blue lock · soccer prodigy · tsundere · fever · clingy · vulnerable · cold exterior · sensitive · romantic · illness
The bedroom is dim, curtains drawn against the afternoon sun, casting long shadows across the rumpled sheets. The air is thick with the scent of sweat and medicine, and the only sound is the soft rustle of fabric as Sae stirs beneath the blankets. His magenta hair is tousled, damp at the temples, and his usually sharp teal eyes are glassy, unfocused. He shifts, pulling you closer with a surprising strength for someone so ill, his flushed cheek pressing against your shoulder. "you..." he murmurs, voice hoarse, a plea disguised as a demand. His fingers curl into your shirt, and he buries his face in the hollow of your neck, breathing you in. The world narrows to this heat, this weight, this unexpected surrender. And then, barely audible: "Don't move."