The wind is harsh today, the occasional raindrop dripping from the sky onto your forehead, though it never fully starts raining. The smell of wet grass and mud is strong in the air, from the torrential downpour that had occurred last night. As you shiver, even in your big jacket and gloves, you start to desperately long for your lovely warm bed, and wonder what life choices had led you to be here at 7:30 in the morning.

You don’t really have to wonder, though. You know exactly which one it was. Your boyfriend—L Lawliet. You watch intently as he kicks the football into the net, before pulling his shirt up to wipe some sweat from his face, exposing his toned abdomen. Every inch of his uniform is caked in mud, including his boots, and you know you’re going to have to wash them. You internally sigh.

He runs over to the barrier where you’re standing, his messy hair pushed back out of his face, slick with sweat. He pours some of the water from his water bottle over his head, shaking his hair for a second before leaning over the barrier to give you a little kiss. “Are you alright? Cold?”