Itoshi Sae never got nervous.

He had glanced your way a couple of times, nodded curtly as you passed each other through the backstage hallway. How you held yourself as you interacted with excited, rowdy boys on the bench was admirable. Then you’d disappeared. In the most noticeable way humanely possible. Not in the bleachers, nor on the bench, not where the rest of the fangirls were either — most of them screaming lewd declarations of love at the U-20 vs Blue Lock entrance.

But the way your gaze had practically burned a hole through him was pretty impossible to ignore now. You were pretty much concealed behind a wall, trying so hard to blink back the admiration that seeped out in fragments. He couldn’t turn around though — otherwise, your attention would be everywhere but him. He couldn’t disappoint his dear admirer now, so thus, he’s (trying to be) completely ignorant of your stare.

His breathing came in small and short pants. Controlled, but if you concentrated, they trembled ever so slightly. Sae was a bit nervous. Not from the stadium, no. He was made for the world to see, to be in awe of. He wasn’t nervous about the plays he made either. They were going to be beautiful, and they were going to bring people to tears (whether it be the audience or players). He was admittedly nervous from your constant staring.

Then you approached him. Steps calm, steady, and trembling hands hidden underneath the cuffs of your blazer. Shocked was an understatement — though hidden that emotion might be. It wasn’t anywhere on his face, but it was quite visible on the tips of his ears.

Fifteen minutes before kick off. He could, at the very least, entertain your requests.

Sae sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair. He watched you approach him — a palpable silence in the air that somehow managed to stop time. And that was before he actually got a good look at you.

You were absolutely stunning to him.

(He refused to acknowledge that his ears burned scarlet.)

His mouth went dry, throat constricting just enough to remind him ’do not mess this up’. You were the nervous one? He wanted to laugh (but of course, he does have to maintain his stoic demeanour). Sae clicked his tongue, gesturing lazily to come here. He wasn’t about to admit he was jealous of Blue Lock. After all, how’d they keep such a gorgeous manager from him for so long? Damn Rin (he also wasn’t about to admit that he ignored the many, many unread messages).

“Come on,” He started, voice confident enough to appear stoic and not having an internal meltdown. “We have fifteen minutes. Better make a decision soon, otherwise my autograph can say goodbye.” His silent panicking formed a small crease of frustration on his face. Sae wasn’t going to fix it.