#PJFY

[undonerhapsodize]

Patience, Just for You

Part 2

BlueLock Kunigami Rensuke x g/n!reader TW: swearing, fluff, casual conversation, reader is a little odd, nice and considerate Kunigami Word Count: 7.8K

Summary: You meet Kunigami once more by chance, getting more acquainted with him in the process. His normalcy and friendliness makes you wonder, are the vibes you're getting warranted? Or are you making something from nothing at all.

Side Note: FINALLY. After A WHOLE YEAR- part 2 arrives. I’m SO sorry for how stupidly behind this is- it’s kind of ridiculous. But please stick around!! I plan to make updates on this fic more regular. Another note: I just wanna say I’m making the reader have a messy head on purpose. This could be interpreted as on the neurodivergent spectrum and/or as  mental illness. While I don’t think I could ever fully capture how it is to be not neurotypical into exact words from my own experience, hopefully the characteristics displayed will add more substance to the story while giving representation to those who experience the same unorganized headspace and spiritic thoughts the reader does. Any constructive criticism to how I portray this in writing is very welcome :) ENJOY

Previous Part

The grass beneath your feet was more stiff than before. The cold made it so: it’s moisture semi-frozen because of the lowered temperature. Crunching with each step, it collapsed under the weight of you. Routinely making your way up the slope of your eating spot, the hard ground of the incline leads up to its highest point: the top of the hill. The green seemed to make hissing sounds in objection to your intrusion, in a display of distaste to your arrival. 

The protesting sounds stopped when you did. Reusing the same motion as the day before, you patted the ground with your hand, checking for any unwanted moisture. Once again, there wasn’t any to be found. You placed your bag down, flat side parallel to how your back is soon to be. Crouching first, you ease into sitting on the cold grass, relaxing your back and leaning against the bag in order to provide at least some level of comfort that the iced hill definitely did not provide.

The weather hadn’t changed much from the previous day. The cold stayed put like a stubborn mule unwilling, unable to concede. You didn’t expect it to. Autumn had just begun. Day after day after day the chill would remain. From now until time took its course, it would stay, growing in strength with each passing week or so.

And this time, you planned. The jacket you wore now was thicker than yesterday’s. Layers of padding kept you from much of the chill’s bitterness. Though some parts endured the cold in its fullest, going unguarded against it. Your hands were one of those. Some of their feeling was lost to you, mostly numb and stiff from going unprotected against the weather. Whatever sensation they had left was not a pleasant one. It made you want to stuff your hands as deep into your pockets as possible, wanting to bring back the normality of warmth.

But you couldn’t do that. They were currently preoccupied with holding a familiar styrofoam container. The same from the day before.

Setting it into your lap, you allowed your arms to rise up and cross over your chest, your hands wedging themselves into the space in between the inside of your forearms and your sides. The temperature difference caused a shiver to erupt from your spine, the heated area not used to the new sensation. You hugged yourself tighter, willing the sharpness of your fingers to stop affecting you so.

After a short minute, you start to feel some of the life flow back into the extremities. Unfolding yourself, you reach for the container sitting in your lap. Hand clasping the lid and opening the tray, the smell of the warm food easily flowed through the air and to your nose. The stench of each article mixed together, creating the perfect storm of pleasantry. At least in your not-so-picky opinion. You would take what you could get. Without much hesitation or thought, you dug in, lifting whatever you chose into your mouth, the warmth of your lunch doing its part in warming you on this gray, autumn day.

Savoring the flavor, you shifted your gaze to the field in front of you. Observing from afar as you chewed, it was easily determined that the game going on before you was similar to what had been played before. Figures positioned in a recognizable pattern, the signature look was a giveaway. Football, once again. Focusing a little more, the imprecise features of the players vaguely matched those of yesterday. Only a few were mismatched. Other than that, every player was recurring.

Speaking of.

Instinctively, your eyes hopped from one body for another, quickly scanning each player for a particular set of looks. The forms went through a mental check off list, each failing in their own distinct way. That was until your eyes fell upon one in particular.

The familiar head of orange hair soon came into view: it wasn’t hard to find among the others. He wore a similar outfit as he did the day before, though with the addition of a hoodie of some kind. Looks like he had the same idea you did.

There he is.

Darting back and forth on the field he played, constantly giving chase to whomever was in possession of the ball. His eyes, from what you could see, were open and focused, always keeping track of where the object was, as well as keeping a mental note of where his teammates and opponents were at any given moment. His posture constantly switched from offense to defense, guarding whichever opposing member he was meant to be covering. 

You shouldn't be surprised, really. It fits. ‘Well known school football player playing football in school.’ Duh. Yet, it catches you anyway. Your mouth forms a tight line.

You were almost afraid of this. Though ‘afraid’ is probably not the word you would use to describe how you feel. More like- ‘hesitant’.

The mental image of encountering Kunigami again after yesterday’s incident made you cringe. You noticed that now you knew of his presence, the atmosphere changed in some nuanced, indistinguishable way due to your first encounter with him. It’s almost like the air itself shifted. You felt a brush of chilly air against your skin. You pulled your jacket tighter around your body in reaction. 

You thought about not coming back to this hillside for the sake of not wanting to be or feel awkward. It did take too much reasoning with yourself to decide not to. You’re not a coward. Most times. Besides, Kunigami never gave you a reason to avoid him. Not once. Who would you be to do so to him after he had been so… nice? Normal?

You were too stubborn to move spots, but too awkward to play things off as normal. Lord, can you get a break?

It’s not that you didn’t want to meet him again, it's just that… you would rather not. The chance alone put you sort-of on edge, changing the kind of headspace you were in. The feeling of the frigid air that was kept at bay with your jumbled thoughts was released, now once again a grating sensation of slight annoyance.

‘Weary’ should just be your middle name at this point.

You took a bite of your food, intentionally keeping your eyes mostly trained on the ground. However, you felt brave enough to peak up in certain instances, looking on to the commotion of the field when a sound would catch your attention. Honestly, it was intriguing, the way they all played together. You could tell there was a system there, somewhere. A structure to what Kunigami and his allies were shouting to each other at what looked to be at random. A method to the madness if you will. Not one you immediately recognized of course. Yet it was apparent by the way the players moved, where they moved, how they moved, and even how fast they moved, that there was some sort of plan.

You remained in your thoughts as you chewed. The blanket of hushed awareness you had hoped would come had not arrived. This usually happened. But the regularity of the moment didn’t make the experience any more enjoyable.

You wanted to find tranquility in your mind but struggled to truly find it. True tranquility, not what you told yourself was peace. To distract yourself, you took another bite of the plain-tasting food, focusing on the taste of whatever you had in your mouth. It worked for a second. You almost got it. Only a moment later to be taken right away with an intrusive thought. As another diversion, you attempted to watch in on the game before you, straining your ears to listen to the talking of the other students to find a score. That too, failed in its goal. Try and try as you might, you wouldn't settle. Worries from the everyday to the long term reverberated, keeping each one afloat with the strength of each other. Your thoughts kept buzzing around your head, like an annoying fly just waiting to be smacked from the sky. If only you had a fly swatter. Yet, sadly, you are, and have been, unarmed for a while now. 

Oh well. You sigh. I’ll cope.

And that you did. If you had to guess, you’d probably say you’re actually pretty decent at it all this point. 

You checked your phone a few times for the clock, even choosing to scroll mindlessly for a few minutes before slipping the device right back into your pocket from whence it came. You made an effort to not be on your phone during this time, you could be on twitter all you want later. No, when you were outside for this break, you wanted exactly that: a break. So you choose to take it, simple as that.

There wasn't much to think about as time ticked away. Not much to say as the game played on, and on. You ate in silence, alone. The seconds blurred to minutes as you finished your food, setting the tray aside when you thought you were satisfied. It only felt like a few moments outside on the prickly graying grass as the clock crept closer and closer. However, it dragged on noticeably longer this time. You could safely assume Kunigami was the reason. You would be a liar if you told someone you didn’t pay attention to him, specifically while on the field. You could recognize his voice by now without even looking at him by how he shouted to his teammates. You also noticed how he was on the field- like he was center stage. Like the game revolved around him as he controlled the ball for almost half of it. It was weird, how your eyes caught him on occasion while disregarding the other players. It was easy to chalk the phenomena up to circumstance. He was the only motherfucker you knew here, much less talk to. Also, he had the ball. Of course you would focus on him.

Before you knew it, the bell rang. Knowing the routine, you gathered your things, picking up your backpack first to sling onto your back, then your tray, holding it with a relaxed hand. You looked back at the field, just to see the game quickly stop, teams dissolving as the students made their way back into the school.

You felt odd leaving so soon. Out of place even, to move on. A weird feeling settled in your chest, like someone dropped a weight there and had forgotten it. You pondered the feeling for a moment, before shrugging it off to begin walking, knowing there’s not much to be done or explained. You know by now that questioning your feelings never leads to a straight answer, as weird as that is to think about.

Your descent down the hill was as per usual. Your steps were careful as they made their way down, watching for any slippery spots in the greenery. Your head was empty as you went, head cast downward, not needing to really look where you were going as your own muscle memory dragged you along. You subconsciously ran through a checklist of what you needed to do before going to class. The space around you grew louder as you approached the building, now in greater proximity to the students who were outside.

