you’re interested, I post music on YouTube. I’ll be dropping a surprise song tonight, so check it out.”

The reporter stares at him like she has just survived a car crash. She forces a professional smile, nodding stiffly.

REPORTER: “…Right. Thank you, Shidou-kun.”

[CUT BACK TO STUDIO SEGMENT]

The NHK anchor, a seasoned journalist who has covered international tournaments and war zones alike, clears his throat, dead-eyed.

ANCHOR: “…That was Hakuho Academy’s Shidou Ryusei, fresh off a 2-0 victory in their season opener.”

The camera cuts to the co-anchor, a woman who is clearly experiencing a deep, personal crisis. She stares at the screen like she just watched a UFO land.

CO-ANCHOR: “Well, one thing’s for sure—Shidou Ryusei is a player to watch this season. Whether for his skills or… other reasons.”

The screen fades to black.

Rin had spent the entire drive home trying to figure out what the hell happened today.

Ego had unbenched Sae before the game—which was already weird. But then, just as the team had stepped onto the field, Ego had flipped off some old Waseda executive with a badge and a stack of legal documents. Casually. Smile glinting with pride as he raised his middle finger just behind his back, just outside of where any cameras would notice. And now, apparently, Rin and Isagi were allowed back into practice next week?

None of it made sense. Something was off.

And the moment he walked into his room, threw his bag onto the floor, and opened his laptop—he figured out why.

His team’s group chat was exploding. Dozens of messages.

All linking to one video. Rin frowned. Clicked on it. And instantly regretted it.

[VIDEO: Shidou Ryusei – “Like a Prayer” (Cover)]

The video starts with a slightly shaky frame as Shidou Ryusei places a camera in front of him. He’s in the school auditorium, standing center stage, a microphone in hand, looking dramatically overprepared for what should have been a casual music performance.

The lighting is theatrical. The school’s music club members stand behind him, adjusting their instruments. A few students can be seen in the background, watching, phones out, already recording because they know this is going viral.

Shidou, wearing a full face of expertly blended makeup, runs a hand through his hair, tilts his head, and grins into the camera like he’s about to cause a national scandal.

SHIDOU: “Alright. First off—big thanks to my man Niko for handling the camera work. And shoutout to Aryu for blessing me with this flawless face.”

He gestures to his own cheekbones like he’s posing for a cosmetics ad. Aryu’s voice is faint in the background— “Beauty is a lifestyle.”

SHIDOU: “Now. Let’s get down to business.” (leans slightly into the mic, grin widening) “This one’s dedicated to a pink-haired beauty who stole my soul and ran off with it.”

A loud murmur runs through the auditorium. Someone in the background mutters “Oh, holy shit.”

Shidou sighs dramatically, placing a hand over his chest like he’s deeply, emotionally wounded.

SHIDOU: “Since he has impeccable taste and loves Spanish music, I figured I’d sing him something sexy in that language.” (pauses, smirking) “Problem is, I don’t speak Spanish. And the closest thing I had was ‘La Isla Bonita.’ So I guess we’re going for Madonna.”

He shrugs. Then—snaps his fingers. The music club immediately kicks in, but the intro is wrong. Instead of Madonna, it’s a rock rendition of “Like a Prayer.”

The entire energy of the room shifts. The school choir swells, humming in unison. The instrumental builds, powerful and unexpected. Students in the background gasp, cheer, record. The entire auditorium comes alive.

And then—Shidou starts singing. His voice is raw, charged, unhinged in just the right way.

But the subtitles are wrong. They’re in Spanish.

And they aren’t the song’s lyrics. They read like… a love letter.

[SUBTITLES IN SPANISH]

Te quiero más de lo que debería. (I want you more than I should.)

Tenías el sol en los ojos y el infierno en la boca. (You had the sun in your eyes and hell on your lips.)

Te vi y el mundo se volvió más lento. (I saw you, and the world slowed down.)

Como si todo se hubiera detenido solo para dejarme admirarte. (As if everything had stopped just to let me admire you.)

Como si el destino hubiera estado esperando este momento. (As if fate itself had been waiting for this moment.)

Pero cuando intenté alcanzarte, huiste. (But when I tried to reach you, you ran.)

Siempre huyes. (You always run.)

A veces me pregunto qué harías si te atrapara. (Sometimes I wonder what you’d do if I caught you.)

Si tomara tu rostro entre mis manos y te susurrara todo lo que nunca te atreves a escuchar. (If I took your face between my hands and whispered everything you never dare to hear.)

Si te besara lento, con intención, hasta que no pudieras recordar por qué estabas huyendo en primer lugar. (If I kissed you slowly, deliberately, until you forgot why you were running in the first place.)

Si te tocara como si fueras algo precioso y peligroso al mismo tiempo. (If I touched you like you were something precious and dangerous all at once.)

¿Me detendrías? (Would you stop me?)

¿O te quedarías tan quieto como aquella vez en la noche, (Or would you stay as still as you did that night,)

con mis labios a centímetros de los tuyos y mis manos temblando en el volante? (With my lips inches from yours and my hands trembling on the wheel?)

Porque lo recuerdo todo. (Because I remember everything.)

El peso de tu mirada cuando pensabas que no te veía. (The weight of your gaze when you thought I wasn’t looking.)

La forma en que te estremeciste cuando mi aliento rozó tu piel. (The way you shivered when my breath touched your skin.)

El silencio que nos envolvió, cargado de todo lo que no dijimos. (The silence that surrounded us, heavy with everything we never said.)

¿Qué te asustó más? (What scared you more?)

¿La posibilidad de que te dejara ir? (The possibility that I’d let you go?)

¿O la certeza de que nunca lo haría? (Or the certainty that I never would?)

Porque cada vez que te alejas, te sigo. (Because every time you leave, I follow.)

Y cada vez que intentas olvidarme, te lo hago imposible. (And every time you try to forget me, I make it impossible for you.)

Porque lo único peor que desearte es fingir que no lo hago. (Because the only thing worse than wanting you is pretending that I don’t.)

Así que dime—(So tell me—)

¿Cuánto tiempo más vas a fingir que no sientes lo mismo? (How much longer are you going to pretend you don’t feel the same?)

No quiero tu amor si no es mío. (I don’t want your love if it’s not mine.)

[BACK TO VIDEO]

The choir swells. The music club builds to a crescendo.

And just when the performance reaches its peak—Shidou steps forward, grabs an electric guitar, and plays a solo like he’s about to start a goddamn world tour.

