you were seven years old when you first met the piece of trash named michael kaiser.
sitting on the swings alone with a busted violet lip and ripped jeans and scratched up, bloody knees wasn’t considered the ideal invitation for a friendship. but you had mindlessly approached him, sitting on the swing next to him before waving to him.
subhuman garbage looked up, wondering why such a nice girl would be looking at him, talking to him. but he didn’t question it and instead listened to you talk, introducing himself.
“but i don’t like to be called michael, so don’t call me that.”
“got it! you’re mihya then!”
subhuman shit—no, newly named mihya felt his heart skip a beat. no one was ever affectionate enough to give him a nickname, so such an experience made mihya strangely ecstatic. he nodded, a small smile slowly making way onto his swollen lips. “right. im mihya.”
the second time you saw mihya was only a few days later.
he had been sitting on the swings, crying his eyes out. this time he had a nosebleed, angry red marks on his neck, and his hands were nearly purple. you had approached him, your eyebrows knit together.
mihya had sniffled before looking up at you. “will you get mad at me…?” he choked out weakly. your jaw dropped, grasping both of his hands.
“mihya, i would never get mad at you!” you exclaimed. “you’re my friend!”
mihya muttered something incoherent before sighing. “…my dad. he gets mad a lot.”
you blinked a few times, your seven year old mind not quite comprehending the situation. but you frowned, looking up at the sky. “oh, i really hate it whenever mama and dad get mad at me. your dad is always mad? that sounds so bad. im so sorry, mihya.”
mihya nodded. “it’s…don’t worry about it.”
one day, after many encounters and at eight years old, you finally spoke your thoughts.
“i think your house is haunted.”
mihya, who had been chewing on garlic and sugar flavored bread from the bakery, stopped mid chew. “why?”
“well, your dad is always mad, and you’re always crying. you’re outside as much as you possibly can, and you don’t wanna be there. that sounds haunted to me. and when you are, you hide from him.” you muttered. “i don’t like that. i don’t like how you’re always crying and hiding.”
mihya hummed, quick to respond. “well, i guess i really got no other choice. i wanna avoid getting hit as much as i can.”
your chest tightened to the point where it hurt, a frown making way onto your face. “i love you, you know that? to the moon and saturn, i really do love you.”
and eight years old, having such a crush probably won’t end good for him. but no one had ever told him that they loved him before, and yet you say it out of nowhere, and to the moon and saturn? he might just die of happiness.
heat spread throughout his cheeks before he squeaked out. “i-i love you…too?” you gave him a toothy grin and gave him a high-five.
at ten years old, you’re on the swings once more, this time with a blue raspberry popsicle in between your lips. mihya has a strawberry flavored one, bought using your money.
“you know, mihya. we should move away forever. or maybe we could be pirates or something. y’know, like from one piece.” you said dreamily.
“that came out of nowhere. why?” mihya replied, tossing his now empty stick into the trash can of the park.
“so that we could get away from your damn father and you won’t have to cry anymore.” you muttered, pouting. “i’ve never even met the guy, and yet i hate him.” you chomped down on the popsicle stick, breaking it in half.
mihya laughed. “yeah? i want to leave too. and it sounds nice to leave with you.”
at fourteen, the news arrived.
you sat on the swings, sobbing into your hands. mihya had come from behind you, his heart aching when he saw your tears. you were the love of his life (you just didn’t know it yet), and your tears hurt him.
three words, and yet it wasn’t the usual three words that was like music to mihya’s ears.
he swallowed, tears stinging his own eyes. “to where…?”
“japan. apparently it’s supposed to be a safer environment there or something like that. i have to learn the language and the customs and everything.” you sniffled. “but i don’t want to. i don’t want to leave everything i know. but i mostly don’t want to leave you, mihya.”
mihya wanted to go to your family and interrogate them and to beg them to let you stay. he couldn’t live without you, he wouldn’t be able to survive without the light of his life. you would leave and forget him within a month or two because you have all new friends, and he’ll just be another piece of your forgotten childhood. but you would still be his whole life; you were his first friend, his only real friend.
the only person who he will ever love and the only person who will ever love him.
“right. got it.” mihya replied, his throat dry.
two weeks later, mihya became subhuman piece of shit again.
however, at fifteen, the subhuman was arrested and eventually scouted.
at nineteen, kaiser traveled to japan to participate in the still fairly recent blue lock program. although he was interested in blue lock’s new rising player isagi yoichi, he wondered if he could coincidentally see you.
nothing was impossible, after all.
for the past five years, you’ve been lonely.
the language barrier was resolved within three years of hard work, but unknown customs and a personality that didn’t match the japanese status quo just made everything worse. for years, you had no friends, you spent lunchtime alone, and worst of all?
you didn’t have mihya in your life.
there were nights when you felt so alone that you would just curl up with your pillow and remember mihya. your mihya. those beautiful seven years spent with him, years that you will never forget.
there was a night where you forgot what he looked like.
panicked and crying, you had opened up your phone immediately too look at a picture of him. after a few minutes of staring, your tears stopped as you memorized his face once more. you never wanted to forget him, not a single bit.
at nineteen and in desperation of college credit and money, you volunteered to be a manager of the blue lock program. ego jinpachi was a strange man, but everything was worth it for the money.
and you couldn’t help but think of your mihya, who you remembered bought a soccer ball for his twelfth birthday and adored it.
for years, you’ve refused to check soccer news out of heartbreak.
after blue lock won against the japanese u20 team, you were given a two week break, and was afterwards immediately shoved into the hell of the neo egoist league.
responsible for helping bastard münchen (“for it’s undeniable potential” said ego, although you really couldn’t care less.), you had walked to the germany wing expecting to have the rest the next few months surrounded by the company of isagi, kurona, yukimiya, hiori, and the others.
and yet when you entered, the first thing you saw was pale blonde hair.
kaiser turned to you, as did the other blue lockers and bastard münchen members.
and finally, kaiser became mihya again.
BASED OFF OF THE TAYLOR SWIFT SONG “seven”
