𝖙𝖔 𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖑 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖎𝖙 {𝖇𝖑𝖚𝖊 𝖑𝖔𝖈𝖐 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗}

第二十五

warnings: possible mischaracterisation - hotel & restuarant is completely fictional

'I've always been the poet, never the poem.'

'And that's fine with me, I've learned to live with that.'

'I've learned to accept it and turn it into a good thing. I'll spin a story for myself, with golden weaves and blood torn words.'

'I told myself I could change the story, from rejection to victory. From loneliness to contentment.'

'I told myself that simply by doing this, it'll change my whole world view. Fake it till you make it.'

'It was a temporary fix. Temporary, but a fix nonetheless.'

'But times like these, the water seeps through the broken glass. Through the cracks where I had taped. And it has me thinking, judging all my past life choices. Everything, all the way up till now.'

'Did I do it right? Could I have done it in a better way? I should've said something, should've made the effort. Should've, would've, didn't've. Those are the facts that I know. But I wish they weren't.'

'I feel like a stranger in this body. Am I really who everyone sees me to be? Do I really have all this fame, this wealth? It feels like a fever dream.'

'I know I've suffered, trained with blood sweat and tears, I put my all into shaping this for myself. But I can't get the nagging fear out of my mind that one day, I'm going to wake up and I'll be that pubescent girl once again. That everything is nothing more than a cruel dream.'

'Some days I feel fine, some days it's all just...confusing. My thoughts get to me, it holds me like a vice. I can't even tell this to anyone else, I can't voice it out. Perhaps it's my pride that holds me from seeking help. Or perhaps it's just simple, plain fear. I don't rea-'

"(Y/N)," a voice calls out, snapping you out of your daze and halting the furious scribbling of your pen into your personal notebook. You refuse to call it a diary, a personal notebook sounded much better to you. You glance up to meet the same teal eyes that you had known since you could remember. But it was so cold, so distant compared to the ones you used to know.

"(Y/N)," Sae repeated again and you officially regained awareness and cleared your throat.

"Sorry, my thoughts are a mess right now," you murmur as you shut your book and tuck it away into a drawer. It's true, it felt as if your mind was jumping from one thought to another before going off on a different tangent, as your writing in the notebook could prove. "Were you saying something?"

Sae's eyes lingered on the drawer you had placed your notebook inside. He's learned not to question it, he knows the mess of your thoughts. The multiple notebooks you had stored over the years, full of your jumbled words. It was how you coped, who's he to question it? "Estaba preguntando qué querías para cenar." (I was asking what you wanted for dinner.)

You raise your eyebrows at the switch of language from Japanese to Spanish, it was one of those things. Where if either of the both of you were lost in a daze, you'd snap the other out by switching languages to make sure you were fully aware. A way of asking the other if they were okay. You let out a soft huff of amusement, "I'm in the mood for pizza."

He nods in acknowledgement and watches you as you slide out of your bed and walk towards the closet and grab your clothes to go change. He looks away and then glances out to the window of the suite, observing the scenery. He had his own thoughts weighing on his mind.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ⚽ .⋅} ────── ⊰

"Something's on your mind," you say to Sae bluntly as he arrives back to the seat opposite of you after telling the cashier both his and your order. "What's it about? The recent match?"