The atmosphere in the stadium was electric, the crowd's energy vibrating through the walls of the massive arena. This was it—the finals. The culmination of months of grueling practice, strategy sessions, and intense matches.

You sat near the front, your hands clutching your phone so tightly your knuckles turned white. Tensai, Relyh, Moya, and Sitetampo were on stage, their backs to you as they prepared for the biggest match of their careers.

The opponents were formidable—a team that had dominated the tournament from the start, their synergy and tactics earning them a reputation as the ones to beat. But you believed in Sitetampo and the team. They had come so far, and you couldn't imagine anyone else deserving the title more than them.

As the first round began, the announcer's voice boomed through the speakers, describing the plays in vivid detail. The teams launched into action, the screen above the stage displaying their gameplay for the crowd.

The first round started strong for Sitetampo's team. Moya's control of the map was surgical, Relyh's precision snipes kept the enemy at bay, and Tensai played the perfect balance of support and offense. Sitetampo, as always, was the one keeping the team's momentum steady.

They secured the first victory, and the crowd erupted into cheers. You felt your heart swell with pride as Sitetampo glanced back over his shoulder, giving you a small, confident smile.

But the second round was brutal. The opposing team adjusted their strategy, targeting Relyh to disrupt his long-range plays. The pressure mounted, and despite their best efforts, Sitetampo's team fell behind.

By the time the final round began, the tension was obvious. The score was tied, and it all came down to this. Every move was calculated, every second critical.

It was a nail-biter to the very end, but in the last moments, the opposing team managed to pull ahead, securing the championship title.

The arena erupted in applause, and though your heart sank for Sitetampo and the team, you couldn't help but feel proud of how far they'd come. Still, the loss was a tough blow.

The team regrouped backstage, their faces a mix of disappointment and exhaustion. Moya was uncharacteristically quiet, Relyh leaned against the wall with a resigned sigh, and Tensai tried to lighten the mood with a half-hearted joke.

Sitetampo sat on a bench, his head bowed. You hesitated before approaching, unsure of what to say.

"Hey," you said softly, sitting down beside him.

He looked up, his expression tired but grateful. "Hey."

"You did amazing," you said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "All of you. I'm so proud."

He gave you a small smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Thanks, Y/N. That means a lot."

Before you could say more, a voice interrupted.

"There you are, Tampo."

You turned to see Erika walking toward him, her confident stride and self-assured smirk making your stomach twist. She ignored you entirely, her focus solely on Sitetampo.

"That was a tough loss," she said, her tone far too casual for the situation. "But hey, you'll bounce back. You always do."

Sitetampo stood, his expression shifting to one of annoyance. "Erika, this isn't the time."

"Why not?" she said, stepping closer. "I'm just trying to help. You've always needed someone to pick you up after a loss. Remember?"

You clenched your fists, feeling anger bubble up at her audacity. But before you could say anything, Sitetampo cut her off.

"Erika, stop," he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument.

She blinked, clearly not expecting his sharp tone. "Tampo, I'm just—"

"No," he said, crossing his arms. "You're not 'just' anything. I don't need you to pick me up. I don't need anything from you."

The intensity in his voice was startling, and even Erika seemed taken aback.

"You don't mean that," she said, her tone softer now.

"I do," he said, his gaze unwavering. "We've been over for a long time, Erika. And I'm not interested in revisiting the past. I've moved on."

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, Erika looked like she might argue. But something in his expression stopped her. Without another word, she turned and walked away, her confident façade cracking slightly as she disappeared down the hallway.

You let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding, glancing up at Sitetampo. His shoulders were tense, his jaw tight, but there was a sense of finality in his posture.

"You okay?" you asked softly.

He looked at you then, his expression softening. "I am now."

The corner of his mouth lifted in a small smile, and he reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture was so unexpected, so gentle, that it sent a rush of warmth through you.

"Thanks for being here," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Always," you replied, your cheeks heating under his gaze.

For a moment, the disappointment of the loss and the tension with Erika faded away, leaving just the two of you in the quiet backstage corridor.

Then, just as you were about to say something else, he leaned in and kissed your cheek, the warmth of his lips lingering on your skin.

Your breath caught, and you stared at him, wide-eyed and flustered.

"Goodnight, Y/N," he said, his voice soft and warm.

"G-goodnight," you stammered, your cheeks burning.

As he walked away, your heart raced, your mind a whirlwind of emotions. Even with the championship lost, it felt like you'd just won something far more important.

You practically ran to your hotel room, your heart pounding in your chest. Once inside, you closed the door behind you and leaned against it, your fingers brushing your cheek where Sitetampo had kissed you.

"Oh my God," you whispered to yourself, your face feeling like it was on fire.

You paced back and forth, replaying the moment in your head. Every little detail—the way he looked at you, the soft tone of his voice, the gentle warmth of his lips—sent your thoughts spiraling.

"This can't be real," you muttered, flopping onto the bed and burying your face in a pillow. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't stop smiling.

You turned over, staring at the ceiling. The kiss had been so brief, so innocent, but it was enough to send your heart into overdrive.

The minutes ticked by, and though you tried to calm yourself, sleep wouldn't come. Every time you closed your eyes, all you could see was his face, his small smile, the way he said "Goodnight."

By the time the early hours of the morning rolled around, you were still wide awake, clutching a pillow to your chest...