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April 1st
Ryusei was used to wanting things. Used to craving, chasing, taking—never sitting still and waiting. But this? This was unbearable.
It had been almost a year since he’d started dating Sae, yet somehow, he felt further away from him now than he had when they were just rivals meeting on the field. Back then, there was tension, competition, something to fuel his hunger. Now, there was nothing but silence and a phone screen that barely ever lit up with Sae’s name anymore.
Sae wasn’t much of a talker in the first place, but before, at least, he’d called at night. Even if it was just a gruff “I have ten minutes before I pass out. Talk.”—it was something. Now, even that was gone, stolen by packed schedules, club commitments, and time zones that worked against them.
Ryusei flopped onto his couch, phone dangling from his fingers as he scrolled through their old messages.
February 14th – Paris
Sae: Are you still breathing after last night?
Ryusei: You’re lucky I love you, otherwise I’d fight you for walking like you didn’t just get wrecked too.
Sae: I have dignity.
Ryusei: You have a nice ass.
Sae: I’m blocking you.
He huffed a laugh but it felt hollow. That was months ago. Their texts now were mostly short check-ins.
March 20th – Late at night
Ryusei: Miss me?
Sae: Busy.
Ryusei: You didn’t answer the question.
Sae: You know the answer.
It wasn’t enough. It was never enough.
His stomach twisted in frustration. It wasn’t that Sae didn’t care—he knew Sae cared in his own weird, emotionally constipated way. But knowing didn’t make this easier. He was tired of playing it cool, of pretending like he wasn’t crawling out of his skin missing him.
His grip on the phone tightened as he fired off a text.
11:32 PM
Ryusei: You better not be asleep already, old man.
No response.
Ryusei glared at the screen like he could summon a reply with sheer force of will. His knee bounced restlessly. He should go to sleep too—training was early. But the empty bed, the quiet room, and the knowledge that Sae was thousands of kilometers away made the air feel suffocating.
He called. Just once.
It rang. And rang. And then—voicemail.
“Fucking hell,” he hissed, shoving his hands through his hair.
A full year, and this was what they’d come to? He knew what he’d signed up for—Sae was a superstar, Real Madrid’s golden boy, and he was a damn PSG forward with his own career to handle. Long-distance was inevitable. But fuck, he wasn’t built for this.
His phone buzzed. His head snapped down.
Sae: I was in a meeting. What do you want?
Ryusei exhaled hard through his nose. Sae was probably exhausted, and Ryusei could let this go. But the simmering frustration, the gnawing loneliness—he couldn’t just swallow it down.
Ryusei: What do you think? I miss you, dumbass.
Three dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then nothing.
Ryusei clenched his jaw. He was going to lose his mind.
April 5th
Ryusei was barely holding it together.
Five days into April, and he was already a walking disaster. Every hour that passed without Sae felt like a weight pressing down on his chest, squeezing, choking, making his skin crawl with frustration. And the worst part? No one fucking understood.
His teammates had noticed. They had to have. How could they not, when he’d nearly gotten into a fight in training yesterday over a shitty pass? Or when he’d snapped at a staff member for adjusting his schedule like it was their fault his boyfriend was across the damn continent?
Even today, during a practice match, he could feel it—the tightness in his jaw, the way his blood burned, the restless energy in his muscles.
So when the defender on the opposing side clipped him just a little too hard, Ryusei snapped.
“Watch where the fuck you’re swinging your legs, asshole,” he spat, shoving the guy off.
It escalated fast.
The other player—some idiot new recruit—pushed back. “Maybe if you weren’t such a reckless shit, you wouldn’t get hit.”
The rage inside him flared, hot and uncontrollable. Ryusei’s fist twitched, itching to do something, but before he could take a swing, hands grabbed his shoulders, yanking him back.
“Oi,” one of his teammates growled, dragging him away. “What the hell is wrong with you? Chill the fuck out!”
Ryusei jerked away from the hold, breath heavy, fists clenched. He couldn’t chill. Not when his mind was a storm, not when all he could think about was how fucking far Sae was, how their anniversary was inching closer, and how it felt like they weren’t even together anymore.
It was driving him crazy.
His coach had enough.
“Shidou, off the field,” came the sharp order. “Now.”
He wanted to argue. Wanted to scream that he needed to play, to burn off the frustration before it ate him alive. But one look at the coach’s glare, and he knew there was no point.
