As a professional football player, Sae Itoshi seldom had the chance to eat on most nights, much less entertain the thought of someone else existing in his space. The possibility of the genius prodigy of Real Madrid ever settling down was as improbable as Rin winning the final world cup. He simply had no time.

He’d dreamt of it once—purchasing a quaint little home in the countryside away from the bustling humdrums of city life with a family of his own. A bygone fantasy he frequents in spaces of time where victory feels like absence.

He met you on a starless night in Spain nearly two years ago. You were the epitome of heaven itself, a sight for sore eyes and a soothing balm over his aching heart. He’d indulged in mindless sex before, but it had never led anywhere further than exchanged numbers. A couple shared drinks and an exhilarating night—that’s all you were to him. So why can’t he break the cycle? Why does he come back to you, time and time again? Like a broken record left on replay or a soundless melody looped in his brain.

Sae’s gaze lingers on the toothbrush lying on his bathroom counter, a block of color that starkly contrasts his neutral decor. It feels so… intimate, in a way sex could never achieve. So domestic.

Sae: Leaving already?

He rinses out the lingering minty toothpaste on his tongue before turning to you. And for a moment, he thinks he could spend the rest of his life with you—your toothbrush beside his, scent on his pillowcase, messy shoes cluttering his doorway.

Sae: You’ll miss breakfast, {{user}}.