It’s insane. It’s dramatic. It’s a religious experience, and not just because of the song. By the time it ends, the audience is too stunned to process.

The screen fades to black. A message appears: SORRY, BABY.

[END OF VIDEO.]

Rin stared at his screen. Mouth slightly open. Brain struggling to process.

That was a love song. That was a confession. That was an actual, deliberate, poetic declaration of feelings. His stomach lurched. There was no way. There was no fucking way. His brother—His emotionally constipated, cold-blooded, “football is the only thing that matters” brother— No. No, no, no. His brain refused to connect those dots. And just as that horrifying realization sank in—

He noticed something else. Among the hundreds of comments flooding the video there was one from a blank account. No profile picture. No posts. No history. Just two initials.

IS: Tomorrow. Practice field. 11 AM.

Rin’s blood ran cold. He knew exactly who it was.

Chapter Text

the official playlist

Shidou arrived first at the practice field. Which was weird. Because Sae was never late.

He wasn’t the kind of guy who showed up after anyone else, who let people beat him somewhere. If anything, he was annoyingly punctual, sometimes already stretching or practicing passes before anyone else had even finished tying their cleats.

So where the hell was he?

Shidou kicked at the grass, hands shoved in his pockets. He wasn’t a man who did patience. And yet, he waited. Waited, because he knew Sae would come.

And, sure enough—there he was. Walking across the field like he wasn’t two minutes from ruining Shidou’s entire fucking life. His hair still damp from a morning shower, sleeves rolled to his elbows, expression a perfect fucking blank.

“You’re late,” Shidou turned, grinning.

“Are you stupid?”

“Jesus. Did you sprint here just to yell at me?”

Sae’s words came as easy and unexpected as his presence on Shidou’s shaky world. “You can’t just pull shit like that press conference without telling me first.”

Shidou snickered, delighting in the pissed-off edge to his voice. “Why not? You didn’t like the song?”

“If anyone had dug up your school violence file, we’d be in trouble.”

Oh. Shidou hummed. That wasn’t entirely untrue. But that wasn’t what got his attention. No. What caught his attention was the way Sae said it.

“So you looked it up, huh?”

“Obviously.”

Shidou pressed his eyes insistently on Sae’s profile, still grinning. “Aw, you care about my permanent record now? Do you care about me now?”

“I’m serious,”

“So am I,” Shidou teased, stepping closer.

Sae looked unpolished in the sense he had apparently locked away his ability to look unbothered and for once allowed his body to speak for itself. His jaw was locked into place, not resting easily. His shoulders held the kind of tension that meant he’d been thinking about this for hours. Maybe even the whole night.

Shidou took a closer look, dissecting him and his harsh criticism. For him it was clear Sae wasn’t looking at him like a captain disciplining his teammate. This was entirely different. A story that had never been told before.

“Noted,” he said, voice lower, smoother. “Anything else, beautiful?”

Sae stared at him for a second too long.

And then, like it was the easiest thing in the world, it happened. Sae, gripping the front of his jersey, stepping in, pulling close, pressing forward, tilting his chin up with careful fingers and kissing him.

Hard. No warning. No hesitation. No chance for Shidou to brace himself. Just Sae’s mouth, hot and insistent, pressing against his.

Shidou, who never slowed down, who never let himself sink into anything for too long, sank like he was drowning into his lips. Sank like this was something he had wanted longer than he even realized. Because Sae kissed like he had already made up his mind.

So he reacted on instinct His hands flew to Sae’s waist, gripping, pulling. He tilted his head, parted his lips, let Sae in deeper, pressed closer, chased more. It felt like heat spilling down his spine. It felt like sunlight stretching over his skin.

It felt so damn good.

Everything. His lips were soft, plush, warm. His fingers were steady, certain, sliding up, threading into his hair. It was evident that Sae wasn’t just kissing him, he was tasting him.

It was in his actions. Letting his tongue slip past parted lips, letting it glide slow, easy, delicate. Sae was warm, hot, even. And his mouth was so fucking unfair. He kissed like he was memorizing him, like he wanted to map him out, like he wanted to own him.

Shidou had no option but to let him. Because how the fuck could he not?

He pressed closer, parted his lips further, let Sae in deeper. He reached out, gripped Sae’s waist, slid his hands up his back. He grabbed Sae fully, lifted him clean off the fucking ground, and pulled him into his chest. Sae made a startled sound, fingers tightening in Shidou’s jersey—but he didn’t pull away. So he grabbed his waist tighter, amazed at his own strength, and when he grabbed Sae as close as humanly possible and Sae let out a soft, breathless sound, he saw all of the colors of the freaking rainbow.

He could’ve stayed like this forever, letting Sae kiss him stupid, senseless, breathless. Falling completely and feeling super lightheaded. His pulse was pounding, burning, crashing through him in waves.

But Sae pulled back. Barely. Just enough for their lips to hover, just enough for them to breathe each other’s air.

“Didn’t take you for the type to enjoy PDA, baby.” Sae’s lashes were low, his cheeks pink, his pupils dark and blown wide and his lips were red like a tomato. Shidou, teasing—“You taste a hell of a lot better without the vodka and hand soap.”

Sae’s eyes snapped open. And that’s all it took.

Shidou knew what was coming before it happened—but that didn’t stop him from bursting into laughter when Sae shoved him off, hard enough to send them both tumbling onto the grass.

Shidou just laughed, grinning so wide his cheeks hurt. Good God, he was so fucking happy it felt slightly embarrassing. He rolled onto his side, chin in his palm, watching Sae brush grass from his pants. Which only made it funnier.

Eventually, Sae turned to him. “You’re an idiot.”

“You love me so fucking much,” Shidou said, still reeling from the fact they’d just kissed like that with the sun shining over them.

“I hate you.”

“Next time,” Shidou teased, “I’ll need a warning.”

Sae shot him the most deadpan look imaginable.

“You,” he said reaffirming his point, “publicly declared me your boyfriend in front of the entire world. You don’t get a warning.”

Shidou snorted. Fair point.

Sae didn’t dignify him with a proper talk, instead, he stretched out on the grass, looking up at the sky and he didn’t move away when Shidou reached for his hand.

And that was enough. More than enough.

Shidou held his hand lightly at first, just to see if Sae would pull away. He didn’t. Which was crazy. Because Shidou had expected resistance, had expected a sharp remark, had expected Sae to scoff and shake him off like he always did when things got too close.

But instead—he let it happen.

