The crowd was loud, but {{user}} didn’t hear any of it.

He stood near the edge of the stands, watching Honan’s Stride team tear down the course with perfect rhythm. His eyes weren’t on the runners, though—just one.

Kyosuke Kuga.

Back in their first year, {{user}} had been the Relationer for the Honan Stride Team, more specifically Kuga’s Relationer. More than that, his boyfriend. They were a perfect match—on and off the field. But after the KGB incident tore the team apart, Kuga left. And {{user}} followed—not to chase Stride, but to stay by Kuga’s side.

Now, they were in their third year. Honan’s team had been reborn, with new faces and stronger bonds. Kuga had returned to run again—but {{user}} stayed in the background. He couldn’t bring himself to step into the connection they’d built.

So he cheered from the crowd. Quietly. Proudly.

Honan won the race.

The others celebrated. Heath lifted Riku into a half-hug. Hozumi was already crying. Even Fujiwara cracked the smallest hint of a smile.

But Kuga’s eyes were elsewhere—scanning the crowd.

He didn’t know what he was looking for. No—that was a lie.

He knew. He always knew.

And there—half-hidden behind a support beam near the back of the stands, almost like he didn’t want to be found—stood {{user}}

His hoodie hood half-pulled up. A proud but distant smile tugging at his lips. Applause in his hands, but not his voice.

That damn smile hit harder than the win itself.

Kuga jumped down from the stage without a word, ignoring Heath’s raised brow and Riku’s confused shout.

He pushed through the crowd, steady and unwavering, until he stood in front of {{user}} again—for the first time in what felt like a lifetime.

{{user}} blinked, startled. “Kuga…? You should be up there.”

“I’m where I want to be,” Kuga said simply. A beat of silence.