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[Hakuryuu's answer is acknowledged by a nod before Fudou starts to step further into the apartment, picking up a remote control and pointing it out a white machine attached higher up on the wall. With a low whirring noise the heating system comes to life, and the chilled living space will soon warm up. It's only then that Fudou shrugs off his own jacket, slipping it onto a hanger that he pulls from a closet by the entrance. A second hanger is held out in Hakuryuu's direction for his own outer layer.]
Sorry it's small. I only got here a few months ago in a hurry so I didn't have time to be picky about the place, but it's pretty convenient. And easy to figure out your way around.
[And, without moving, as not to startle Hakuryuu with suddenly advancements,] Let me carry that suitcase. I'll show you where your room is.
[There's a rushed scramble to get his coat off, as if that hanger were only offered for a short amount of time before it'd be snatched away again. The suitcase is set down out of necessity, and even then, he moves it just a few inches away from him in offering to Fudou. His hands go to the edges of his jacket, starting to pull it off...
Only for it to be trapped under those crisscrossed shoulder bags. He'd have to--okay, give him a moment to take those off, lifting the straps over his head and through his ponytail and setting them down just next to his feet. It's only then that Hakuryuu actually reaches for the hanger, taking it gently and shimmying one arm out of that jacket.]
I-It's not that! [His voice may have raised a little in panic, wondering if he'd already offended Fudou on his living quarters. It was already miles above what he remembers at God Eden, and the warmth slowly starting to fill the apartment eased the usual aching chill of his bones, but...
Maybe he expected an ex-Raimon in something more flashy, is all.
Words he'd never say to Fudou's face.] God Eden just didn't have actual houses. [A good enough answer, he hopes, as he lets Fudou take his suitcase, his own arms slinging his bags over one shoulder.]
[Fudou's voice, on the other hand, remains level and even light. He'd taken no offense in anything Hakuryuu said, and the explanation he's given only makes the most sense. He'd been on that island long enough to know most of its structure; aside from that one barren shelter Endou came across, there was nothing outside of the Sector's structure on the other side. An apartment like this would never have existed there.
Taking the suitcase in his hand -- it's light, as he expected -- he waits for Hakuryuu to put his jacket away before nodding and turning to lead the way.
The apartment was clearly chosen, initially, with only one occupant in mind. They pass through a living space with an open kitchen; a short on the other side of the room contains three doors, two of which Fudou points out as the toilet and bathroom respectively. He stops in front of the last door, furthest back, and enters the room after another nod to the boy.
He may have signed the lease for this place months ago, but he rarely spent time here. He was mostly on the move, talking to Kazemaru or Kabeyama or Fubuki in different regions of the country, and this was where he'd come back to every two weeks and crash for a few hours before leaving again. Most of the furniture were things he acquired over these past two weeks to prepare for a child that deserved more than short naps on a park bench.
A simple storage bed pushed up against one wall, a chabudai table sitting on a rug with a small television installed across from it on top of a low dresser. The futon put over the bed is simple but new, and a folded set of clothes and bath towel have been set on top of it -- the pajamas Fudou had mentioned.]
Here. Get comfortable if you want, I'm gonna go get the bath ready.
[He follows Fudou without hesitation, sticking close and eyes peeled to the environment around him. There wasn't much to the apartment, that's for sure, but it was more home than he could have ever called God Eden. The heater made a little rattling sound every now and again, the kitchen seemed small, but way bigger than it looked, with a little table and some chairs set up.
The bathroom and toilet made up the two other doors, which left one room that had to be Fudou's. He doesn't make a move or speak a word as Fudou opens the door, revealing the room inside. It was simple, cold from the lack of heat (although that'd soon be fixed), with a table, a TV, a futon... Hakuryuu's eyes practically widen at the...normalcy of the space.
It was a real room.
But like most kids his age, Hakuryuu can do simple math. And if there was three rooms to this apartment not including the main den, and two of them were the toilet and bathroom. That left this to be Fudou's. Which meant he would have to sleep elsewhere. But Fudou had called this his room, hadn't he? The pajamas on the bed proved it, and red eyes flick to the man in confusion.]
Wait.
[That came out a little more commanding than he intended, closing himself off immediately and folding his arms.]
This is your room.
[As if to remind Fudou that it's not Hakuryuu who was living here first.]
Uh? Oh. I guess, technically, but I've never used it.
[Most of the time he crashed on the couch in the living room with the TV and the heater on, leaving this one empty save for the suitcase he first brought along and the dinky old TV he received when he moved into his first apartment in college. Everything else...
He steps into the room, quickly turning on the light and heat and depositing the suitcase by the bed.]
This room's yours. You can do whatever you want with it.
["This room's yours. You can do whatever you want with it."
The words bounce richochet off the insides of his skull, smacking around in his brain like an angry bee and practically stunning him at that moment. He'd insisted this was Fudou's room, he'd had it confirmed, even. Hakuryuu had no expectations to start with, but even he could put two and two together that the person paying for the apartment would be the one to get the room. The couch did look comfy, Hakuryuu wouldn't have bat an eye at sleeping on it.
But here he was, someone from Raimon who'd officially taken custody of him, and giving him his room. It takes every ounce of willpower to move his legs--not out of stubbornness, but out of pure shock as he slowly walks into the room, like an animal stepping out of its cage for the first time. He makes his way over to the bed, fingers running along the futon and up to the pajamas. White and gray, probably picked just to be safe. But they were soft, freshly bought, and his size.
He wants to believe this, he really does. But the lingering thought of God Eden shoves that buzzing bee of positivity down into submission, gripping the strap on that bag extra tight.
His face is stoic as he nods. He ha to acknowledge what Fudou had done for him, at the very least.]
[Fudou's leaned against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest and a small smile on his face should Hakuryuu look over. It's a gentle look, if he could recognize it as so, Fudou's entire demeanor at ease and without tension. Loose like his hair.]
It might take a while to get used to, but if there's anything you've got plenty of now, it's time. You can warm up the room as you need it, and I'll call you when the bath's ready, got it?
[The question at the end seems to perk his attention. Mostly because any question given in God Eden often requires an answer. Red eyes flick up from the pajamas, body straightening up as he adjusts those straps once more and turning to the man speaking to him.]
Y-Yes.
[There's nothing more said after that, removing the bags from his shoulder to set down next to the suitcase. Fudou's face is so much different than the face of someone he's supposed to immediately respect and give allegiance to. It was softer, relaxed...and that buzzing in his head of the selfish want to just accept this as what it is strikes up once more.
