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It started with the smiles.
Not his usual soft, courteous and polite smiles he gave to interviewers. No, these smiles were slow, unguarded - slightly crooked at the edges with eyes half-lidded like he forgot where he really was.
The locker room after a mixed training session with both the youth and senior Barcha players was loud in a specific, chaotic way.
Metal lockers slammed open and shut. Towels were thrown over shoulders, kicked across the tiled floor, stolen and reclaimed. The younger Barcha players hovered around the adults like orbiting satellites. Half-awed, half-desperate to look unfazed.
The buzzing of chatter and laughter rang about the enclosed space, as players shared dramatic stories and reenactments.
Bunny Iglesias sat on the bench near the far wall, slightly removed from the noise.
His kit clung damply to his skin, jersey rolled up his arms just enough to expose the edge of old scars along his pale skin as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. Lavender hair stuck to his forehead with sweat from hard work on the pitch.
His phone buzzed.
Bunny glanced down.
Whatever he read made his shoulders loosen ever so slightly. His posture softened, like something unknotted inside him. His lips curved. That damned smile again. Not the polite, careful smile he wore around teammates and staff, but something smaller, quieter. Personal.
His red irises softened in a way no one had ever seen before, the scars on his face seeming gentler somehow, less sharp when framed by that expression.
He typed back with his thumbs, slow and deliberate. Paused. Read the reply.
And smiled again. This time, it lingered.
Across the room, Otoya Eita froze mid-lace.
He stared.
His fox-like chartreuse eyes narrowed with the sharp, predatory focus of a man who lived for interesting information.
Oh?
Ohhhh?
Otoya subtly nudged Bachira with his wrist. “Hey. Hey. Look.”
Bachira glanced over, munching on a post-practice training treat. “Huh? Bunny?”
Bunny laughed melodiously at his phone - actually laughed - breath puffing out, head dipping like he was embarrassed by whatever he’d just read.
Bachira blinked. “Whoaa. That’s new!” He half whispered, like they weren’t supposed to see this side of Bunny.
Otoya was already pulling out his phone.
He didn’t get close or zoom in obnoxiously, but the camera was very clearly aimed at Bunny.
Ninja art technique~
Otoya leaned back against his locker, pretending to scroll, camera angled just enough to catch Bunny in profile: head bowed, lashes low, scars relaxed by that unguarded expression.
The clip was barely ten seconds long.
Bunny smiling.
Typing.
Pausing.
Smiling again, wider this time.
Then, like he felt it, Bunny looked up. Straight at the camera. Red irises met the lens. For half a second, no emotion registered on his face. He tilted his head slightly, and then his brow creased faintly, amusement flickering across his face as realization dawned.
“Otoya,” Bunny said calmly. “Are you recording me?”
Otoya didn’t even pretend to deny it. “Maybe.”
Bunny exhaled a quiet laugh, shook his head, and reached for his towel. “You’re impossible.” The clip ended right there.
Otoya uploaded it immediately to his story an hour later when he got back to the fancy hotel room in Barcelona (Blue Lock must really have a high budget.)
Caption: some ppl really enjoy post-training texting, huh 😙
[ COMMENTS (670): ]
@eynesssss: AWWW
@my_clematis: why is bunny smiling like THAT???
@fcdramaalert: post-training glow or post-training romance 😚
@toyachannn: ‘toya is messy for this and i support it
@tripleT.fanLOL: he’s never smiled at his phone before. this is unprecedented.
@Egoist_striker: leave him alone maybe he’s just happy??? god forbid???
@stuckmoth_27: happy WHERE. with WHO.
@thepeachykey: It’s probably just family or something innocent. But yeah, that smile… I’ve never seen his eyes crinkle like that. Meltinggg 🥹
-
The interview room was bright… too bright, Bunny thought distantly.
White lights overhead, cameras angled just slightly to his left, a small table between him and the interviewer. He sat with relaxed posture, hands folded loosely in his lap, overcoat draped neatly over the back of the chair. His lavender hair was neatly combed, scars visible and unhidden, expression calm in the familiar, practiced way fans knew well.
This was routine.
They’d already gone through the usual questions: training intensity, on-pitch chemistry between teammates, how he felt about his recent form. Bunny answered evenly, politely, voice soft but steady. He smiled when appropriate. Nodded. Thanked the interviewer when prompted.
Then, she glanced down at her tablet.
“And… one more thing,” she said, tone light, almost teasing. “I’m sure you’ve seen it already, but a short clip of you after training has been making the rounds online.”
Bunny felt it immediately. A subtle shift.
He blinked. “Yes,” he said. “I… I’ve heard about that.”
The interviewer smiled, clearly pleased. “Fans are very curious. You were caught smiling at your phone in the locker room, and people are wondering - what were you looking at? Or maybe… who were you texting?”
The question hung there.
Bunny didn’t answer right away. His gaze drifted just slightly off-camera, unfocused, as if he was thinking deeply and thoughtfully for his answer.
Colour crept up his neck. It started faintly, just beneath the scars on his cheek, a warm flush that spread slowly across his face. By the time he inhaled to speak, the tips of his ears were pink, unmistakably so. His lips parted, closed again, a quiet breath slipping out as if he were steadying himself.
The interviewer noticed. “Oh,” she said softly, surprised. “That’s a first.”
Bunny let out a small, almost embarrassed laugh. He dipped his head, lashes lowering as the corners of his mouth curved. Not his polite smile; not fully, but something gentler. Realer.
“…I didn’t realize I’d been recorded,” he admitted. “So that part was a bit… unexpected.”
She nodded encouragingly. “Of course. But fans are wondering if there’s a special reason behind that smile.”
Bunny hesitated again, wringing his fingers slightly. He looked back up at the camera. “It was someone I care about a lot,” he said quietly with a small smile.
The room went very still.
There was no name, no clarification nor any denial at all. Just that.
The interviewer’s eyes widened a fraction. “That’s… very sweet,” she said, clearly caught off guard by how sincere he sounded.
Bunny’s blush deepened, and he let out another soft laugh, rubbing the nape of his neck. “I’m sorry,” he added, polite as ever. “That’s all I can say.”
She smiled. “That’s more than enough.”
As the cameras cut shortly after and the staff began to move again. Bunny exhaled slowly, heart still beating a little faster than usual. Somewhere far away, he could already imagine the reactions, speculation, and theories.
But for once, he didn’t mind. The truth was his to keep.
The clip from the interview hit social media within minutes.
Not the whole segment, just a thirty-second cut. Bunny sitting under bright studio lights. The pause. The blush. The quiet, careful way he said ‘someone I care about a lot’.
That was all it took.
@BunnyIglesiasUpdates: 🚨INTERVIEW CLIP 🚨 Bunny asked about the viral locker room video. His response… yeah. “It was someone I care about a lot” I am UNWELL.
@lavendercutiee: the BLUSH??? omg the way he hesitated?? HES SO ADORBSSS
@beechira_bzz: protect him at all costs ☹️
@ilovekikuo123: DID YOU SEE HIS FACEE HE WAS SO SHY I CAN’T
@LonePi: Important detail: Bunny usually answers immediately. The pause is huge. That’s him choosing honesty over deflection.
@kuromi55: the gentlest confession ever 🥹
@tamzz_y: Could still be family or a close friend. Everyone calm down.
@ur4vity: family doesn’t make you blush like THAT on national interviews.
@_nishishi: HE’S IN LOVE AND I’M CRYING 😭😭😭
@micha_222: This feels private. I hope people don’t push him.
@hq_shouyou: he looks happier lately and i don’t think that’s a coincidence
@oikawa_tooru1: Honestly? Good for him.
@RYUSEI_WILLSCORE: DID YOU SEE HIS FACEE HE WAS SO SHY I CAN’T
@reonagi_supremacyy: I don’t even care who it is, I just want him happy 💗
By the end of the day, that interview segment was trending. It was like Bunny and his secret mysterious person went viral overnight.
And somewhere, far from the noise, Bunny turned his phone face-down; cheeks still warm. He smiled to himself, knowing exactly who he’d been thinking about when he said it.
