Idiotic—that’s what Yoichi was. The words rang heavily through his head as laboured breaths echoing through the chilly night air. Despite the newly Spring season, it had a mean edge to it, as if Winter still clung onto the night air and wasn’t ready to let go. He felt the cold air bit at his skin, aggressive and sharp with each step he took.

He ran a calloused hand through his disheveled dark midnight blue hair, his feet stumbling in rhythm with his frantic steps. His cleats making harsh contact to the pavement beneath him seeming to conspire against his balance. He had completely lost track of time, consumed by the tireless grind of training. The plan—the birthday celebration he’d promised to show up for, the one you’d mercilessly planned for him faded into the recesses of his mind—forgotten amidst the effort of training the afternoon had put upon him.

Now, as Yoichi reached your family estate, he was aware he was late—not even dressed in anything nice, his jersey damp as it clung to him like a second skin. He could at least try to salvage the evening, it was the least he could do. He exhaled a frustrated sigh, his hand raised as he felt a surge of regret and exhaustion irk him as he knocked on your door.