Tifa’s POV:

She hid a hand under the table, to keep herself from fidgeting.

He was in front of her. Dae Ho was in front of her. Sweaty. Wet. An absolute mess, from head to toe. Yet, he still managed to look handsome.

Oh, and that sharp jawline. God, she wanted to bite it.

“Let me introduce myself. I’m Joon-ho, a scout from the national team’s coaching staff.” Joon-ho reached over the table to shake Dae Ho’s hand. “I’ve been hearing about you so much that the higher ups have been stressing me for this meeting. I’ll cut straight to the point. You’ve got moves, son. The way you dance with the ball is something I’ve seldom seen.”

Dae Ho’s composure didn’t waver — contrary to what anyone would be in his position, he wasn’t a nervous wreck. His hands were firm, even as he leisurely lifted the cup of coffee to take a sip. Tifa’s gaze tracked the liquid pouring through his lips, wishing, almost painfully so, that she could liquify herself and swap places with that caffeinated drink.

“Thank you, sir. I’ve worked hard to get to this point.”

"Hard work is something we value. It's not just about talent; it's about the willingness to put in the effort. Tell me, Dae Ho, what drives you? What makes you lace up those boots every day?"

There was a pause, a contemplative one.

“Honestly, I just love the game.” Dae Ho laughed. And didn’t she love the sound of it? “It's as simple as that. The feeling of the ball at my feet, the teamwork, the competition – it's all a part of something bigger. Out there, I feel alive.”

There was a reminiscent spark in Joon-ho’s eyes. Nostalgia. Dae Ho’s words, no doubt, brought back a fair share of memories. “You’ve got a way with words, son. Not only with your feet.”

At that, Dae Ho offered an appreciative smile. “Well, it’s always been my dream to play on an international stage.”

“But dreams alone don't win matches. It takes skill, strategy, and nerves of steel. How do you handle the pressure, especially when you're being closely watched, like now?"

Dae Ho’s answer couldn’t have been more perfect. "Pressure is just part of the game, sir. I focus on what I can control, my performance on the field. The rest will fall into place if I do my job well.”

The older man nodded, before he pulled up a video of Dae Ho’s match against the U-18 team. “Dae Ho, your style on the field is a spectacle. I see echoes of Brazilian finesse in your moves: skill, speed, and a beautiful command of the ball. Where does that come from? Who inspired you?”

“I believe in playing instinctively, sir. Of course, there's strategy, but sometimes you have to trust your gut.” He shrugged. “It keeps the game dynamic, throws opponents off balance. And makes for one good spectacle.”

Joon-ho’s smile couldn’t get any wider, and to be honest, neither could hers. “I can see you're not just a follower of the playbook; you're a creator on the field.” An appreciative nod stringed along his next words. “Now, let's get to the technicalities. How's your fitness? Any injuries I should know about?"

“I'm in top shape. No lingering injuries. I take my fitness as seriously as my skills. It's a package deal.”

“As you should, Dae Ho. Discipline is something many sorely lack and poorly underestimate. Many players couldn’t live up to their full potential due to arrogance. I hope you won’t be one of them.”

Tifa let her eyes linger on the slender yet toned beauty of Dae Ho’s body. Her thoughts had long stopped associating him with football, but with a whole other activity.

“Now, let's talk about teamwork. Football is a team sport, after all. How do you contribute to the collective effort on the field?"

“Communication is key. Understanding my teammates, their strengths and weaknesses, and building a connection on and off the field. It's about creating a bond that transcends individual talent and—”

Tifa didn’t pay much attention after that. She was in a world of her own, unblinking eyes focused on her target, analyzing each twitch, wrinkle, and smile that graced that face. The conversation could have gone for days for all she cared — as long as she was there, to be part of that little space he was in.

It wasn’t until the scout raised his voice that she was snapped out of her thoughts.

“That’s great to hear! With your potential, you could be someone great, Dae Ho. You could pen a new chapter in the history of Korean football.” Joon-ho stood up, seemingly pleased. “We'll be in touch. Keep up the good work, and remember, the journey is just as important as the destination. And that destination, my boy, is the national stage."

Joon-ho slid a business card across the table before he parted with a smile.

