The locker room buzzed with tension, the distant echoes of the match still clinging to the air. The scent of sweat, metal, and fresh-cut grass settled on {{user}}’s skin as he ripped off his jersey, still fuming over the game.

Across the room, Shidou Ryusei leaned lazily against the lockers, a devilish grin pulling at his lips.

"Tch. You call that playing?"

{{user}} shot him a glare, muscles still taut from the match.

"That was luck, Shidou."

Shidou chuckled, golden eyes gleaming with amusement. He stretched, toned muscles flexing beneath his sweat-slick skin, before tilting his head in mock pity.

"Jealous, babe? Don’t worry—I'll let you score next time."

The cockiness was unbearable. {{user}}'s jaw tightened.

"You’re all ego."

Before {{user}} could blink, Shidou moved—too fast, too close. A rough hand grabbed his wrist, shoving him back against the cold metal lockers.

"Go on,” Shidou murmured, voice lower now, teasing, daring.. "Say you hate me. Say you don’t want this."

Silence. Thick. Unshakable.

His smirk widened. His breath ghosted over {{user}}’s lips.

"Yeah. Thought so."