His hands go back to those pajamas, holding them to his chest as he sits down on the futon, sinking into its softness as he takes all this in. The clothes remain untouched otherwise--he's not going to change into them until after his bath, but they were in his hands, gripped so tight as if protecting it from some unknown predator. He'd wait until he was called at least, until then he'd try and process this in his brain.
[Answer gotten, Fudou widens his smile and nods in response. What answer he can get, he acknowledges, and he leaves the door open the way it is as he lifts off the doorframe and stretches briefly.]
A'ight. Call you in a bit.
[The bathroom is not far from the bedroom. A few steps down the hall, through a door into the changing room. It's an apartment without a washing unit, and Fudou had been taking his laundry to the coin laundry on the corner the last few months. He briefly hopes Hakuryuu has another set of clothes to wear in that luggage of his. What he's wearing now seems to have been on him for at least a few days; he's sure Kiyama would've had something prepared for him but it's questionable whether Hakuryuu would've accepted it or not.
Kiyama's a good guy, but that gay-ass smile of his sure is unnerving sometimes...
Thinking about a certain red-haired teammate from days past, Fudou lets out a small chuckle and opens up the folding door to the washroom. Pulling up his pants legs and peeling off his socks, he steps inside the small, but well-lit and clean room to make sure he hadn't forgotten to wash up anything the last time he used it. It's a few minutes for him to fill up the bathtub with hot water and make sure the shower temperature isn't set to scalding, putting the shampoo, conditioner, and body wash bottles where Hakuryuu will be able to find and reach them with ease. He also makes sure to set out the new washcloth and sponge he made sure he got for the kid.
Rather than call Hakuryuu's name loudly, Fudou will come back to the room after everything's ready, wiping the last of the water from his hands on his pants.]
Hakuryuu, [he says once he's standing in the doorway again, voice quiet, light. Not demanding in any way.] The bath's ready. Come with me and lemme show you how to turn on the shower and stuff.
[For the longest time, Hakuryuu doesn't move, eyes fixated on the room around him. It was by no means a mansion, but it had everything a person could want in one. Heating, a TV, a bed...and the fact that Fudou had confirmed this to be his...it's all a little overwhelming for him. He's not some caveman that doesn't know what a TV is, hell, he remember watching it when he was younger. But when he got older and more exploitable by Fifth Sector, the barracks became home. You learned to forget about such luxuries like a television, and things like food and one of the better beds often became the priorities.
With a small breath, he stands up, pacing around the place with his head held up high, inspecting the ceiling and the walls, craning his body over (while keeping those pajamas bound tightly to his chest by his arms) to look at the heater, to see what magazines were on the table. Everything had that 'new' feeling to him, possibly in the best way he could have ever imagined. But there's a small nagging feeling in the back of his head, one that he's been fighting ever since Fudou had picked him up.
"How long will this last?"
After his lap around the room, he finds his way back to the futon, plopping down on it once more and looking more at the pajamas that lay in his arms. His thumb brushes over the fabric, obviously freshly bought and ready to be worn. And in turn, his face begins to soften as well, red eyes losing their sharpness and a smile starting to form on his face as he traces the collar of the shirt.
It's not until Fudou speaks up that he snaps out of his little daze, looking up as if he had been caught daydreaming (well, he had), and standing up almost immediately. Those pajamas remain in his arms, ready to follow]
Yes.
[He was beginning to sound like a broken record at this point, but it's not like he could mess up if his mouth kept shut, right? He moves closer to Fudou, eyes locking with the cool blue ones of the man's, and it's obvious just how much they softened in the time he left and came back.]
[Fudou, observant and perceptive, doesn't miss that change. He figured that a kid who survived that island and came out as its top player had to have some ridiculous level of adaptiveness, but he's pleased to see that it can work in the other direction, too. He had no illusions that Hakuryuu's transition from the shark tank of God Eden to the larger world would be a smooth one, but this sort of skill in the kid in question can affect their progress plenty.
Hakuryuu's eyes put him at ease. As long as he watches himself, gives him the right things, and nudges him the right direction, Hakuryuu will soak it up like a sponge and figure out his own footing.
This kid will take his own steps forward.]
Good answer. Don't forget the towel there -- that one's yours too.
[The tour around the bathroom is quick but thorough. Simple instructions on how to use the shower, explicit permission (and encouragement) for him to use the shampoo and soap, explicitly letting him know that he could soak as long as he needed. He finishes by showing him where to put his dirty clothes, explaining the laundromat situation and that he planned to go this weekend should Hakuryuu have anything else in his luggage that he wanted to have clean. With all that said, he steps back out into the hall while running a hand through his hair; the steam from the bath had made it all humid.]
When you're done I'll make dinner. Udon sound good?
[He's nervous. He's clearly walking on proverbial eggshells around Fudou, waiting for one of them to crack and for this facade of a better life to crumble around him and leave him in the same shambles he'd been in when God Eden had ended. Fudou's soft eyes were a comfort, but one he's afraid to sink into. A forbidden fruit that he knows will turn into a snake and bite his hand.
He doesn't keep his gaze on Fudou's eyes for too long, knowing he'd rightfully cave to the comfort and put him in a vulnerable state. So he focuses on his feet, watching the way Fudou walks. It was a carefree kind of walk, almost lazy in nature but not at all clumsy. Something familiar about it--maybe militaristic but with slack. There was a lot you could tell from someone's gait. How they carry themselves, how they see themselves.
Fudou's matched his personality perfectly.
After grabbing his towel, he follows him to the bathroom--not a long walk by any means, eyes darting to and fro to where Fudou points, making a mental note of everything as he sets his clothes down. Everything seemed simple enough--he knew how to work a shower already (for as rare as they got them at God Eden, but it's not like he spent his whole life there), but what the ins and outs of this specific one were always useful information. His eyes unconsciously widen at 'take as long as you need' and other such encouragements.
This already seemed too good to be true.
With everything set out for him and ready, he goes to remove his coat, too distracted by the action that he only half processes what Fudou says. Udon, huh? That seemed alright. They were full of nutrients and helped with immunity...but it all depends on what kind. And with that thought process...
He can't help but blurt out-]
As long as it's healthy. I don't eat anything that makes me fat.
[And that's when he froze on the spot, eyes snapping open.]
