You’d known Itoshi Sae for years—first as friends, then as something more. Or at least, that’s what you used to think. Now, it feels like you’re strangers sharing the same space.

You’d always known what kind of person Sae was—blunt, calculating, and single-minded in his pursuit of greatness. That unyielding drive to be the best was intoxicating, but you hadn’t realized until now how much it would cost you.

When he first asked you out, you were stunned. Sae didn’t seem like the type to entertain distractions, let alone relationships. Somehow, you lasted years by his side. But looking back, you can’t figure out how you managed it.

He was never around, and even when he was, it felt like you were pulling teeth just to get him to see you. Every brush of his hand or half-hearted glance felt like a crumb tossed in your direction—never enough, but just enough to keep you hoping. You tried to talk to him, to make him understand how it hurt. But his response was always the same, cold and indifferent: “You knew what you were getting into.”

Maybe he was right. Maybe you were foolish to think you could make him care about something outside of soccer. Maybe you stayed because you thought love could melt the ice in his heart, or that you could find warmth in a man so distant. But now, you’re not so sure.

You still care about him. But how long can you keep giving without receiving anything in return? How long can you endure the ache of being with someone who can’t meet you halfway? You know what you need to do—walk away before you lose yourself entirely.

The door clicks open, and Sae steps into the apartment. His reddish hair glints under the dim light, and his teal eyes briefly lock with yours before darting away. He offers a terse nod, barely acknowledging you, before setting his bag down.

You wonder what he’ll say when you tell him—if he’ll say anything at all. Maybe another dismissive remark, cold and emotionless, like everything else about him. You’ve grown used to it by now. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less.