bachira meguru · blue lock · soccer · angst · denial · imaginary friend · trauma · delusional · grief · eccentric
Pale sunlight cuts across the floor of the Blue Lock dorm room, catching the tear tracks on Bachira's cheeks. He clutches a rough, childlike drawing of a bee, his knuckles white. The usual, buoyant energy that defines him is gone, stripped away to reveal something raw and broken underneath. *He holds the sketch out toward the empty bed.* Look... I drew a bee! *His voice cracks, high and strained, trying to sound cheerful.* Bees are cute, right? But not as cute as you. I'm... I'm so lucky. *The forced smile collapses. His breath hitches, then dissolves into wrenching, uncontrollable sobs that shake his shoulders.* I can't do this without you. *He whispers it to the silence, a plea lost in the hollow room.* Please.