Somewhere even further away, a certain magenta-haired midfielder was stretching with perfect posture, right in front of his expensive velvet sofa in his equally as expensive apartment.
Itoshi Sae had seen the interview live.
He hadn’t planned to.
The television was on mostly for the background noise, volume low as he went through recovery stretches in his Madrid apartment. The city outside his window was quiet. Amber streetlights spilling across stone like something old and permanent. Sae barely glanced up… until Bunny appeared on screen.
He stopped stretching.
Sae straightened slowly, eyes narrowing with focus as Bunny answered the usual questions. Same blithe poise. That same calm tone. A carefully neutral expression Sae had learned to read far better than anyone else had any right to.
Then the interviewer asked that question.
Sae watched Bunny pause.
He felt it immediately. Something small and sharp in his chest - awareness.
Bunny’s gaze on screen drifted off-camera. His fingers tightened together. And then…
The blush.
It bloomed across Bunny’s face like it didn’t know how to hide. Soft pink blooming over scars Sae knew by memory.
The silence in Sae’s apartment felt thicker than before.
He watched the screen, unmoving, as Bunny’s blush bloomed in high-definition. He heard the soft, halting admission. Someone I care about a lot.
A faint, unfamiliar heat prickled at the back of Sae’s own neck. He clicked the television off. The sudden silence was deafening.
Idiot, he thought, but the word held no bite. He felt… flustered.
His phone, resting on the velvet sofa, lit up almost instantly. Notification after notification. Group chats he rarely read, individual messages from people who knew better than to expect a reply. Sae was sure he blocked most of them. But whatever, he ignored them all anyway.
He picked up his phone, his expression schooled into its usual impassivity. His thumbs hovered over the keyboard. A text would suffice. A simple, ‘You’re trending.’ Dry. Unaffected.
But then he remembered the smile from Otoya’s story. A clip that’s been forced into Sae’s face even though he didn’t actively seek it out. The private, unguarded smile that had never been meant for a camera. The smile that had, against all odds, been directed at his messages. There was no doubt about that.
Sae’s finger hovered over the video call button.
A text was safe… But a voice call was functional.
A video call was deliberate. It was a demand for presence. An admission of wanting to see. It was entirely contrary to the detached image he cultivated.
He pressed it.
-
Back in his quiet Barcelona apartment, Bunny jolted as his phone trilled with the specific, insistent tone he’d assigned to one person. A very special person.
Video call.
His heart did a funny little somersault against his ribs. He’d been lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the interviewer’s stunned face and his own warm embarrassment. He fumbled for the phone, his scars catching the dim lamplight as he sat up.
He accepted the call.
Sae’s face filled the screen, and Bunny’s breath hitched. He was in his living room, the sleek, minimalist lines of his apartment a stark backdrop. His magenta hair was slightly damp, as if from a recent shower, and he wore a simple black training shirt. His expression was, as always, coolly analytical.
But his eyes. His beryl-coloured, piercing eyes were fixed directly on Bunny’s through the screen with an intensity that felt physical.
For a long moment, neither spoke. Bunny could hear the quiet hum of Sae’s apartment. Sae could see the faint flush still dusting Bunny’s cheekbones.
“You watched it,” Bunny finally said, his voice softer than he intended.
“It was unavoidable,” Sae replied, tone flat. “You’ve caused a minor internet catastrophe.”
“I didn’t mean to,” Bunny murmured, pulling his knees to his chest. The bathrobe he wore slipped a little off his shoulder. “I just… answered the question.”
“You answered it with a spectacular lack of poker face.” Sae’s gaze flickered over Bunny’s pixelated image - the tired but soft eyes, the way he was curled in on himself. “You’re blushing again. Right now.”
Bunny buried his face in his knees for a second, a muffled groan escaping. “Saeee, don’t look so hard. It’s embarrassing.”
“You invited the scrutiny,” Sae stated, though his voice had lost some of its edge. A beat of silence passed. “…Was it the truth?”
Bunny lifted his head, his red irises wide and sincere. “Of course it was.” He stated it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Something in Sae’s rigid posture relaxed. He leaned back against his sofa, the camera shifting slightly. “You realise they’ll be speculating endlessly. They’ll analyse every person you’ve ever been photographed with.”
“Let them.” Bunny’s smile returned then, small but brave. It was the same one from the locker room. “They won’t guess. They never look at you.”
The comment hung in the digital space between them. They never look at you. Because Sae was a rival, a monument, an untouchable star in a different sky. Not a secret kept in a lavender-haired striker’s phone.
Sae’s lip twitched, the ghost of something that wasn’t quite a smile but wasn’t not a smile either. “They’re tepid.” He said it simply.
They lapsed into a comfortable silence, just watching each other. Sae noted the way Bunny’s lavender hair was messy from lying down—
“…You did that on purpose,” Bunny said suddenly, squinting at the screen. “You chose videocall.”
Sae didn’t deny it. “I wanted to see you,” he said simply.
Bunny’s face went fully pink. His heart swelled and he hugged his knees tighter, feeling a giddy, nervous laugh bubble up.
Sae pretended to look annoyed. Inside, something quiet and fond settled comfortably in his chest. He broke the gaze first, glancing at something on his side. “You have an early training session tomorrow, Iglesias. You should sleep.”
“So do you,” Bunny countered, but he was already fighting a yawn.
“I will.” Sae looked back at the screen. His gaze was no less intense, but it had softened at the edges.
“Goodnight, Sae.”
Bunny waited, a silent, hopeful glimmer in his eyes.
Sae’s finger moved to end the call. He paused. “Your smile,” he said, so quietly Bunny almost didn’t hear it. “In that clip. It wasn’t… entirely terrible to see. Goodnight, Bunny.”
And before Bunny could process the seismic shift those words represented, the call disconnected.
Bunny stared at the darkened screen, his reflection smiling back at him; a little dazed, a lot in love. He flopped back onto the pillows, clutching the phone to his chest.
Across the border, in Madrid, Sae placed his phone facedown on the velvet sofa. He sat in the quiet violet gloom for a long time. Then, he picked up the remote, and navigated to a saved recording. He rewound, pressed play, and watched thirty seconds of a blushing Bunny. Again, and again. On loop, his own impassive face illuminated by the glow.
A private, contradictory smile finally touched his lips. Idiot, he thought again, fondly.
-
The streets of Barcelona were busy even at this hour. Cars crawling, lights glowing in amber and red, the aroma of coffee from a corner café mixing with exhaust fumes. Bunny leaned back in the passenger seat of a sleek black car, seatbelt snug. He watched the city blur past the window, ruby red eyes half-lidded, relaxed in a way he rarely let himself be when cameras or fans were around.
Sae was driving. Or, rather, he was driving inconspicuously. Large dark sunglasses hid most of his eyes, cap pulled low - Bunny’s own merch, ironically - and a white Real Madrid hoodie pulled over the cap’s brim. The hood obscured the rest of his face, so even if someone glanced into the car, they’d see only a shadowed figure beside Bunny.
Bunny glanced at him mid-turn onto a quieter street. “You look… ridiculous,” he said softly, amusement in his voice.
Sae didn’t reply immediately. He kept his eyes on the road, jaw tight, expression unreadable beneath the layers of disguise. The hood slipped down slightly as he adjusted the wheel, giving Bunny a brief glimpse of the line of his jaw.
“Seriously, a cap and a hood on top?” Bunny whispered, voice teasing now. “You actually went through all of this just so people wouldn’t recognize you?”
“…Yes,” Sae said, voice clipped. He glanced at Bunny briefly from beneath the shades, then focused back on the street.
Bunny shook his head, smiling. “I can’t believe you. My fans will never know it’s you… unless you get sloppy.”
Sae smirked faintly. “They won’t know.”
Bunny leaned against the seat, feeling a little thrill of excitement at the secrecy. “You’re cute when you’re serious like this,” he murmured.
“…I am not,” Sae said immediately. But the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.
The car slowed at a red light. Outside, the city lights reflected off the car, fleeting and scattered.
