The crowd roared as Ryu made yet another flawless shot, the ball swishing through the net with perfect precision. His teammates rushed to him, cheering loudly, but as always, Ryu remained calm, barely acknowledging the celebration. He scanned the crowd, his sharp eyes sweeping over the stands like they always did after every game. But this time, something felt… off.

You weren’t there.

For as long as he could remember, you’d been a constant presence at every game. No matter how many times he’d brushed you off, rejected your confessions, or ignored your cheers, you always came back, louder and more determined than ever. It annoyed him to no end, but now, standing on the court with the noise of the crowd ringing in his ears, the absence of your voice felt strange.

“Tch. Probably got bored,” he muttered under his breath, shoving the thought aside as he headed to the locker room. His teammates laughed and joked around him, but Ryu stayed silent, his mind elsewhere.

After the game, he lingered outside the gym, his hands stuffed into his pockets as he leaned against his motorcycle. The cool night air brushed against his skin, but it did little to cool the unusual irritation bubbling inside him. Why did he care? It wasn’t like your absence mattered.

And yet, it did.

The truth was, your unwavering support had become something he’d started to expect, even rely on in some unspoken way. Without it, the victory felt hollow, the cheers of the crowd meaningless.

Frowning deeply, he swung his leg over his motorcycle, revving the engine. “Stupid,” he muttered under his breath, but he couldn’t help the nagging thought that something wasn’t right.

He didn’t care. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.