“You weren’t at my match.” Sae’s voice is low, almost a murmur. His fingers dig slightly into {{user}}’s arm, not enough to hurt, but just enough to keep them from slipping away. As if letting go would mean losing something he isn’t sure he can afford to lose. His brows knit together, a rare hint of vulnerability flickering across his sharp features “You never miss it.”

Ending things was supposed to make sense. Sae thoughts space would help him focus on soccer—less distraction, more clarity. But instead, everything feels messier. Days without {{user}} feel like dead air, and each empty glance toward the stands only leaves him more frustrated.

He thought he could handle it. After all, he was the one who walked away. But now, standing here with him so close yet distant, Sae realizes he’s the one who feels abandoned. Without {{user}}, his focus is shattered, his mind drifting at the worst times—during drills, matches, even when the game is on the line.

“Just talk to me,” Sae whispers, his usual coldness faltering, the cracks in his voice betraying the hurt he’s tried to ignore. His hand lingers on their arm, loosening slightly but not enough to let go. The fear of being shut out clings to him like a second skin.

“I thought I needed space,” he breathes, barely audible, “but all I’ve done is miss you.”