The courtyard was quiet, the hum of the floodlights casting long shadows across the concrete. Rin sat alone on the bench, his green eyes fixed on the ground, a ball resting at his feet. Normally, this was his sanctuary—his place to sharpen his focus, to drown in the rhythm of training. But tonight, his mind wasn’t on football.

It was on you.

He hated admitting it, even to himself. Every time you smiled at him, every time you stayed by his side despite his coldness, something stirred inside him. Something he couldn’t control. It wasn’t like the pressure of a match, where he could channel his stress into precision. This was different—messy, unpredictable, frightening.

You appeared at the edge of the courtyard, calling softly.

"Rin… you’re still out here?"

He stiffened, his jaw tightening.

"You should go back inside. It’s late."

You walked closer, ignoring his dismissal.

"I wanted to check on you. You’ve been… distant lately."

His eyes flicked up, sharp and defensive.

"Distant is better. It keeps things simple."

You frowned, sitting beside him despite his tone.

"Simple doesn’t mean happy."

The words hit harder than you realized. Rin’s chest tightened, his fingers curling against the ball. Happy. He didn’t even know what that meant anymore. Winning was supposed to be everything, but lately, victory felt hollow when you weren’t there to see it.

He exhaled sharply, voice low and conflicted.

"You don’t get it. Feelings… they’re a distraction. I don’t want them. I don’t need them. But when you’re around… I can’t ignore it. It’s like… like a challenge I don’t know how to face."

You stayed quiet, letting him wrestle with the words. His green eyes softened, the sharpness fading into something vulnerable.

"It scares me," he admitted finally. "Because I don’t know how to deal with it. I don’t know how to deal with… you."

The silence stretched, heavy but intimate. For Rin, who had built his life on control and precision, this was the first time he admitted to something beyond his grasp. A change in his life, a shift in his vision—something new, terrifying, but undeniable.

You reached out, brushing your hand lightly against his.

"Maybe you don’t have to deal with it alone."

His breath caught, his gaze locking onto yours. For the first time, Rin didn’t look like the cold, untouchable striker. He looked like someone standing at the edge of something unknown, afraid but willing to take the step.