[It's the first time he's heard Hakuryuu say more than a sentence since the match at God Eden. And what a sentence it is. It certainly wasn't one he was expecting, and when Hakuryuu's eyes snap open, Fudou's looking at him with a bit of a blank expression, blue eyes wide, eyebrows raised. He's quiet.
But the silence only lasts for about a second before Fudou's expression changes. His eyes snap closed and his mouth opens, a loud noise leaving his mouth immediately after--]
Haha!
[Laughter.]
If only more athletes were like you. [Himself included, Fudou thinks silently.] Well, it makes it easier if I know your preferences, so I'll keep that in mind.
[So many things race through Hakuryuu's mind in that one second. Was he rude to say that? Was it ungrateful? Sure, it did seem that way...after all, Fudou had opened his house to him. Shouldn't he be happy with whatever he gets? Fudou could have thrown a bag of chips at him and he would have accepted it. Even if it went against his diet he'd built up for himself.
Hospitality was hospitality.
He half expects to get the door pointed out, saying he can leave if udon was too unhealthy for him. Or that he can just go without dinner if that's how he's going to act. But before he can think a moment longer on it, Fudou laughs, jovial and bright, as Hakuryuu can only stare dumbfounded, mouth agape, at the man.]
Y-Yes. [It's stammered out of sheer confusion as Fudou takes his leave, wondering just what happened in those few seconds and how he proverbially stopped the world from ending without really doing anything. He was...complimented? For a comment like that?
...
Fudou had said he could soak as long as he needed to, and with his joints aching and his muscles practically twisted into knots at this point, he welcomed the warm water and the way it soothed out those pains. He doesn't take too long--he has no idea what counts as Fudou's 'long enough', but if it was anything like God Eden's way of bathing, this was pretty much a luxury to even get more than 10 minutes. The hot water's so intoxicating, though, the way he can move easier, his legs don't feel like they weigh 500lbs each...
A smile escapes for just a moment before he realizes that maybe this was long enough, that he should probably get out and into those pajamas that Fudou had bought for him. Grabbing his towel, he exits the bath and briefly pats his hair dry, turning to clean up the water that might have escaped on his exit and getting into those soft pajamas. They felt like clouds on his skin, too comfortable to be legal. The fabric was loose, but kept the heat his skin emanated from the bath inside, making it like its own little blanket of warmth as he puts the towel around his shoulders, only walking out once he's finished cleaning up.
As if no one had even been in there.
Putting his slippers back on, he wanders out into the main section of the apartment, cautiously looking for Fudou.]
[When Hakuryuu gets out of the bath, the heater they turned on earlier has done its job. The apartment is permeated with comfortable warmth, now, not overwhelming but having completely defeated the chill from earlier. The light adds to it, making even the simple, pretty undecorated apartment look welcoming and lived-in. Adding to it, lastly, is the smell of the promised dinner.
Fudou is standing behind the kitchen counter, jacket sleeves pushed up his arms and out of the way as he's cutting up the last of the udon's toppings. Kamaboko fish cakes, abura'age, some green onions -- simple, but colorful and healthy toppings to complete the kitsune udon he was preparing. He'd even taken a moment to make sure the udon's broth wasn't going to be too strong, knowing that that usually meant it would be too salty. He personally didn't care, usually -- food was food -- but if "healthy food" was going to be the one thing Hakuryuu specified despite all that skittishness, then healthy food was going to be one thing he'll make damn sure the kid gets.
(Until they get used to it and he drags him out to Tobitaka's to get some ramen, at least, that is.)
He's just finished cutting and sprinkling the green onions into the noodle bowls when he hears the boy step into the room, putting the knife out of the way into the sink and sliding the cutting board in after it as he raises his head, focused expression easing into a smile again. For now.]
Hey, how was the bath...?
[For now, because after asking the question, the emotion slips off of Fudou's face for the first time this evening, smile shrinking as his lips press together into a point, cat-like eyes opening a fraction wider in what could be confusion, curiosity, or thoughtfulness. It doesn't change into anything beyond that, however, as he picks up the bowls and carries them to the table where placemats and chopsticks had already been laid out at seats across from each other, setting them down...
and turning to Hakuryuu with a now-freed hand held out in a beckoning, "come here" gesture.]
[The house is warm, Hakuryuu almost drunk off its heat as he steps into the main living area. The lighting was a little low, either from ambiance or saving on electric bills, but it gave it a cozy atmosphere that the boy had never really experienced. God Eden had two lightings: Darkness with whatever sunlight could break through the fortress, or the artificial harsh lighting of the training grounds. Neither were particularly welcoming. Unlike this place... The apartment had quickly transformed from a new-environment to a home in the time it took him to soak properly.
It's a slow meander through the hall and out to the main area, his head poking curiously around to see that table already set. The bowls of udon were by Fudou himself, who'd been busy chopping up what looked like scallions. It smelled...amazing, if Hakuryuu was being honest. The steam off the noodles mixed with the green onion and the Kamaboko flakes... How long had it been since he'd had a homecooked meal like this? Sun Garden had provided food, naturally, but with so many newcomers, Hitomiko and Reina couldn't make enough food like this for them all. So onigiri and convenience store items had been Hakuryuu's diet for the past few weeks. A small, childish instinct inside him wants to make a break for those bowls, more starved than he'd ever remembered being on his walk into this place.
But it's an urge he holds back, drawn back to reality as Fudou addresses him.]
It was relaxing. [It's still a short answer, given everything, but he's not restricting himself to 'yes' and 'no' at least.] I made sure not to take too long.
[Fudou's searching, curious eyes catch his attention, though, red ones staring back almost questioningly as they track those bowls in his hand. A child, no matter how adult they try to act, is still a child, and nothing gets their attention quite like a bowl full of warm food.
Thankfully, his self control wins out, and he watches as those bowls get put down, only for Fudou's next request. The towel...was he not supposed to bring it out? Sure, maybe it was a bit damp from the bath...he should have definitely left it back in the bathroom.
Obediently, his hands move up to slide the towel out from his shoulders, offering it over to Fudou without question.]
[He doesn't want the noodles to soak up all the broth, and he can tell Hakuryuu's hungry from the way those eyes follow the bowl. He intends to make this quick, but he also intends to do this now -- if he lets the kid keep his hair like this for too long the water will cool on his head, soak into his clothes, and he'll get cold. Who knows how susceptible fresh-off-the-island soccer players are to the common cold? He's not risking it.