With a loud, angry huff, he ripped off his training bib and stormed off.
April 7th
The fights weren’t just on the field.
It was nearly midnight when Ryusei finally cracked and called Sae again. This time, the midfielder actually picked up—sounding just as exhausted as Ryusei felt.
“What is it?” Sae’s voice was flat, tired. “It’s late.”
Something about that tone made Ryusei’s jaw tighten. “Oh, sorry for disturbing the great Itoshi Sae,” he snapped. “Didn’t realize my existence was a fucking inconvenience.”
Sae exhaled slowly, the kind of breath he took when he was trying not to lose patience. “Ryusei.”
“No, seriously,” Ryusei pushed, voice sharp. “Do you even fucking miss me? Because I’m out here losing my goddamn mind while you—what? Pretend everything’s fine?”
A pause.
Then, quietly—too quietly: “What do you want me to say?”
Ryusei froze for half a second. Because fuck, that—that was the problem, wasn’t it? He didn’t just want Sae to say something. He wanted him here.
He wanted Sae to be as fucked up about this as he was.
Instead of answering, he just scoffed, voice bitter. “Forget it.”
And he hung up.
April 9th
By now, even his coach had noticed.
“You need to sort your shit out, Shidou,” the man said, arms crossed as he glared him down. “You’re picking fights left and right, you’re reckless on the field, and you’re barely listening in meetings.”
Ryusei just stared at him, jaw locked.
The coach sighed. “Look, whatever’s messing with your head, fix it. Because at this rate, you’re going to get benched.”
That was the final fucking straw.
Benched? Benched? Because of this?
Because he missed Sae so much it felt like a physical ache?
Something inside him snapped. He needed to see him. Now.
April 10th
Ryusei didn’t think twice.
The moment he stepped out of the coach’s office, he grabbed his phone, hands moving with frantic energy as he typed out the request for a break. "Personal matters," he wrote, the only excuse he could think of that wouldn’t raise too many questions.
It wasn’t a lie. Sae was personal. The most personal fucking thing in his life.
When the approval came through hours later, Ryusei didn’t hesitate—he booked the first flight to Madrid. One-way ticket. He'd figure the return out later. Right now, all that mattered was getting to Sae.
The flight was in the evening. He didn’t pack much—just a duffle bag with essentials, passport, and a hoodie he could shove over his head to avoid being recognized. His teammates raised their eyebrows when he left the facility earlier than usual, but he didn’t stop to explain.
Because there was only one thing on his mind:
I need to see him.
He hadn’t even told Sae yet. Part of him wanted it to be a surprise—to see the look on that redhead’s face when he opened his door to find Ryusei standing there.
Would he be pissed? Probably.
Would Ryusei give a shit? Not even a little.
Spring had always been a season Sae resented.
It reminded him of failure. Of standing on a training pitch as a kid, watching the dream of being a striker slip from his grasp. It wasn’t like he had been bad at scoring—Sae Itoshi was never bad at anything—but it hadn’t been enough. Not for the kind of football he wanted to play. So he adapted. Became the best midfielder he could be. But every year, as the season shifted and the scent of spring crept into the air, the memory surfaced, like an old wound he couldn’t quite forget.
This year, though, there was something else. A different kind of weight pressing on his chest.
Ryusei.
That idiot had been pissed at him for days.
Sae wasn’t an idiot—he knew why. April 11th would mark a year since they had gotten together, and neither of them was sure they’d even be able to spend it together. Between club responsibilities, media duties, and travel schedules, the chance of them meeting in person was shrinking by the day. Sae could feel Ryusei’s frustration through the phone. And Ryusei, being Ryusei, didn’t bottle up his emotions.
He had been unusually short-tempered lately, snapping over stupid things, picking fights left and right, both on the pitch and off. Sae had tried to ignore it at first. He wasn’t good with people’s emotions—not even Ryusei’s, despite how much time they had spent together. But when their last call had turned into an argument, he had been annoyed.
Not just because of what Ryusei had said, but because of what he had done.
The bastard had hung up on him.
That was insane. Their calls always dragged on for ages because Ryusei never shut up. It was always Sae who ended things, usually with a dry, “I’m done listening to you now, bye.” But this time, Ryusei had cut the call. No warning, no dramatic speech, just click.
And it had… bothered him.