“Hey! Y/N!”

A shout from your side brings you back to the world around you, urging your head to face whatever, or whoever had hollered your name. Not expecting to be called, you’d imagine you were probably wearing a comically caught off-guard face, eyes blown out in shock. They searched the blacktop of widely strung-out, moving people, scanning for anyone who had already had their attention on you. 

That voice sounded familiar.

Seeing a commotion, you were automatically drawn to that, almost forgetting what you were doing. Though it all comes full circle when you recognize a face amongst the crowd.

About twenty feet away from you, Kunigami stood closely accompanied by what you would assume was one of his football buddies. From what you could see, his hand was raised high in an effort to wave at you, a clear effort to grab your attention. On his face, he wore a subtle deadpanning scowl. It was obvious he was trying to conceal it with a more pacified expression, but it really wasn’t working. It made you confused for a millisecond as to what he could be so blatantly displeased at before you noticed the grip the other student had on his arm. Kunigami strained slightly against the hold his friend had on him as the stranger visibly smiled and boyishly laughed aloud at something unknown to you. It wasn’t until Kunigami saw you were looking at him before he changed his look to something more pleasant, trying to ease the growing tension he was probably aware he was showing. His hand relaxed as well- lowering from above his head.

You didn’t have any time to think to wave back yourself before the jock clinging to the red-head started pulling hard on his arm. Kunigami seemingly decides to compromise, giving in to the excitement of the other. Turning and stumbling over his feet, Kunigami stepped into a walk with the other players. Before you knew it, the player in question started gaining some distance away from your form, shaking his arm out of the grip of the one who had his hold on him. He walked to another door that led inside the school with some of the other football players, turning to give one last look to you before permanently stepping in line with the other students.

You are left where you were standing: a halted figure amongst the ever moving crowd. Seemingly miraculously, the weight held in your gut disappeared, yet not an ounce of your bewilderment chose to leave in any way, shape, or form. It seemed to congeal in your mind, even as you took the memorized path back to your locker, stepping in time to be one with the crowd. It subsided over time, but never truly went away. Rather, it hid, ready and willing to rear its ugly head whenever the next opportunity arrived. You wanted to think it would never get the chance.

The air was stuffy.

It would be, with this many students packed into one gymnasium. The already poor circulation mixed with the massive amounts of teenagers’ and young adults’ body odor proved to be an unpleasant combination, because of course it was. And the space, obviously, certainly did not help, it being far too small to comfortably hold as many bodies as the school staff wanted it to hold.

It was also loud. Very loud. The vast majority of the voices in the gym did not give a single shit about staying moderately tame, much less even a little quiet. Hundreds of students lining the stands all around you, the open ceiling reverberated with the clamor, serving as the most annoying white noise in existence. The sounds of laughter, scolding, yelling, offense, and gossip, along with other noises you couldn’t even decipher, all morphed into one amalgamation of a racket that roared on, and on, wholly chaotic, and definitely grating. You swore you couldn’t even hear yourself think in this mess of an assembly.

Thankfully, you got a little lucky. You ended up sitting in an obscure corner of the auditorium: a place not as crowded as the rest of the large room. On the second set of stands from the ground, you hunched over, keen on making yourself somewhat small amongst the rowdy bunches of trade school students behind you.

As you scanned the auditorium, you were able to distinguish a couple things. One, this was an athletic event of some kind. It was clear by the congregation of generally fit and popular people on the gym floor, right in the center of attention for everyone to see. They separated in groups, supposedly by the sport they played. You wouldn’t be able to tell which were which if it weren’t for the rudimentary signs that the taller individuals waved above their heads. Two, it was going to be boring. That was apparent from the moment several older men in suits showed up. You slumped further down in your set at the realization, robotically taking out your phone to see how else you could fiddle with it today.

It's not that you legitimately disliked sports or those who played them. You would never judge anyone for putting their effort into something they cared about. And while you definitely did not fit in with the crowd, and a good portion of the athletes were not raised right and you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole, they’re students all the same. Egotistical, maybe. With a dash of narcissism, duh. But they were people all the same.

It’s these recognition assemblies you really didn’t care for. They’re the most performative things in the world, and they serve no purpose other than to boost some egos and make content for the local newspaper. They were dumb, through and through. And it seemed the majority of the audience watching knew that, as the staff visibly struggled to calm the erratic students.

It didn’t take long for the assembly to finally start. Somehow, the organizers were able to get all the athletes together and calm, just enough for the guest speakers to introduce themselves, and begin their speeches of unending boredom. They spoke of the various teams’ accomplishments throughout the year, expressing how proud they were in their performance, effectively getting the sentimental portion out of the way. As you could assume, they went onto specifying titles, going over each groups’ success in detail.

It would be an accurate statement to say that you were uninterested. From where you sat, you could barely see the stage, your vision obscured by the surrounding students. Not to mention your natural gravitation to the exit, which definitely did not help, given the distance from the podium where the speakers planned on hanging out for the next forty minutes or so. You found yourself zoning out, almost in record time too. Not that you cared to listen. The quicker this goes, the faster you’re out of this sweaty auditorium. 

You feel a light tap on your shoulder. 

“Hey… Y/N?”

Nearly jumping out of your own skin, you whip your head around, hair thrashing with the shear force of the movement. You look toward the one who had called your name.

Though you truly didn’t know what to expect, you definitely did not expect a mop of tangerine-colored hair, along with a matching set of eyes that seemed awfully familiar.

With a hand raised, Kunigami stood from the edge of the bleachers from where you sat. Blinking a few times, his eyes darted to the podium from where the guest continued to speak, only to look back at you, opening his mouth to say simply and plainly…

“Hey uh, could I sit here?” He pointed to the empty spot beside you, the last available space from the edge, and closest to him.

You didn’t give much thought into your answer, having no real reason to decline his request. “Uh yea! Sure.”

Kunigami's lip curled up in a half-smile. It was genuine from what you could tell. 

Breathing out a thank you, he took a large step off of the floor, hoisting himself into the open seat with less clumsiness than you could ever manage. Scooting over, you made plenty of room for him to adjust and get comfortable, squeezing into yourself even more than before to make that happen.

Looking again at the event, Kunigami asked another, but slightly out of place question, “We’ve uh- started right?”

You rubbed your hands together, processing what he said before answering him clearly, “Yea, I think about like, five minutes ago?”

Kunigami nodded his head in approval, pulling out his phone to quickly check the time, only to put the device right back in the pocket from which it came. “Ah okay.” You could’ve sworn the ginger let out a puff of air, his shoulders deflating at the action. As odd as it was, you dropped it, but made note. 

The player was… imposing. He took up space, metaphorically and in actuality. Not through any fault of his of course. It was your mind that did this to you with its tendency to turn nothing into something.  Try as you might, its pattern of overthinking was persistent as the source of your downfall. As dramatic as that sounds. You force your attention away from your guest and to the speaker. He wasn’t entertaining by any means, certainly not. The old geizer drawled on and on about… something? You weren’t really paying attention, for Kunigami’s mere presence distracted you immensely.

The sound of countless clapping hands reeled you back to the present. Your fellow peers had erupted into a boystrosious applause, followed by a few hoots and hollers from the rowtier ones in the back. Zeroing back in on the podium, you knew it was brought on by the speaker, who had joined the audience in the clapping and was now turned to a group of male students. 

While you didn’t have much reason to care, something caught your eye anyway. You recognized the faces of the students. Just vaguely. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it. You wracked your brain for the answer as you recalled what you had subconsciously remembered by the man’s speech spoken just moments ago. I saw them from the field that day, didn’t I?

And with that, you put it together: it was the soccer team. Yet, that discovery had only brought up another question.

If the soccer team was there, then why is the star player sitting next to you?

You turn your head to look at him, confusion plastered all over. He was looking at the stage as well, with an expression you couldn’t read. If you had to take a guess, it was a rather calmer one, yet his brow was a little stressed. It threw you off. Deciding to be a little bold, you speak. 

“Um,” You begin. “Isn’t that the football team?”

Kunigami starts, turning his head to look at you. A moment passes before he responds. “Yeah that’s them.”

You continue, gesturing with your own double take at the group. They were receiving some sort of plaque, presented by the same old man as before, a showy smile displayed for all to see. “Shouldn’t you,” You pause to find the resolve to state the obvious. “Be with them?”

Kunigami’s eyes widened a fraction. They glance at the team, then back at you. Then to the team, then back at you. “Uh.” He says eloquently. “Yes?”

The carrot-top’s answer only confuses you more. “You’re on the team?” You ask it as a question, like you were searching for clarity in something that's already crystal. When he only stares back, you ask another. “Aren’t you… the guy?”

Kunigami blinked at that, expression morphing from what looked like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, to flat out perplexed. “The guy?” He parrots back, emphasizing the ‘the’ just as you said it. It’s not mocking in the slightest. It's very honest, almost innocently so.

Your mind scrambles for a better way to explain, not that you had one. “I mean…” You try, “Like,” Your hands rise from your lap, coming to rescue you from your stumbling. They move strangely, trying to form what you mean without the use of words. Ultimately, they fail. “I mean, the guy.”

