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70. TEAM MANSHINE, AND LITTLE YOU
˖*⋆｡˚𖦹࣪˖ ִֶָ⋆｡°✩
YOU
wake up as soon as your alarm blares it's an incredibly uncomfortable noise. You feel like a vampire with the way you shot up, back completely straight and eyes wide as plates. You look down at your phone, and how it is vibrating and buzzing like there's a tornado warning—6:30 am
Fuck. You are late. Even the players have already woken up at this point. Panic slowly begins to seep into your brain as you scramble out of the sheet covers that seem to just want to stick your legs and stay—why the hell are you so late?
You mumble words that shall not be repeated under your breath as you rush into your bathroom and try and make yourself look as presentable as possible. All the while, you are wondering just how you did not end up waking when you should've (key: it should've been at least an hour ago).
My alarms always wake me... and even if they don't, Mariele is always there to make sure I'm on time... why did she not do that today?
Your thoughts are as frantic and jumbled as your movements—dabbing powder on your face as quickly (yet, messily) as possible and some styling of your hair—you're (sort of) good to go. It takes you five minutes to throw out your entire closet looking for your tracksuit, but you soon find it and throw it over whatever odd shirt you have on right now.
You slip your tablet under your arm and run as fast as you can possibly go. It hurts—for sure, it hurts like hell—but you cannot pay it any mind as you make your way down corridors, down training rooms, down the cafeteria (crap, you missed breakfast) and all the way to the main room. The entrance room, where you were supposed to be fifty-five minutes ago.
The reason why you are so frantic, the reason why you were quite literally dashing down the halls—today is the day the regulars for the match tomorrow, against Nagi, Chigiri, Reo, Kyouka—Manshine City—get announced.
To say you are puffed out would be a gross understatement. Clearly, you are not the most athletic person in the world, especially compared to the likes of the athletes you work beside every single day, but really, this was actually ridiculous. You feel like you just run a mile.
And looking back now, you really did. The distance between your room and the so-called meeting room is shocking—you wonder what Ego's thought process behind this was—probably to just make you suffer.
Just blame everything on Ego—that is your life motto at the moment.
You look around. The room is barren and silent and you hadn't noticed there was not a single person here but you until now. You can even hear the low hum of your heartbeat from that extensive workout pounding in your chest.
