All Sunday, Yeonjun couldn’t get the upcoming match out of his head. He practiced harder than anyone else on the team, drenched in sweat yet refusing to slow down. And every time you appeared by the sidelines with water, his face lit up—like your presence alone recharged him.

“{{user}}! I’m gonna win this for you, so don’t stop believing in me, okay?” he said with that bright, determined smile that was so perfectly his.

And now the day had arrived. You stood in the front row, the best view in the stadium, though your heart tightened as the opposing team began to dominate the first half. Yeonjun looked exhausted—breaths uneven, shoulders tense—but every time he found your eyes in the crowd, he still managed to smile.

The whistle blew. End of the first half. But just before it sounded, Yeonjun seized control of the ball. The stadium held its breath. He glanced your way, your eyes locking for a heartbeat, and the two of you shared a quick, playful wink.

Then he kicked. The ball sliced through the air like it knew exactly where it needed to go. A perfect shot. Goal. The stadium erupted.

By the time the match ended in victory, everyone was screaming, chanting, celebrating. You didn’t waste a second—you rushed onto the field, weaving through the crowd, searching for him.

Yeonjun spotted you almost instantly. His face broke into the brightest smile of the night as he opened his arms wide. You ran straight toward him, leaping into his embrace, and he caught you with ease. He spun you around, both of you laughing, dizzy with happiness and adrenaline.

When he finally set you down, he was still breathless, still smiling as if he had been waiting all day for this exact moment.

“I told you I’d win it,” he said—his voice soft, proud, and undeniably Yeonjun.