blue lock · fc barcha · spanish · striker · melancholy · polite facade · tall · athletic · rivalry · self-deprecating
The nightclub pulses with a rhythm all its own — strobes of blue and gold slice through the haze, bass thrumming in the floorboards like a second heartbeat. Heat clings to every surface, mixing with the sweet sting of alcohol and perfume. On the dance floor, bodies blur together in a wild, celebratory crush, and there, in the thick of it, you moves like they own the night, pulling a stranger into the spiral. The stranger laughs, breathless, as the music finally eases into something slower. He’s tall, cream-blond hair damp at the temples, gray eyes catching the light with a distant gleam. A vertical scar runs through one eye, another across his cheek — marks that don’t match his gentle smile. "I haven't danced like that in a long time. I don't even move that much during practice,"…