Sae’s hand was warm. Soft. Nothing like the sharp edges he carried himself with. His fingers were long and precise, his palm smooth in a way that didn’t fit someone so impossibly untouchable. The best part is that those precision filled hands were wrapped around his. For once, without resistance. Without a glare. Without telling him to shut up.

He didn’t know what to do with it. Shidoy Ryūsei who’d spent a lifetime chasing after things he couldn’t have, found himself stunned to be holding something so easily. Because he wanted to make a joke. Wanted to tease him. Wanted to lean over and whisper something ridiculous like, oh wow, Itoshi, I didn’t know you were such a romantic.

“Oh?” he hummed, brushing his thumb along Sae’s knuckles, slow and steady. “You’re really letting me do this?”

Sae, who had to be feeling this too, just side-eyed him. “If you don’t shut up, I’ll change my mind.”

Shidou bit back a laugh, more delighted than he should be. “That’s crazy. I didn’t even say anything yet.”

Sae didn’t let go. Interesting.

Shidou tightened his grip just slightly, tilting his head as he carefully collected his reaction. “You know, your hands are surprisingly nice for someone who’s constantly breaking people’s spirits on the field.”

Sae gave him a flat look. “Are you going to keep talking or—”

“Or what?” Shidou teased, leaning in. “You gonna kiss me again?”

He fully expected a shove for that one. Instead—Sae looked away. Not in an obvious way. Not in an embarrassed way. Huh. Shidou wanted to press. Wanted to tease him until his ears burned red, wanted to say something absolutely insufferable just to see what would happen.

But instead—he just held his hand. Because Sae let him. Because Sae hadn’t let go. And Shidou liked that. A lot.

He liked the way Sae’s hand fit against his own, liked the way his thumb brushed against the dips of his knuckles, liked the warmth spreading from his fingers straight to his chest. He hadn’t expected this—hadn’t even asked for it. And yet Sae had given it to him anyway.

“Playoffs are starting soon,” he muttered, voice low. “We need to get our shit together. At least four goals next time.”

Shidou grinned. “And what do I get if I do?”

“Maybe I’ll reward you.”

Shidou’s heart skipped. And then leapt. He shot up. “How about this? You let me redo our first date.”

Sae frowned. “Why?”

Shidou shrugged. “So I can do it properly this time.”

Sae rolled his eyes. “That’ll only happen if you agree to practice on Sunday.”

Shidou didn’t even hesitate.

“Done.”

Sae’s ears went pink. “Then it’s a deal.”

Shidou blinked. Then—he grinned. Beamed, actually. Because holy shit. Sae was saying yes Sae was letting him have another chance.

Sae was giving him this. So Shidou did the only thing that made sense— He lifted Sae’s hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. Soft.  Lingering. The kind of kiss that said thank you. The kind of kiss that said I could kiss you like this forever. The kind of kiss that said I’m yours.

He hoped with all his might Sae understood that. Because he didn’t pull away at that either. He barely spoke with a very quiet tone: “That’s gross.”

Shidou hummed, resting his chin against their joined hands.

“Better way to spend my weekend,” his tone was heartfelt, smooth and honey-sweet. “Two of my favorite things at once.”

The ball skimmed against Isagi’s cleats, steady and rhythmic, the sound blending into the hum of the late afternoon. The field stretched endlessly beneath the warm, golden light—one of those cinematic sunsets that made everything look dramatic, like this was the peak of their youth, the kind of memory they’d look back on and call nostalgic.

Except, Isagi thought, there was nothing poetic about training at a private, corporate-funded sports complex instead of just using their own damn school field. As it turned out, Mikage Corporation’s latest investment in youth sports looked more like a luxury resort than a training field. Sleek, state-of-the-art equipment. Pristine grass that practically glowed under the floodlights. Even the benches looked expensive like they were designed for board meetings instead of exhausted athletes.

Isagi eyed the facility warily as he jogged across the turf. “We’re allowed back on campus, you know,” he said, kicking the ball toward Reo. “No ban, no restrictions. We could just use our own damn field.”

Reo stopped the ball with an effortless touch, barely sparing him a glance. “Yeah, but this one has better facilities. And I own it, so we don’t have to book time.”

Isagi wrinkled his nose. “It just feels weird.”

A scoff. “Would you rather deal with the school’s shitty locker rooms and Ego after an inaugurational match?”

“…Fair point.”

A few feet away, Rin, standing off to the side, arms crossed, watching their exchange with obvious disinterest. His focus was locked on the field, on the training session in front of them. Or at least, it should have been. So he spoke up. “If it means fewer people breathing down my neck, I don’t care where we train.”

On the edge of the field, Nagi sat under a shaded tent, legs stretched out, gaming console in hand. He barely acknowledged the conversation, too focused on whatever boss fight he was in the middle of.

“I’m still not over the fact that you have to be here,” Isagi muttered.

Reo clearly had to intervene, as he always did when it was something about Nagi. “Look, I tried training without him, and he complained that our practice schedule was ruining our couple time. So we compromised.”

Isagi gave him a skeptical look. “Your compromise was letting Nagi sit there and ignore us while we work?”

Reo shrugged. “It’s the thought that counts.”

A beat of silence. Then Nagi, without looking up, lazily mumbled, “M’right.”

Isagi shook his head. This was ridiculous.

Rin, still standing apart from the conversation, exhaled sharply. His mind wasn’t really on practice—or even on Isagi’s complaints. No, unfortunately, his morning had left him in a foul mood. More specifically, Shidou had left him in a foul mood.

The memory replayed like a glitch in his brain.

He still wasn’t over it. He wasn’t sure when he would be over it. Because no one deserved to start their day by accidentally walking in to the sight of Shidou leaning in, smirking like the bastard he was, pressing a slow goodbye kiss his older brother’s lips.

Rin had frozen in the hallway, too stunned to process what he was seeing—Shidou leaning in like he belonged there, Sae barely reacting, just letting it happen like this was normal. Like it wasn’t a complete violation of natural law.

Rin had reacted immediately. “I swear to god, I’ll tell Mom and Dad—”

Sae, completely unfazed, barely even looked at him. “Sure. And I’ll tell them where you actually spent the night last week.”

Rin had snapped his mouth shut so fast his teeth almost clicked. Just like that, he’d lost.

Now, hours later, he was still bristling over it, the irritation simmering just under his skin.

“So, Rin,” Reo called out, sensing the obvious opportunity. “How does it feel knowing you might end up with Shidou as a brother-in-law?”

Rin twitched violently.

Nagi finally looked up from his game, tilting his head. “Payback for getting Reo in trouble, probably.”

Reo grinned. “Yeah, you can’t ever really run away from cosmic balance.”