Inside, the quiet bubble of the car held something soft, something secret, something thrilling; neither of them minded the risk at all. Sae gripped the wheel tighter than usual as the city lights streaked past. The car hummed beneath him, engine low and steady, but his mind was elsewhere, looping over details he didn’t speak aloud.
It wasn’t about himself.
He’d been with the press before, he’d had eyes on him in Japan and now in Madrid. He knew the consequences of visibility. But he didn’t care if the world saw him. That wasn’t why the hoodie was pulled over his cap, the sunglasses hiding the sharp angles of his face.
It was Bunny.
Bunny’s world was different. His fans were sharp-eyed, passionate, relentless in a way Sae understood from watching online, from noticing the way cameras and fancams tracked his boyfriend’s every move. They dissected his smiles, scrutinised every idle gesture, and every small glance. Bunny had a reputation to hold: polite, elegant, talented, distant in the way fans adored.
Sae thought about the viral locker room clip from Otoya’s story - long gone now, but the clip was saved and shared all over. That subtle blush, soft laugh, the eyes that flickered away from the camera before returning with honesty. He knew how that had lit up social media. He knew what kind of storm it could become.
He didn’t want any kind of negative attention directed towards Bunny. Ever.
Pulling the hoodie tighter over his head, adjusting the sunglasses, even deliberately choosing Bunny’s merch for the cap; everything was a shield, a careful misdirection to unwanted prying eyes. If someone got a glimpse of the car, of the figure beside Bunny, they’d see a “mystery person,” maybe a friend, maybe a family member. But they wouldn’t see him. They wouldn’t even trace it back to Sae.
…Maybe the Real Madrid CF hoodie didn’t help this careful-crafted image, but Bunny had insisted that it was his favourite thing to see Sae in.
It was a sacrifice for the greater good, Sae had decided.
Sae’s jaw tightened slightly as his hand brushed the gear shift, then rested again on the wheel. He never spoke of this. He never would. He didn’t need Bunny to know. Bunny trusted him: always laughed at his quiet, stubborn ways, and always leaned into the small dome of secrecy Sae created. There was no need to explain.
Because explaining would risk everything.
And he couldn’t risk Bunny.
Sae’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. Streetlights reflected faintly off the glass, bouncing across Bunny’s profile in the passenger seat. The way Bunny relaxed there, head tilted slightly as he watched the city pass; Sae would do anything to keep that calm, private space untouched.
He would never say it. Nor ever admit it.
But every gesture, careful placement of hood and cap, and turn taken to avoid prying eyes - it was all for Bunny.
All for the boy who’s real smile was sweet enough to squeeze Sae’s heart. Sae intended to keep it that way. Or for as long as he could, at least.
The car slid to a stop at the curb, engine cutting into a soft silence. They were in the familiar, shadowy parking lot space of Bunny’s apartment building. Sae kept his hands on the wheel for a moment, as if making sure the world outside had settled.
Bunny unbuckled his seatbelt. The click was loud in the quiet. He turned in his seat, the leather creaking softly, and just looked at Sae. At the ridiculous, endearing disguise and the beautiful man beneath it.
“Thank you,” Bunny said, his voice barely above a whisper. “For tonight.”
Sae finally pulled the cap and sunglasses off, tossing them onto the dashboard. His magenta hair was adorably, hopelessly flattened, his baby bangs slightly messy and unstyled against his forehead. “It was just dinner.”
“It wasn’t,” Bunny said. He reached over, his fingers brushing Sae’s where they rested on the center console. “You know it wasn’t.”
Sae didn’t pull away. He turned his hand, letting their fingers lace together. His touch was warm, grip firm.
Bunny’s thumb traced the line of Sae’s knuckles. “I’m tired of it,” he murmured, not looking up.
Sae frowned faintly. “Tired of what?”
“Of you being a secret.” Bunny lifted his gaze then, red eyes earnest in the dashboard’s soft glow. “Of you having to wear a hoodie and cap in your own car. Of me blushing on TV and not being able to say your name. Of… of us being a theory instead of a fact.”
Sae went very still. His expression didn’t change, but his fingers tightened around Bunny’s. “It’s safer this way. For you.”
“Is it?” Bunny asked. “Or is it just… easier for everyone else?”
The question hung between them, delicate and heavy. Sae looked away, out at the darkened parking lot. A couple walked by under a distant lamp, laughing, their hands swinging between them. He watched them until they disappeared.
“The world is intrusive,” Sae said finally, his voice low. “It will pick us apart. It will twist something simple into a spectacle. Your fans-”
“My fans love me,” Bunny interrupted gently. “And they’ll see that I’m happy. Really, truly happy. That’s all that should matter. If they don’t, then they aren’t my fans, are they?” He scooted closer across the console, his sweatshirt rustling. “Don’t you want them to know?”
Sae’s jaw worked. The answer was there, in the set of his shoulders, in the way he’d replayed that interview clip. He wanted it known, in some deep, possessive part of himself, that the smile was his. That the blush was his. That Bunny was his. But want was a vulnerable, dangerous thing.
“No. I don’t care about what they know,” Sae said, which was only half true.
“Liar,” Bunny whispered, a smile playing on his lips. He leaned his forehead against Sae’s temple. “You care. You just don’t know how to say it.”
Sae closed his eyes. He breathed in the scent of Bunny’s shampoo - lavender, ironically - mixed with the faint, homely smell of traditional Spanish cuisine. The world outside the car ceased to exist. There was only this: the warmth of Bunny’s skin, the sound of their breathing, the steady beat of his own heart, which felt too full for his chest.
“What are you proposing, Iglesias?” Sae asked, his voice rough.
Bunny pulled back just enough to see his face. “Let’s tell them. Together. I’m tired of hiding.”
“And how would you suggest we do that?” Sae’s tone was dry, but his eyes were soft, searching Bunny’s face.
A slow, mischievous smile spread across Bunny’s face as he leaned back, close and intimate. “A photo, maybe.” He said. “A soft launch. Something… sweet.”
Sae raised an eyebrow. “A photo.”
“Mhm~” Bunny’s smile softened, becoming less mischievous and more thoughtful. He looked down at their joined hands, his thumb tracing circles on Sae’s skin. The initial giddy idea settled into something weightier in his chest. A photo. It sounded so simple when he said it aloud. But it wasn't just a picture.
“… You know it’ll be irreversible. When our relationship status is out in the open, you won’t be able to take it back.” It should’ve been condemning, the comment, but the way Sae said it with that rare concerned tone laced in his voice; it sounded less like a warning and more like compassion.
“Yeah,” Bunny said, his voice quieter now. “But… you’re right. It’s a big thing.” He let out a small, shaky breath. “Once we do it, there’s no taking it back.”
He glanced up at Sae, his eyes wide with a mix of hope and sudden, sobering fear. “Your career, my career… the way people look at us. Everything will change.”
Sae watched him. He saw the excitement dim, replaced by the stark reality of the decision. This was why he’d built the walls, worn the disguises. Not just to protect Bunny from the world, but to protect this - the unguarded vulnerability on Bunny’s face right now. The fact that Bunny was even considering it, and was willing to face that storm for him, made something fierce and tender clench in Sae’s chest.
He lifted their joined hands and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to Bunny’s knuckles. The gesture was so unexpectedly soft that Bunny’s breath hitched.
“Then we think about it,” Sae said, his voice low and steady, a calm anchor in Bunny’s sudden whirlwind. “Properly. Later, though. I'm tired.”
That unexpected blunt statement induced a grin from Bunny. The words ‘maybe soon’ hung in the air, not as a dismissal, but as a promise. It was permission to want it, without the pressure to act on it immediately. The tension in Bunny’s shoulders melted away, replaced by a wave of profound affection.
“Okay,” Bunny whispered, a real, gentle smile returning to his lips. “Okay. Maybe soon.”
Sae gave a single, firm nod, as if sealing a pact. “Just so you know, I don’t mind at all what the fans or the damn media thinks. I’ll be happy if you’re happy.” He unbuckled his own seatbelt. “Now, are we going inside, or are we going to solve the world’s problems in my car all night?”
