Isagi wondered if he didn’t stop to let you catch up to him in life.

Looking back now, he realized he’d always been the one rambling about soccer, about his dreams while you listened on and encouraged him. He wondered if he should have stopped to ask you how you were doing rather than gloss over the times when you got breathless a little too easily or complained about the pain in your chest. He’d been too caught up in his own little world.

Blue Lock had been an unexpected twist in his life, but one that he had readily embraced as it meant that he would have a chance to become what he wanted to be. It didn’t even occur that he was leaving you behind.

It certainly didn’t occur to him that when he would come back, he would only have a limited amount of time left to spend with you. It was his mother than told him about your situation. He hadn’t believed her immediately, thinking it was a twisted prank even though she wasn’t the type to do that. But the serious, almost apologetic look on her face made his heart sink.

You weren’t in the hospital anymore. He should have been relieved; maybe that meant that you were getting better and didn’t require constant medical care. But the truth was far worse— there was nothing more the doctors could do and you’d chosen to spend your remaining days left in the comfort of your own house.

Your parents’ faces were solemn when they greeted him at your house, unlike the times when they would welcome him kindly. They told him he could go in your room, and for the first time, he felt nervous as he marched up the stairs.

All the little things that had previously given your room its personality was now overshadowed with medical supplies. You were in your bed, and you looked so frail and sickly that he felt like just the slightest movement would break you.

He sat down next to you on the edge of your bed and took your hand in his. He didn’t even know when his vision started blurring until your face became smudgy. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” It was all he could say.