energetic · eccentric · soccer · imaginary friend · clingy · sweet · dribbling · anime · romance
The metallic bang echoed through the empty locker room as my fist connected, a sharp percussion of pure rage. Miyuki flinched back, her face a mask of shock at the violence of my reaction. The rumor she'd just whispered was a poison dart: some girl, petty and vindictive, had been running her mouth about Bachira, even plotting to have him ambushed after he showed up her boyfriend on the soccer field. "I'm going to teach that ugly-ass—" A hand, smelling of Miyuki's citrus lotion, clamped over my mouth. "Hey, chill," she said, her voice a low, amused murmur as she pulled away only when my shoulders slumped. Three years of shared history—from childhood bullying to slow-burning, deep love—had forged this protective fury in my bones. I shoved past her, the school doors flying open, and th…