Kunigami only looks. Thinking, still confused. His own hands come together, clasping one another as he leans over, hunching his back and supporting himself by resting his forearms on his legs. He speaks with raised brows. “You’re gonna have to help me here.”

You resist the urge to groan aloud. What really comes out is an agitated huff. You rack your brain for a synonym, coming up with one a second later. “The star?” You ask, kind of happy you found a substitute for your thoughts. “You’re the star of the team.”

At that, Kunigami’s eyes grow bigger. This time with a new emotion. It takes him darting his eyes away from you to decipher it. Flattery. The same he had shown before when he had paid for your lunch.

Is he embarrassed? Isn’t it the truth?

The one in question shakes his head. “No.” It’s soft how he says it, not very firm, yet still in a disagreeing tone. “I am not the star of the team.”

“So, what are you?” You go on to elaborate. “Like what it is called.”

What could barely be considered a smile makes its way on Kunigami’s face slowly, yet surely. His eyes show some amusement, though not the kind that makes someone feel as if they were being made fun of. Rather, he was enjoying himself. Sincerely. He looks back at you, blankly, with that hint of delight.

“I’m a forward.” He says plainly, though the face betrays his tone as he mentions the source of his joy. “That’s the position I play.”

You think for a moment. The label he named doesn’t sound familiar. “I mean… you’re called something else.” You pause to rearticulate your thoughts again, wringing your hands in your lap absentmindedly. “There’s another word for it.”

It doesn’t even take a full second before he replies. “Striker?”

“Yeah.” You say, recalling the term from how many times you’ve heard it over the intercom. 

“Then yeah, I guess.” He says, shrugging. “Though it's not a term actually used in the game.”

You hum, though more to yourself than anyone else. Oh okay. The new piece of knowledge doesn’t slip from you so easily. As trivial as it is, you thought it was an interesting fact. So you plan to remember it. Besides, it might become relevant later.

The crowd rang out in applause once more, for seemingly no reason at all. It barely registered; you had no clue what they were on about. Instead, your focus grows, fixating itself on Kunigami, as so does your confusion. Your question has yet to be answered. You ask again, the sentence slipping from your lips before you had a chance to reconsider. “So why aren’t you up there?”

Kunigami shifts, just a little, just to get more comfortable. He just blinks some more, showing absolutely no sign of any negative emotion at your question. He looks to the team, then back to you, again. Yet, because he doesn’t respond right away, and because of his movement, you automatically think of it as discomfort. You’re backtracking before you know it. Your mind begins to spiral, thinking, oh god I fucked up even though, clearly, you didn’t. You avert your eyes, and apologize. “Sorry, it’s none of my business. I-”

“I just don’t want to be up there.”

You stop, and look at him again. He’s calm, not rattled in the slightest by anything you’ve said in the past fifteen seconds. He wrings his hands a bit, and looks at his fingernails for a second, but otherwise, he just sits. 

He’s no fool. Kunigami can see how you were beginning to work yourself up, even if he can only view it from an outside perspective. He takes it in stride, and with a small smile and firm shake of his head, he addresses it. Simply.

“No need to apologize. It's a valid question.”

Now, it's your turn to blink. The sound of his voice sticks with you, his point driving itself home in the opening your insecurity created.  “Oh.” You say. You didn’t expect that response. You expected something more akin to being brushed off, or even ignored. Instead, he just, answered. Huh. “Okay.”

He chooses to continue. He brings a hand up to scratch the back of his head. “I’m not a fan of this kinda stuff.” The clapping starts up once more. You look to the stage, wondering, what is it this time, only to see the football team begin to file off its steps. One student grasped the award tightly in his hand as he descended. He looked to be laughing with his friends, those of which you remember from before: when they had pulled Kunigami away from waving to you earlier in the week.

The redhead in question speaks again. You assume he’s aware he has your attention, even if you're not looking at him. “I don’t really see a purpose for it. It’s all for show anyway.”

You turn back to him. He’s already looking at you. For some reason, you notice something you hadn’t before. His eyes, though they were mostly an orange color, very similar to his hair, also had some brown in them. Just around the outer rim, where the shade of chocolate met the white of his pupil. You’re not sure why you can see it.

Instead of questioning it, you decide to reply to him. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He says. His eyes don’t leave yours. “It’s a load of crap.”

You’re still curious. You decide to pry some more, just a little bit. “Do you not like crowds?”

“Crowds?” He repeats, eyes widening a bit at your surprise question. He answers after he takes a second to think. “Uh, not really? I mean, I tolerate them. I guess I like them as much as anyone else.” He tilts his head in a questioning manner after he finishes speaking.  “Why do you ask?”

“Nothing.” You dismissed, shaking your head. “I was just wondering.”

Kunigami hums, content to move on. He turns his head away and back toward the stage. By now, a new group of students had ascended it, perhaps for an award of their own.

A flicker of his own curiosity makes Kunigami want to ask the same back. So, he does. “Do you not like crowds?”

You’re not as caught off-guard this time. His statement gives you the confidence to laugh shortly. “Ha. No.” You tug your hands closer into your body, crossing your arms over your chest so you're hugging your torso. “I don’t.” 

Observing the movement, the striker can’t tell if you’ve done it consciously or not, since you don’t acknowledge it. A part of his brain connects your body language to what you’re saying. It's a part not connected to his inner monologue, so he doesn’t realize it, but he recognizes it nonetheless. Just internally. While it finds permanence, he continues as if he never made the observation. Which he sort of didn’t. Not truely.

Kunigami can’t help the twitch of his lip that compels its edge to go up. Otherwise, he responds, simply, plainly. With a hint of something neither he nor you realize is there. “Really?”

You’re oblivious to it. “Yeah.”

It’s silent after that. There’s no other reason to speak. The two of you continue to half-heartedly watch the assembly, now with a new understanding revealed: that you both don’t want to be here.

The solitude gives you a moment to process your conversation with the redhead. You didn’t expect it to go so, normal. Maybe you were the weird one here, but in all honesty, Kunigami was a jock. You’re not friends with jocks, at least not in any meaningful capacity. You’re not the kind of person who resonates with those kinds of people, at least the ones you knew of. It was foreign to you: how someone like him could act so, different in comparison to his peers. How he could just be a regular person.

You outwardly make a face. You want to slap yourself. “How could he just be a regular person?” What the hell are you talking about? Of course he’s a regular person. He’s a person, on the football team or not. It doesn’t matter if he’s quiet or a party animal. He didn’t appear to be away. His agreeable nature from your first meeting seemed to stem more from politeness than as a facet of his personality. Instead, he seemed on the calmer side, and is generally more internal.

But even if he wasn’t, it was none of your business. You have no idea why he keeps the company he does, nor why he’s even on the football team. You don’t know him, and that’s fine. As long as he’s not an asshole, that should be enough of a reason to be friendly back, just as he’s done to you.

A realization comes over you suddenly, and without warning. Unbeknownst to you, it's always been there. From the moment you met the player during that frigid recess. It was just waiting for the moment, the perfect moment where you would finally pull back the curtain to reveal its presence. It makes you stop your train of thought in its tracks. Not that it was going anywhere anyway.

Why is Kunigami so friendly to you, for no reason at all?

There’s a change of pace of commotion on the stage. A woman takes up a microphone. Her voice projects through the speakers built into the gymnasium. A dismissal is taking place quicker than you thought it would.

Quickly, she gives instructions on how to exit, delegating that those on the lower levels of the bleachers are to leave first, then those on the higher levels. This is to reduce the amount of chaos that will surely ensue after she gives the order, seeing as the gym was congested with as many people as the fucking titanic.

Even as she speaks, you know where this is going. As annoying as some of the staff can be, in instances like these, you feel bad for them. You watch it happen in slow-mo: she gives the “ok” and immediately, hundreds of students jump from their seats. Many around you rise too and begin to shuffle around. You stay put. So does Kunigami. The room rattles with the vibrations of countless shoes on the plastic of the bleachers. It’s a rumbling irritation, yet the sound is the least of your worries.

Try as she might, she cannot stop the hurricane of students who disregard their warnings and jump from their seats, their heads set on getting out of the packed auditorium. Her shouts of command fall on deaf ears as people descend, and walk casually past her. It's a funny sight: her beginning to fume as she continues to not be taken seriously as hundreds of students pass her by, and exit the gym. Surely by the next assembly you all will get another lecture on this.

You have two options, as you do every time you’re part of a massive crowd such as this, and everyone in it is trying to go to one place all at once. Either stay here, seated, watch the masses of people dissipate and risk being late for class, or you brave the congestion and suck it up to dive headfirst into the sea of sweaty, loud people. Neither option was appealing. It was usually a coin toss on which you picked. Sometimes it depends on your mood. Though you were not in a particularly bad one, you didn’t exactly want it to dampen over something as pointless as this.

While in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed that the striker beside you had begun to stand up. It was the ‘pop’ of his knee that snapped you from your reverie. He looked at you with a curious expression as he straightened himself, wondering to himself why you hadn’t made the move to leave as well. “Are you… staying here?”