The pragmatic words, so typical of Sae, broke the solemn mood perfectly. Bunny laughed, the sound bright in the enclosed space. “Right, right. Your majesty needs his beauty sleep.”
They slipped out of the car. The cool, still air of the night greeted them. Sae walked to the back, popping the trunk with a soft thunk to retrieve his sleek, black duffel bag that Bunny’s grown accustomed to seeing whenever Sae stayed over at his apartment for the weekend. As Sae slung it over his shoulder, Bunny performed what looked like a highly serious security sweep. He peered around concrete pillars with comical intensity, intensified by his unnaturally (and unfairly, in Sae’s opinion) tall height.
“All clear,” Bunny announced in a proud whisper, turning back to Sae with a cheeky grin. The grin that Sae knew meant trouble. “Not a soul. We’re in the clear, mi rey~”
“This is absurd,” Sae stated flatly, shifting the bag on his shoulder. But he didn’t move toward the building entrance. He stood there, waiting.
“It’s romantic,” Bunny insisted, stepping into Sae’s space. He looped an arm around Sae’s neck, his free hand going to tilt Sae’s chin up even so slightly. “Admit it. You like the thrill.”
“I like not being photographed in a parking lot,” Sae retorted, but his hands found Bunny’s waist, holding him close.
“Same thing,” Bunny whispered, and then he kissed him.
It was a soft, lingering kiss in the semi-darkness, lit only by the distant yellow glow of a streetlamp. Sae’s fist tightened in a ball subconsciously from the shock even though he was anticipating it. The duffel bag dug into his side a little, but he didn’t care.
This was stupid.
And reckless.
And utterly, completely wonderful.
A warm, traitorous flush began to creep up Sae’s neck, spreading to the tips of his ears. He could feel the heat against his own skin, a dead giveaway. Bunny’s lips tasted sweet, reminiscent of the strawberry desert from the restaurant earlier that day.
The lavender-haired boy pulled back just a fraction, his nose brushing Sae’s. His smile was dazzling, knowing. “You’re blushing,” he murmured, his voice full of delight.
“I am not,” Sae muttered, but the evidence was literally glowing on his pale skin. “It’s the cold.”
“In the warm, spring Barcelona night air?” Bunny teased, his thumbs stroking the blush on Sae’s cheeks. “You’re a terrible liar. You love this. You love me.”
Sae couldn’t even muster a proper denial. The truth of it was too obvious, written in the blush he couldn’t control and in the way he was still holding Bunny close, duffel bag and all.
He opted for the most effective countermeasure he knew: he kissed Bunny again, deeper this time, swallowing Bunny’s triumphant laugh and pouring all his unspoken, flustered affection into it.
-
The lamp on the nightstand casted a warm, honeyed glow, turning the Barcelona night outside the window into a deep indigo blur. Bunny was curled on his side, freshly showered and swimming in a soft, faded pyjama t-shirt. The day's exhaustion was a pleasant weight in his bones, but his mind was giddily awake.
He wasn't stalking Sae's Instagram. That sounded so... predatory. He was ‘visiting’ it. Like revisiting a favorite museum. A very sparse, media controlled museum, but a museum nonetheless.
He scrolled with a fond smile, past the stark training ground photos and moody cityscapes, all plain boring photos… until he landed on them.
Hand modelling advertising posts. From years ago, when Sae had first travelled to Europe.
Bunny’s nose scrunched up in a silent laugh, his red eyes crinkling. They were so Sae. Impossibly elegant, utterly serious, and flawless.
He zoomed in.
The pale skin in the photos was almost translucent, like porcelain held up to light. The veins were a faint, delicate roadmap. The nails were meticulous, perfect little ovals. Silver rings with intricate designs and a dainty bracelet adorned the pristine fingers and wrist.
A soft, affectionate sigh escaped him.
He glanced to his right.
Sae was already asleep, turned away from the lamp’s direct light. Locks of his magenta hair fanned across the pillow. He was wearing a set of Bunny’s pyjamas; it was endearingly oversized on him. One arm was curled near his face, and his hand - the real, living version of the photos - lay relaxed on the sheets. It was just as pale, just as elegant, but softer now in sleep. Less like a sculpture and more like… the real Sae that he never shows to the world.
An idea, sweet and bubbly as carbonated soda, fizzed up in Bunny’s chest. A warmth, an overwhelming fondness made his heart go thump, thump, thump in his chest.
He wanted to hold that hand. So, terribly bad.
Moving with exaggerated care, as if navigating a minefield of creaks, Bunny slowly, slowly shifted. He lifted his own hand - his skin holding the faintest golden tint from Spanish sun, a small, pale scar visible above his wrist - and hovered it over Sae’s.
He didn’t grab or intertwine. He gently, so gently, settled his palm over the back of Sae’s smaller hand, his fingers caressing just enough to cradle it. A hand blanket. A protective, cosy shell.
Sae’s fingers twitched, once, in his sleep. Bunny froze, holding his breath. But Sae simply sighed, a soft, contented sound, and his hand relaxed completely into the hold.
Perfect.
Bunny bit his lip to contain a giggle of pure delight. With his other hand, he carefully angled his phone. Click. The soft shutter sound was deafening in the quiet room. Bunny winced, glancing at Sae, who remained peacefully unconscious.
He looked at the photo. In the dim, lamp-lit warmth, it conveyed everything he felt. His own slightly larger, tanned hand enveloping Sae’s pale, delicate one. His thumb was resting softly on Sae’s knuckle. Like back in the car. It looked protective, yes, but mostly it looked… cherishing. Akin to him holding something precious.
He didn't think about detectives or chaos. He thought about how happy this simple thing made him.
A soft launch, not of a relationship to the world, but of his own joy to himself. A secret he was too full of to keep entirely secret.
He posted it. Just the photo.
Caption: ❤️
Then he set his phone face-down on the nightstand, flicking off the lamp. He shuffled closer to his lover, careful not to jostle him, and rested his forehead gently against Sae’s shoulder blade. He was asleep within minutes, a small, serene smile on his face.
The internet, of course, did not sleep.
The mystery hand that had taken over the internet was strikingly pale, almost luminous in contrast, with skin so smooth and unblemished it looked untouched by the world. The fingers were slim and delicate, nails neatly trimmed and flawless, giving it an elegantly refined, almost feminine grace that had everyone double-taking. Yet the way they (Bunny’s hand and the mystery hand) laced so naturally, it screamed intimate.
@BunnyIglesiasUpdates: 🚨A NEW POST. IT'S JUST HANDS. I AM DECEASED FROM CUTENESS. LOOK AT THE WAY HE'S HOLDING IT. PROTECTIVE BUNNY IS MY FAVORITE BUNNY.
@flowstaterin: the lighting?? the GENTLENESS?? its so adorable how the bigger hand is so carefully wrapped around the smaller one i'm going to cry actual tears 🥹
@berobero_kun: okay but the paleness of the mystery hand. so so pretty and delicate. who has skin that perfect?? im jellyy
@Gachiakuta010: Y’all focusing on the hands and I'm focusing on the BACKGROUND that's a nightstand lamp,,, they're in a bed omg bunny is in BED holding someone's hand,,, GOODNIGHT 🥺
@is_zanka_greenenough: the pale hand… it’s so delicate!!! like model hands or something… there's no blemishes, perfect nails n looks almost like a girl’s. gushing over how bunny’s holding it so gently!!
@FLAVORFOLEYAY: Wait… pale skin, delicate fingers… Sae has the palest hands in football pics, and his nails are always perfect (bro’s a neat freak) PLUS the long slim fingers match his glove shots? Delusional or… 👀
@needygirl_overdose: AAAA SO CUTE!! whoever this mystery person is, our bunny’s whipped both the hands looks so soft and pretty together
@xCUTE_na_KANOJOx: He posted a heart! Just a heart! He's so smitten he can't even words! This is the purest thing I've ever seen.