Isagi snorted, shaking his head. “That has to be some kind of war crime.”

“Looks like your brother finally picked a hobby,” Reo mused, tilting his head. “And by hobby, I mean Shidou.”

Nagi hummed, still staring at his phone. “No way that’s real.”

Rin had not spoken, he simply inhaled sharply through his nose, refusing to engage with this conversation in any way possible.

Isagi, always one for stirring the pot, hummed. “Maybe Shidou just… figured Sae out?”

Rin shot him a sharp look. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Isagi shrugged. “I dunno. Everyone acts like your brother is untouchable, but people don’t just date Shidou for fun. There’s got to be something there.”

Rin was about to argue when Nagi, still watching his screen, said idly, “Oh yeah. That thing Shidou mentioned in the press conference? It was about Sae.”

That got their attention. Isagi and Rin had been well aware of the fact that Sae had gotten into a fight, they just didn’t understand what the hell Shidou had to do with anything.

“Nagi! You promised you wouldn’t tell about the party!” Reo frowned. “Wait. The whole ‘incident’ thing? I thought that was just another Ego tactic or Anri-chan’s doing.”

“Nope,” Nagi said, clicking a few buttons and briefly staring at the dumbfounded pair . “You should just tell them it was at the party, Reo. When you weren’t there, Sae punched Aiku. Shidou just took the blame.”

“…What?” Isagi looked thoroughly weirded out. “Why would he do that?”

Rin, meanwhile, stared at the ground, trying to process that. was still caught on the fact that Shidou took the fault. His brother—who had spent his entire life perfectly composed, untouchable, uninterested in anything outside of football—had thrown a punch? And worse, Shidou had covered for him?

That was the part that felt wrong.

His brother had never needed anyone to cover for him. Sae had always been precise, controlled, untouchable. The idea that he had thrown a punch—and let Shidou take the consequences—set Rin’s teeth on edge. There was something deeply wrong about that.

“Something’s going on,” Rin muttered. “Something weird.”

Isagi raised an eyebrow. “Weirder than the fact that Sae is dating Shidou?”

Rin didn’t react. Because that wasn’t the part that bothered him. The part that bothered him was why.

Why now? Why Shidou?

Why, after years of acting like Rin was ridiculous for wanting a life outside of football, had Sae suddenly decided it was fine? Why had he been the one getting lectures about focus, discipline, about how relationships were just distractions— When Sae had been watching Shidou from the sidelines?

The realization settled deep in his chest, sinking like a stone. It wasn’t even the idea of Sae dating that unsettled him—it was the way it made everything feel uneven.

“No,” Rin snapped. He didn’t realize his jaw was clenched until he forced himself to relax. “I mean—yeah, that’s bad enough, but… as far as I know, Sae’s never dated anyone. Ever.”

That, apparently, was news to Reo. “Wait. Never?”

“Never,” Rin confirmed, his expression troubled.

Isagi’s amusement dimmed slightly. “Never?”

Rin shook his head. “Not that I’ve seen. Not once. No rumors, no flings, no—”

The words lodged in his throat. No exceptions. Except, apparently, Shidou fucking Ryuusei.

“That’s” Reo’s lips pressed into a thoughtful line. “That is weird.”

“See?” Rin gestured vaguely, like that proved something. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“Yup,” Nagi added unhelpfully, still scrolling, “Alright. Bored now. Let’s go.”

Reo crossed his arms. “The third years might know something about that.”

Rin frowned. “And?”

Reo smirked, stretching. “And we happen to be grabbing omakase with Otoya, Aryu, Yukki, and Karasu later.” He shrugged. “I’ll ask around.”

Rin looked skeptical, but he didn’t outright reject the idea.

“Cool,” Nagi said, already standing up and pocketing his console. “Can we leave now?”

“Unbelievable,” Isagi muttered, rubbing his temples.

Reo just grinned. “You’re just mad we’re actually useful.”

They left a few minutes later, leaving Rin and Isagi alone on the field. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air was cooler now, the sun dipping lower in the sky.

Still, Rin couldn’t help but ponder and feel unsteady. This wasn’t about Shidou. This was about Sae. About the way he had lectured Rin, acted like he was ridiculous for wanting a life outside of football—only to turn around and do the exact same thing. What was even the point in anything? Rin saw it clearly for once, an answer that felt like being punched: he’d been living by a set of rules that had never actually applied to his brother.

“So uhm, Isagi.” Rin eyed him warily. “I wanted to ask you if you wanted to grab something to eat… Since you know, Sae is going to be busy with that asshole and whatnot.”

Isagi sighed. He could see it—the tension in Rin’s jaw, the way his fingers curled like he needed to punch something, the way his whole stance screamed conflicted. “Alright, look. We should talk.”

Rin turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “About?”

Isagi hesitated. “Something… deep. That’s probably too much for right now.”

“Okay, so tomorrow?”

“Yeah, maybe dinner?” Isagi suggested. “McDonald’s?”

Rin considered it. The thought of a quiet meal, away from prying eyes and obnoxious teammates and whatever the hell was going on with his brother actually sounded… decent.

“…Fine,” he muttered.

Isagi smiled slightly. “Cool.”

Reo and Nagi barely stepped into the omakase restaurant before they were hit with a chorus of whistles and jeers.

“Ah, look who finally decided to show up,” Karasu drawled, sipping on a small glass of beer. His grin was all teeth as he lazily gestured between them. “Took your sweet time, huh?”

Otoya, already in on the joke, smirked. “Freshly showered and everything.”

Karasu clicked his tongue. “Didn’t even bother to fix your hair, Reo. What’s up with that?”

Reo shot them all a flat look. “First of all, go fuck yourselves. Second of all, Nagi took forever to get out of bed.”

Nagi yawned. “Not my fault you booked dinner at an ungodly hour.”

“It’s 6:30,” Aryu deadpanned.

“Exactly.”

Karasu snorted. “You guys are so fucking disgusting.”

Reo ignored him, grabbing his chopsticks. “Don’t project.”

“Hard not to,” Otoya muttered. “You two are attached at the hip.”

Karasu wiggled his brows. “Among other things.”

Nagi, who was mid-yawn, waved him off. “Don’t group me with your libido, pervert.”

Reo groaned. “I’m attached at the hip with a football, you dumbasses. You’re just bitter because you guys actually have to try when flirting with someone.”

The table burst into laughter. Even Aryu, usually composed, gave Otoya a disapproving shake of his head. “And here I thought Otoya was the biggest embarrassment at this table.”