Tifa straightened her back, fingers scratching restlessly at the cushion underneath her. Her jaw clenched and unclenched. Her knee began to bounce up and down, and an urge to tuck her thumb between her lips for a nibble surged within—

“Tifa.” Dae Ho's voice, smooth as melted butter, cut through the restlessness. “I'm genuinely surprised. Who knew you were rubbing elbows with such a big shot?”

"Heh, surprises are my forte, you know?" She strutted a bit, emphasizing her assets.

His gaze grazed the geography of her bosom before swiftly returning to her eyes.

'Tch. Feel free to take a longer peek, buddy.'

A grin ghosted across his face as he studied the bottom of his cup. "You're quite something. You've gone above and beyond for me; I'm almost at a loss for words."

"Hmhm. Almost. But not quite." Tifa slouched, propping her chin up with both hands, eyes fixed on him.

"If it's about cash—"

"It's not about the green stuff." She cut in.

"..."

Dae Ho raised an eyebrow. Tifa maintained the gaze, her thoughts concealed behind an ambiguous smile. He snorted a chuckle. "Am I supposed to play the guessing game here?"

A rebellious lock of hair fell over her eye. She shrugged, a subtle lift of her shoulders. "You know, I'm not exactly swimming in the friends department."

That threw him off guard.

"I'm practically a recluse." She confessed, wondering if he could spot the shift in her demeanor. Maybe her eyes had a distant gleam or her smile turned a tad wistful. "I'm holed up in my room all day. Can't even recall the last time I casually hung out with someone my age."

"..."

Dae Ho shut his eyes. Tifa recognized it as his mental gears grinding.

"This is a leap for me." She added, sliding her arms forward and resting her head on them, gazing up at him. "What I'm getting at, Dae Ho, is that I'm... I'm hoping you can throw me a friendship lifeline, extend that olive branch, you know?"

He opened his eyes.

She shivered under his intense stare.

“We barely know each other.”

“Isn’t that how most friendships start?”

“They don’t start with them working for me, for free, and introducing me to someone from the national team.”

“Maybe I’m desperate.”

‘And maybe… I like you a little too much.’

“Tifa…”

She couldn’t resist the urge any longer and tucked her thumb between her teeth.

However, his next words hit her like an eruption of endorphins.

“...That goes without saying. You’ve been nice to me.” There was a shadow of suspicion in his eyes. Nonetheless, the smile seemed genuine enough. “Of course, we can be friends.”

A beautiful smile blossomed on her face.

“Bonnie and Clyde style?”

Dae Ho chuckled, the intensity in his gaze softening. "Opening up the friendship handbook, are we? Bonnie and Clyde style, it is."

Tifa released her thumb from its temporary refuge, a grin playing on her lips. "Great! Just without the illegal activities, though. I've got a clean record, you know?"

His laughter echoed in the room, a rich sound that added warmth to the newfound relationship status between them. "Fair enough, Tifa. Clean slate for our friendship. We’ll shake up the football world together..."

“... Leaving a trail of crippled defenders in our wake to the World Cup.”

“Thought you said no illegal activities?”

“It’s not illegal to tackle your opponents on the field, is it?”

“I’m a striker.”

“Doesn’t stop you from striking them.”

“Tifa…” He shook his head, unimpressed but undeniably amused.

“Dae Ho…” She emulated his expression, stiffening her features up like a stone statue emoji — which was just enough to put a crack on that facade of his.

His laugh echoed off once more, and it did wonders for her heart. It tickled all the right spots, making her warm and fuzzy on the inside. ‘God… what I wouldn’t give to have him come back to my room. We could stay there forever…’

“You’ve got a weird look in your eyes.” Dae Ho observed, eyes narrowing in curiosity.

“Huh?”

Tifa blinked, straightening herself up. “What look?” She tilted her head.

He stared at her for a few seconds longer — long enough for her to almost jam her thumb back into her mouth. “Nothing.” He concluded.

Tifa raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eye. "Nothing? You've got to spill the beans, Dae Ho. What do you think that 'weird look' is all about?"

Dae Ho leaned back, his fingers drumming absentmindedly on the table. "Well, let's just say it's a mix of mischief and mystery. Like you've got a secret agenda or something."