The comments flooded in with heart eyes and theories, fans zooming in obsessively on every detail: the tender interlock, the warmth of the lighting, the subtle size difference that made the whole thing feel impossibly sweet and cheeky. No one knew it was definitely Sae yet… but theories built fast.
Early next morning on the drive back to Madrid, Sae blissfully ignorant to it all. He hadn’t checked social media much that morning even though his phone buzzed incessantly with notifications he dismissed as the usual social media craze. He silenced his phone with a click, and focused back on the windshield.
-
Meanwhile, all the way on the opposite side of the world in Japan, that post had exploded and crossed oceans, trending on Japanese platforms too.
Bunny’s “cute hands” photo had gone mega-viral overnight.
The evening lull in the Blue Lock common room was a fragile thing, easily shattered by one no other than the Shidou Ryuusei. He was sprawled in an armchair, idly scrolling through a chaotic fine-tuned feed of football highlights, meme pages, and… whatever algorithm-suggested nonsense popped up next.
A photo stopped his thumb. It was a repost from some Spanish football fan account. Two hands. Intertwined. Soft, warm lighting.
Shidou’s brow furrowed. He wasn’t one for sentimental crap, but something rang faintly in his memory. He zoomed in. That paler hand…
A slow, wicked grin spread across his face. Ohohoho.
He sat up, swung his legs down, and ambled over to where Rin was doing cool-down stretches on the ground, his expression one of intense, focused irritation at his own muscles.
“Heyy, Rin-rin~” Shidou’s voice was a low, amused rumble.
Rin didn’t look up, completing a calf stretch. “What.”
“Check this out.” Shidou casually extended his phone, screen tilted. “Your brother’s branching out into hand modeling again? Or is this, like… a hostage situation?”
Rin’s teal eyes flicked over, ready to dismiss whatever nonsense Shidou had found. But instead they froze. His stretching posture went completely still.
He snatched the phone, his gaze laser-focused on the image. He didn’t need to zoom. The specific pallor, the elegant, almost too-perfect bone structure of the slimmer hand… He’d seen those hands tug at a suitcase, dismissively flip a page of a contract, and, in much older, fuzzier memories… hold a football out to him. It was unmistakable.
A complex storm of emotions flickered across Rin’s face: confusion, disbelief, and a profound, personal sense of violation.
“That’s… nii-chan’s,” he stated, his voice dangerously flat.
“Ding ding ding!” Shidou jubilated, reclaiming his phone. “Knew it. Spent enough time staring at those perfect hands during my time at the U-20 to know ‘em anywhere. So who’s the lucky fella holding his hands?” He squinted at Bunny’s username. “...Bunny? Uhh. Is your brother dating a cartoon character?”
“He is not dating,” Rin hissed, the word itself seeming to offend him. He was already pulling out his own phone, thumbs flying across the screen with violent taps. “This is some kind of… marketing ploy. Edited or something."
From across the room, Isagi, who had been quietly reviewing plays on his tablet, glanced over. He’d heard Shidou’s exclamation. He saw the rare, flustered tension in Rin’s shoulders. Curiosity got the better of him.
“Is everything okay, Rin?” Isagi asked, setting his tablet aside.
Rin didn’t answer. He was now staring at his screen, having found the original post. His jaw tightened. The sheer number of likes and heart emojis in the comments seemed to physically pain him.
“It’s a disaster,” Rin muttered, more to himself. “A public, sentimental disaster.”
Shidou, enjoying himself immensely, flopped back into his chair. “Aw, don’t be like that! Maybe big brother Sae’s finally discovered, y’know, joy~ Or at least, what joy looks like when it’s someone holding your hand really gently.”
Rin shot him a glare that could kill. He swiped to his contacts onto Sae’s number, hit the call button, and put his phone to his ear with an air of irritability.
Back in Madrid, Sae answered on the second ring, his voice a cool, bored baritone through the speaker. “Rin.”
“Explain.” Rin’s command was icy, curt.
There was a pause on the other end. Isagi, trying not to eavesdrop but failing completely, watched Rin’s face.
“Explain… what?” Sae replied, though his tone had lost a fraction of its edge.
“The photograph. On the internet. Featuring your hand and the hand of a… a rabbit-themed striker.” Rin’s voice was strained. “The roach showed it to me.”
Another pause. Isagi could practically hear the cogs turning in Sae’s head, miles away, and saw the exact moment Sae must have realised what he was talking about - a faint, almost imperceptible loosening of Rin’s scowl, replaced by a deeper, more profound bafflement.
“...He posted it?” Sae’s voice was lower now, a mix of surprise and something that sounded suspiciously like… amusement? No, that couldn’t be right.
“Yes, he posted ‘it’!” Rin’s composure cracked, just a hair. “With a heart! It’s trending! What is the meaning of this?”
“The meaning,” Sae said, his voice regaining its usual detached calm, “is none of your concern. Focus on your own game. Your first touch in the last practice match was sloppy.”
And with that clinical, brutal deflection, the line went dead.
Rin stood there, phone still pressed to his ear, looking utterly defeated. The great, untouchable Itoshi Sae had not only confirmed the hand was his but had also chosen to critique Rin’s technique rather than address the global soft-launch of his… whatever-it-was.
Shidou was grinning like an imp. “He didn’t deny it!”
“Shut up,” Rin whispered, the fight gone from his voice. He slowly lowered his phone, staring blankly at the wall. Isagi tried relieving the tension by awkwardly patting Rin’s shoulder with his hand, “Hey, it’s okay..”
-
The morning sun in Barcelona was deceptively peaceful, flooding into Bunny’s kitchen and painting everything in gold. It was a stark contrast to the digital hurricane his phone had become. After the hundredth notification buzz, he’d finally silenced the thing and flipped it over on the counter, focusing instead on the sacred ritual of perfecting his avocado toast.
Three sharp, precise knocks sounded at his door.
Bunny paused, knife in hand. He knew that knock; it was the same rhythm as a perfectly executed penalty kick: unstoppable and businesslike.
He opened the door to find FC Barcha’s senior PR manager, standing there in her perfectly pressed blazer, tablet clutched like a weapon. Her expression was the polite kind of furious that only PR people can pull off.
“Bunny Iglesias,” she said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “We need to talk. Now.”
Bunny blinked, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Uh… good morning? Coffee?”
“No.” She set the tablet on the counter and swiped open a screen filled with screenshots. The viral hand photo. Side-by-side comparisons from fans. Trending hashtags in three languages.
“This has forty-two million impressions in the past twenty-four hours. Forty-two million. Do you understand what you’ve done?”
Bunny leaned over to look, lips twitching into a tiny, guilty smile. “It’s… just hands?”
“Just hands,” she repeated flatly. “Hands that have Japanese variety shows calling my office at four in the morning asking for comments. Hands that made your social media accounts blow up with an uncountable number of notifications. Hands that have now spawned twenty-seven fan accounts dedicated to you and Itoshi Sae.”
Bunny actually snorted at that, then tried to cover it with a cough when the PR manager glared.
“This isn’t funny,” she said. “The club’s sponsors are asking questions. Your jersey sales are up thirty percent, which is great, but not the point. We’re getting emails from Real Madrid’s media team - politely worded, but basically ‘what the hell is going on.’”
Bunny bit his lip, shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter. “They said ‘what the hell’?”
“They said ‘we would appreciate clarification on certain personal matters that appear to involve one of our players.’” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “You soft-launched a relationship with Sae Itoshi using the most recognizable hands in world football. Hands that did a luxury skincare campaign. You might as well have posted a photo of his passport.”
Bunny finally let the laugh out. A soft, helpless sound as he leaned against the counter. “I didn’t think the Sae stans would be that fast.”
“They were faster than our crisis team,” She deadpanned. She swiped again to show him a headline from a Japanese gossip site:
“Bunny Iglesias Confesses Love? His viral ‘hand pics’ hint his love for Itoshi Sae.”
He covered his face with both hands, muffling his own laughter. “I’m sorry. I really am. I just thought… only the real ones would notice.”
“The real ones noticed, the fake ones noticed, and my mother noticed.” The PR manager exhaled sharply.