“Hey,” Otoya protested, looking personally offended.

“Oh, please,” Aryu scoffed. “We all saw your ex’s story. What was it? Round three?” He lifted a delicate hand to his chin. “Are you together or is she just your favorite pastime?”

Otoya clicked his tongue, grinning. “Little of column A, little of column B.”

Karasu snorted. “A true scholar.”

The conversation flowed into easy banter, food arriving in careful portions of pristine nigiri and sashimi. But soon enough, Karasu turned to Yukimiya, eyes sharp with amusement. “So, now that Rin’s back on the field,” he said, voice laced with mischief, “think you’ll finally manage the Itoshi conquest?”

Yukimiya, mid-sip of his drink, rolled his eyes. “You guys need a new hobby.”

“No, no,” Karasu leaned in, grinning. “The people demand updates.”

Otoya snickered. “The people mostly demand to know if you’ve finally managed to cure your blue balls.”

Reo groaned again, stabbing at his sashimi. “You guys are actually unbearable.”

“Oh, please,” Karasu scoffed, before turning back to Yukimiya. “So? Rin’s back on the field. Now’s your chance to lock it in. What’s the hold-up?”

Yukimiya, who had just picked up a piece of toro, promptly smacked Karasu’s hand away. “Shut up,” he said, barely missing a beat. “It’s not like that. You’re being so immature, not everything has to be about sex.”

“Oh?” Karasu leaned in, grinning. “Then why’d you look so damn eager like you were about to devour him.”

Reo made a noise of disgust. “You’re gross.”

Yukimiya ignored him, straightening his posture. “Rin’s the first person—guy or girl—who’s actually played hard to get with me,” he admitted, voice thoughtful. “I won’t lie, it’s kind of… fun.”

Karasu smirked. “Bet it was fun that night, too.”

Yukimiya leveled him with a look. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Wouldn’t Sae like to know,” Otoya teased, and they all chuckled.

Karasu threw an arm around his shoulder. “I would, actually. Feel free to enlighten me on all the filthy details.”

Reo gagged. “Can we not?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Karasu waved him off. “We’ll let you keep pretending you’re pure.”

The topic shifted as the food arrived, steam rising from freshly seared fish, the scent of soy and citrus tangling in the air. The conversation remained easy, drifting between football, school, and whatever latest disaster Otoya got himself into with his on-again, off-again girlfriend.

But Reo had other things on his mind. He set down his chopsticks. “Since you guys mentioned Sae,” he said, leaning in slightly. “What do you guys think about him and Shidou?”

Otoya hummed. “They play disgustingly well together.”

“Football soulmates or something,” Karasu added.

“But that’s not what you’re asking, is it?” Aryu observed, ever perceptive.

Sure, Sae and Shidou were football soulmates. That much was obvious. Their inaugural match had proven as much. But together? As in, romantically?

Reo had never given a single shit about Sae’s love life, mostly because the guy didn’t have one. It wasn’t like Rin, who was obviously inexperienced but still normal in the sense that he was figuring things out. Sae, on the other hand? It was so strange. There had never been rumors, no exes, no late-night whispers about some mystery hookups and messy breakups.

It didn’t make sense. And if there was one thing Reo hated, it was not understanding shit. Which was why he was eager to do some well deserved digging and possibly get back at Rin with the juiciest update of all times.

“I mean,” He set down his chopsticks. “What was Sae like when you guys first met him?”

Across the table, Karasu leaned back. “Same as now. Just younger. Entitled. Closed off.”

Reo frowned. “That’s it?”

Aryu sipped his tea. “He was untouchable. Always thought he was leagues ahead of everyone. And, well, to be fair—he was.”

Otoya hummed. “I remember when he came back from Spain. You could tell something was different.”

Reo raised a brow. “How?”

Karasu stretched his arms over his head. “He was always a prick, but he came back meaner somehow. Like he had something to prove.”

Reo glanced at Yukimiya, who was scrolling through his phone. “And he never dated anyone?”

Karasu scoffed. “He never even flirted with anyone. Rin has a better shot at pulling than Sae ever did.”

“That is strange,” Aryu mused, tapping his chin. “Considering he spent a year in Spain, you’d think he’d have at least one story.”

Otoya nodded. “Even Aiku used to joke about how weird it was. Like, we were a bunch of high school guys. We had shit to talk about—girls, dates, something. But Sae never had anything to say about it.”

Karasu laughed. “Yeah, and Aiku was always such a smug asshole about it. Like he knew something the rest of us didn’t.”

Reo’s fingers twitched. Aiku, huh? He already had a bad feeling about this.

“There’s actually something interesting,” Yukimiya said, holding up his phone. “Sendou’s Instagram.”

Reo leaned in.

On the screen was a photo: Aiku, Sendou, sitting at some café, grinning. Nothing too crazy, except— Yukimiya zoomed in. Sae. What the fuck? Sae, sitting just slightly off to the side, arms crossed, with his obnoxious designer sunglasses.

“Sae,” he started, “was friends with them?”

Karasu shrugged. “That’s the weird thing. They were never close. But there’s a whole bunch of photos from back then that prove they hung out at some point.”

Aryu hummed. “Which is odd, considering how much he hated when Aiku passed him the captain’s armband.”

Otoya nodded. “Yeah, I remember that. He looked like he wanted to set the thing on fire.”

Reo’s head was spinning. Sae, Aiku, and Sendou.

Sae, the guy who barely tolerated people. Aiku, the guy who antagonized him. Sendou, the guy who was an extension of Aiku. What the hell was he doing hanging out with them?

Nagi, finally paying attention, peered at the screen. “Maybe…” he started, voice low and dramatic, “Aiku and Sae—”

“Nope,” Karasu cut him off immediately. “Aiku only goes for girls. And that’s confirmed by many.”

“And Sae wouldn’t fall that low,” Yukimiya added.

Reo, still staring at the photo, barely heard them. Because there was something else that was weird.

Something off. His eyes drifted to the edge of the frame.

At the very end of the photo, next to Sae, was an arm. A fourth person. Someone else had been there. Someone who had been tagged in the original post. Except— The profile had been deleted.

Reo’s pulse picked up.

His mind raced through possibilities. Who the hell was this? A teammate? A coach? Some other friend Sae had never mentioned?

His gut told him this was important. That it meant something. But before he could open a full-blown investigation—

“Speaking of Shidou and Sae happening,” Karasu grinned, “you two better start scheduling locker room time.”

Reo barely looked up. “Huh?”

