2.4. The Expensive Mistake

"I don't care!"

Y/N glanced up from his book. He was curled up on his bed, swaddled in heavy blankets and leaning against fluffy pillows. His young, six year old's eyes drifted to the door, as his lips pressed together in a childish pout. Even though the door was closed, he could hear the yelling.

"I don't want this! I never wanted this!"

"Baby, it's fine! Just listen to me a moment- I have ideas!"

"Screw your ideas! Last time you had an idea, we-"

"We don't talk about that."

Y/N shifted in the pile of blankets. It was nice and warm there. Like a big hug. Or a cloud. They wrapped around him like a pair of arms, holding him gently in a soft embrace. His book was nice too. There were pretty pictures. And the words were big and easy to read.

"Don't you dare throw that!"

"I will if you don't listen to me! I'm trying to help us here!"

"You're a terrible helper!"

"You're a terrible wife!"

Y/N liked his room. It was small, but to him, that meant it was cosy. It wasn't like the rest of the house, which was big and scary and full of cold glass and hard marble. It was barely big enough for his bed, but that was okay. His light was a warm yellow, hanging from the low ceiling. And his cupboard was big enough for him to fit the few clothes he had.

"Says you, L/N! You're always working! You never have any time for me, just your business!"

"Oh, we're doing last names now? And I do business for us, so you don't have to work!"

"You keep saying everything is 'for us', but it isn't. You're just doing everything for yourself!"

"Shut the fuck up! Just listen to me for a second. I know this is fucking stressful, but we have to do something about him!"

Y/N caught the last bit. Of course they were talking about him. They were always talking about him, when he was inside his room. They didn't know Y/N heard every single argument, every profanity yelled across the hallway outside, all of the crying and screaming and hatred going on just outside his door.

"Look, if we stay here, the media is going to eat this up. We need to do something, and before you say anything, I do have an idea."

"This better be good."

"Just cut ties with him. Send him away, and they'll never find out. We can send him money if you feel bad, and we can give him a house servant for a while because he's so young."

"It almost sounds like you care about him."

"Why would I care about your fucking mistake?"

"My mistake? I'm sorry, just mine? It was both of ours! If you hadn't given me all that drink, we'd have been more careful!"

"If you could keep it in your pants, he wouldn't exist."

Y/N's eyes slowly scanned the book. In the book, there was a pretty picture of a frog. He knew it wasn't an actual frog though. It was a fairy prince, a very handsome one at that. He was transformed into the frog by the evil witch.

"Look, we'll just send him away. Give him money, whatever, I don't want a negligence case on my hands if they do find out. It'll be fine."

"Give him a new name too. They'll never know."

"Mikage Corp can do that for us. They have a bunch of influence with the government. I'm sure they'll help us, with a bit of money."

"How much?"

"Probably a few million."

"Expensive mistake, isn't it."

"Better than letting everyone else find out."

Y/N flipped over the page. The rustle of paper filled the quiet, small room. The princess was thinking, either kiss the frog, or don't. Y/N thought kissing a frog would be disgusting. But he knew it was a fairy prince in disguise, so he nodded innocently as the princess did it. He was comfy in the blankets.

The door opened. Y/N's mother came in, a young woman with an expensive dress. He didn't know much about it, except that the one time he'd accidentally spilt water on it, his mother had slammed her handbag into his face.

She must have really liked that dress.

"Y/N. Get up."

His father came in a moment later. "You're going on holiday."

And that was how six-year old Y/N L/N found himself living in an apartment by himself, in one of the most busy megacities in the world, registered to a school he had no clue how to get to, with nothing but a monthly payment into a bank account he didn't know how to use and a life coach to teach him how to survive.

The life coach left after two years, and Y/N L/N was alone.

🥕🥕🥕

The morning of the match, Y/N awoke to find the pillow under his eyes soaked with tears.

Sae had given him the day off yesterday, claiming that Y/N needed rest before the match. It was the most important game of his life so far, and he wasn't about to be tired going into it.

Over the past week, he and Sae had done more and more training as a pair. They'd gradually gotten used to each other's playing styles, what they wanted, how they liked to move and pass and shoot. Sae said they'd been improving, and now that Y/N's stamina was enough to play for at least half a match, it was much easier to practise drills.

