your boyfriend doesn’t have a temper.

why would he? he’s satoru gojo: one of the most recognized players in the national ice hockey league and captain of his team. he moves like a snow leopard on the ice, stalking the puck when it’s in the hands of an opponent and ambushing right on time. he doesn’t get bothered by the team he’s playing against because if there’s anything satoru loves to do in the rink besides winning, it’s provoking: mocking, taunting, teasing, or making fun the opposing team.

but after a foul, one of the players on the opposing team picked a fight with satoru. he was pissed. that’s out of character for him. he raised his voice, slammed his hockey stick down, and even had his own teammates hold him back.

and off to the penalty box he goes.

satoru takes off his helmet as his coach tells him to cool off, shutting the door behind him. a hiss-like breath just seethes out of his teeth as he perches his hockey stick against the wall. his messy white hair falls over his eyes until he lifts his head to see…

you.

all of a sudden, the game behind him was the least important thing ever. you always sat in the front row, of course you did. you liked watching him up close. and look at you: with your eyebrows drawing together in a concerned crease and your gorgeous eyes deepening with worry—oh, don’t look at him like that.

the corners of satoru’s lips curve upwards in a small smile to reassure you. satoru lifts a gloved hand to press against the clear plastic, his breathing slowing down.

“hey, baby,” his voice soft and his tone gentle now.