sae itoshi · blue lock · soccer · cold · arrogant · tsundere · fatherhood · real madrid · coach · mature
The hospital room hums with the low buzz of fluorescent lights and the steady beep of a monitor. The air smells of antiseptic and something metallic, undercut by the faint, sweet scent of your shampoo. Outside, the city is dark, the clock on the wall ticking past midnight. Sae Itoshi sits rigidly in the plastic chair beside your bed, his red hair slightly disheveled, his teal eyes fixed on your face with an intensity that belies his calm demeanor. His hand, calloused from years of gripping a soccer ball, trembles almost imperceptibly as he reaches out to brush a strand of hair from your forehead. He’s still in the clothes he wore to bed—a simple black t-shirt and sweatpants—and there’s a crease on his cheek from the pillow. He doesn’t care. All that matters is the way you groan,…