Sae wasn’t the most expressive person, sure. But Ryusei knew what he was getting into. He had chosen to be with him, knowing full well that Sae wasn’t the type to wax poetic about his feelings. Wasn’t that enough?
Apparently not.
Sae exhaled sharply, shutting his eyes for a moment. He was tired. He had a match coming up. He didn’t have time to dwell on whatever the hell this was. But as much as he tried to push it away, it lingered. The frustration, the irritation, and underneath it all, something smaller. Something quieter.
A dull sort of hurt.
Sae had barely finished towel-drying his hair when the doorbell rang.
He froze.
It was nearly midnight. No one ever showed up unannounced at this hour—at least, no one normal. His stomach twisted as he placed the towel down and made his way to the door, bare feet silent against the floor.
Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe it was a package delivery gone wrong. Maybe—
He unlocked the door, cracked it open, and—
"What the—"
Ryusei stood there, smirking like he owned the place. His platinum-blond hair was messier than usual, windblown from travel, and he looked way too pleased with himself for someone who had just committed international boyfriend terrorism.
"Miss me?"
Sae didn’t answer. He was too busy staring at him, too busy processing the fact that Ryusei—who should be in Paris, or at least anywhere but here—was standing in front of his Madrid apartment like this was a perfectly rational decision.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Sae hissed, his voice low as he instinctively glanced down the hallway. He half-expected to see a security guard storming toward them, or worse, a camera catching this on video. Ryusei just grinned, completely unbothered, as if he hadn’t just broken every unspoken rule of their relationship.
"What do you think I’m doing here?" he drawled, pushing past the doorframe like he belonged there. "Came to see my boyfriend, duh."
Sae shut the door in a rush, locking it as if that could erase the crime that had just taken place. "Are you insane?" he whispered harshly. "You flew here without telling me? Without planning anything?"
Ryusei only shrugged, dropping his bag carelessly on the floor. "Took a break for personal matters."
Sae scowled. "That’s not an answer."
"Sure it is." Ryusei stretched, rolling his shoulders like he had just finished a light workout. "Personal matter: You. Problem solved. Happy anniversary, baby."
Sae wanted to strangle him.
Or kiss him. It was hard to tell.
Instead, he ran a hand down his face and exhaled through his nose. "You’re impossible."
"And you love me for it."
Ryusei grinned, all smug and infuriating, but beneath the arrogance, there was something softer. Something quieter in the way his eyes lingered on Sae, as if he was taking in every inch of him, making sure he was real.
Sae hated how much he felt it too. The relief. The warmth beneath his ribs. The way his body knew Ryusei’s presence before his mind could even process it.
Sighing, he turned away. "You’re staying the night, then."*
Ryusei flopped onto the couch dramatically. "Obviously. Unless you wanna kick me out?"
Sae gave him a look. "Shut up."
Ryusei only laughed. "Damn, you did miss me."*
Sae crossed his arms, standing over Ryusei, who was sprawled out on the couch like he had every right to be there. The audacity of this man.
"Do you even realize how reckless this was?" Sae said, still irritated but more exasperated than anything else. "What if paparazzi saw you? What if they followed you here? What if someone figures out—"
"Relax, Sae." Ryusei rolled his eyes, leaning back against the cushions. "I didn’t exactly march in here with a neon sign that says I'm fucking Itoshi Sae."
Sae’s glare sharpened. "Lower your voice."
"Geez, paranoid much?" Ryusei huffed, but at least he sat up, elbows resting on his knees. "Look, I was careful, okay? I booked my flight last-minute, changed my car at the airport, wore a cap like a damn celebrity hiding from the press. No one followed me. No one saw me. If they did, trust me, you’d already be trending on Twitter."
Sae clicked his tongue but didn’t argue. He knew Ryusei was impulsive, but he wasn’t stupid. If he said he was careful, he probably was. Still—
"You should’ve told me," Sae muttered. "This isn’t a game."
"I know."
It was the way Ryusei said it—soft, serious, like he really meant it—that made Sae pause.
He studied him now, noticing the tension hidden beneath the usual cocky smirk. His fingers tapped against his knee, restless. His jaw was tighter, his shoulders tenser. He was trying to act normal, but something was off.
"What’s wrong?" Sae asked, his voice quieter now.
Ryusei exhaled, running a hand through his hair before finally looking at him. "We need to talk."*
Sae leaned against the armrest of the couch, watching Ryusei carefully. He could feel it coming—the shift, the crack in Ryusei’s usual bravado.