The towel is taken, slipped out of Hakuryuu's grasp with deliberate gentleness, then Fudou steps around behind him to drop it back over his head, hands coming down softly to ruffle his hair through the fabric and soaking up some of that excess water. He makes sure to wrap the longer strands with the towel and pat them dry before they can drip onto the boy's back, hands squeezing with practiced ease. His grip is firm but he never yanks or snags at the hair, massaging into his scalp and fluffing up the top of his head before he pulls the towel away.]
There. You wanna make sure your hair's dry before you come out, so do it thoroughly -- you're not in trouble or anything, but it's still pretty cold in Tokyo this season so you'll catch a cold if you're not careful.
[With a light pat on his shoulder, Hakuryuu is free to move. Their first, brief, minute of contact ends peacefully as Fudou takes a moment to go back to the bathroom and toss the now-wet towel into the hamper as well. He calls from the hallway.]
Can you grab the jug of tea from the fridge? It's barley.
[The whole thing takes less than a couple minutes, between Fudou taking the towel and the towel being flopped over his head. Eyes widen as the room suddenly goes dark, and for a split second, the hairs on the back of his neck raise up, his body tenses, and he's ready for SOMETHING to happen.
Before his mind can really drift to anything necessarily bad, hands go to his head, bracing for what was going to be a smack or a punch, clearly. What he gets? Light ruffling of his hair. There's a soft choked sound underneath the towel, more out of surprise than anything panicked. The towel fluffs his hair, the moisture leaving it significantly lighter than it'd been earlier, but much cleaner and softer than he'd had it before the bath.
It felt...nice.
His heart leaps at the feeling, as if something woke up in his heart that hadn't been felt in years. Hands affectionally ruffling his hair, massaging his scalp through the cloth of the towel. And for just a split second, before his brain quickly shoves it away, he wanted to believe that it was as affectionate as he hoped.
But his heart is not so easily won. While he doesn't shove the gesture away, he does shake his head much like a dog when Fudou stops, towel removed and hair now fluffy and lightweight. His eyes can only stare at Fudou in wonder, as if he were truly the strangest adult he's ever seen in his entire life (not that it was that far of a stretch for Fudou, the man didn't exactly dress like anyone with good taste). This was a boy who'd known nothing but rigorous training, fighting for survival, and letting soccer prove his worth, suddenly in an environment where he was not only welcomed, but cared for as if he'd always belonged there. There's no words to describe what he's feeling right now.
Hope would be a good one, if he were a little more optimistic. The best he can settle for is 'hesitant' and 'curious'. Fudou piqued his curiosity more than anything.
Because why DID Fudou take him in? Questions he should ask him later, maybe.
At the question, though, he perks up and makes his way to the kitchen where the fride is, studying it for a moment before opening it up to get the jug of tea sitting right in front. While the fridge wasn't overly stocked to the point of abundance, it had the necessary items - Eggs, milk, some tupperware containers marked with either days of the week or the names of the people who'd given them to Fudou.
Observant eyes make note of it, but no further comment, other than calling back to him.]
[Fudou's already making his way back from the bathroom as he says this, pulling down the ends of his sleeves as he does, running a hand through his long, messy hair to push some strands out of his face. Rather than head for the table to let Hakuryuu get the cups he rounds the counter, holding his hands out for the jug and cups with a nod of his head toward the set out dinner.]
Here, I'll take over. Go ahead and get started eating -- you hadn't eaten all day, right? Hitomiko-san mentioned it.
[The jug is held in one hand, arm holding it effortlessly as he makes his way to the microwave. Thankfully, he'd been blessed with quite some height for his age, and it didn't take much for him to open up the cabinet and pinch two cups between his thumb and forefinger and pulling them out. It's quick, expertly done as he uses his elbow to shut the cabinet once more and setting those glasses down.
Not that he has much time to do anything after that. Fudou's there in an instant, those blue eyes looking at him with a sort of hidden eagerness Hakuryuu'd never seen on an adult. He freezes on the spot, fingers loosening around those glasses to let them set on the counter completely, other arm obediently handing over the jug.]
I can wait for you.
[Fudou'd worked hard to make this food, and despite his own hunger pangs that sunk their claws into the sides of his stomach, he knew it was rude to start without everyone at the table.
Was this a test? So far everything had been genuine, and he'd played it pretty safe except for that one comment from earlier. His hand plays with his now-fluffed hair, as if he hadn't felt it completely down in quite some time. It'd gotten so long...
There's soft hesitance, as if he's somewhere in a strange limbo of wanting to do as Fudou says, and knowing he probably should wait.]
She said to eat light--it'd be easier on the stomach if I was going pretty far.
[Fudou didn't know Kira Hitomiko that well, but from what he did know of her from those two encounters in middle school and the last couple of weeks of working with her and the Sun Garden... he could see her saying that. But as he takes the jug from Hakuryuu's hands and pours the tea into those cups, he thinks to himself that even if she had said that, this child must have eaten much less than his temporary caretaker had meant.
Oh, well. He's getting food now.
The tea is poured, Fudou picking up one of the glasses for Hakuryuu to take -- his glass, of course -- before he gathers up his own along with the jug, then nodding to signal that they can now, finally, go take their seats at the table.]
Wouldn't have taken long, [he says, voice as soft and even as it's been all evening, stepping forward to lead the way.
Once seated, he doesn't waste any more time for Hakuryuu. He only makes sure that the boy sits first and that he's situated before he says, to give him explicit permission just in case he needs it,] Dig in.
[He takes the glass eagerly, eyes lit up with an intent to please as he looks at it. Food was so easily handed to him now, and while they didn't necessarily starve the kids in God Eden (that would have made for poor performance), it certainly didn't make it less of a shark tank. Here, there's no one to fight for the best food, there's no time limit to eat it all in before getting back to training. His glass was his, and he didn't have to shield it from someone else who might have wanted seconds.]
It's why I didn't mind waiting.
[For someone who tended to call his keshin out two seconds into a soccer match, he certainly had the patience when it came to food or drink. Maybe it's because he's afraid of losing it, if he acts too out of line. He follows Fudou to the table, setting the glass down and looking at the display--it was like a real meal, something he hadn't had in quite some time. The broth smelled delicious, the strong scent of green onion flooding his nostrils and opening up feelings of nostalgia. The warmth hit his face as he sits down, staring at the whole thing in awe as he takes his chopsticks.
Permission seemed to be the last thing holding him back, it seems, taking to that bowl like he hadn't eaten in weeks (and let's be real, he probably hadn't, not properly). The appetite of a teenager is not to be underestimated, it seems, as he's already having to take a small break for air (and to swallow), letting the warm food slide down and fill his stomach.