“Look, the club isn’t mad.. yet. The engagement numbers are insane, and the ‘mysterious soft boyfriend’ angle is weirdly wholesome. But we need a plan. Are you confirming? Denying? Staying silent? Because right now the internet has decided you’re married and honeymooning in secret.”
Bunny peeked through his fingers, still grinning despite himself. “I mean… no comment?”
She stared at him for a long second. Then, to his surprise, the corner of her mouth twitched; the tiniest hint of amusement broke through the professional mask.
“You’re lucky you’re charming,” she muttered, closing the tablet. “Fine. We’ll go with ‘Bunny is a private person who enjoys meaningful connections’ and let the mystery ride for now. But if you post one more thing - just one - I’m making you do a press conference.”
Bunny held up both hands in surrender, still laughing quietly. “Promise. No more hands.”
She pointed at him on her way out. “Or feet. Or elbows. Or anything that can be forensically matched to Sae Itoshi.”
The door clicked shut.
Bunny waited exactly five seconds before picking up his phone, opening his chat with Sae, a small, giddy smile already forming, and he typed:
Bunny: crisis averted. i think.
Bunny: my PR manager was here. she used the word ‘forensically’. it felt like a crime scene.. 😓
He set the phone down, attending to his now-cold avocado toast. He took exactly two bites before the screen lit up. The three dots appeared, lingered, and disappeared, then appeared again. Bunny watched, his smile growing.
Finally, a reply.
Sae: It was an unnecessary risk.
Sae: Your sentiment is always excessive.
Bunny: u say excessive, my pr manager says it’s ‘weirdly wholesome’
Bunny: we’re weirdly wholesome, sae 🩷
There was a pause. A longer one.
Sae: Wholesome.
Sae: …I saw the photo again. On some news site.
Bunny’s breath hitched. He typed slowly.
Bunny: and?
Sae: The lighting was acceptable.
Sae: It did not… embarrass me.
Bunny pressed a hand over his mouth to stifle a delighted laugh. From Sae, this was a thunderous declaration of approval. This was the equivalent of a sky-written love poem.
Bunny: ‘did not embarrass me’ 🥹should i get that printed to stick onto my fridge w/ magnets?
Sae: Do not.
Sae: Come to Madrid this weekend.
The bluntness of it, the lack of any pretense or fuss, made Bunny’s heart squeeze. Sae didn’t ask; he stated the next logical step, as if it were as obvious as the sun rising. And in their world, it was.
Bunny: demanding
Bunny: what’s in madrid?
Sae: Me.
Sae: And quieter streets. Your training has been lackluster; I’ve seen your last match data. We will correct it.
Bunny laughed out loud, a soft, buoyant sound in his empty kitchen. Of course. Of course it was about training data. And about everything that existed in the silences between the data points.
Bunny: so it’s a boot camp? not a date?
Another pause. Bunny could almost see the slight, almost imperceptible tilt of his head.
Sae: We’ll see.
Sae: The 10:15 train. Don’t take the later one; it’s always crowded.
The instructions were so perfectly, pragmatically Sae. Bunny hugged the phone to his chest for a second, feeling the joyful rhythm of his own heartbeat against it.
Bunny: yes sir~
Bunny: i’ll bring my boots
Bunny: and maybe some xtra clothes?
Sae: Just bring yourself and be on time. Do not be late.
A warmth bloomed in Bunny’s chest, spreading out to the tips of his fingers. He typed back slowly, savoring the words.
Bunny: i’ll arrive at the station at 10:14
Bunny: just to keep ya on ur toes
Sae: Annoying.
Sae: I will meet you at the station.
Bunny: see u there, sae!! 💗💗💗
Bunny set the phone down softly, screen-side up this time. He looked at the abandoned avocado toast, then out the window at the bright Barcelona morning. The world was buzzing about hands and hints, but all that mattered was a train time, a meeting place, and the unspoken promise in a text that called him ‘annoying’ in a way that felt an awful lot like I miss you.
-
The Blue Lock common room was supposed to be a place of focused post-training recovery. Instead, it had become the site of a very specific, highly localised meltdown.
Itoshi Rin sat perfectly still on a low sofa, posture rigid. In his hand, his phone glowed with the now-infamous Instagram photo. He’d been staring at it for seven full minutes, his teal eyes narrowed into unblinking slits of pure, analytical disdain.
“The angle is half-baked,” he announced to the room, his voice flat. “The lighting is artificially warm. It’s clearly staged for maximum sentimental appeal.”
Shidou, who was across the room, snorted. “Rin-rin, it’s a picture of two hands. You’re doing an analysis critique?”
“It’s Sae’s hand,” Rin corrected, as if this were the most obvious flaw in the universe. He zoomed in until the pixels blurred.
Bachira hopped over, peering at the screen. “Aww, it’s cute! Bunny-cham’s hand is so big around his! Like he’s keeping it safe.”
“Sae’s hand doesn’t need to be ‘kept safe,’” Rin scoffed, though a faint, traitorous pink tinge appeared on his ears. “It needs to be for maintaining balance on pitch and signing professional contracts. Not being… “cuddled” for likes.”
Isagi, sitting cross-legged on the floor reviewing match footage, glanced over. He’d seen the photo. He’d thought it was… nice. Sweet, even. The way Bunny’s thumb rested so gently on the other knuckles reminded him, oddly, of the careful focus Rin himself showed when adjusting Isagi’s shooting stance - a quick, firm tap of correction that was somehow intensely personal. He shook the thought away.
“Maybe… maybe Sae likes it?” Isagi offered cautiously.
Rin’s head swiveled toward him, the movement eerily smooth. “Sae doesn’t ‘like’ things. He approves of efficiency. This,” he jabbed a finger at his screen, “is not efficient. This is a liability. That lavender-haired… lovestruck idiot… is creating a distraction.”
“A ‘lavender-haired lovestruck idiot’?” Karasu repeated, strolling in with a smirk. “Sounds like ya’ve been brainstorming nicknames, Rin. Got a little notebook?”
“Shut up.”
“He’s just jealous,” Shidou sang, sticking out his tongue deviously. “His big bro’s got a secret soft boy, and he’s over here all alone, being grumpy at Isagi—”
“I am not ‘grumpy at Isagi’!” Rin snapped, the pink on his ears deepening.
Isagi, who had been taking a sip of water, choked slightly.
Rin stood up abruptly, shoving his phone in his pocket as if he could hide the evidence. “This is pointless. The photo is emotionally manipulative and strategically weak. Sae will realize this, and it will be taken down.”
Just then, Rin’s phone buzzed. He pulled it out, his expression shifting from anger to dawning horror. From Sae. A screenshot. Of a very… familiar photo.
“What is it?” Isagi asked, genuine concern cutting through his own flustered confusion.
“...He liked it,” Rin whispered, voice hollow. “Nii-chan. He just liked the photo. Publicly.”
The room fell silent for a beat, absorbing the nuclear-grade implication.
Bachira gasped, delighted. “Aww! He does like it!”
Shidou howled with laughter, pounding the arm of the chair. “Ohhh Sae-chan’s so down bad!”
Rin simply stood there, phone held limply, looking as if his entire worldview - a world built on the unassailable, cold perfection of his brother - had just gently crumbled into pastel-coloured dust.
He slowly raised his head, his gaze finding Isagi’s. There was a bewildered, lost-puppy quality in his eyes that was entirely new. “He liked it,” he repeated, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. He still couldn’t.
Isagi fought down an entirely inappropriate urge to giggle. He managed a sympathetic, slightly wobbly smile. “I… I guess he really does care about Bunny-san, then.”
Rin stared at him for a long moment. The anger seemed to drain out of him, replaced by a sort of exhausted, grudging acceptance. He looked from Isagi’s face back to his phone, where Sae’s username sat plainly under the ‘Liked by’ section in the screenshot.
“...Hn.” He finally grunted, sitting back down heavily. He didn’t look at the photo again. Instead, he scowled at the floor, a faint, thoughtful pout on his lips. “...Lukewarm.”