It takes you a second to find a response casual enough to appear neurotypical. “Haha, nah. I'm just a bit slow.” You brush him off as you make to gather your things and stand, giving into the peer pressure the movement of clamoring bodies put onto you the moment they start to move toward the exit.

Though even as you begin to stand yourself, you couldn’t help but notice that Kunigami had not yet left. Instead he just stood there by your side, looking out into the sea of people at nobody in particular. It doesn’t take much for you to ask him why with a hint of your own assumption. “Are you waiting on me?”

“Yes.” He says, like it's obvious. He turns his head to see you properly and quirks a brow. “Why? You don’t mind, do you?”

You rush to straighten up at his confirmation. “A-ah no.” You’re frazzled. Just a little. “I-I mean, no. I don’t mind.” You slide your backpack onto your back, and adjust the straps. You find yourself doing the same: absentmindedly looking out into the crowd of peers from the slightly-elevated position you had on the bleachers, which has been steadily decreasing ever since the initial rush. “It’s just that,” you wonder, “I figured you’d already have gone off to class.”

Kunigami shaked his head at that. His semi-spiky head of hair jerks with it. “Nah, I’m in no rush.” He digs his hand into his pocket and fishes for his phone. Once again, he checks the time and puts the device right but where he found it. “Besides,” he says, blinking stoically. “You said you didn’t like crowds.”

Oh. “Oh.” 

You’re not so caught up in your thoughts this time to have him wait for a response. “Uh- yeah I, I guess you’re right.” What? For real? You’re certainly surprised that the football player beside you had remembered what you said, even if it was only from a matter of minutes ago. You’re even more surprised he had thought about it enough to take some sort of action: to consciously let it dictate his choice of staying behind with you, even if it influenced his decision only a little bit. It was strange to say the least. He was strange.

You see Kunigami turning to the side toward the opening in the bleachers from which he had stepped up from. He craned his head to look back at you. “Here.” He said, motioning with his head to the exit you would guess he already designated. “Just follow me, and I’ll take the lead.”

You nod, and with an ‘okay’ from you, Kunigami fully turns around to the edge of the bleachers, and you mentally prepare yourself to go through whatever task this was about to become.

Your red-headed acquaintance swiftly takes a big step down from the height in a matter of seconds. He never stumbles as he does it, almost gracefully letting gravity carry his weight, falling from the elevated platform. He takes another step forward, kind of forming a rhythm. He turns around right after, watching for you to follow with that same thoughtful expression.

And you do, albeit less organized as he did it. You jump from the bleachers in a similar fashion, yet instead of moving in a stride, your shoes ‘thunk’ against the wooden floor. Kunigami sees you land, and an apology is already falling from his lips. “Sorry- we probably should’ve gone down the stairs.”

You chuckle at his effort. “No it's alright.” You say, waving him off with a vague hand motion. “No worries.”

Kunigami breathes out. “Ha, good.” And with that he turns once more. “Let's go. I think the bell is about to ring.”

You agree, and step in line behind him as he makes his way towards the set of double doors that separated you all from the rest of the school. At first the journey was smooth, but as the two of you got closer to the narrow passage, the area became more and more congested with students who were, conveniently, also trying to make their way towards the same set of doors. You creep closer to Kunigami as the bodies from all around close in. Though none made any solid contact, occasionally one or two would brush against your arm or leg. Accidental, probably, but it didn’t make you happy nonetheless. But don’t get the wrong idea. You weren’t ‘scared’ uncomfortable, just ‘annoyed’ uncomfortable.

As your duo passed through the worst of it, right on the threshold of the metal doors, Kunigami looked back at you over his shoulder. He said nothing, though his apricot eyes asked a silent question with the look he gave, eyebrows raised upward in a way that made them wider, more open: ‘you good?’

The sentiment didn’t pass you by. You give a tight-lipped smile at his once again confusing concern. ‘Yeah’

He seems satisfied with that, choosing to turn back around so he can look where he is going. The edge of his lip curls as he does. Just a little bit.

By facing forward, he unintentionally left your eyes to naturally fall upon whatever took the place of his own, which just so happened to be his back. From where you were, your gaze rested on the expanse of the back of his shoulder, and further up to the nape of his neck. You had never paid much attention to this part of him before. You didn’t have a reason to. Yet now, due to circumstance, you can’t help but look a little closer.

He was built. You already knew that part- it wasn’t hard to tell. But now, you were closer than normal. Meaning, you could see more than normal. You could see where the muscle that wrapped around the back of his shoulder blade- where it rounded off the edge of it to a degree you hadn’t seen so close on anyone before. You could see where his shirt strained because of it. Though not much, his clothes fit him well, the fabric would once and a while become taunt while he moved his arms in ways that went against its limits. You could see where that same muscle crept up with back and to the tops of his shoulders, once again rounding and defining the hump. You could see the skin of his nape, tanned probably due to the countless hours of football training done outside. It was smooth and undisturbed by any scars or blemishes. You could see where the tissue connected with the tendon of his neck, and where that then traveled up to his… undercut? You hadn’t yet noticed that either. WOW. He looks good with that. It really complements his-

You force yourself to stop your own untamed thought midway. You blink rapidly. Your eyes widened at the sentence you were just about to let be completed. What the FUCK?

You’re appalled at yourself. And a little ashamed. What was that shit?? Get a damn GRIP. You don’t even know this guy. You blink some more, and shake your head the smallest bit. It wouldn’t even matter if you did!! I mean SURE he’s not bad looking, and his back his build like a brick shithouse, and maybe the buzz underneath only adds to the icing on the cak-

“You alright?”

The voice of the motherfucker in question makes you want to dig a hole right where you stood and perish. You’d fear he had somehow heard you if he wasn’t looking at you like you hadn’t said anything at all.

“You look a little dazed. I didn’t know you had such a hard time with large numbers of people.” He says it easily in his tenor, and without a hint of judgment. You caught onto his nicety, mentally grasping it as a lifeline to pull yourself from whatever spiral you were about to go down.

You let out a laugh that has to seem out of place. “Haha- Nono I’m okay. It didn’t bother me that much, I was err- uh thinking about something else.” The last part comes out somewhat stiff and quiet, and you choose to look away from the redhead to find something else to occupy your frontal lobe.

You soon discover that the two of you have covered a lot more ground than you originally thought. You were now in the commons, a little ways away from the main exit of the auditorium, around the main seating area. Across the way was the closed-up concession stand the two of you visited not so long ago. Most of your peers in the auditorium had already moved in the hallway and through the school, save for a few stragglers.

Kunigami hums, then shrugs. “If you say so.” For the third time that day, he pulls out his phone to check something. Probably the time. Again. He seems like the kinda guy who’d want to be punctual. Internally you’re thankful he had dropped his concern as quickly as he did. You did NOT wanna talk about it.

He looks up from the device to offer a easy-going grin to you, and slips it back into his pocket. “Well I’d better get going.” He starts, “Don’t wanna be late for class.”

You nod back and reply eloquently. “Uh yeah. Definitely.” 

At that, Kunigami nods to himself, and starts to turn on his heel, but not before bringing a hand up to give you a short wave. The same kind he had tried greeting you with early that week. His eyes shine with a serenity you can see clearly as he gives his departing words, again, a constant from your first meeting. “See ya later then, Y/N.”

And with that, and before you can say much at all aside from your own short little wave, he fully turns around to take long strides down the same hallway he had left from before, soon after pivoting down another hallway out of sight. One, if you were paying closer attention, you would recognize as the same secondary hallway as before, once again.

You watched him as he did, right from where you stood in the commons of the school. You remained like that for a few seconds before forcing your own legs to guide you down the opposite way, in the direction of your locker.

As you walk you’re preoccupied. Your fellow students are oblivious to your mental space as you keep to the right-hand side of the hallway, your head down as you mulled. Not that you’d ever want them to know. Many thoughts rattled around in your head as you approached your destination. Thoughts your second meeting, thoughts of your first, thoughts of him and his stupid back and his stupid concern, thoughts of how absurd this is all becoming-

Thoughts of how your patience was beginning to run out.

Taglist: @yuujiisann​  Its been so long so I didn’t know if you still wanted tagged but HERE YOU GO ANYWAY LOL

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Patience, Just for You

Part 1

Blue Lock Kunigami Rensuke x g/n!reader TW: some cussing, fluff, casual conversation Word Count: 8.0K

Summary: You’re minding your own business when a football flies in and destroys your lunch. How dare it! As an apology, the star player on the football team comes over to help. How weird of him.

Side note: Ahhh this took so long! I wanted to make sure my first writing was nice and polished! This is part 1 of an ongoing series, so it’ll take a while for it to be completed. I plan on making it long!! Stay tuned for more :)

Next Part

The sun hung high in the fall sky as you made your way towards your newfound eating spot, the gravel of the schoolyard’s blacktop crunching under your feet as you went, its noise satisfying to your ears. The straps of your backpack slightly strained against your shoulders as you walked on. You shifted them a shade to ease some of the discomfort. The lunch tray held in your hands jostled at the movement.

You’ve made this trek before; it wasn’t a new journey. Nearly a straight shot to the side of the small hill from the doors of the school, which also open up to the back parking-lot. The incline of the green terrain was your spot of choice. Your destination got closer as you continued to walk.