And for a split second, his stoic exterior drops to show a small smile as he sighs, satiated if only for the moment.]
It's good...
[Red eyes close, soaking in the moment to reflect on everything that ha happened tonight. His own room, a bath, food. Fudou had given him everything that was taken from him in one night, and so easily too. It doesn't go unnoticed, either, eyes opening once more to stare into his broth and watching the seasonings swirl and mix into the noodles.]
Fudou-san. [Was that what he was supposed to call him? That seemed like a safe bet. They'd only truly met just the other day when he got the news he'd be going to his home to stay. But his question hangs in his throat for a split second, before letting it come out.] I remember back in God Eden...you play soccer too.
[Granted, he'd only seen him for a split second on the field, the rest of the time he was on the bench.]
[It's not that Fudou doesn't eat, either. He's picked up his chopsticks, and he's scooped up a few noodles, carrying it to his mouth and slurping it up at a decent speed, although it has nothing on Hakuryuu's. It contributes to making it look like he's not eating, at first, as when Hakuryuu pauses his inhaling of the food to take a breath and start talking again, Fudou's eyes are on him, watching that change of expression.
He doesn't point out the smile on Hakuryuu's face. But he remembers it, carving it into his memory so that he would never forget, along with the vow to himself that that smile is now his duty to ease out and protect.
Endou Mamoru would give him the most shit-eating grin.]
Midfielder.
[He has to pause a little to think about how else to add to that. He didn't quite ever figure out how to talk about himself in that way -- most people just picked it up from watching him, or only talked to him after seeing his play. Hm.]
[The conversation does well to distract him from the new situation he's in, and he'll gladly take the topic of soccer as a comforting familiarity. Someone out there, someone with cheerful slate-blue eyes and brown hair would say soccer had a way of bringing almost anyone together, even those who were only strangers that morning. Hakuryuu wouldn't say that himself, but he could at least admit that it made dinner warmer than just the noodles.
Midfielder.
It somehow makes sense. He couldn't really see the man as a forward, something about that personality seemed to place him in the center of the field. And he'd been too mobile during the game with Raimon to be a defender like that bearded man and blue haired man he'd seen.
A tactician? He holds his next bite by his mouth, some of the noodles falling out of the chopsticks in thought.]
[Honestly, when Fudou thought about it, the term "playmaker" only made him think of one person. Lighter, dreadlocked hair, goggles that were now replaced by sunglasses, wrinkles constantly formed between those brows except in moments of soccer-related delight. A brilliant mind who'd found the light at the end of the tunnel, placed at the side of a man who shone like the sun...]
I'm not sure if I was much of a playmaker as opposed to the guy who jumped in to change the flow of the match when necessary. Breaker, more like.
Every guy has a different role on his team, don't you think?
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[Hakuryuu's answer is acknowledged by a nod before Fudou starts to step further into the apartment, picking up a remote control and pointing it out a white machine attached higher up on the wall. With a low whirring noise the heating system comes to life, and the chilled living space will soon warm up. It's only then that Fudou shrugs off his own jacket, slipping it onto a hanger that he pulls from a closet by the entrance. A second hanger is held out in Hakuryuu's direction for his own outer layer.]
Sorry it's small. I only got here a few months ago in a hurry so I didn't have time to be picky about the place, but it's pretty convenient. And easy to figure out your way around.
[And, without moving, as not to startle Hakuryuu with suddenly advancements,] Let me carry that suitcase. I'll show you where your room is.
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Only for it to be trapped under those crisscrossed shoulder bags. He'd have to--okay, give him a moment to take those off, lifting the straps over his head and through his ponytail and setting them down just next to his feet. It's only then that Hakuryuu actually reaches for the hanger, taking it gently and shimmying one arm out of that jacket.]
I-It's not that! [His voice may have raised a little in panic, wondering if he'd already offended Fudou on his living quarters. It was already miles above what he remembers at God Eden, and the warmth slowly starting to fill the apartment eased the usual aching chill of his bones, but...
Maybe he expected an ex-Raimon in something more flashy, is all.
Words he'd never say to Fudou's face.] God Eden just didn't have actual houses. [A good enough answer, he hopes, as he lets Fudou take his suitcase, his own arms slinging his bags over one shoulder.]
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[Fudou's voice, on the other hand, remains level and even light. He'd taken no offense in anything Hakuryuu said, and the explanation he's given only makes the most sense. He'd been on that island long enough to know most of its structure; aside from that one barren shelter Endou came across, there was nothing outside of the Sector's structure on the other side. An apartment like this would never have existed there.
Taking the suitcase in his hand -- it's light, as he expected -- he waits for Hakuryuu to put his jacket away before nodding and turning to lead the way.
The apartment was clearly chosen, initially, with only one occupant in mind. They pass through a living space with an open kitchen; a short on the other side of the room contains three doors, two of which Fudou points out as the toilet and bathroom respectively. He stops in front of the last door, furthest back, and enters the room after another nod to the boy.
He may have signed the lease for this place months ago, but he rarely spent time here. He was mostly on the move, talking to Kazemaru or Kabeyama or Fubuki in different regions of the country, and this was where he'd come back to every two weeks and crash for a few hours before leaving again. Most of the furniture were things he acquired over these past two weeks to prepare for a child that deserved more than short naps on a park bench.
A simple storage bed pushed up against one wall, a chabudai table sitting on a rug with a small television installed across from it on top of a low dresser. The futon put over the bed is simple but new, and a folded set of clothes and bath towel have been set on top of it -- the pajamas Fudou had mentioned.]
Here. Get comfortable if you want, I'm gonna go get the bath ready.
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The bathroom and toilet made up the two other doors, which left one room that had to be Fudou's. He doesn't make a move or speak a word as Fudou opens the door, revealing the room inside. It was simple, cold from the lack of heat (although that'd soon be fixed), with a table, a TV, a futon... Hakuryuu's eyes practically widen at the...normalcy of the space.
It was a real room.
But like most kids his age, Hakuryuu can do simple math. And if there was three rooms to this apartment not including the main den, and two of them were the toilet and bathroom. That left this to be Fudou's. Which meant he would have to sleep elsewhere. But Fudou had called this his room, hadn't he? The pajamas on the bed proved it, and red eyes flick to the man in confusion.]
Wait.