“You and Nagi,” Karasu smirked. “Would hate for you guys to get interrupted mid-session.”

Reo blinked, his brain lagging behind the joke.

“Oh, fuck off,” he groaned.

Nagi, completely unfazed, stretched his arms over his head. “I hate all of you.”

The table erupted into laughter, the conversation shifting gears. But Reo’s mind was still elsewhere.

Because no matter how much he tried to focus on his food, or tune back into the jokes, or shake the feeling gnawing at his gut, his eyes kept drifting back to the photo. To the deleted profile. To the missing person.

Reo had a gut feeling that whatever had happened to Sae before, whatever this was, it was bigger than all of them.

Shidou had never been much of a morning person. Or a structured person. Or the kind of guy who thought much further than whatever impulse hit him next. But if waking up early meant spending the day with Itoshi Sae, he figured he could adjust.

The sun was high, the sky clear, and his car smelled like coconut air freshener and bad decisions. His fingers tapped against the wheel, his knee bouncing slightly. He hated sitting still, hated waiting, but something about today had a different kind of anticipation thrumming under his skin. If that wasn’t proof he was losing his goddamn mind, he didn’t know what was.

And then the front door of the Itoshi house swung open.

Sae walked down the steps, slow and composed, as if he was stepping onto a goddamn press conference and not into Shidou’s car. Moving with the kind of effortless grace that made Shidou’s brain short-circuit. It was a very ethereal view, as if the world barely touched him, like everything around him was just background noise to whatever soundtrack played in his head. Crisp athletic gear, sunglasses perched on his nose like he was too busy for something as trivial as eye contact. The soft morning light caught his pink hair in a way that felt stupidly unfair.

He had to stop looking at Sae like this.

Like the way he moved meant something. Like he wasn’t just another guy Shidou was trying to figure out.

The car door opened, and Sae slid in without a word, buckling his seatbelt with the ease of someone who had done this a hundred times before.

Which, for the record, he hadn’t. Sae didn’t do things like this. He didn’t let people in. Didn’t entertain relationships beyond what was necessary. Which only made it all the more amazing the fact that somehow, Shidou was here.

“Morning, beautiful,” Shidou greeted, flashing him a grin.

Sae barely looked at him. “Hurry up and drive.”

God, he was impossible.

Shidou pulled onto the road, side-eyeing him as he did. Sae was settled back into the seat, his head tilted toward the window, legs stretched out like he owned the place. His fingers drummed lightly against his knee, the only tell that he wasn’t as unaffected as he looked.

Shidou cleared his throat. “Can I ask you something?”

“No.”

For a guy who could probably murder someone with just a look, he sat weirdly neat—posture straight, hands resting loosely in his lap. He looked expensive. Untouchable. Like the world had never really gotten a proper grip on him.

It made something in Shidou itch. He wanted to mess him up a little. Ruffle his hair. Make him laugh. Leave marks somewhere no one else could see.

“Cool. So—”

Sae sighed, not really protesting but still refusing to look at Shidou in the eyes during his little negotiation. “Fine. But I get to ask one back.”

Shidou turned to him, delighted. “Oh, we’re making this a game?”

Sae shrugged, nonchalant. “Figured that’s the only way I’ll get anything interesting out of you.”

Shidou placed a hand over his chest, mock-offended, still amazed at such a sudden display of consideration. “Wow. You wound me, Sae-chan.”

“I’ll start then” Sae took the sunglasses out of his head and tossed them in the cupboard.“How’d you figure out my music taste?”

Shidou turned to him slightly, unimpressed. “That’s your question?”

“Yes it is.”

Shidou thought of the most appropriate answer and reply that wouldn’t get him in trouble but still could be regarded as socially acceptable. Desperate times called for desperate measures, but since he couldn’t make that sound smooth and less creepy: “I didn’t.”

Sae leaned back against the seat, looking entirely too smug for someone who had just being given a non-answer.

“You followed me around,” Sae said simply. “Didn’t you?”

Shidou choked. Leave it to Itoshi Sae to dissect his thoughts as if he was an esper. “What.”

Sae was infuriatingly calm. “Desperate to know me better.”

“I—what the fuck—“ Shidou nearly swerved into the next lane. “Besides Sae-chan, that’s not really the point.”

“Sure it isn’t.”

Shidou gritted his teeth, gripping the wheel tighter. He needed to win this.

“My turn,” Sae said. “Since you didn’t answer the last question appropriately.”

“What do you mean not appropriately? You’re cheating in this game.”

“Why did you do it?”

Shidou blinked. “Do what?”

“Follow me.”

He wondered what type of answer would be enough to satisfy Sae’s curiosity. Since the truth was much simpler and embarrassing. “Because I needed to know you better.”

It was small, barely noticeable, but Shidou had spent enough time watching him to recognize the shift. The slight tension in his shoulders. The way his fingers stopped drumming against his knee. And then without looking at him— “My turn.”

“Don’t ask anything stupid.”

“Why did you start playing soccer?”

Sae’s answer came easily, of course he had that answer ready and prepared for the occasion. Truly, born to be a soccer superstar. “Because I wanted to be the best striker in the world.”

“Striker?”

Sae nodded once.

Shidou tapped his fingers against the wheel. “And?”

Sae exhaled slowly, gaze still fixed out the window. “I kept playing because I realized I wanted to be there—the playmaker for the best striker the world had ever seen.”

Shidou wet his lips. That answer was too honest. Too vulnerable.

Sae never said shit like this. He was always calculated, always measured, never letting anyone see past what he wanted them to see.

This was something close to the truth.

Shidou glanced at him, his own pulse picking up slightly. “Who was it?”

Sae turned to him, unreadable. “Two people.”

Shidou’s fingers curled slightly against the wheel. “Who?”

Sae’s voice was impossibly calm. “You’ll know when you prove today that you have the potential to be the third.”

The air in the car felt charged—like the moment right before a storm, like the space between a match and the wick.

Sae’s gaze didn’t waver.

Shidou swallowed. “Challenge accepted.”

Sae turned back to the window. Unsure of what had just happened. Something like amusement. Something like curiosity. Something like the first crack in the impossible puzzle that was Itoshi Sae. The ever complicated maximum level difficulty puzzle that left Shidou Ryusei urging to solve it.

Except, Shidou thought, biting the inside of his cheek, but what if I already have?

Isagi sat on the couch, gripping his phone like it contained state secrets, like the wrong movement might detonate something inside him.

Twenty-six minutes.

That was how long he’d been staring at Rin’s contact, thumb hovering over the screen, scrolling up and down their last texts.

