'•.,¸¸,.•'¯ 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘰𝘮 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘨𝘺 ¯'•.,¸¸,.•'

𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖

"Goddammit," I mutter under my breath. We lost? I sigh and look down, feeling the weight of it all. Sweat drips down my face as I try to process what just happened. This was a very important game, one that could've taken us to nationals. We were so close—too close. And now, we're out.

Why'd I pass? Why didn't I just take the shot myself? I'm sure I could've made it. But no, I thought I'd be the team player, I thought I could trust my teammate. I slowly walk up to her—the teammate who missed the goal, the one who crushed all of our dreams.

She's standing there, her head hanging low, and as I get closer, I see it—she's crying.

I stop a few feet away, not sure what to say. I feel a rush of anger, disappointment, but also... something else. Guilt? She's the one who missed, but I feel like I let her down too. The weight of the game rests on both of us.

"Hey," I say quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. She doesn't look up, doesn't acknowledge me.

I don't know what to do. Goddammit. This was supposed to be our moment. Instead, it's a memory of what could've been. And all I can do is stand here, watching her cry, wishing I could turn back time.

I look up at the crowd, observing it carefully as the noise swirls around me. Among the sea of faces, I spot my father, standing a few rows back. His expression is hard to miss—he has a disappointed look on his face, his brow furrowed as he watches me. Nearby, I see my mother, her face softening when our eyes meet. She just smiles at me, that gentle, reassuring smile that somehow makes everything feel a little less heavy. And then there's my brother, standing to the side, his face unreadable. He has a blank expression, his eyes distant, as if he's not really here at all. It's hard to tell what he's thinking, but I feel the weight of the silence between us.

I sigh and approach them, bracing myself to get scolded by my father for my failure. But, to my surprise, it was actually the exact opposite. "Better luck next time, kiddo," my father tells me, ruffling my hair and walking away, my mother starts following him shortly after.

"You were great, that's all that matters," my mother says, trying to comfort me. I just give her a small smile, appreciative of her words, but there's a dull ache in my chest. She doesn't wait for me to say anything before she turns to catch up with my father.

My brother, who's been standing quietly beside me this whole time, glances at me before muttering, "Let's go." His voice is flat, emotionless, as if he hadn't been affected by the whole situation. Without waiting for a response, he begins to walk away, and I follow, the weight of the day still heavy on my shoulders

---

it was pretty clear that my brother was still angry about him and Sae, though I had already forgotten about the whole situation, i decided to become a striker instead of a midfielder plus, It seemed like ages ago, but I knew it bothered him more than he let on. Even though I told myself I wouldn't give up without a fight, it wasn't like I would actually become the best midfielder, right? The thought kept circling in my head as I trudged down the street, lost in my own thoughts.

I didn't even notice that I still had my cleats on until I felt the cold seeping through my socks. My bag on my back felt heavier with every step, and soon I was shivering, my breath coming out in little puffs. The cold had gotten to me faster than I expected.

Then, without warning, I felt a weight on my shoulders. I turned, surprised to see Rin standing there, holding his jacket out for me. I blinked at him for a moment, not sure if I was seeing things right.

He shrugged, his usual cool demeanor masking whatever thought had prompted the gesture. "Don't think much of it," he said, his voice stern as always.

I smiled sheepishly at him, feeling a warmth spread through me despite the chill. It wasn't like Rin to do something like this, and I couldn't help but appreciate the gesture.