While the wind wasn't exactly extremely uncomfortable, it wasn't cozy either. The chill of the autumn air tried persuading you into turning around and retreating back into the warmth of the lunchroom, but you ignored the feeling. It didn’t matter. The resolve you held to get to your pre-chosen, personally sought after seat overrode the irritation that the conditions of the fall months gave you. You liked your spot, and you were going to sit in it goddamnit, no matter what the weather had to say about it. You pushed your legs as you started the incline up the hill.

It was tranquil here. Quiet. In your opinion, much better than the chaos of the busy cafeteria. Here you could sit by yourself, almost entirely alone on the hill, with the exception of a couple of stragglers much like yourself. Eating lunch was easier without the need to be constantly vigilant of your surroundings. Nothing to disturb your peace. Nothing unpredictable.

Legs relaxing from their effort up the mound, they delivered you at your chosen spot. Making an observation of the area, checking it out to accept its appearance, you began what is now a daily routine. You patted the ground, making sure it was dry and in a good state for settling in. Swamp-ass was a no-go. Approving the condition of the ground, you set your backpack down behind where you planned to set your own behind. You then, finally, took your seat, careful to keep your lunch stable in your hands as you adjusted yourself to a comfortable position. Using your backpack as a backrest, you leaded back, and took a deep breath.

In, and out.

Yeah. This is better. An escape is what you needed, escape is what you got.

You surveyed the large, flat landscape directly in your line of sight. A field is what lied before you, its grounds of which appeared to be occupied. There, students played to their hearts’ desire. Or more realistically, until the bell rang. Bodies darted and dodged as a worn and battered ball bounced around at what seemed to be at random. You look closer. ‘Looks like it’s a football day’ you thought. Maybe. There are a lot of sports with balls. They could be playing something else and you wouldn’t know. To be fair, you were quite a distance from the commotion.

The weather seemed to be in the players’ favor today. Not a single player looked to have soiled themselves from the terrain just yet. Dusty with dirt, sure, but there were no traces of mud to be found. This gave the players ample opportunity to sprint around without worry of slipping in the dampness of the earth. While the ground’s conditions were acceptable, nevertheless, the cold seeped into you. Unlike the active students on the field. While the heat they generated by exerting themselves kept them warm from the chill, you didn’t have the same quality. You wrapped yourself tighter with your clothes at the reminder.

When the school staff opened the back of the school for people to come eat lunch outside, they also allowed activities on the flat field that sat outback. You suppose it was to distract the rowdy ones from destroying the lunchroom. Which was nice of them, in a way. At least it gave you something to watch as you tried to enjoy your meal. Looking down at your food, you cringe internally, and attempt to reason with yourself that maybe, just maybe, it will be good this time. As nasty as it was, and as small as it was, it's all that you had. So, you dug in, setting the container on the ground.

You had come to this spot for at least a week now. It was better than any other option to choose from, but your prospects at the beginning when you first made this decision had since then diminished. Each day was an attempt to find the haven you were looking for. The “better” that was ever so tempting, and the “new” that anyone would be thankful for. The realization of your failing venture did nothing to ease the stuffiness in your mind.

You came here to find an escape. But all you really got was the cold. So much for a change in atmosphere.

The flavor of your lunch seemed to seep out of the food and into the air as you continued to eat. At this point, it was decided that you were better off drifting away into your own head as to avoid the reality of the cold, that like your distasteful meal, tried relentlessly to disturb you in your contentment.

Attention being on several different thoughts of yours, you were blinded to the world around. Too stuck you were in your revere to notice the ball from the football field, and where exactly it had gone while you were preoccupied. It had been kicked up impressively high, its size shrinking slightly as the magnitude of its altitude increased. But as all things go up, they all come back down, and the ball fell, down and down. Downwards, directly at you.

Like it was on a mission, the ball shot towards your unprotected and unknowing person, it ever accelerating at a rapid rate. You didn’t hear it take off, nor its whizzing through the air as it came down, down. What you did hear, however, was the shout of a panicked, concerned voice from the field that you sat across from.

“HEY! LOOK OUT-”

You popped back into reality. Yet not soon enough to do much about what was currently coming to fruition.

The ball met its mark, and with what looked like deadly precision to an outside perspective, crashed right between your legs, not touching you in its landing, but quite literally, crushing and smashing the entirety of your lunch. The Styrofoam container that once held it securely was obliterated by the ball, caving in at impact. But of course, newton’s laws insist ball continue its path. After thoroughly pancaking your food, the ball then sprang backward from whence it came, due to the incline of the hill, effectively ending the assault on you. It bounced back down the hill, bounding happily as it retreated to its keepers.

You stared down at your ruined lunch. ‘...What?’ you thought.

‘Seriously WHAT?’

Your extended staring was cut short by the same voice that originally snapped you from your thoughts.

“Hey! Are you okay?! Did it- shit. Did it hit ya?!” This voice was accompanied by a few mumbled curses as well as rushed footsteps that left the field, growing louder as they came closer to you.

You had yet to look up. You didn’t what to. You didn’t know who was in front of you, and whether or not they had come to make fun, or even gloat at such a ‘pro shot.’ You can hear the others down on the field snickering as they recounted the events and visuals of what happened to themselves as well as with their friends. Not that you blamed them entirely. Only you would get such shitty fortune. You might’ve even laughed at yourself if you weren’t the victim here, all confused and as the focus of their amusement.

You lift your head anyway, deciding to face the one about to intrude into your personal space.

He never did.

You caught him as he slowed his jog to stand before you, height towering over your hunched form. You took in the sight above you. Slightly out of breath and panting from the exercise he had been doing before, he looked down, and repeated a different version of his previous inquiry. “Are you alright?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.

You nodded, a little thoughtlessly, and definitely still confused.

Here stood a student that appeared to be around your age, though a decent amount taller than that of his peers. Just from a brief overview of his figure, he seemed to be fit and muscled, form hugging his clothes just enough to come across as so. From looks alone, it was no secret that he was a strong and athletic individual. What really captured your attention, however, was the face. His slightly tanned skin was partially flushed from both the cold Autumn breeze and effort from his playing, cheeks blossoming with a gentle pink that complemented his high cheekbones. His hair was a ruffed from a lack of attention, tuffs shooting up in every which way they desired to go. The vibrant color of the orange locks stood out as a stark contrast to the dull shades of grey of the landscape. May you not forget the eyes. Apricot-pigmented as well, they were unlike any other. Relatively the same shade as the hair, they were sturdy and unyielding as you held their gaze. You could’ve sworn there were flickers of gold contained in those orbs as the person they belonged to blinked once, twice.

You mimicked the movement. This guy. You knew this guy. Kunigami Rensuke. You’ve heard his name around school before; it was kind of a popular one. He was a football player. In fact, THE star football player of the school. Single-handedly responsible for much of the team’s success, he was... detectable. While not exactly among the most popular of the student body, he was a person some could identify immediately, and someone many more could vaguely recognize just from one look. There weren’t a lot of people who didn’t know anything about him. It was indicator of your knowledge of high school football in the area if you knew his name.

But his reputation didn’t explain his purpose. Why is he here, in front of you.

Kunigami breathed out a sigh at the response you gave and allowed his eyes to flutter shut for a moment before he reopened them. “Thank goodness” he exhaled, features laxed. “I didn’t think it did, but jus’ wanted to check anyway. To, ya know, see what uh- happened.”   

What happened? Is he calling you collateral?  

He tilts his head down for a proper look at the real victim here, just now really looking at the remains.

Oh. That collateral.

His eyes widened slightly as he discovered what became of your lunch. “Oh shi-”

“It’s fine.” You cut him off with an expression that you hoped portrayed your lack of concern. He meets your eyes again, and you go on. “It’s okay, really. It was an accident.”

You didn’t really know it was an accident. While you doubt anyone could have made that shot even if they had multiple chances, you truly didn’t have a clue how that ball suddenly came raining on our parade. What you did know, however, was that you didn’t want to deal with any confrontations. You didn’t want to have any unnecessary conversations that could potentially turn sour. You didn’t want to deal with those that still looked on to you and Kunigami from the field below, theorizing of what you two could be talking about. It didn’t matter if anyone aimed for your lunch or not.

However, Kunigami decides to persist. He’s looking a little constipated as he stands on the incline of the hill. He opens his mouth abruptly, about to say something, then closes it just as fast. You wait patiently for him. You know he has something to say, he’s just busy finding the words he needs to use. Looking at his eyes, you notice the shame they show. He finishes stating his verdict. “Wow. It’s totaled.”

It’s a simple statement. But it was the truth. Your mashed potatoes are seeping out the sides of the tray. You agree.

Your goal is to be as polite as possible speaking to him now. It’s a telling moment, you at least know that. “It’s alright. I’m not even that hungry. It’s no big deal, really.” You say in protest, waving your hands around in an attempt to brush him off.

