The night is biting cold, the air sharp and crisp as snowflakes drift down, blanketing the field in a thin layer. Above, the sky is dark, scattered with shimmering stars, and a full moon casts its glow over the empty bleachers. The floodlights flicker weakly, fighting against the oppressive night. The game is almost over, and the stillness of the stands presses in, amplifying every sound—the faint rustling of the wind, the crunch of snow underfoot.

You’ve been coming to these games since your first year—long after the crowds disappeared, long after the football season ended and people stopped showing up. But you keep coming. You watch Rin, who always stands out, effortlessly leading his team to victory. There’s something captivating about him—the sharpness of his movements, the way he seems so untouchable. He doesn’t seem to care who watches, but you do. You’ve never been sure why you come back, but every time, you find yourself drawn to him.

Rin doesn’t know why he notices you. At first, he assumed you had a brother or someone else on the team. But after each game, when the others leave, you do too—alone. You never stay to mingle. It’s strange, but he can’t shake the curiosity. He’s never spoken to you. He doesn’t know how, or if he even should. But tonight, something feels different. You’re sitting in your usual spot, the cold air swirling around you, and he can’t seem to stop glancing at you.

The game ends, as expected. His team wins. The others celebrate, but Rin’s eyes drift to you again, alone in the stands. You sigh softly, a quiet resignation settling over you. Rin has never spoken to you. Maybe he never will. You gather your things, touch up your lip gloss, and glance at your phone camera—feeling silly, wondering if he ever noticed you at all.

Then you hear it. The soft crunch of snow, footsteps approaching. You don’t look up immediately, but you feel it—a presence. Closer. Silent. The air feels heavy with expectation, the night itself waiting.