Which, to be fair, weren’t even real texts—just logistical updates about practice. A couple of clipped phrases exchanged during their mandatory cooperative sessions with Anri. A few painfully awkward moments at Reo’s private training field, where Rin had been trying in his weird, stiff, Rin-like way.

Isagi had spent the whole week pretending he wasn’t watching him. That he wasn’t noticing every little shift. How Rin didn’t snap at him as much, how he actually waited for Isagi to catch up during drills instead of rushing ahead, how his passes had become so goddamn calculated.

It was frustrating. No, so much worse than frustrating. It was devastating. Because Rin wasn’t saying anything. There was no apology. No explanation. No grand confession. But there was something.

A quiet, careful something that made Isagi’s chest ache.

Because fuck, he wanted to believe in it. He wanted to believe that Rin was trying for the right reasons, that he meant it, that this wasn’t just guilt or loneliness or some stupid obligation.

But could he trust it? Could he trust Rin? Could he trust himself?

Isagi groaned, dragging his hands down his face. He was being an idiot. He knew that. This wasn’t his problem anymore. It wasn’t. And yet…

“Yo, Isagi~”

A sudden weight flopped onto the couch next to him, an arm slung lazily over his shoulders.

Isagi stiffened. “Jesus Christ—”

Bachira grinned up at him, tilting his head like a curious cat. “You were about to text him, weren’t you?”

Isagi clenched his jaw.

Bachira gasped, delighted. “Knew it.”

Isagi groaned, kicking his head back against the couch. “It’s not—I wasn’t—I don’t know.”

Bachira knew too well what that meant, that little shit just saw through him like a mirror with his glossy eyes. “You don’t know?”

“No.” Isagi exhaled sharply, gripping his phone tight. “I don’t fucking know, okay?”

Bachira just blinked at him. “Do you still want him?”

Isagi’s throat went tight. Did he?

The rational part of his brain—the part that remembered exactly how much it hurt when Rin kissed him and then went right back to Yukimiya—that part wanted to say no.

But his stupid traitorous heart—the part that remembered every little detail about this past week, every small thing Rin did differently, every time he almost looked at him like— Fuck.

Bachira stretched out on the couch, kicking his legs up over the armrest. “Yeah, Rin’s trying to get you back because he doesn’t have you. But are you sure he actually wants you?”

Isagi flinched.

Bachira cracked an eye open. “You sure he’s not just lonely? Or guilty? Or confused?”

Isagi’ felt the need to punch a hole through the wall and swallow his stupid Rin Itoshi feelings. Because—no. He wasn’t sure. He couldn’t be. And that was what scared him most of all.

It wasn’t like Rin had begged for him back. He wasn’t on his knees declaring undying devotion. Wasn’t saying everything Isagi had wanted to hear.

Isagi just felt it.

In the way Rin had stopped ignoring him. In the way he lingered closer, like he was waiting for something. In the way his touches were softer on the field, how his passes were just a little too considerate, how his gaze flickered toward him before anyone else. He felt it in the way Rin was trying in that stiff, awkward, weirdly endearing way of his.

Isagi had been so sure he was done. That he could move on. That it was fine. But then Rin had started looking at him like that again.

And Isagi—

Bachira sighed, rolling onto his stomach, voice muffled against the cushions. “Look, Isagi, I don’t care what you do.”

Isagi side-eyed him. “Yes, you do.”

Bachira huffed. “Okay, maybe I do a little. But only because you’re my best friend and—” He groaned. “I do not have the energy to find you another guy if this all goes to shit.”

Despite himself, Isagi let out a small, breathy laugh. “I never asked you to find me a guy.”

“I never asked to be your personal matchmaker,” Bachira shot back. “And yet, here we are.”

Bachira continued, looking pained. “I’m running out of options, man. There’s, like, two available people left in the entire school.”

Isagi chuckled. “Sucks to be you.”

“Sucks to be you,” Bachira countered. “You’re the one stuck in a gay little crisis.”

Isagi groaned. “Fuck off.”

Bachira grinned. “So. What’s the plan?”

Isagi took a moment to stare at Bachira’s face with something akin to regret, indecision and frustration. Because he didn’t know.

And no matter what, he had to make a choice. Only problem was that he was running out of time.

The goal

Shidou knew he was playing well. Scratch that—he knew he was playing phenomenally. Every shot was clean, every cut sharper than Sae’s tongue, every touch calculated for maximum damage. He was on fire. But it wasn’t enough.

Sae Itoshi wasn’t impressed, and that was unacceptable.

Sae stood across from him, arms crossed, like he was watching paint dry instead of witnessing an actual work of art in motion. It was driving Shidou up the fucking wall.

Shidou hated being ignored. It was a deeply rooted problem, one that had gotten him into fights, got him in trouble, got him benched more times than he cared to count. But when Sae ignored him? It was worse. It felt personal.

Which meant he had to do something about it.

He jogged up to Sae, sweat slicked over his temples, grin sharp and easy. “Oi, princess,” he drawled, tapping the ball between his feet. “You getting off on holding out on me, or what?”

Sae barely blinked. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Shidou sighed, dramatically rolling his shoulders. “I know you’re better than this.” He gestured loosely at the field, at the space between them, at the lack of the one thing he actually wanted. “Give me a real pass.”

“You think my passes aren’t real?”

“I think you’re holding back.”

“Right. Because you, of all people, would know.”

Shidou’s grin widened. “Course I do. You’re playing safe, baby.” He flicked the ball up, catching it with the inside of his thigh, bouncing it effortlessly. “And safe? Boring.”

“What do you want?”

“If I make the best goal of my entire life,” he said, voice dropping“you’re playing 20 questions with me during our date.”

Sae blinked. Once. Slow. Shidou could see the internal calculation happening in real-time. Could see him weighing the pros and cons, could practically hear his brain short-circuiting at the idea of having to entertain him for more than five minutes.

“Fine.”

Shidou lit up. “Yeah?”

“You won’t score.”

“Challenge accepted, pretty boy.”

Sae rolled his eyes. Then, with practiced ease, he stepped forward, tilting his chin just slightly. His body language shifted. Fluid. Languid. Still controlled, but open. Ready.

And that was all Shidou needed.

The pass was perfect. Not just good. Perfect. The kind of ball that was made for magic. That practically begged for something ridiculous, something no sane person would even attempt. It had the right weight, the right angle, the right amount of curve—deliberate, impossible, the kind of thing only Sae Itoshi could pull off without looking like he gave a shit. And fuck, was it beautiful.

