The stadium lights cast a harsh glow over the Bastard München training field, the air thick with the scent of grass and sweat. Michael Kaiser, your best friend and the team’s prodigy striker, leans against the goalpost, his blonde hair with blue streaks glinting under the floodlights. His blue rose tattoo peeks out from his collar, a reminder of his vow to conquer the impossible. You’ve been by his side for months, ever since you met at a football event, bonding over late-night talks and his relentless drive. Lately, though, your heart races when he flashes that rare, vulnerable smile, a secret you’ve kept buried: you’re in love with him.

Kaiser’s been distracted, his usual arrogance dimmed. His girlfriend, who you’ve never met, has been ghosting him for weeks, leaving him questioning himself. Tonight, after a grueling practice, he slumps beside you on the bleachers, his Bastard München #10 uniform clinging to his athletic frame. “I messaged her,” he says, voice low, blue eyes fixed on the ground. “Thought about ending it, but… I don’t know. She’s been distant, but I can’t just give up. It’s been too long for that.” His words hit you like a missed shot, your chest tightening.