She laughed, a melodious sound that filled the air. "Me? A secret agenda? That's absurd. I'm an open book, Dae Ho. No hidden plots here."

He hummed thoughtfully. "Open book, huh? That's what they all say until you get to the last chapter and find a plot twist."

Tifa leaned forward, a sly smile on her lips. "Well, Dae Ho, you'll have to keep reading to discover my plot twists. I promise they're worth the suspense."

“Are they?”

A shadow danced in Tifa’s eyes. “More than you could possibly know.”

“No spoilers, I guess?”

She shook her head, hair bobbing left and right. “Where is the fun in that? You don’t skip straight to the end, you have to enjoy the whole process of figuring me out.”

“So this is all about you?”

“You’re my supporting character. You have your scenes as well.”

“Ah, you mean my glorious career in football as I cripple my way through hordes of defenders?”

She chuckled, weaving images of Dae Ho actually doing that.

“You know what they say before an important event — break a leg, or something.”

“Not literally.”

Dae Ho rolled his eyes, to which Tifa smirked in response.

With a defeated sigh, he pushed himself up. Tifa’s heart burned at the implication, still, she schooled her features and stood up as well. “You’re going?”

“Yeah, I’m dying to get off these clothes and clean myself.” He said, his nose wrinkled.

Tifa’s eyes flashed, bottom lip caught between her teeth. “Any chance you’d sign your shirt and give it to me?”

Ah, stupid, unfiltered mouth!
“Thinking ahead, aren’t you?” She couldn’t quite unravel the emotion in his eyes, though he smoothly played it off with a smile. “No way, Tifa. It’s just a random shirt. It’s all sweaty and dirty.”

“That shirt could become a collector's item one day, though. A piece of history.” She quickly followed up with a little lie. “And who knows, maybe one day I'll auction it for a charity cause.”

As if she’d ever sell anything that belonged to him.

“You have a staggering amount of faith in my success.”

“It’s not a bad thing, is it?”

Dae Ho took a moment to look out the window. The rain had let up a bit, though not nearly enough to make a walk back home comfortable. Still, he didn’t seem to care. “Faith is never a bad thing, Tifa. However, I’m not giving you my shirt.”

She sulked. “You’ve got to give me something, to commemorate our beautiful friendship!”

“Like what?”

At least he didn’t seem opposed to the idea.

Regardless, if Tifa couldn’t have his shirt, what could she—

“A picture!” She nearly shouted, grinning from ear to ear. Some of the patrons in the store shot her a curious look before they returned to whatever conversation they were engrossed with. “Let’s take a picture, Dae Ho.”

There was nothing wrong with the idea, at least on a surface glance. Dae Ho readily agreed. “Sure. Let’s take one.”

Tifa immediately scuttled to his side. She was not delusional enough to believe she could snuggle up to him without repercussions, but surely there’d be no problem if she leaned a little into his chest.

After a few seconds of adjustment, she brought her phone up in the air, in a downward angle. The camera focused in and captured both of them. She smiled, happy to see one mirroring Dae Ho’s face as well.

The phone buzzed, freezing that single, perfect frame and saving it in her gallery.

‘We look so good together! A power couple!’

She beamed at the picture.

Dae Ho extended a hand to Tifa, gesturing towards the exit. "Well, it's been quite an unexpected day. Time for me to head back and get out of these drenched clothes."

Her heart skipped a beat, but she composed herself, feigning casualness. "Sure thing, Dae Ho. We should do this again sometime."

He grinned, a blend of genuine warmth and gratitude. "Absolutely. You've made today memorable, Tifa."

She smiled, bright and cheerful.

As Dae Ho swooped in to play Mr. Generous with the tab, Tifa glued her eyes to him through the misty window. He strolled away, vanishing around a corner like some casual magic trick.

She let her eyes linger for a bit more.

A satisfied purr rumbled in her throat.

She had finally become a cornerstone in his life.

All she had to do was to lay more bricks, build a solid foundation, and engineer the towering structure, until she was the sole goddamn thing in his mind. A lone building that allowed entrance only for her.

Tifa looked down at the picture — one of the many more to come, for sure.

– Create Album
– Album Name: Him & I
– Saved!