Whether he meant Sae, Bunny, or the warm, confusing feeling in his own chest was anyone’s guess.
From the hallway, Nagi’s sleepy voice drifted in. “So, this Bunny guy won, huh.”
This time, Rin didn’t have anything to say. He just let out a long, weary sigh that seemed to hold the weight of centuries of Itoshi family drama. The silent, stubborn part of him knew one thing for certain: if he ever were to post something so brazenly, tenderly possessive… he’d make sure his own target was completely, infuriatingly oblivious first. His eyes flicked, just for a second, to Isagi, who was now blushing furiously while pretending to be fascinated by the pattern on the carpet.
Point for the lavender-haired lovestruck idiot, he supposed. But the game wasn’t over. Yet.
-
In the days following Bunny’s viral hand photo, the internet was a whirlwind. Mostly adoration, fan support, and endless theories. But predictably, the darker corners surfaced too.
Homophobic comments flooded in: slurs aimed at both of them (after they had found Sae was the other hand in the photo), claims that “real footballers aren’t like this,” demands to “keep that gay shit out of the sport,” and worse - direct hate toward Bunny for “corrupting” Japan’s prodigy.
Bunny saw some of it, scrolling silently in his Barcelona apartment with a tight jaw. But he brushed it off with his usual detached honesty. “Idiots are gonna be idiots,” he muttered to himself, though the volume of it stung more than he’d admit.
Sae, in Madrid, had seen all of it too. His club’s PR team had already flagged the escalating hate, suggesting a neutral statement or silence to let it die down. Sae ignored them.
Instead, late one evening, he posted on his rarely used Instagram - an account managed mainly by his PR team that he didn’t bother with - a simple black background with white text. There were no photos, nor any caption beyond the words themselves. It read:
“I don’t owe explanations about my private life. But I won’t stay silent while cowards hide behind screens to spew hate.
The person in that photo makes me better, on and off the pitch. He’s talented, dedicated, and plays football better than most of you claiming to be ‘real fans.’ If that bothers you because we’re both men, that’s your weakness, not ours.
Homophobia has no place in this sport. It’s pathetic, outdated, and says everything about your insecurities. Grow up or get out.
Direct your energy to supporting the game instead of tearing down players for who they love.
Itoshi S.”
He hit post without hesitation, then turned off comments before the storm could hit his own page. The backlash from the haters intensified at first: more slurs, boycotts threatened, and toxic accounts raging, but Sae’s statement spread like wildfire in the other direction.
Support poured in from teammates, other pros, clubs, and organisations. Real Madrid issued a subtle but firm anti-discrimination reminder. Even some Japanese media, usually cautious, praised his “mature stance.”
[ COMMENTS ]
@bl8m_: Itoshi Sae just dropped the most ice-cold defense I’ve seen. Calling out homophobia directly while hyping his partner? Rad.
@pjSEKAIfan: Sae being blunt as ever but using it to shame bigots and defend Bunny?? I’m tearing up 🥹🥹 he said “he’s better than you haters” without saying it awh
@MikuMikuBeeeam: This is HUGE for visibility in men’s football!! Sae didn’t confirm/deny but made it clear: love who you love ❤️
@rintarosuna_: the haters are mad mad but sae’s post has more likes than their entire accounts lol :p
@oshi_no_ko24: sae and bunny we support you guys!!! 🫶🫶🫶
A few days later, in a brief post-match interview after a dominating Real Madrid performance, a reporter tentatively asked Sae about the “recent online controversy.”
Sae fixed the camera with his trademark condescending stare. “Controversy? There’s none. Some people are uncomfortable with progress. I couldn’t care less. Next question. Preferably about football.”
Sae went viral all over again, a supportive wave drowned out the remaining hate.
Back in Barcelona, Bunny read Sae’s post for the tenth time, a rare, full genuine smile breaking through. His soft, warm, eyes crinkled behind his scars.
-
Bunny arrived in Madrid on a crisp spring morning, the kind where the air carried just enough chill to make holding hands feel necessary. Sae was waiting at the train station - no drivers or security in sight. Just him in a long black coat, magenta hair tousled by the wind, beryl-coloured eyes scanning until they landed on Bunny stepping off the carriage.
The moment Bunny was close enough, Sae didn’t say a word. He simply reached out, tugged him in by the sleeve, and pressed a quick, firm kiss to his lips. Right there on the platform, hidden from paparazzi but bold in its quiet certainty. Bunny’s genuine smile broke wide again, his red irises lighting up with a momentary spark.
“You’re early,” Sae murmured against his cheek.
“Couldn’t wait,” Bunny replied, voice soft and teasing. “Missed my grumpy midfielder.”
Sae rolled his eyes, but his hand stayed firmly in Bunny’s as they walked to the car.
The date was perfect because it was simple; it was exactly what they both needed after weeks of chaos.
They started with a small brunch at a tiny, family-run spot Sae had found years ago: dim lighting, wooden tables, the best bocadillos in the city. Sae, who usually ate like fuel intake was a chore, actually lingered over the meal, watching Bunny animatedly describe a ridiculous training drill with dramatic hand gestures. Every so often, Sae’s knee would brush Bunny’s under the table and stay there.
Afterward, they wandered Quinta de los Molinos Park. The paths were quite busy, and fallen petals from almond blossom trees cascaded onto the ground. Bunny walked with his hands in his pockets, occasionally bumping his arm against Sae’s shoulder. Sae’s hands remained clasped behind his back, the picture of aloofness, but his steps had slowed to match Bunny’s aimless meandering.
Sae’s eyes followed the gentle drift of a petal that landed on Bunny’s lavender hair. He reached to pluck it off, and Bunny giggled as he bent down slightly just so Sae could reach.
They turned down a less-traveled path, the sounds of the park softening into a distant hum. A small, rusted iron gate, slightly ajar, led to what seemed to be a secluded maintenance courtyard, now overlooked and overtaken by spring. A single, magnificent almond tree stood in the center, its branches creating a canopy of blossoms that filtered the sunlight into a soft, pink-tinged glow. The ground was a perfect circle of fallen petals.
“Oh,” Bunny breathed, stopping in the gateway. “It’s like a secret.”
Sae surveyed the space with a tactical eye.
Bunny stepped into the circle of petals, turning to face Sae with his arms spread. “Come on, Sae. It’s perfect~”
With a sigh that was more performance than protest, Sae followed. The moment he crossed under the blossom canopy, the world seemed to shift. The city noise vanished entirely. Here, it was just the rustle of leaves and their shared breathing.
Bunny pulled out his phone. “Okay. Non-forensic, non-embarrassing photo. Just us. In our secret blossom room.”
Sae’s posture went rigid for a moment. “Absolutely not.”
“Come on,” Bunny wheedled, sidling up next to him. “For me? To remember our ‘wholesome narrative’?”
“I have a memory. It’s sufficient.”
“But my memory wants a picture!” Bunny pouted, leaning his head against Sae’s hair, ever so slightly tousling it. He angled the phone screen. “Look. See? We look good. The lighting is very acceptable.”
Sae glanced at the preview. The screen showed the two of them framed by a waterfall of blossoms. Bunny’s smile was bright and open, his scarred cheek pressed against the top of Sae’s head. Sae himself looked… less severe. The dappled light softened the sharp lines of his face, and a stray petal had caught in his magenta hair. He looked, against all odds, at peace.
“...One,” Sae conceded, the word tight. “Do not make a habit of this.”
“One is all I need,” Bunny chirped. He lifted the phone higher. “Okay, ready? Don’t do your interview face. Do your… ‘Bunny isn’t entirely annoying face.”
“That is my only face.”
“Liar.” Bunny counted down. “Three… two…”
On “one,” he tilted his head, his smile softening into something more tender, more real. And Sae… Sae, who never performed, never played to the camera, did something infinitesimal. The tension in his jaw released. His eyes, usually focused somewhere miles beyond the lens, shifted to look at Bunny in the screen’s reflection. The corners of his mouth didn’t quite lift, but the coldness in his gaze thawed into something quiet and fond.