Kunigami barely reacts, unshaken by your attempt to let the subject go. He’s got more to say. Lowering his head, his eyes still keep contact with you in almost a stubborn manner. His gaze starts to calm from borderline panic he showed- to something more stoic. Probably because he was beginning to process the situation for himself. At least that’s what you assumed. He goes on, but his first word to gets caught in his throat. “I-” He pauses, and breaths out. Eyes fluttering shut he gives himself a half-second of silence. They reopen once more, and he tries again with a new vigor. “I’m the one who kicked the shot that landed in your food. It’s... my fault your food was smashed.” He paused one last time. “S- I’m sorry...” The sentence began strong, but his tone grew regretful, and his volume soon dropped as he finished speaking along with his eye contact with you, which was now trained onto the grass beneath both your feet. The break in the connection caused you to exhale a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Looking at Kunigami now, you did a once-over of his stance. He stood solid, but his eyes were transfixed on the dull green below. His hands were shoved in his pockets. As a mannerism or from the cold, you couldn’t have guessed. Both were a possibility. He sported a small, tight-lipped frown. It sat on his face like something unnatural. The expression was probably contagious; you ended up copying it in full.

Stunned was the best way to describe yourself. Was he that sorry? It’s more likely he’s embarrassed, you reasoned. He’s a prized member of the school’s football team, and he made such a horrendous error in aim that the ball hit someone as far away as you were. Which was a pretty impressive distance. Not only that, but the arc the ball formed from the kick was surely not one he had calculated. You weren’t incredibly versed in football plays and techniques, but out of all the shots you’ve seen attempted during the intramural group’s game, that was definitely not one of them. In all likelihood, he’s ashamed of the mistake.

You decide easing his worries was the best approach. Copying the stutter Kunigami had developed, you speak. “I- It’s fine! We all make mistakes. I’m not even a little mad, I promise” you say with a slightly awkward smile. No lies left your tongue. The mistake in of itself was not upsetting. If it was truly a mistake, like the individual in front of you had said. Then again, you had only spoken to Kunigami just now, this being the first time you two had held a proper conversation. From what you could tell, he was not one to lie. That was apparent from the moment he willingly offered up the explanation without you having to ask for one first. An explanation that centered him as the guilty party no less.

Kunigami’s eyes flickered back up, and the peach of them connecting back with yours. The forlorn emotion still held strong. He seems to be thinking as he stares for a second, trying to decide on his next move. His shoulders drop a little as he continues to rack his brain for a solution of his own design and satisfaction. But he cannot find one. Beginning to give in to your assurances, he speaks. “Are you su-” He cuts himself off. His eyes widen as his expression lights up. A lightbulb. “Wait!” He exclaims, carrying on once he knows he has your attention. “Let me buy you a new one.”

Your response is automatic. “A new lunch?” His response is as well, a newfound determination present. “Yeah.”

You’re confused. Somehow more than before. What? Why would he want to do that? A simple ‘sorry’ would’ve sufficed for the situation.

You laugh a little in an effort to ease the request away as you keep up the protest, “N-No. It’s okay! You don’t have to do that. I’m good, I’m not hungry. Seriously.” The excuses spilled from your throat one right after the another.

Kunigami wasn’t buying it. He kept his stare straight, unwavering. The will he held in those eyes of his bleed into his voice, its sound hitting your ears as a smooth, settled tenor. “No. I insist. It’s only fair.” He lowered his head like before but kept that same eye contact. His eyes softened a bit as he explained, and his eyebrows furrowed together into what almost looked like a pleading manner, if you didn’t know better. With a voice mellowed by his question, he finished. “I want to.”

A frown was tempted to spread across your face, but you held it back. You didn’t like this. Having someone go out of their way for you never smoothed over well. In your relationships and in your head. People can be deceiving. You knew that firsthand. The notion that Kunigami genuinely wanted to ‘get fair’ by buying you a new lunch wasn’t a trustful one. You weren’t exactly willing to bet that it was.

Yet looking at Kunigami now, it’s difficult to hold the same sentiment. His eyes bore into yours, searching for an answer. They projected into your soul with a certain motive that escaped you. He kept that same expression, unchanging from the moment he dropped the question. The enigma of that behavior was a subject of uncertainty to you. A mystery that you were either daring enough, or stupid enough, to lure you through the end of this encounter.

Truthful or not, he was convincing.

Besides, a second lunch DID sound appealing.

Throwing caution to the wind, you sigh. “Okay” Meeting his eyes once again to reciprocate his gaze, you give up the charge. “Sure.”

Having earned an answer, Kunigami lit up in both delight and slight surprise. He straightened his shoulders from the slump they dawned before. He thought you were going to keep protesting his request. “o-Oh, really?”

You hesitated. Was he taking it back? “I mean if you want to, that is.”

Kunigami started a bit, realizing want he had just implied. He shook his head, shaking his hands around, aiming to correct himself. “N-no!” he exclaimed, eyes bigger than before. “I do! I do want to.” Chuckling a little awkwardly, he explained “You just caught me off-guard... I- I thought you would’ve said a bit more.”

You smiled at that. “I’ll take the opportunity if you’re seriously offering. It’s a second lunch. I just figured you- I mean why not?”

Your acceptance relieved him. Of course, if you insisted on a ‘no’ he would absolutely respect your decision. It was yours to make, and he certainly wasn’t about of overstep any boundaries. It would be incredibly hypocritical of him to push some kind of compensation. Nonetheless, you had conceded to his offer on your own terms. And that made him satisfied.

“Ahh...” He laughed again, this time more comfortably. “You’re right. Free lunch. Why not?” He extends his hand outward towards you. Bending his knee slightly, he offers it in the form of a handshake. Face relaxed into a calmed expression once more. “Come on, let’s go get it. Need a hand up?”

Springing up to your feet before he could inquire again, you politely declined almost immediately. “O-oh no. I’m good. Thanks though.” You had already conceded into taking something from him today.

If he was offended by the rejection, he didn’t show it. His face remained unchanged as you stood and grabbed your backpack as well as the remains of your meal. The styrofoam was warped and smashed from the impact of the ball, the material haphazardly holding what was left of your meal. A part of you wanted to try opening the container, but the other part knew better. There was no telling what kind of mess you could make from the effort.

Kunigami cringed at the sight of his mistake. Embarrassment overcame his features once more. Another apology slid from his tongue. “I apologize again. That shot was-”

“Kunigami” You stated flatly. He sure is adamant. “It’s okay. Accidents happen. Now come on-” You start back towards the school, backpack slung over your shoulder, and mashed lunch in hand. You turn your head to look over your shoulder at Kunigami, pausing to wait for him. He had had yet to move from his spot. “You comin’?”

It took a minute for those words to fully process in his head, but when they did, he started, and went to meet you at your left. You continued walking to the school doors when you saw Kunigami move, striding up to your side. “y- Yeah. I’m comin’.” Together, you two made your way to the back entrance of the school. You let the player beside you take a slight lead in front of you. From the outside entrance, a few twists and turns were needed for the journey, but it wouldn’t be very long before you both arrived at your destination: the lunchroom.

The grit of the back patio just met your feet when Kunigami realized something. “Wait a second.” Your attention drew back to him, as you readied for what he had to say. “How did you know my name was Kunigami? I don’t remember us ever talking before.”

You blinked. In your attempt to get Kunigami to stop apologizing for his error, you had called him by his name, when technically, you didn’t really know him enough to remember it. That definitely warranted a questionnaire. You wouldn’t be at all surprised if the one beside you was genuinely put off by what could very well be your mind-reading techniques. Though looking up at him now, he didn’t look spooked. His face was mostly relaxed, but held an ounce of intrigue. You decided to tell the truth, betting on his so far pleasant attitude.

“Oh...” You begin, fully aware of the expectant face he gives you, and the explanation you owe because of. “Well …I’ve heard of you before.” He turns back to face forward while keeping his ears peeled for the rest of your clarification. You continue. “Over the intercom, mostly. For football ‘n stuff.” You pause again, giving the text sentence some thought. “They’re also those banners hanging in the commons. Ya know, the ones of each player on the team? You got one too.” You tossed the container you were holding in the trash can that sat outside beside the double doors as you entered the school, throwing it away for good.

The undisturbed atmosphere of the first empty hallway allowed him to speak in a lower tone. “Oh. Okay, that makes sense, actually.” Kunigami concludes. He’s aware that his name is brought up around the school, and he’s aware of the different ways it is done. It doesn’t take a genius to realize them. Every time a sports team had won a game or match, the school staff would make an announcement of the accomplishment the next day at the beginning of school. Kunigami’s name could’ve obviously popped up then. It also wasn’t at all hard to believe that even without the kind of promotion he earns from his athletics, you would know his name regardless. The school’s atmosphere reeked of gossip, rumors, and updates of people’s lives. Whether it was welcomed or not, you WOULD know people if they were talked about. And Kunigami was. For sure.

Carrying on through the halls, you two continued the trip without talk. The mash between comfortable and uncomfortable silence bothered you slightly, each footfall taken by the either of you seemingly echoing and getting louder with each step. It was different in comparison to your usual attitude. You rambled a bit to ease the feeling. “You’re not freaked out by that, are you? That I just knew your name?” Your eyes shifted to Kunigami once again, perplexing a bit awkwardly. Kunigami turned his head to make brief eye contact with you. Was he, smiling? One corner of his mouth was upturned. But rather than sarcastic or even something that could be considered demeaning, it was kind. Kinder than others you had received, at least.

