Tastes Like Home | Various!Blue Lock

Twenty

Yoichi stared at the vibrating phone in his hand, his mind already racing through a hundred different possibilities.

In the best-case scenario, he would answer, and Mr. (L/n) would simply express the usual parental relief that his daughter wasn't lying unconscious in a ditch somewhere.

In the worst-case scenario—

Why do you have my daughter's phone?

—and Yoichi would have approximately three seconds to explain himself before the man began plotting his demise.

The phone buzzed again. He gulped nervously.

He'd known the man longer than most people in his life. Longer than all of his current friends combined, actually, considering he had grown up alongside (Y/n). He had spent years sitting at their dining table, years hearing the polite laughter and carefully curated conversations the (L/n) couple used around guests.

But he'd also seen the other side of it. The subtle pressure. The biting remarks slipped in when no one else noticed. The way their pristine image never cracked—except, occasionally, at (Y/n)'s expense.

Yoichi had always been a little afraid of them.

Which was ridiculous, really. Right now, he was supposed to be the responsible one. The reliable friend. The one who stepped in when things got messy. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he'd even imagined it—being the one who fixed everything, who answered the phone, who reassured her parents—the knight in shining armor.

But standing there with the phone vibrating in his hand, all he felt was the same helpless dread he used to feel as a kid sitting across from Mr. (L/n) at the dinner table. Suddenly, he didn't feel like a knight at all.

His throat went dry.

He felt ten years old again and frozen.

"Dude."

Before Yoichi could react, a hand reached over and plucked the phone straight out of his grip.

"Are you seriously going to let it ring forever?" Reo said, already lifting it to his ear.

Yoichi's heart nearly stopped. "Wait—!"

But Reo had already answered. "Hello?"

Rensuke came back from the vending machine with three cans of soda. He looked over at the scene with the calmness of someone who didn't know what the hell was going on.

"That's (L/n)'s phone, is it not?" He turned to Yoichi, who seemed to quiver in place—unbecoming of someone who was so terrifying on the football field.

It was only when Reo's whole demeanor switched upon responding to Mr. (L/n) that he caught onto the seriousness of the situation.

Mr. (L/n)'s deep voice carried faintly through the phone, low and authoritative even through the tiny speaker. 

Though Yoichi and Rensuke couldn't make out every word, the tone alone made their stomachs tighten. The man was clearly asking about (Y/n)'s whereabouts.

Reo straightened slightly as he listened, his expression smoothing into something polite and composed. When he responded, his voice carried an easy respect, measured and careful.

"Yes, sir. She's with us right now," he said. "There's no need to worry."

For a moment, it seemed like the conversation might actually proceed normally. Reo nodded once or twice as if the man could see him, answering calmly, doing his best to sound both reassuring and dignified.