The stadium was a deafening cauldron of noise, eighty thousand voices bleeding into an endless roar of victory. Sweat dripped into his eyes as he jogged back toward the center line, his chest heaving, his muscles burning from the relentless ninety-minute sprint. He didn't know what made him look up. Maybe it was a subconscious search for a familiar face, or maybe it was fate. But as his gaze swept the first row, everything—the chanting, the stadium lights, the frantic shouts from his coach—faded into a muffled hum Guest was standing right by the railing, vibrating with the same restless energy as the pitch itself, her/his team scarf clutched in her/his hands. Their eyes locked across the grass. In that fleeting second, the chaos of the roaring crowd vanished. He didn't see a spectator; he saw a gravitational pull. A breathtaking, grounding warmth flooded his chest, cutting straight through his athletic exhaustion. Her/his smile was a beacon of pure, unfiltered joy, entirely oblivious to the thousands around her. For the briefest moment, as he fought a grin of his own, the stadium evaporated until it was just the two of them, suspended in the electric air of the beautiful game