Y/N surged forwards up the training field Sae used. It was regularly rented out by the government, in a secluded area of Tokyo that meant barely any people would go. He sped past a few cones that served as defenders, shoved past a pole, and for a brief second, was in the gap between four cones.

Sae'd already kicked the ball, a perfect pass that threaded the needle between the cones he was surrounded by, and the ones Y/N was currently moving through. Y/N didn't even have to slow down to receive it - he hopped, using the outside of his foot to catch the ball, and flew past another set of cones.

As Y/N dribbled through another lot of cones, Sae was already dashing forwards. He waved in and out of a set of poles, and when Y/N had a moment to spare, he passed the ball quick to his feet.

He then sprinted straight for the goal. As Sae faked one shot, Y/N dodged around a pole. Sae moved forward a little more; Y/N broke out into an all out run.

Finally, the midfielder prepared a shot. He circled around one more cone, raising his leg back in a movement that would've definitely appeared like a shot on goal to a defender. Y/N drew close to the goal.

Sae fired the ball, curving in the air. Any defenders would have no chance at getting to it, and Y/N jumped impressively high into the air. He caught it on his chest, landed, and spun. He didn't even put two feet on the ground - he twisted midair, slamming the ball at lightning speed into the top corner of the net.

Sae'd complimented him for the first time then. "Good work. You're a good striker to work with."

Y/N smiled at the memory, doing his best to ignore the nightmare he'd just woken up from. His eyes flickered to the clock on the low nightstand next to him. 9:30.a.m. The game was due to start at one, where it would have the largest possible audience. It was Sunday.

"I was just about to wake you."

Sae walked in, carrying a cup of water. He took a sip, looking down at Y/N lying in the bed. Teal eyes glanced at Y/N's tear-soaked pillow, then back to him. His expression didn't change as Y/N tried to discreetly flip the pillow over. "I'm awake."

"I can see that." He sipped his water a second time, not moving.

"Do you want something?"

"Hm."

"Hm what?" Y/N sat up in bed, sheets falling off his upper body. "Is it about the game?"

"Do you want to live with me?"

Y/N blinked. He met Sae's completely neutral gaze, a little confused. "What?"

"Do you want to live with me?"

"I..." Despite hesitating, Y/N wanted to accept. Sae had been so kind to him, and even if he didn't show it, he knew Sae cared in his own, sort of distant way. He acted like a big brother to Y/N, gifting him things, keeping him company, and making sure Y/N didn't ever have to feel alone. "Why do you ask?"

"Why not?"

"W-well... it's just... isn't it a little distracting to have me living here? And you have to keep teaching me stuff, and buying me stuff, and helping me with stuff."

"And is that a bad thing?" Sae quietly said. "Y/N, I enjoy having you here."

Y/N was left speechless. He sat in bed, staring up with surprised wide eyes. Sae just raised an eyebrow. They stared at each other for a few seconds, until Sae eventually sat on the edge of his bed. "Got something to say?"

"Why...?"

Sae shrugged once. His neutral eyes found a place on the wall, and he spoke slowly as he thought. "I guess... you make me feel real." Y/N frowned, but Sae seemed like he wanted to keep talking. "I don't really have a life, you know? I couldn't remember the last time I did something not soccer related until you came to live with me."

Y/N listened silently. Sae's eyes found his own. "And yeah. I'm going to be the best midfielder in the world. I am the best midfielder in the world. And I am going to create the best striker in the world. But that doesn't mean I have to be distant from everyone and everything."

Sae hummed thoughtfully. "Besides, it's nice to have a little brother again. So, how about it?" He looked the most out of his depth Y/N had ever seen.

"I... it sounds nice." Y/N quietly admitted. His entire life, he'd been alone. So this was all new to him. "I'll think about it."

Something strange happened to Sae's face. His lips curved upwards, ever so slightly, and his eyes brightened a little bit. His usually perfectly rigid posture became a tad more relaxed, and he exhaled slowly. "Okay."

He sipped his water again, and began to walk to the stairs leading to the main area of the penthouse. "Thank you. Get up, we're going to head to the stadium soon."

Y/N watched him go. Something tingled in his stomach at the idea of the game, rippling up and down his body and igniting a warmth in his chest. He smiled, the feeling growing inside him.

Because he was finally going to show the world how good he was.