Chapter Text
Allen Sugasano was destined for success from the moment he was born.
With his mother being a famous opera singer and his father a pianist, his path was paved with expectations. They pushed him toward musical greatness. After all, he had the genes, didn’t he?
He was deemed a prodigy from a very young age, mastering the violin and winning countless youth competitions.
Then he discovered hip-hop.
It became his escape from all the classical bullshit his parents made him play. He couldn’t stop listening to it. He wrote more beats and songs than he could count.
He had this fire in his eyes, an intensity he thought no one else could recreate.
Until someone did.
Allen wandered the streets of Germany, idly kicking rocks as he walked. He had gotten particularly fed up with his parents that day. A walk will do you good, they told him. Like the perfect son he was, he obeyed.
Out of the blue, Allen heard the sharp sound of a ball slamming against concrete. He glanced to the side. The source of the sound was a boy kicking a soccer ball against a wall. He looked about two years younger than Allen, his hair a perfect shade of blonde.
The boy dribbled for a few moments, then launched the ball against the building again with perfect precision.
Allen didn’t know much about soccer, but he could tell the kid’s form was damn good for someone so young. He must’ve been practicing for years, right?
But that wasn’t what captivated Allen most. It was his eyes.
Every time the boy kicked the ball, that same fire blazed in his eyes. The fire Allen felt when he was writing lyrics or producing a new beat. The one he thought no one else could recreate or understand.
“Woah…” Allen muttered under his breath.
Still, somehow, the boy heard him. His head snapped around to where Allen stood across the street.
He scowled. Hard.
“The fuck you looking at, creep?”
Allen immediately tensed up, feeling like he had been caught stealing cookies out of the cookie jar.
"I—Sorry! You're really good, by the way!" Allen blurted out, his face contorting into an embarrassed red.
The blonde boy stared back at him for a few moments before letting out an annoyed scoff. Allen just wanted to sink into the ground at this point.
"I know I am," the boy responded. "No need to tell me."
Allen frowned at his arrogance. What a brat. Not even a thank you?
He just gave the boy an awkward thumbs-up before scurrying down an alleyway, desperate to escape the situation.
How embarrassing. He hoped he never saw that kid again.
His prayers were not answered.
Well, maybe he never saw the kid in person again, but that didn’t mean he didn’t take up space in Allen’s thoughts.
His mind kept drifting back to that look in the boy’s eyes. No way someone could feel as strongly about something as how strongly Allen felt about hip-hop. That was impossible.
That was… amazing.
The next time Allen’s parents told him to go take a “calm down walk,” he started his mission to find the boy once more. He practically ran to where he had seen him last, hoping he would be there again like he had never even left.
Conveniently, the boy was there, kicking that worn-out soccer ball around. Allen wondered if that was all he ever did.
“Hey!” Allen called out, looking way too eager for him to brush it off as just happening to run into the boy again.
The blonde-haired, seemingly younger boy whipped his head around to look at him. He had that same scowl on his face that he did the first day they met, the fire dying in his eyes at the sight of Allen. Bummer. He didn’t say a word, just stuffed his hands in his pockets and drifted his eyes elsewhere like he was bracing for something.
“What’s your name? Can I play with you?” Allen rapid-fired the questions, already hopping over the fence the kid was behind without giving him a chance to respond.
“My name is none of your business,” the boy bit back. “I don’t even know your name.”
His words were like a reality check. Right. He certainly had to gain the boy’s trust first.
Allen chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “Right… I’m Allen Sugasano.” He reached out his hand for the blonde to shake.
There was a long moment of silence. A long moment of the kid judgmentally staring at Allen, and a long moment of Allen’s hand still sticking out, frozen in midair.
“Michael Kaiser.”
The boy did not shake his hand.
Allen took the hint, lowering his arm back to his side. He awkwardly grinned, looking at the ground.
So embarrassing.
Allen’s eyes met his again, not letting Michael’s attitude discourage him. He was here on a mission! A mission to see that fiery passion in this guy’s eyes again!
“Nice to meet you! ...So, can I play with you?”
“No. I don’t play with other people.”
Allen almost groaned in frustration. Soccer is a sport meant to be played with others! Was this guy insane?
“Why not?” Allen asked, putting on his best not pushing face.
“I don’t have to tell you anything.” The boy shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, glaring hard. Geez, what a bad attitude.
“Well, if you’re saying no because you think I suck, you’re seriously mistaken!” Allen declared, running his hands through his hair and puffing his chest out confidently.
Allen had no idea how to play soccer.
Not only that, he had never even touched a soccer ball. Not even seen a match on TV. His parents didn’t watch sports, and Allen never asked to. But hey, a little white lie didn’t hurt anybody, right?
As if Allen’s parents sensed he was thinking about them, his phone buzzed. A text from his mother telling him to hurry home.
Stupid parents, interrupting his bonding time with a fellow passionate person.
With a rushed farewell to Michael, he hurried home as he was told.
Tomorrow, he'd have better luck.