Click.
The shutter sound was obnoxiously loud in the quiet. Bunny pulled the phone down immediately, his breath catching as he looked at the capture. “Oh,” he whispered, all teasing gone.
It was more than a good photo. They looked like two halves of a whole; Bunny’s vibrant softness a perfect counterpoint to Sae’s elegant sharpness, both wrapped in a dreamscape of pink, green and brown.
“See?” Bunny’s voice was whisper-like . He turned the screen to Sae. “Acceptable?”
Sae studied the image for a long moment. His own expression was inscrutable as he analysed the evidence. Then, he reached out and plucked a blossom petal from his own hair.
“It is… adequate,” he stated. But his finger reached out and brushed the screen, a fleeting touch over Bunny’s smiling face in the photo. They stood like that for a while, in their circle of petals.
“Post it,” Sae said then, quietly.
Bunny blinked. “You sure?”
Sae shrugged, the movement small but deliberate. “I’m tired of hiding. Post it.”
So Bunny did.
Caption: Found my favorite place in Madrid… and my favorite person to share it with. ❤️ @ItoshiSae
He tagged Sae’s rarely used account. The one Sae used to defend them. He hot post. Then, turned his phone off and slipped it into his pocket.
Sae raised an eyebrow. “Not gonna watch it explode?”
“Nope,” Bunny said, stepping closer until they were chest to chest. “I’ve got better things to do.”
They kissed there in the quiet park. It was slow, warm, and unhurried. Bunny’s larger hand cupped Sae’s jaw; Sae’s pale fingers threaded through lavender hair. When they pulled apart, foreheads still touching, Bunny whispered, “Best date ever.”
Sae’s answer was another kiss, softer this time.
By morning, the post had shattered records.
Over 1 million likes in twelve hours. Trending worldwide in every language. Edits, threads, and zooms on Sae’s tiny smile. Japanese morning shows led with it. Spanish sports papers ran full-page spreads: “Amor en Madrid: Iglesias e Itoshi confirman romance.”
Real Madrid and FC Barcha both issued supportive statements within hours. Brands started sliding into both their DMs. The internet had collectively lost its mind in the best way.
Back in Barcelona, Bunny’s PR manager and the entire Barcha PR team stared at their screens in stunned silence as the numbers rolled in.
Engagement up 400%. Interview requests from every major outlet. Positive press drowning out the last dregs of hate. Sponsorship offers doubling overnight.
One member of the PR team, an intern, whispered, “He literally just… posted a couple’s photo.”
Bunny’s PR manager, who had threatened press conferences and explanations just days ago, leaned back in her chair with the slowest, most reluctant smile creeping across her face.
“He’s impossible,” she said. “Absolutely impossible.”
Then she opened the analytics dashboard again and watched the graph climb higher.
“…But damn if it isn’t working.”
She allowed herself one quiet laugh, shook her head, and said, “New strategy. Let Bunny do whatever he wants. Because, clearly he knows what he’s doing.
In Madrid, Bunny woke up on the bed next to Sae who was already scrolling through the chaos on his phone, expression unreadable.
“Regrets?” Bunny asked, voice sleepy and low as he nuzzled closer.
Sae locked the screen, tossed it aside, and pulled Bunny close against him. “Not even one.”
During all this, online on the internet, their fans ran wild at the adorable beautiful photo featuring their favs.
Instagram Post by @BunnyIglesiasOfficial
Caption: Found my favorite place in Madrid… and my favorite person to share it with. ❤️@ItoshiSae
[ 2.1 MILLION LIKES ]
[ COMMENTS (1000+): ]
@bnse_endgame: I’M SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP THIS IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL COUPLE PHOTO EVER??
@tetotetoteto: AAAA LOOK AT HIS LITTLE SMILE. SAE IS SMILING. WITH HIS EYES. THIS IS THE CONTENT WE DESERVE. 🥺
@gojo_catoru: MY TWO FAVORITE PLAYERS ON THE SAME TEAM (the team is LOVE). This made my whole week!!! Protect them at all costs!!!
@saeitoshi_simp: I have analyzed this photo for 45 minutes. Conclusion: Itoshi Sae has achieved a state of peace previously thought to be only theoretical. The blossom petal in his hair is a symbol of his surrendered defenses.
@barcha4liferss: THE HEIGHT DIFFERENCE. THE COLOR CONTRAST. THE SOFTNESS VS. SHARPNESS. THIS IS A MANGA PANEL COME TO LIFE. AUTHOR! AUTHOR!
@zankaaa_n1: Sooo cute! Sae, you better treat him right or we’ll riot
@anaylsisexpert_protrust: Notice the positioning. Sae is slightly in front, a protective/leading posture, but turned inward toward Bunny, indicating engagement. Bunny’s stance is open and relaxed, showing complete trust. This is a masterpiece in non-verbal communication 10/10
@tetotetoteto: All the homophobes in the quotes are SEETHING and it’s making my morning coffee taste even better. Love wins. They win.
@don_lorenzo (verified): 🔥🔥🔥 FINALLY! Took you 2 long enough! @MichaelKaiserOfficial you owe me 50 euros, pay up king (congrats you idiots ❤️)
-
In the Blue Lock dorms, the common room was unusually quiet for a weekend afternoon. Most of the team had scattered: some training, some napping, leaving Rin alone on the couch, phone in hand, staring at the screen like it had personally offended him.
The post was everywhere. The so-called “official bunnysae photo” which had garnered thousands of likes, shares and comments. The bain of his existence.
Rin’s jaw tightened. He scrolled through the replies out of pure masochism: fans screaming about how beautiful they were together, how Sae finally looked happy, how Bunny’s scars and Sae’s pale perfection were “made for each other.”
He made a low, disgusted noise in the back of his throat.
“Still mad about it?” came a calm, familiar voice from the doorway.
Rin didn’t look up. “It’s disgusting. Sae’s gone soft. That Barcha tepid idiot turned him into… into some romance novel protagonist.”
Isagi stepped into the room, towel around his neck from a solo training session, hair still damp and messy. He dropped onto the couch beside Rin, close enough that their shoulders brushed in the way they’d gotten used to over the past few months. The way no one else in Blue Lock dared to.
Isagi glanced at the phone screen and let out a soft laugh. “It’s kinda really sweet, though. Sae looks… relaxed. Happy, even.”
Rin finally turned his head, teal eyes narrowing. “Happy? He’s letting someone post couple photos of him. Nii-chan. Itoshi Sae. The same Sae who once told a reporter his ideal type was ‘a ball that doesn’t talk back.’”
Isagi grinned, unbothered. “People change when they find the right person.”
Rin went very still.
Isagi’s words hung in the air between them - simple, casual, but heavy with everything they hadn’t quite said out loud yet. Not officially. Not to the world… yet.
Rin looked away first, ears faintly pink. “Tch. Whatever.”
Isagi bumped his shoulder gently. “You’re just mad because now Sae’s not the only Itoshi with a boyfriend.”
Rin’s head snapped back. “I don’t–”
But Isagi was already leaning in, cutting him off with a quick, soft kiss. Right there and then in the open common room, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Because lately, it had become exactly that.
When he pulled back, Isagi’s blue eyes were warm, amused. “You’re adorable when you’re in denial.”
Rin stared at him for a long second, flustered, annoyed, but with an emotion softer underneath. Then he muttered, “Shut up,” and kissed him again, deeper this time, hand sliding to the back of Isagi’s neck like he needed to anchor himself.
When they finally broke apart, Rin’s voice was low, almost grudging.
“…Fine. Maybe Sae isn’t the only one who’s gone soft.”
Isagi smiled against his lips. “Good. Because I like you like this.”
Rin groaned, burying his face in Isagi’s shoulder to hide the flush creeping up his neck. His phone buzzed again, probably another notification about #Bunnysae trending worldwide.
He didn’t even bother looking.
Let Sae have his blossoming romance and viral debut.
Rin had something better, quieter, fiercer, and entirely his own right here in Blue Lock.
He didn’t mind sharing the “Itoshi in love” spotlight, for now.