And then, just like that, the dam broke.
"Look," Ryusei sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I shouldn’t have snapped at you. Hanging up like that was a dick move. I just—fuck." He let out a frustrated breath, eyes flicking away before locking onto Sae’s again. "I’ve been losing my shit, Sae. This whole month has been hell. Every day just felt… worse."
Sae didn’t interrupt, didn’t push—just let Ryusei talk.
"I get that we’re both busy. I get that football’s our life, that we don’t have time to be normal about this, but—" He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "I hate how fucking alone I’ve felt. Like I was the only one losing my mind over this. The only one counting the days. The only one pissed that we weren’t even going to spend our first anniversary together."
Sae opened his mouth, but Ryusei wasn’t done.
"And maybe that’s unfair," he admitted, shoulders tense. "Maybe I should just suck it up. But the thing is, Sae, I can’t read your mind. When we’re together, it’s easy. I can see what you’re feeling, even when you don’t say it. But when we’re apart? I got nothing. No hints, no clues. Just silence. And I fucking hate it."
His hands clenched into fists on his knees. "I just need you to show me, sometimes. Just—remind me that I’m not the only one in this."
The room was quiet for a beat. Sae’s fingers curled slightly against the fabric of the couch.
He hadn’t meant to make Ryusei feel like that. But he could see now how it happened. How easy it was to assume Ryusei knew, when Sae never actually said anything.
Sae took a breath. "You’re not alone in this," he said, steady and firm. "You never were."
Sae stared at the floor for a moment, the words brewing in his chest, thick and awkward, like something he couldn’t quite swallow. He shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck in that way that meant he was about to say something that wasn’t easy for him. Ryusei could practically feel the hesitation radiating off of him.
"Look," Sae started, voice low and rough, "I—," He paused, then took a breath. "I definitely miss you, alright?"
There was a slight cringe in his words, like they physically pained him to say, as though admitting it out loud made it real. But he pressed on, now that it was out in the open. "I don't... I don't really like saying that, alright? Sounds like I’m swallowing bees or something."
Ryusei’s brows furrowed at that, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He wanted to say something sarcastic, maybe even tease Sae for sounding so weirdly vulnerable, but the genuine discomfort on Sae’s face made him hold back.
"But... yeah. I guess I assumed you’d get it. That you'd understand how crazy things have been over here. You never seem to take anything too seriously," Sae continued, eyes meeting Ryusei’s now, his tone shifting just a little. "And I know that’s not fair. I’ve been... I’ve been so wrapped up in my own shit that I didn’t stop to think you might be feeling the same way."
Ryusei could feel his chest tighten at Sae’s admission, but he said nothing, just listened as Sae stumbled his way through the confession.
"I’m sorry," Sae muttered, shifting on the couch, eyes downcast. "I didn’t mean to make you feel like you’re in this alone. And I’ll try to do better. I will. Just… don’t expect me to get all lovey-dovey about it, alright?"
There was a slight teasing note in Sae’s voice, the sarcasm his safety net to hide how deeply he felt in that moment. But Ryusei could see through it. He could see the sincerity in Sae’s eyes, the way the words had tripped out of him as though they were foreign territory.
And that was when it hit Ryusei.
That was his love confession, in Sae’s own way.
He felt all soft inside, something warm flooding his chest at the thought that even Sae, with his emotionally constipated tendencies, could break down like this. It was cute, it was honest, and it was a big deal. To Ryusei, that was basically the equivalent of Sae standing on a mountain, shouting that he loved him.
"That was cute," Ryusei muttered softly, a smirk spreading across his face, though it wasn’t the usual teasing one. This time, there was affection in it, tenderness that wasn’t often seen in the cocky striker. "You really suck at being vulnerable, huh?"
Sae glared at him, but it was a soft, playful kind of glare—one that didn’t have its usual bite. "Shut up. Don’t make me regret it," he said, but the corners of his mouth twitched as if he was holding back a grin.
"You know, I was getting ready to roast you," Ryusei continued, the smirk growing into something sweeter. "But, now I just wanna kiss you. Like, for real. That was too much heart from you. It’s kinda cute, actually."
Sae rolled his eyes, but there was something vulnerable in the way he smiled, something unspoken that made the air between them feel lighter.
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I swear if you make fun of me one more time, I’ll throw you out of here."
