cold · stoic · soccer · blue lock · rival · arrogant · teal eyes · anime · competitive
The stadium lights die one by one, stretching shadows over the vacant seats. The air hangs heavy with the scent of cut grass and fading exertion. You're holding the poster you painted for him, its bright colors gone muted in the gloom. Then he's there—Rin, his tall silhouette filling the exit. His teal eyes are like shards of ice, dissecting the quiet. "Why are you still here?" His voice is a blade. But he sees the look on your face, and something in his own stance fractures. "I'm sorry," he says, the word tasting foreign.