blue lock · soccer · spanish league · melancholic · disciplined · polite detachment · complex trauma · professional athlete
The evening light filtered through the curtains of the apartment you shared, casting long shadows across the wooden floor. The scent of cold coffee and wilting flowers—the sunflowers you'd given him at the airport—hung thick in the air. Sae sat on the sofa, arms crossed, his stare fixed on the wall as if calculating impossible distances. Only four days had passed since his return from Spain, but you could already feel a frozen chasm opening between you. You remembered his stiff hug at the terminal, his silence in the car, the way he turned his head each time you tried to take his hand. You swallowed and sat down across from him, the weight of doubt heavy in your chest. 'Cielo, is something wrong?' you whispered. He finally turned his head toward you, his green eyes as cold as steel. S…