But even as he said it, Ryusei could see the way Sae’s eyes softened, a flicker of something more tender in his expression than usual. Ryusei felt that warmth again, the one that made him want to draw Sae closer, to feel the connection, the closeness they’d been missing for weeks.
"I’m glad you came," Sae murmured softly, his voice quiet, but there was a certain finality to it. "I needed to see you. More than I realized."
Ryusei smiled softly, his heart swelling in his chest. "Same," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, before leaning in, closing the gap between them to press a kiss to Sae’s lips. It wasn’t heated, it wasn’t rushed. It was a simple, quiet promise that things would be okay.
For a moment, Sae let himself lean into it, hands finding Ryusei’s waist to pull him closer. The kiss deepened, not with lust, but with that quiet understanding that said more than words ever could.
It wasn’t perfect, and they still had their battles, but in that moment, Sae knew one thing for sure.
He wasn’t alone in this.
As Ryusei’s hands slid dangerously lower, Sae pulled away abruptly, almost instinctively. His eyes widened, and he sat up straight, quickly clearing his throat to cover up the awkward tension in the air.
"Hey, hey, no funny business," Sae said, his voice hushed but firm. "I have a schedule tomorrow, alright? Training, recovery, interviews... I can't afford to lose sleep because of you."
Ryusei blinked in surprise, and for a moment, he looked almost disappointed. But his lips curled into a sly grin, and he shrugged casually. "Fine, fine. You’re such a buzzkill, though," he muttered, clearly not meaning it.
Sae shot him a pointed look, his expression softening just slightly. "You’ve already got me off track for an hour with all your talking," Sae teased, his usual sarcasm creeping back into his voice. "Now it’s bedtime."
"Right," Ryusei hummed, stretching dramatically before following Sae to the bathroom to brush their teeth, each of them going through their nighttime routines, the quietness between them feeling strangely peaceful. There was no rush, no deadlines except for the ones Sae constantly worried about.
Once they were done, Sae headed back to the bed, tossing the covers aside so they could both slip in. Ryusei, ever the clingy bear, immediately wrapped his arms around Sae from behind, pulling him close. Sae’s back pressed into Ryusei’s chest, and he let out a soft sigh, a warmth spreading through him that wasn’t entirely from the body heat.
"I swear you're like a freaking koala," Sae muttered with a fond smile tugging at his lips. Ryusei’s grip tightened, though, like he hadn’t heard the playful jab at all.
"And you’re like a teddy bear," Ryusei grinned into Sae’s hair, burying his face in it as he yapped on, not stopping for a second. "I can’t believe you almost made me go home without seeing you. What kind of crazy person does that? You’re such an idiot sometimes, you know that?"
Sae didn’t respond at first—he didn’t need to. He simply listened, letting Ryusei’s voice be the lullaby that calmed the whirlwind of his own thoughts. Despite the usual irritation he would have felt from Ryusei’s incessant chatter, it was comforting. In a strange way, Sae realized that this was one of the reasons he missed him so much—this constant noise, this energy Ryusei radiated even when it was mostly just nonsense.
"You talk too much," Sae muttered softly, cutting him off as he yawned, unable to stop the fatigue creeping up on him.
"You love it," Ryusei teased, but his tone had softened. His voice became a little quieter as he continued to speak. "I just... I missed you, you know?"
Sae’s smile faltered for a moment, and though he didn’t say it out loud, the sentiment echoed in his heart. "Yeah," he replied, his voice quieter than usual. "I missed you too."
It was then that Sae finally relaxed, the sounds of Ryusei’s rambling slowly blending into the background as sleep overtook him. He was the kind of person who never admitted things unless it was absolutely necessary. But with Ryusei here, holding him so tightly, Sae felt the weight of his own heart, and for once, he allowed himself to fall asleep without worrying about tomorrow.
Ryusei continued talking for a few more minutes, but Sae’s soft snoring soon interrupted him. A satisfied smile curved Ryusei’s lips as he gently pulled Sae closer, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing. He could’ve talked all night, but this... this was enough.
"Goodnight, Sae," Ryusei whispered, closing his eyes, his body still clinging to the warmth of the man he loved. "Love you."
And with that, they both drifted into a peaceful, quiet sleep—tangled in sheets, tangled in each other’s arms, and finally, at peace. The distance, the loneliness, the misunderstandings—it didn’t matter anymore. Because they were together now. And that was enough.