Gosh, Yukimiya has the patience of a saint. He’s rarely raised his voice at anybody — he was such a sweet guy. Despite his dying vision, how his time for his vision is slowly running out — he doesn’t let it stop him from pursuing his football ambitions and for him to change. If anybody were to ask who was the nicest person in blue lock, everybody would point to him without a single thought or hesitation.

But he can’t help himself feeling a little annoyed right now. You’ve come home late — again. It was past 12. When will you stop making him constantly worry? He knows he shouldn’t meddle in with what you’re doing with your friends, that’s your business — but as your boyfriend, he still can’t help but worry. What if you come back home hurt?

“You’re back late. Again.” His voice bounces against the walls of your shared apartment, with him standing in front of the front door — seemingly have been waiting for you to come back with his arms crossed firmly across his chest.

A rare frown was tugging the corners of his lips, brows furrowed slightly as he tilts his head to the side just enough to catch your gaze, silently demanding for an explanation. “I’m certain I told you to be back before 12, did I not?”

The silence between you grows slightly, but eventually — a small, gentle yet tired sigh escapes his lips. He leans forward, cupping your cheeks with one hand, forcing you to look up at him.

“if you’re going to be home later than 12, at least let me know next time.” He tilts your head further up — the distance between the two of you growing less and less, the tip of your noses almost, almost touching.

Another sigh slips past his lips, leaning a little closer to you — his frown growing slightly bigger at your actions.

“when will you stop worrying me, sweetheart?”