TAKESHI'S SIDE - 11 PM JAPAN
Takeshi lay in bed unable to sleep despite being exhausted.
Still riding high from today's win. The goals. The feeling of Akari watching from the stands. The confidence that came from having both football and life working simultaneously.
He scrolled through his phone. Congratulations in the team group chat. Akari's goodnight text with a heart emoji. His mind kept spinning with the perfect day he'd had.
Then he saw Elsa's contact.
Haven't properly talked to her since before the match. Checking the time difference: 11 PM Japan meant 3 PM Norway. She'd just finished training.
Wanting to share everything with his best friend. The match. The goals. Akari being there cheering.
He hit the video call button and waited.
ELSA'S SIDE - 3 PM NORWAY
Her phone buzzed while she was still in training clothes.
Just got home from Norway U18 practice. Seeing Takeshi's name made her heart do that painful familiar thing.
She knew what this call would be about. He only called when he was happy now. And his happiness always involved her—the girl who was there when Elsa wasn't.
Taking a breath, she put on the smile. The one she'd perfected over the past two weeks.
She answered: "Hey!"
THE VIDEO CALL
His face filled her screen, grinning wider than she'd seen in months.
"You answered! Wasn't sure you'd be free," he said.
"Just got back from training. Perfect timing." The lie came easily now.
He looked genuinely energized. Different from the broken boy she'd talked to after the Daichi match. She was glad. She was. Even if it slowly killed her.
"Did you see the match highlights?" he asked.
"I watched the whole thing live, actually."
She didn't mention the 5 AM wake-up call in Norway. Didn't mention how she set her alarm so she could watch him play. That felt too much like admitting something.
He lit up: "The second goal! Did you see that trivela?"
She laughed—a real laugh, because football was always safe ground. "It was beautiful. Classic you."
"Learned from the best, remember?"
Ajax. Age 8. Her teaching him curve shots. Both of them laughing in the grass.
"The promise is really happening, huh?" he said. "All of us making it."
"Yeah," she said softly. "Feels surreal."
Then he shifted. "Hey, so... I wanted to tell you something."
Her stomach dropped. She kept her face bright: "Yeah?"
"So... Akari and I have been official for like two weeks now," he said.
She already knew. He'd texted her the day after the double date. But he wanted to talk about it. Talk about her. Talk about loving someone else.
"And it's... really good? Like, really really good."
Her grip on the phone tightened. She could feel her fingernails pressing into the case.
"That's amazing, Takeshi," she said.
Please stop. Please keep going. I need to hear your voice even if it destroys me.
"She came to the match yesterday. Front row, Tokyo FC scarf," he continued, slightly embarrassed. "And when I scored the second goal, I pointed at her."
He was blushing now.
"It felt right, you know? Having someone there."
Elsa's throat tightened. Someone. Not her. Never her. Akari, who was actually there. Who got to be in the stands. Who didn't have an ocean between them.
"She sounds perfect for you," Elsa said, and meant it with a pain that almost broke her voice.
"After the match we got dinner, just us," he said. "And she was asking about the tactics, actually wanting to understand the game. Not just supporting blindly, but like... engaged."
He was smiling that soft smile. The one Elsa remembered from Ajax. The one that meant he was happy about something he loved.
Now he looked like that when he talked about Akari.
"I think... I think I'm actually happy. Like, completely," he said. "For the first time in both lives."
Elsa's smile hurt. Every muscle in her face ached from maintaining it.
"You deserve this," she said. "After everything you went through, you deserve someone who's there."
Someone who's not 1,500 kilometers away watching from a screen.
"I wish you could meet her properly. You'd like her," he said.
"I'm sure I would," Elsa replied.
I'm sure she's wonderful. I'm sure I'd want to be her friend if she wasn't the girl you love.
"Sorry, I'm rambling about my girlfriend to you," he laughed, embarrassed.
That word: girlfriend. Official now.
"It's just... you're my best friend. I tell you everything."
Best friend. Not the girl who's loved you for eight years. Best friend. The safe category. The one where she could exist in his life without threatening what he had with Akari.
"That's what best friends are for," Elsa said.
Killing myself slowly so you can be happy.
"Tell me more. How was the first kiss?" she asked, because she was so good at performing strength now.
He went red. "Oh my god, it was so awkward—"
She laughed while internally screaming. The performance was complete. The mask was perfect.
AFTER THE CALL
The screen went black.
Her reflection stared back at her from the dark phone. She looked tired. Older than 16.
Phone dropping onto the bed. Sitting in silence.
Her room in Norway. 3:47 PM. Winter sun already setting behind the buildings.
She should eat dinner. Should do homework. Should prepare for tomorrow's training.
Instead, she reached for the carnival teddy bear on her shelf.
The brown one. Worn from eight years of holding it. The one he won for her at Ajax camp when they were eight. Ring toss game. He'd been so proud.
She sat on her bed and held it like she was eight again.
No crying. She'd done that already when he first told her about Akari. Now there was just... hollow.
This was her reality now. Best friend to the boy she loved. Who loved someone else. Who told her everything because he trusted her completely.
Never knowing each word was a knife.
And she'd keep answering his calls. Keep performing strength. Keep being his best friend. Because if she couldn't have him, at least she could have this.
Even if it slowly killed her.
A text notification:
Takeshi: "Thanks again for listening. You're the best 💙"
Blue heart. Friendship.
Not red. Never red.
She typed back: "Anytime 💙"
Setting the phone down. Squeezing the teddy bear tighter.
Whispering to her empty room: "You dummy. Why did I have to fall in love with you?"
The Norwegian winter darkness pressed against her window.
1,500 kilometers between them.
Might as well be a million.
This is the cost of loving someone who doesn't love you back. This is the price of being the best friend. And she'd pay it every single day, because that's what love is—sometimes it's supporting someone else's happiness even when it breaks your heart.
Sometimes it's performing strength you don't feel.
Sometimes it's being the person who listens while dying inside.
Sometimes it's holding a carnival teddy bear at 16 years old and knowing you'll never get the one who gave it to you.
She curled around the bear and let herself exist in the pain.
Tomorrow she'd be fine. Tomorrow she'd train hard and text him encouragement about his next match and ask about his team and pretend his happiness was enough.
Tonight, alone in the dark, she let herself feel the weight of distance.
1,500 kilometers.
Eight years of loving someone who saw her as a best friend.
A promise made at eight years old to meet as professionals.
Except he'd already moved on.
And she was still here, holding his old gift, supporting his new love, breaking quietly.
Because that's what you do when you love someone who loves someone else.
You let them go.
And you smile while they tell you all about it.