You two were now making your way around the last corner of the hallway that led to the cafeteria. The crowd of the student body was visible, the sound of chaos slowly growing in volume as one step led to another. “Well, since you’re probably not psychic, you’re most likely not lying.” He turned back around, and concluded as you both merged with the mass of people in the cafeteria. “So no, not at all. ‘s all good.” You breathed out at the revelation of his thoughts.

You two entered the crowd of students with one goal in mind: get to the concessions where they gave out school lunches. Kunigami took the front out of the two of you, taller figure working to his advantage. Kunigami’s repeated ’’suse me’ causing most of the students to move with ease, though some parts of the horde parted for the two of you with slight difficulty. Moments where anyone didn’t move the first time were quickly ended as soon as Kunigami asked them to move once more, albeit louder and bolder. His technique worked wonderfully, enabling the both of you to make your way through the mass.

Braking from the chaos, you both went to stand in the concession’s line, which was thankfully very short at the moment. Most, if not everybody, had already gotten their food and were even finishing, eating in their own chosen spots scattered around school grounds. In that way, Kunigami and you were the odd ones out.

There are about three people in the line in front of you when Kunigami, glances at a nearby clock mounted on the nearest wall. “Aw shoot.” He says. “There’s not gonna be enough time for you to eat. I’m sorry.” You shrug, looking off to the side, unbothered by the fact. “It’s fine. I can just keep it and save it for later.” He turns his head and looks at you dead-on. “You sure?” He questions. “We could do this another time, when you’d actually have time to eat.” He looks at you with the gaze he wore before, the one that expressed that same apprehension from the grassy hill outside. An expression that held nothing but sympathy for the condition of the situation he had put you in. Sympathy for a situation he had accidently put you in. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had expressed such a worry, as stubble as it was, to something so fickle.

“Nonono, it’s okay! Don’t worry about it! I’ll just save it and eat it later” You spoke, waving off his attempt once again. While you had at this point, deduced Kunigami to be a upright guy, you didn’t want to keep him around to cater to you when it wasn’t necessary. He had his own life. His own things to worry about. You didn’t want to be an add-on to that list.

Thankfully for you, he dropped the subject quicker than he had the one before. “Alright. If you say so.” He turned to pleasantly grin down at you, the upturn of his mouth barely showing in a smile small.

You stopped. And stared. An unknown force keeps you there in an appraisal fixed on Kunigami. More specifically, the features he displayed. The smile itself was consuming and prodding, pestering to melt you with the syrupy warmth it held. The crinkle of his softened orbs was infected with the same illness that had inflicted his grin, the honeyed sweetness of its color accentuating the niceties of his sentiment. What that sentiment was, you didn’t know. Its meaning was lost to you. The two facets worked together in tandem, building off each other in a way that was new and unclear. Strange.

“NEXT”

You both took a step forward, Kunigami making a smaller stride to give you the lead. First in line.

The one of the lunch ladies spoke up first, looking down and fitling with the food in front of her while speaking. “Whadya want sweetie?” She spoke in a tone that conveyed her honeyed voice, but was still laced with a particular fatigue that you were familiar with. You looked to Kunigami for guidance, uncertain what to do or who the women directed the question to between you both. Looking down at you, Kunigami jerked his head to the lady, making a ‘good ahead’ motion. But before you could start speaking, the women looked up, having not gotten a response as quick as she was initially expecting. She looks at you blankly, then looks to the taller figure beside you, expression brightening in surprise at what seemed to be a recognizable face.

“Kunigami!” she exclaimed with a beaming grin. He faced forward, looking vaguely caught off guard at the woman in front of him. She was unperturbed by the silence. “How have you been! Awww I haven't seen ya in forever!” Kunigami relaxed a bit, blinking once before politely smiling and answering back. He shoved his hands into his pockets, wanting to do something with them. He began to speak. “I’ve been good, thanks. How have you been Ms. Middy?” Her features illuminated in delight at his curiosity “I’ve been alright! How’s your mother? Oh my goodness I haven't talked to her in ages! Tell her I said Hi!” She talked as if she was just bursting at the seams with things she wished to say.

Kunigami’s eyes shifted nervously to you and back again to the cook. He replied instinctively. “She’s been doing alright. Thanks for asking. And yea, I’ll be sure to tell her.” The ginger chuckled when the woman, who’s name was apparently Middy, giddily nodded her own head. The smile she wore was lulled into a pacified grin when she realized that she still had a job to do. “What can I do for ya?” she says for the second time, repeating directly to Kunigami.

Kunigami shakes his head at the warranted, but wrong assumption, “Oh I’m not eating. I’m just getting my- acquaintance here something.” He gestures to you with a nod of his head once more. Middy is unruffled by the change. In fact, Kunigami’s confirmation seemed to rejuvenate the cheery attitude she had just dropped. “Oh okay.~” She said smoothly. “So you’ll be paying?” The ginger acknowledged the question with a ‘Yeah. I am.’  His expression was thoughtful, but didn’t give much away.

“That’s so sweet of you!” Middy looked delighted at the prospect of Kunigami’s good deed. Kunigami however, didn’t look to hold the same expression. He reached his hand behind to rub the back of his neck, the apples of his cheeks changing their color from a mild cream to a stubble light pink. At that, your eyebrows rose in bewilderment. “A-Ahaha... I try” he responded, trying to brush off the compliment as courteously as he could.

Middy smirks in a sweet, almost sickening way, taking a small amount of pleasure in Kunigami’s embarrassment. You could see why. The stark contrast of his imposing muscled figure with his currently shy, borderline bashful demeanor was comedic. While he wasn’t frenzied or anything of that nature, the reaction was different enough to justify surprise.

The cook shakes her head, appeased by the reaction, and finally turning to you. Now relaxed, Middy asks for the third and final time, “So what would you like to eat?”

You titled your head down at the trays of pre-made food in front of you. There weren’t many options to choose from, but all the same, you reply with your meal of choice: the same lunch that now sat in the garbage can outdoors, pummeled by a football. Middy was pleased with the decision. “Good choice.” You watched as she prepared the food methodically with practiced ease that comes from countless reptations. She placed the meal in front of you, smiling genuinely.

“Here ya go~ Enjoy!” You thanked her politely yet earnestly. Guessing it was his turn, Kunigami stepped forward and gave Middy his student information needed to bill him for the meal. Middy took it with a ‘thank you.’

Kunigami and you went to leave when Middy insisted on a last goodbye, “You two have a great day!” You waved the cook a farewell while Kunigami let out a ‘See ya.’

Stepping away from the concessions, you were reminded that this technically should be goodbye for you and Kunigami. He had properly repaid you in full; there was nothing left to do nor say. Anything else that could be said had been exhausted.

You open your mouth to begin it when you were unintentionally interrupted by the caramel-top. Instead of turning to go himself, Kunigami motioned you to another area of the cafeteria toward a wall not too far away from the concessions. A quieter place. Quickly doing the math in your head, you assumed that the goal was to get to a spot where you two could talk with less strain on your ears, a guaranteed consequence of being in the midst of the noisy cafeteria.

Before you could properly question him, he had already began walking, turning his head to look back at you as he told you to follow. “Over here-” he encouraged, though not giving a full explanation for why to follow. You were confused. Once again. Kunigami should technically leave since he had properly repaid you for your troubles. What could he want? Your mind began doing its thing, scrambling around, going through any possible scenarios for what someone like the young man with you could want from, well, you. The idea of something more would’ve made you wide awake if you weren’t already hyperaware.

He led the way to the secluded spot, dodging and weaving through the grouped students, you, once again, in tow. It wasn’t nearly as difficult as the initial journey from the empty hallway to the concession stand; you two were in Kunigami’s chosen spot in only a matter of seconds. It wasn’t that far away, just enough to get out of the immediate vicinity of the cafeteria’s sound.

Arriving, Kunigami sidestepped, allowing you to take the initiative of choosing where to position and stand yourself. You choose the spot furthest from the chaos of the open space adjacent to you two. Kunigami didn’t seem to mind that you did. He took the opposite side, and faced you, leading his body against the wall in a casual way.

The football player titled his head down to you, expression tranquil. He opens his mouth to talk, explaining his reasoning to prolonging your time together. “’Bell’s gonna ring here in a sec” he breathes out. He looks off to the side whilst continuing. “There’s no point in tryin’ to go anywhere really.”

That makes sense. Total, logical, legitimate sense. So why did you think there could be something else? For what reason? And so soon? That deserved a mental kick in the rear. Reeling yourself back in, you focused on formulating an appropriate response to Kunigami.

You looked at the nearest clock mounted on the wall. A few minutes left untill the bell. That was manageable.

“Yeah, that’s fair” you state plainly. You glance down at the replacement lunch in your hands. “I’ll just keep this for later.” You look back up at Kunigami, snickering to yourself a slight bit for no reason in particular, “I think the art teacher has a microwave.”

Contemplating his features, the one in front of you looked to be in a mental battle of sorts. Mouth set in a peculiar way, and crease of his brow line prominent, you had an inkling as to why. Based off the face he was making, he looked like the personification of the phrase ‘I feel bad.’

