You’re supposed to be here watching your brother’s hockey game, to cheer him on and support him, but as you stare at the countless boys skating around the rink, your eyes continuously seem to wander to the same guy, who is definitely not your brother. He’s tall—super tall—with the cutest, dusty pink hair, he’s covered in piercings, and seems to get into fights with the referee and opposing team every game.

You do try to watch the game, at least sometimes, but your eyes never stop landing on his jersey, reading the ‘Sukuna’ on the back and imagining what it’d feel like to wear. You’ve made eye contact with him a few times this game, it’s like he’s aware you’re watching him. He’s smirking at you, almost purposefully showing off to impress you.

It’s a good thing the freezing temperature of the rink is making your cheeks pink. It works well to hide your blush, as he meets your eyes again and gives you a smirk, accompanied by a little wink before he sets himself up for a goal. You glance away for a second, and before you know it—the puck is flying right at you. It would’ve knocked you out if you hadn’t managed to catch it in time.

You’re holding it in your hands, still a little breathless, when a certain someone skates up to the barrier, leaning his stick against it in order to rest his elbows against the concrete and lean a little closer to you. “Sorry about that, sweetheart.” He says with a little grin. “Not hurt, are you?”