[That came out a little more commanding than he intended, closing himself off immediately and folding his arms.]
This is your room.
[As if to remind Fudou that it's not Hakuryuu who was living here first.]
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[Most of the time he crashed on the couch in the living room with the TV and the heater on, leaving this one empty save for the suitcase he first brought along and the dinky old TV he received when he moved into his first apartment in college. Everything else...
He steps into the room, quickly turning on the light and heat and depositing the suitcase by the bed.]
This room's yours. You can do whatever you want with it.
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The words bounce richochet off the insides of his skull, smacking around in his brain like an angry bee and practically stunning him at that moment. He'd insisted this was Fudou's room, he'd had it confirmed, even. Hakuryuu had no expectations to start with, but even he could put two and two together that the person paying for the apartment would be the one to get the room. The couch did look comfy, Hakuryuu wouldn't have bat an eye at sleeping on it.
But here he was, someone from Raimon who'd officially taken custody of him, and giving him his room. It takes every ounce of willpower to move his legs--not out of stubbornness, but out of pure shock as he slowly walks into the room, like an animal stepping out of its cage for the first time. He makes his way over to the bed, fingers running along the futon and up to the pajamas. White and gray, probably picked just to be safe. But they were soft, freshly bought, and his size.
He wants to believe this, he really does. But the lingering thought of God Eden shoves that buzzing bee of positivity down into submission, gripping the strap on that bag extra tight.
His face is stoic as he nods. He ha to acknowledge what Fudou had done for him, at the very least.]
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[Fudou's leaned against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest and a small smile on his face should Hakuryuu look over. It's a gentle look, if he could recognize it as so, Fudou's entire demeanor at ease and without tension. Loose like his hair.]
It might take a while to get used to, but if there's anything you've got plenty of now, it's time. You can warm up the room as you need it, and I'll call you when the bath's ready, got it?
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Y-Yes.
[There's nothing more said after that, removing the bags from his shoulder to set down next to the suitcase. Fudou's face is so much different than the face of someone he's supposed to immediately respect and give allegiance to. It was softer, relaxed...and that buzzing in his head of the selfish want to just accept this as what it is strikes up once more.
His hands go back to those pajamas, holding them to his chest as he sits down on the futon, sinking into its softness as he takes all this in. The clothes remain untouched otherwise--he's not going to change into them until after his bath, but they were in his hands, gripped so tight as if protecting it from some unknown predator. He'd wait until he was called at least, until then he'd try and process this in his brain.
Maybe a bath sounded good, after all.]
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A'ight. Call you in a bit.
[The bathroom is not far from the bedroom. A few steps down the hall, through a door into the changing room. It's an apartment without a washing unit, and Fudou had been taking his laundry to the coin laundry on the corner the last few months. He briefly hopes Hakuryuu has another set of clothes to wear in that luggage of his. What he's wearing now seems to have been on him for at least a few days; he's sure Kiyama would've had something prepared for him but it's questionable whether Hakuryuu would've accepted it or not.
Kiyama's a good guy, but that gay-ass smile of his sure is unnerving sometimes...
Thinking about a certain red-haired teammate from days past, Fudou lets out a small chuckle and opens up the folding door to the washroom. Pulling up his pants legs and peeling off his socks, he steps inside the small, but well-lit and clean room to make sure he hadn't forgotten to wash up anything the last time he used it. It's a few minutes for him to fill up the bathtub with hot water and make sure the shower temperature isn't set to scalding, putting the shampoo, conditioner, and body wash bottles where Hakuryuu will be able to find and reach them with ease. He also makes sure to set out the new washcloth and sponge he made sure he got for the kid.
Rather than call Hakuryuu's name loudly, Fudou will come back to the room after everything's ready, wiping the last of the water from his hands on his pants.]
Hakuryuu, [he says once he's standing in the doorway again, voice quiet, light. Not demanding in any way.] The bath's ready. Come with me and lemme show you how to turn on the shower and stuff.
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With a small breath, he stands up, pacing around the place with his head held up high, inspecting the ceiling and the walls, craning his body over (while keeping those pajamas bound tightly to his chest by his arms) to look at the heater, to see what magazines were on the table. Everything had that 'new' feeling to him, possibly in the best way he could have ever imagined. But there's a small nagging feeling in the back of his head, one that he's been fighting ever since Fudou had picked him up.
"How long will this last?"
After his lap around the room, he finds his way back to the futon, plopping down on it once more and looking more at the pajamas that lay in his arms. His thumb brushes over the fabric, obviously freshly bought and ready to be worn. And in turn, his face begins to soften as well, red eyes losing their sharpness and a smile starting to form on his face as he traces the collar of the shirt.
It's not until Fudou speaks up that he snaps out of his little daze, looking up as if he had been caught daydreaming (well, he had), and standing up almost immediately. Those pajamas remain in his arms, ready to follow]
Yes.
[He was beginning to sound like a broken record at this point, but it's not like he could mess up if his mouth kept shut, right? He moves closer to Fudou, eyes locking with the cool blue ones of the man's, and it's obvious just how much they softened in the time he left and came back.]
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Hakuryuu's eyes put him at ease. As long as he watches himself, gives him the right things, and nudges him the right direction, Hakuryuu will soak it up like a sponge and figure out his own footing.
This kid will take his own steps forward.]
Good answer. Don't forget the towel there -- that one's yours too.
[The tour around the bathroom is quick but thorough. Simple instructions on how to use the shower, explicit permission (and encouragement) for him to use the shampoo and soap, explicitly letting him know that he could soak as long as he needed. He finishes by showing him where to put his dirty clothes, explaining the laundromat situation and that he planned to go this weekend should Hakuryuu have anything else in his luggage that he wanted to have clean. With all that said, he steps back out into the hall while running a hand through his hair; the steam from the bath had made it all humid.]
When you're done I'll make dinner. Udon sound good?
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He doesn't keep his gaze on Fudou's eyes for too long, knowing he'd rightfully cave to the comfort and put him in a vulnerable state. So he focuses on his feet, watching the way Fudou walks. It was a carefree kind of walk, almost lazy in nature but not at all clumsy. Something familiar about it--maybe militaristic but with slack. There was a lot you could tell from someone's gait. How they carry themselves, how they see themselves.
Fudou's matched his personality perfectly.