“Kunigami.” Chiding, you seek his attention. You are proven successful in your efforts when he reconnects his eyes with yours, expression dropping into something more untroubled.

While this may be jumping the gun a little bit, something tickled the back of your mind, scratching in a borderline uncomfortable way. Its origin was mysterious, entirely unknown to you. Though something else, a different part of your brain, gave you the inclination that you could drive the itching away yourself. You choose your method: what you knew was the fastest and easiest way for you to rid your head of the bother. Confronting the source.

Yet though you have gained at least the smallest bit of confidence to take the initiative, you soon find that the solid grounding you conjured had started to crumble away once you looked at his eyes once more. Your façade of conviction threatened to wither away at the sight. Where that feeling came from, you weren’t sure either.

You forced yourself to carry on. You needed to scratch that itch. “It’s fine. I promise. There’s no use feeling bad about it anymore. You repaid me. Literally.” You gesture to your food. It was the truth.

Kunigami face morphed into something resembling someone who’s hand was caught in the cookie jar. Lips parted, gaping slightly, and eyes frozen in a place of surprise with a touch of amazement. He held that expression for a second, then dropped it. He seemed to give up the argument he had conjured up for himself. He breathed out, relaxing the tension he held in his upper body you had not noticed before. He looked to you, afresh from the conflict, and in a way that you understood as a loosened version of himself. Whether or not he had truly agreed with you on your statement, you knew not. But it was apparent that at this point, Kunigami had conceded on taking your word for it.

“I guess you're right” he admits. The itch had been scratched. You smile at the triumph. “I am. You went above and beyond.”

And so do your shots.

A pleasant grin spreads across his face. “If you say so.” Your grin grows the smallest bit. You do say so.

As a miniscule silence passes over the both of you, something comes to mind. Your resolve finds you once more, and you speak, daring to approach and learn more. Why? You did not know. It was another part of your brain that confused you.

“Okay” you start, grabbing the red-head's focus. Not that you lost it. “The lunch-lady thing. You two know each other?”

Kunigami had a reaction that was almost instantaneous. He laughed, a mixture of hardy authenticity and bashfulness that blended perfectly with the character you so far perceived. Smiling unabashedly, he looked to the side once more and explained, “ahaha yeah. My mother and her are friends, so Middy knows me by extension.” His voice was laced with a particular endearment for the cook. He continued, “they aren’t absolute best friends or anything, but I guess they’re a least close enough for Middy to call me out like that.”

You pressed a question that may or may not have been too personal, depending on what Kunigami’s standards. “You don’t care do you? That she does that.”

Thankfully, he shook his head, brushing off the concern. “Nah its fine. I don’t really care. Middy is just, well, friendly, ya know? You’ve seen her, haven't you?” You nod. It was hard to miss the way the lady interacted with those she knew. The woman had a knack for brightening practically anyone’s day with the warmth she radiated from her presentation. Sometimes you could feel yourself becoming intimidated when interacting with her simply because she was bold enough to ask about your day.

“Yeah, I’ve seen her.” Speaking honestly, you elaborate. “She’s nice. Talks to everyone that comes through and says hi. I’m pretty sure she knows everyone’s names around here with how much she’s talked to people and how long she’s been at it.”

Kunigami lighthearted laugh returns at your observation. Then he stops. Abruptly. Kunigami’s eyes widen, and his mouth parts slightly to intake a breath of air. Your own remained closed, fixed shut. What happened?

Kunigami looks to you in disbelief of... something. You contemplate asking about the sudden change in his behavior when he speaks before you. His voice comes out with apprehension, yet still bold.

“Oh my god.” He utters, sounding exasperated. “I don’t know your name.”

You wanted to laugh, you really did. But you held the urge in for Kunigami’s sake. ‘That’s it?’ You mulled the though over in your head. You found no rhyme nor reason for Kunigami’s disbelieving attitude. It was unexpected, and you even found it a little humorous.

You snickered. Your own expression relaxed into an easy-going smile, which somehow startled, eased, and offended Kunigami all at the same time, the amalgamation of emotions was shown on Kunigami’s face as best as they could. “Oh come on” Kunigami speaks, groaning whilst dragging a hand down his face. Your own unfazed reply alleviated some of the panic that overcame his features, which were now set in a stressed expression, albeit a little flustered once again. “Don’t do that to me. What is it? Your name I mean.” He awaits your answer with a calm look with a hint of self-consciousness, eyes solely on you, attention at the ready to mentally grab your name the moment it falls from your lips.

You comprehended the general reason for Kunigami’s attitude toward this. Why now? You didn’t have any intention of befriending Kunigami permanently, and surely he didn’t plan on sticking around, so why, when this whole situation is practically over and done with, does he want a name? For story telling purposes? Maybe. That’s usually what others retain people’s names for. Possibly his own mental catalog? You wouldn’t put it past him to want to remember the titles of those he had interacted with. Nonetheless, for whatever reason, you didn’t necessarily care to share. Trusting Kunigami’s hands with sacred, but not secret information, you gave him your name.

“Y/N. Y/N L/N.”

Intaking the new information, Kunigami repeated it back to you, testing the sound of your name on his tongue. “Y/N.”

“That’s it.” You affirmed. The football player held a kind smile, softened and satisfied. His eyes flashed, well-pleased with your answer and the turn out of the conversation.

“It’s a good name.” Definitive and resolute he was in his tone, doughy and intrigued he was in his display. You had no idea how he managed to pull off such a distinction. His type generally didn’t present themselves the way he was acting at the moment. The ability was uncanny. The oddity rooted you to your spot, body transfixed in place. Time continued to tick away as the staring contest continued; Kunigami seemed to not notice. He kept his own look firm, unwavering.

The force that kept you to your spot was uncaring of your inability to decipher its meaning or purpose. It left you lost in your thoughts, without any knowledge of which way to go, nor what action to take. Catching the image spontaneously, it stuck into your memory bank for safe keeping.

As you wrestled with your consciousness, the sound of the piercing bell snapped you out of the squabble. The cogs started turning as they are designed to, effectively reminding you of what the sound meant. End of the lunch period.

And by extension, the end of your time with Kunigami.

You looked around the cafeteria. Students all over got the same cue, moving every which way toward their next destination, creating a mass of bodies that started to gradually empty the open space, and parting from their groups along the way.

You decided to follow in their steps. It was inevitability anyway, you knew that. From the moment you agreed to take up Kunigami’s offer, to this very second, the certainty of the end hovered over your head, haunting, subconsciously clinging to the two of you. Every word, every look, every second that passed by counted down to the end. It would be pointless to try and prevent it.

You give Kunigami a look. The one he gives you back in similar, yet was less guarded than you own. “Well, I guess we should go” you conclude. You step around him, and begin walking in the direction of your next class, but not before turning your head to look back at Kunigami over your shoulder, giving him the usual ‘goodbye’ you gave to anyone you liked. He deserved that, at least. “Adios. Thanks for the food Kunigami. I appreciate it.”

He’s turned to face you at this point, pushed from the wall to a now standing position. He sighs a little loudly, the sound catching your ears, making you halt your departure. Something about it makes you want to turn to face him, but you push the feeling away. Rising his head from the floor, the smile he displays is tightlipped, not as bright as the ones he’s worn before. His eyes however, showed an emotion that you had now seen to be a facet of Kunigami character.

Patience.

He stepped forward, walking into stride beside you. You joined him at the prompt, the two of you making your way through the cafeteria. The twists and turns of the path naturally lead you and Kunigami, no conversation needed for the journey. You both continued walking until you reached the main hallway, where Kunigami spoke up.

"Well..." He paused, thinking of the correct words to say. "I'll see ya later. Y/N."

And with one last grin, Kunigami turned on his heel and padded away, the sounds of his athletic shoes nonexistent against the tile floor. He turned to look back only once, and with a kind and courteous wave. Kunigami then rounded the corner of the hallway, figure dipping out of your line of sight for good.

You turned to walk away in the opposite direction that Kunigami went. One foot in front of the other, you strode down the path to your next destination: your locker. You needed some place to put your gift.

The trip was not as long as it normally was. The classrooms you passed seemed to blur together as you walked on, consciousness focused on something other than the trek. The event that had occurred cycled through over and over again, your mind already taking the incitive to mull through what had happened. It considered any possible 'what if's’ and 'buts' of any conversation, phrase, gesture, action, and everything else in between. It was truly astonishing how many things you could've done better, said better, reacted better.

The ridges of the combination lock lightly pressed into your fingers as you twisted the dial. You barely registered you opening the locker as you mentally reviewed Kunigami's last departing actions. They confused you. Thoroughly.

His character was a tricky one. You'd only known him for a matter of minutes, but you could tell. He was different. He acted different, spoke different, and hell, even walked different. There was something so fundamentally contrasting that it made your head ache with uncertainty.

He was unpredictable. You didn't appreciate unpredictable.

Yet as you shuffle around in your locker for the textbooks and binders for the next class, placing your lunch tray at the bottom of your locker, your head shifts to the one sentence that got caught in the review cycle. The one phrase that anyone else would've heard and wouldn't have thought twice about it. But because it was you, and because it was him, you did.

"I'll see ya later."

"Y/N."

Unpredictable didn't seem so bad.