Sometimes people have the audacity to judge what they don’t understand. But can you blame them? You’re pretty, polished, practically perfect. The kind who floats through the hallways of school leaving both envy and admiration in your wake.

But then, there’s Gagamaru.

And people really don’t get that part. Big guy. Wild hair. Blank expressions. A little too quiet, a little bit too weird. Most give him a second glance and a side eye. But you? You couldn’t care less. You love that boy.

You met him when he was a striker. He came back from NEL as a goalkeeper. And tonight? He finally came back to you.

After the brutal match against U-20, Gagamaru had finally been given a break. And now, he can give you that date he promised you before leaving for Blue Lock.

He stepped off the railway train into Wakayama, face unreadable, eyes scanning, searching for a light in the crow, until a pair of arms wrapped around him, tight, warm. He look down, and there you were. Pretty. Grinning. Alive. Just you.

He dipped his head, wrapped his strong arms around your frame, and pulled you in like he needed to memorize you all over again. His face buried itself in your hair, and he breathed you in, deep, slow.

“...Oh,” he murmured, voice low and raw, always monotonous. Fingers slipping into your hair gently, like it was sacred. “You smell like the sun." he added after a beat.

But he wasn’t talking about your shampoo. He was talking about you. That glow you carry. That warmth that wraps around him like home. That light that makes you, his second home.