After grabbing his towel, he follows him to the bathroom--not a long walk by any means, eyes darting to and fro to where Fudou points, making a mental note of everything as he sets his clothes down. Everything seemed simple enough--he knew how to work a shower already (for as rare as they got them at God Eden, but it's not like he spent his whole life there), but what the ins and outs of this specific one were always useful information. His eyes unconsciously widen at 'take as long as you need' and other such encouragements.
This already seemed too good to be true.
With everything set out for him and ready, he goes to remove his coat, too distracted by the action that he only half processes what Fudou says. Udon, huh? That seemed alright. They were full of nutrients and helped with immunity...but it all depends on what kind. And with that thought process...
He can't help but blurt out-]
As long as it's healthy. I don't eat anything that makes me fat.
[And that's when he froze on the spot, eyes snapping open.]
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But the silence only lasts for about a second before Fudou's expression changes. His eyes snap closed and his mouth opens, a loud noise leaving his mouth immediately after--]
Haha!
[Laughter.]
If only more athletes were like you. [Himself included, Fudou thinks silently.] Well, it makes it easier if I know your preferences, so I'll keep that in mind.
Udon it is. I'll have it ready, then.
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Hospitality was hospitality.
He half expects to get the door pointed out, saying he can leave if udon was too unhealthy for him. Or that he can just go without dinner if that's how he's going to act. But before he can think a moment longer on it, Fudou laughs, jovial and bright, as Hakuryuu can only stare dumbfounded, mouth agape, at the man.]
Y-Yes. [It's stammered out of sheer confusion as Fudou takes his leave, wondering just what happened in those few seconds and how he proverbially stopped the world from ending without really doing anything. He was...complimented? For a comment like that?
...
Fudou had said he could soak as long as he needed to, and with his joints aching and his muscles practically twisted into knots at this point, he welcomed the warm water and the way it soothed out those pains. He doesn't take too long--he has no idea what counts as Fudou's 'long enough', but if it was anything like God Eden's way of bathing, this was pretty much a luxury to even get more than 10 minutes. The hot water's so intoxicating, though, the way he can move easier, his legs don't feel like they weigh 500lbs each...
A smile escapes for just a moment before he realizes that maybe this was long enough, that he should probably get out and into those pajamas that Fudou had bought for him. Grabbing his towel, he exits the bath and briefly pats his hair dry, turning to clean up the water that might have escaped on his exit and getting into those soft pajamas. They felt like clouds on his skin, too comfortable to be legal. The fabric was loose, but kept the heat his skin emanated from the bath inside, making it like its own little blanket of warmth as he puts the towel around his shoulders, only walking out once he's finished cleaning up.
As if no one had even been in there.
Putting his slippers back on, he wanders out into the main section of the apartment, cautiously looking for Fudou.]
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Fudou is standing behind the kitchen counter, jacket sleeves pushed up his arms and out of the way as he's cutting up the last of the udon's toppings. Kamaboko fish cakes, abura'age, some green onions -- simple, but colorful and healthy toppings to complete the kitsune udon he was preparing. He'd even taken a moment to make sure the udon's broth wasn't going to be too strong, knowing that that usually meant it would be too salty. He personally didn't care, usually -- food was food -- but if "healthy food" was going to be the one thing Hakuryuu specified despite all that skittishness, then healthy food was going to be one thing he'll make damn sure the kid gets.
(Until they get used to it and he drags him out to Tobitaka's to get some ramen, at least, that is.)
He's just finished cutting and sprinkling the green onions into the noodle bowls when he hears the boy step into the room, putting the knife out of the way into the sink and sliding the cutting board in after it as he raises his head, focused expression easing into a smile again. For now.]
Hey, how was the bath...?
[For now, because after asking the question, the emotion slips off of Fudou's face for the first time this evening, smile shrinking as his lips press together into a point, cat-like eyes opening a fraction wider in what could be confusion, curiosity, or thoughtfulness. It doesn't change into anything beyond that, however, as he picks up the bowls and carries them to the table where placemats and chopsticks had already been laid out at seats across from each other, setting them down...
and turning to Hakuryuu with a now-freed hand held out in a beckoning, "come here" gesture.]
Lemme see that towel for a sec.
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It's a slow meander through the hall and out to the main area, his head poking curiously around to see that table already set. The bowls of udon were by Fudou himself, who'd been busy chopping up what looked like scallions. It smelled...amazing, if Hakuryuu was being honest. The steam off the noodles mixed with the green onion and the Kamaboko flakes... How long had it been since he'd had a homecooked meal like this? Sun Garden had provided food, naturally, but with so many newcomers, Hitomiko and Reina couldn't make enough food like this for them all. So onigiri and convenience store items had been Hakuryuu's diet for the past few weeks. A small, childish instinct inside him wants to make a break for those bowls, more starved than he'd ever remembered being on his walk into this place.
But it's an urge he holds back, drawn back to reality as Fudou addresses him.]
It was relaxing. [It's still a short answer, given everything, but he's not restricting himself to 'yes' and 'no' at least.] I made sure not to take too long.
[Fudou's searching, curious eyes catch his attention, though, red ones staring back almost questioningly as they track those bowls in his hand. A child, no matter how adult they try to act, is still a child, and nothing gets their attention quite like a bowl full of warm food.
Thankfully, his self control wins out, and he watches as those bowls get put down, only for Fudou's next request. The towel...was he not supposed to bring it out? Sure, maybe it was a bit damp from the bath...he should have definitely left it back in the bathroom.
Obediently, his hands move up to slide the towel out from his shoulders, offering it over to Fudou without question.]
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The towel is taken, slipped out of Hakuryuu's grasp with deliberate gentleness, then Fudou steps around behind him to drop it back over his head, hands coming down softly to ruffle his hair through the fabric and soaking up some of that excess water. He makes sure to wrap the longer strands with the towel and pat them dry before they can drip onto the boy's back, hands squeezing with practiced ease. His grip is firm but he never yanks or snags at the hair, massaging into his scalp and fluffing up the top of his head before he pulls the towel away.]
There. You wanna make sure your hair's dry before you come out, so do it thoroughly -- you're not in trouble or anything, but it's still pretty cold in Tokyo this season so you'll catch a cold if you're not careful.
[With a light pat on his shoulder, Hakuryuu is free to move. Their first, brief, minute of contact ends peacefully as Fudou takes a moment to go back to the bathroom and toss the now-wet towel into the hamper as well. He calls from the hallway.]
Can you grab the jug of tea from the fridge? It's barley.
