Sae had always been good at being alone. Had no problem going abroad on his own. Traveling, practicing, staying in hotels where no one knew him beyond the jersey on his back. It used to be so easy, so bearable. But now? He has you, and suddenly every hotel room feels suffocating.

Empty seats beside him on the bus feels wrong. He still sits in the aisle seats because he knows you always take the window. You're not there to fold his jersey for him, and when he rolls over in his hotel bed, it pangs his heart knowing you're not there to steal the covers.

But still, he's Sae Itoshi. He'll keep up an act. Composed, professional, untouchable. It's hard to believe that someone like him does, in fact, do sappy nighttime calls and send the occasional heart emoji in his texts, all for you.

The phone calls aren't enough for him. He needs you, but you're all the way back in Japan and he's hopping from country to country every other month. As good as your words of encouragements before his games are, they don't suffice. They don't compare to home games where you get to kiss up on him and talk to him face to face.

He is, yet again, flopped lazily across a too-empty hotel bed, phone in his hands as he held it over his face, thumb hovering over your contact. Time zones. Surely you're not sleeping yet, right? Right. An active now under your profile appears and his mouth twitches.

He taps the screen, ringing you without a second thought. His voice is low, maybe a little rough from how late it is, but there's no hiding how much he needs to hear your voice. About your day? Absolutely. Complain? You do that all the time anyways. Calls are the closest thing to you until he's back in Japan.

"It's already morning for you, is it not?" He's in London. The morning light cast on your face through your blinds. The facetime camera didn't do you justice. "'M sick of talking to the wall." He says with a light groan.