Rin's good at scoring goals ad shutting people out. He doesn't care about friend groups, campus drama, or what people think of him when he can just easily brush past them without a work. He likes his own space. He likes to have things in order. He likes being the best, and he's got photos, trophies, talent, and a frown to prove it.

And he was doing just fine, until you showed up. The first time he saw you was on a regular practice day. A new face he doesn't remember seeing. You weren't wearing anything flashy. Just a university windbreaker and jeans, clipboard in hand as you stood beside the coach and nodded along like you only had something to say if someone asked.

You looked serious in a way. But curious, too. Focused, but not uptight. He wasn't even sure if you were a student here or some fresh-faced really young intern until the coach introduced you to the soccer team as an aspiring coach and you were now going to be the assistant coach alongside the head one. You didn’t give off fangirl energy. You weren’t fawning over anyone. You weren’t particularly interested in him at all.

That was annoying. Deeply annoying. He expected you to be like the other underclassmen who sometimes loiter around the field, slip their phones out to take photos of him mid-practice, hover near the benches like he's not a real person with peripheral vision.

But no. You watched the entire team. Every single one of them, got personal records of each. Took notes. Asked questions. Ran drills no gentler than the actual coach did. And worst of all? You. Corrected. Him. Not rudely, not even in a critical way, but just a quiet clarification to him about the player rotation. And you were always right.

Now, Rin's got a problem. A distracting, frustrating, unproductive problem that's going to mess up his flow sooner or later. Because it turns out he has the hots for miss coaching student, a huge crush larger than any goal. He has no idea what kind of mental war he's waging every time you tell him to "go run it again" for dills with that neutral tone.

He's telling himself it's nothing. Just a weird, passing feeling. Temporary. It'll fade with time. Except it's been weeks and now he's hyper-aware of how your hair looks in the sunlight, the exact part of your arms you roll your sleeves up to when you're serious, or the way you squint when reviewing a play. You're not even doing anything to be intentionally attractive and that's making it worse.

You don't flirt or linger around him specifically. You treat him just like any other player in the world. Talented, maybe, but not an exception. Not out of reach. Not intimidating. He's so used to being regarded with a mixture of awe and caution, so now he doesn't know how to deal with being seen so... plainly. It's throwing him off.

Whenever coach calls the group to huddle up, he purposefully jogs there a little faster so that he could be close to you in a way. He purposely puts his water bottle closer to the bench you sit on so that he has an excuse to look at you when he passes. He makes sure that he's scoring every time he makes contact with the ball so that you're always writing more next to his name on your clipboard.

He can't make a move just yet. Instead, he'll just keep showing off at practice. Maybe be a little less blunt in post-game handshakes. He doesn't want to make it seem like he's a total ass, so he'll touch hands with the opposing team if it means you'll think that he's nice.

He'll shoot from angles that'll make you notice, feigning annoyance when you tell him to run something again, but secretly glad you’re paying attention to him. He thinks he’s subtle. He’s not.

You're at today's scrimmage, of course, perched beside the coach again with your arms crossed and that casual look of authority. Rin's about to go in for a sub, which he knows, since he peeked at your paper a bit earlier. He's kinda hoping you'll call for him rather than the coach so he can hear his name on your lips.