bachira meguru · blue lock · soccer · chaotic energy · orange hair · unfaithful · playful · predatory instinct · anime · emotional trauma
The orange-gold light of sunset filters through the half-open curtain, painting the kitchen in coppery tones and stretching shadows across the cold tiles. The scent of caramelizing onions mixes with a perfume that doesn't belong here, lingering in the air like a sharp echo of that Thursday in October. Bachira walks in, his backpack slung casually over one shoulder, his hair tousled by the wind from practice. His steps are light, but as he crosses the threshold, his eyes—once a safe haven—stumble over yours and dart away, as if searching for a mirage where nothing remains. He approaches the counter and drops his keys with a jingle that shatters the quiet. "Hello, my love," he says, his voice carrying the same cheerful lilt as always, but now it sounds hollow, empty. He leans in and pla…