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Before his mind can really drift to anything necessarily bad, hands go to his head, bracing for what was going to be a smack or a punch, clearly. What he gets? Light ruffling of his hair. There's a soft choked sound underneath the towel, more out of surprise than anything panicked. The towel fluffs his hair, the moisture leaving it significantly lighter than it'd been earlier, but much cleaner and softer than he'd had it before the bath.
It felt...nice.
His heart leaps at the feeling, as if something woke up in his heart that hadn't been felt in years. Hands affectionally ruffling his hair, massaging his scalp through the cloth of the towel. And for just a split second, before his brain quickly shoves it away, he wanted to believe that it was as affectionate as he hoped.
But his heart is not so easily won. While he doesn't shove the gesture away, he does shake his head much like a dog when Fudou stops, towel removed and hair now fluffy and lightweight. His eyes can only stare at Fudou in wonder, as if he were truly the strangest adult he's ever seen in his entire life (not that it was that far of a stretch for Fudou, the man didn't exactly dress like anyone with good taste). This was a boy who'd known nothing but rigorous training, fighting for survival, and letting soccer prove his worth, suddenly in an environment where he was not only welcomed, but cared for as if he'd always belonged there. There's no words to describe what he's feeling right now.
Hope would be a good one, if he were a little more optimistic. The best he can settle for is 'hesitant' and 'curious'. Fudou piqued his curiosity more than anything.
Because why DID Fudou take him in? Questions he should ask him later, maybe.
At the question, though, he perks up and makes his way to the kitchen where the fride is, studying it for a moment before opening it up to get the jug of tea sitting right in front. While the fridge wasn't overly stocked to the point of abundance, it had the necessary items - Eggs, milk, some tupperware containers marked with either days of the week or the names of the people who'd given them to Fudou.
Observant eyes make note of it, but no further comment, other than calling back to him.]
I got it!
Where are the glasses?
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[Fudou's already making his way back from the bathroom as he says this, pulling down the ends of his sleeves as he does, running a hand through his long, messy hair to push some strands out of his face. Rather than head for the table to let Hakuryuu get the cups he rounds the counter, holding his hands out for the jug and cups with a nod of his head toward the set out dinner.]
Here, I'll take over. Go ahead and get started eating -- you hadn't eaten all day, right? Hitomiko-san mentioned it.
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Not that he has much time to do anything after that. Fudou's there in an instant, those blue eyes looking at him with a sort of hidden eagerness Hakuryuu'd never seen on an adult. He freezes on the spot, fingers loosening around those glasses to let them set on the counter completely, other arm obediently handing over the jug.]
I can wait for you.
[Fudou'd worked hard to make this food, and despite his own hunger pangs that sunk their claws into the sides of his stomach, he knew it was rude to start without everyone at the table.
Was this a test? So far everything had been genuine, and he'd played it pretty safe except for that one comment from earlier. His hand plays with his now-fluffed hair, as if he hadn't felt it completely down in quite some time. It'd gotten so long...
There's soft hesitance, as if he's somewhere in a strange limbo of wanting to do as Fudou says, and knowing he probably should wait.]
She said to eat light--it'd be easier on the stomach if I was going pretty far.
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Oh, well. He's getting food now.
The tea is poured, Fudou picking up one of the glasses for Hakuryuu to take -- his glass, of course -- before he gathers up his own along with the jug, then nodding to signal that they can now, finally, go take their seats at the table.]
Wouldn't have taken long, [he says, voice as soft and even as it's been all evening, stepping forward to lead the way.
Once seated, he doesn't waste any more time for Hakuryuu. He only makes sure that the boy sits first and that he's situated before he says, to give him explicit permission just in case he needs it,] Dig in.
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It's why I didn't mind waiting.
[For someone who tended to call his keshin out two seconds into a soccer match, he certainly had the patience when it came to food or drink. Maybe it's because he's afraid of losing it, if he acts too out of line. He follows Fudou to the table, setting the glass down and looking at the display--it was like a real meal, something he hadn't had in quite some time. The broth smelled delicious, the strong scent of green onion flooding his nostrils and opening up feelings of nostalgia. The warmth hit his face as he sits down, staring at the whole thing in awe as he takes his chopsticks.
Permission seemed to be the last thing holding him back, it seems, taking to that bowl like he hadn't eaten in weeks (and let's be real, he probably hadn't, not properly). The appetite of a teenager is not to be underestimated, it seems, as he's already having to take a small break for air (and to swallow), letting the warm food slide down and fill his stomach.
And for a split second, his stoic exterior drops to show a small smile as he sighs, satiated if only for the moment.]
It's good...
[Red eyes close, soaking in the moment to reflect on everything that ha happened tonight. His own room, a bath, food. Fudou had given him everything that was taken from him in one night, and so easily too. It doesn't go unnoticed, either, eyes opening once more to stare into his broth and watching the seasonings swirl and mix into the noodles.]
Fudou-san. [Was that what he was supposed to call him? That seemed like a safe bet. They'd only truly met just the other day when he got the news he'd be going to his home to stay. But his question hangs in his throat for a split second, before letting it come out.] I remember back in God Eden...you play soccer too.
[Granted, he'd only seen him for a split second on the field, the rest of the time he was on the bench.]
What position are you?
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He doesn't point out the smile on Hakuryuu's face. But he remembers it, carving it into his memory so that he would never forget, along with the vow to himself that that smile is now his duty to ease out and protect.
Endou Mamoru would give him the most shit-eating grin.]
Midfielder.
[He has to pause a little to think about how else to add to that. He didn't quite ever figure out how to talk about himself in that way -- most people just picked it up from watching him, or only talked to him after seeing his play. Hm.]
Mostly there for tactics and strategy...?
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Midfielder.
It somehow makes sense. He couldn't really see the man as a forward, something about that personality seemed to place him in the center of the field. And he'd been too mobile during the game with Raimon to be a defender like that bearded man and blue haired man he'd seen.
A tactician? He holds his next bite by his mouth, some of the noodles falling out of the chopsticks in thought.]
So you were a playmaker.
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[Honestly, when Fudou thought about it, the term "playmaker" only made him think of one person. Lighter, dreadlocked hair, goggles that were now replaced by sunglasses, wrinkles constantly formed between those brows except in moments of soccer-related delight. A brilliant mind who'd found the light at the end of the tunnel, placed at the side of a man who shone like the sun...]
I'm not sure if I was much of a playmaker as opposed to the guy who jumped in to change the flow of the match when necessary. Breaker, more like.
Every guy has a different role on his team, don't you think?
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