Shidou didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate. Because this was his moment.

The ball dropped into his space, and in the next second, he moved—flicking it up, pivoting, launching his body backward into the air. Gravity ceased to exist. The stadium didn’t exist. It was just him, Sae, and the ball.

He struck it mid-rotation, his entire body soaring, arching into a perfect bicycle kick.

The ball snapped past the goalpost, a clean, vicious strike that would’ve made Ibrahimović himself stand up and applaud.

Silence.

“Holy fuck,” Shidou wheezed, hitting the grass hard, winded and grinning like an absolute lunatic. His heart was racing. His blood was singing. That was insane. That was the best goddamn thing he had ever done in his life.

And then he turned, panting, exhilarated, thriving, to see Sae. Sae as still standing where he had been. His expression was the same. His mouth was the same tight line. His stance was the same. But his eyes were dark. Focused. Shining.

He was impressed.

Sae didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. Because Shidou knew. Knew he had done exactly what he set out to do. Knew he had forced Sae’s attention, yanked it entirely onto himself.

Shidou propped himself up on his elbows, catching his breath, grin slow and lazy.

“So,” he said, tilting his head. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Make sure to replicate that in an official match with actual defenders on your back.”

Shidou’s grin stretched. “That’s a weird answer for question number one, babe.”

Sae rolled his eyes. Turned away. Started walking.

Shidou shot up, bounding after him. “Hey, hey. That was a deal, Itoshi. You agreed.”

Sae didn’t even pause. “I really did.”

Shidou gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “Babe, I just made literal history in front of your eyes and you won’t even humor me?”

Sae shot him a flat, withering look. “I will, when we manage to finish practice and be ready for playoffs.”

Dinner

The cheap dinner spot wasn’t much to look at.

Dim lighting, old vinyl booths, a menu that hadn’t been updated in what was probably a decade. The kind of place that smelled like deep-fried nostalgia and slightly questionable business practices.

Shidou loved it.

He kicked back against the booth, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, the other tapping against the table. Sae sat across from him, stiff-backed, composed, looking utterly unimpressed by the laminated menu.

“What, too high-class for your delicate sensibilities, baby?” Shidou teased, nudging Sae’s foot under the table.

Sae didn’t dignify that with a response. He just glanced at the menu again, exhaled through his nose, and flipped it over like it might be hiding something more tolerable on the back.

Shidou grinned. “This place was my favorite as a kid,” he said, dropping the teasing for something real. “Used to come here all the time.”

Sae stood there, with his teal eyes squinting just lightly, like the concept of Shidou as a child was difficult to process. “Why?”

Shidou shrugged. “Dunno. It was easy. Cheap. The guy at the counter gave me extra fries if I helped clean up.” He smirked. “Couldn’t cook for shit back then, so it was either this or whatever my neighbor was making.”

Sae hummed, noncommittal. He rested his chin against his hand, gaze flicking toward the kitchen window where an older guy was shoving plates onto the counter, barking orders at some poor soul in the back.

Shidou kicked his foot again. “What about you?”

Sae looked back at him, unimpressed. “What?”

“Favorite food,” Shidou said. “Go.”

“Grilled fish.”

“What, seriously?”

Sae frowned. “What’s wrong with that?”

Shidou was the one squinting at him this time. “That’s the most boring answer I’ve ever heard.”

Sae rolled his eyes. “It’s efficient.”

“You sound like you’re planning a meal prep instead of, y’know, experiencing joy.”

“Joy is overrated.”

Shidou groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Okay, fine, what’s your least favorite food?”

Sae didn’t think the question at all . “Oysters.”

Shidou snorted. “Yeah, alright. That one’s valid. They feel like they should still be alive when you eat them.”

Now that their little playtime was done and dealt with, he could start dropping the real bombs. “Alright, serious question.”

Sae, who by this point was well aware of how Shidou’s inquiries worked was already bracing himself. “What now?”

“Dessert.”

Sae blinked. “What about it?”

“You like it?”

Sae shrugged in the way a little kid would when presented a particularly tricky question that could get them in trouble. “Not really.”

Shidou narrowed his eyes. “That’s a non-answer, baby.”

“I’m neutral,” Sae said, voice even. “I only eat it when people push me into it. Otherwise, I avoid it.”

Shidou whistled, shaking his head. “Cold, Itoshi. That’s cold.”

Sae didn’t react. He just traced the rim of his glass with a finger, absentminded, like he was entertaining this conversation due to some unknown great reason. “Rin and I used to get ice cream when we were kids.”

Shidou paused.

Not because of what Sae had said, necessarily, but how he said it. Offhand. Unthinking. The kind of thing that slipped out when a person wasn’t paying attention to their own words.

Shidou leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm. “Yeah?”

Sae nodded. “It was just something we did. After school, after practice—whenever. There was a place near our house.” He glanced toward the window, like he wasn’t really seeing it. “Rin always got chocolate. I always got strawberry.”

Shidou’s lips curled. “Cute.”

Sae shot him a look.

Shidou just laughed, propping his foot up against Sae’s chair, making himself comfortable. “So, what? You dropped the habit when you became all grown up and sad?”

Sae stopped what he was doing altogether. Just for a second. Then his expression shuttered. “It changed when I moved to Spain.”

Shidou felt it, the way the air in the room shifted.

It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t obvious. But something about Sae’s voice—about the way he said it, the way his fingers twitched slightly against his glass—set something off.

Shidou could push. He wanted to push. He wanted to ask what changed. Wanted to prod, to dig, to unravel whatever that was. But he didn’t.

Instead, he stretched his arms behind his head, grinning like he hadn’t noticed. “That’s a shame. You missing out on the good stuff, babe.”

Sae scoffed, taking a sip of his water. “I’ll live.”

Shidou let it drop. For now.

The vinyl store

The record store smelled like dust and time. Like old paper and something preserved in the air—memories, maybe, pressed between the album covers stacked floor-to-ceiling. The kind of place built for quiet, for being alone, for sifting through sound and finding something that fit.

Sae stood by the shelves, fingers brushing over spines, reading titles in silence. He looked comfortable here, but not in the way most people did when they were at ease. More like he knew how to disappear in places like this. Like he could slip between the rows and no one would ever find him if he didn’t want to be found.

Shidou had never been one for hiding. He had always been the opposite: loud, obvious, the kind of person who demanded space just by existing. But he didn’t mind that Sae was different. If anything, he liked it.

“Alright, princess,” Shidou said, leaning against the shelf beside him. “Favorite song. Go.”