ᴄʜᴇᴡ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴛ || ʙʟʟᴋ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

1 - 4 . Lock off

You couldn't get rid of the boy when you boarded the blue buses. He clung to you the whole bus ride, his strong arm draped around your neck, pulling you closer to him as he pointed to strangers on the bus and insulated them with a snicker. Now, as you walk through the empty halls of Blue Lock with your jersey in your hands, you can't help but think about the words he had told you.

"There's more to you than you let on, Twiglet. Don't let me down," his eyes grew darker, yet a faint glimmer remained, sending a shiver down your spine.

You shake your head to snap out of your daze and start observing your surroundings more closely. The walls are constructed from cold, unwelcoming metal, giving off a vibe more akin to a horror game than a soccer facility. "Itoshi would find this place perfect for a horror game," you mumble, momentarily forgetting your reason for being here. To become strong enough to beat Itoshi at his own game.

Glancing down at your jersey, you checked out the number '[r/n]z'. Turning your attention to the room ahead of you, which read 'ROOM Z' on the door. You walked in front of it, the door opening up automatically.

It looked like you were one of the first people to arrive, surprisingly from getting on the last bus because of- what was his name again? You paused blanking as you tried to wrap your mind around the blonde boy. That guy never told you his name, didn't he?

Shaking it off you looked up staring at the three others in the room, no one caught your eye except for a boy in the back with red hair who seemed to be moping, and another boy who was somehow sleeping on the hard concrete with a thumb in his mouth.

You noticed the lockers and then the bodysuit in your hands you had absolutely nowhere to change. Gulping you slowly made your way over to the lockers, opened it, and placed your backpack and coat inside. You glanced towards the closest person and came face to face or more like face to chest with a middle-aged man? Quickly, you came up with a plan and ready your voice turning to him.

"Know the best place to take a dump around here?" You asked heart hammering in your chest. The red-headed one only scoffs and rolls up more from the corner of your vision.

The older-looking male only scrunched up his face, "The bathroom?"

"Word," you respond, slapping his arm with a smoldering face. You leave the room and walk down the halls until you find the bathroom. Once you're inside you place your uniform still in its plastic sealing onto the floor, the toilet not having a lid.

You take quick, shallow breaths, slowly trying to calm yourself as you enter a bathroom stall and lock the door. With clammy hands, you strip off the oversized school blazer and begin to unbutton your shirt, revealing your binder. You bite your lip as you fumble with button after button.

You drape your clothes on the top of the bathroom stall, undo your belt, and drop your pants on the cold floor. Shimmying your feet out of the pants you reach down to grab it and place the pants on the stall door again. You mentally slap yourself for not bringing several pairs of women's boxers.

You pick up the jersey from the floor and carefully tear open the plastic wrap. Starting with the pants, you pull them on, giving a slight jump, expecting them to fit like the other boys, but they don't. 'Maybe it automatically tightens? Like vacuum seel or something?' you think to yourself biting your cheek.

Panic quickly kicks in and you grab the top, slipping your arms through, and pop your head through the neck hole. "No, no, no, no-" You turn on your heel with a small burning feeling from your exposed foot and you swiftly slap open the lock and run towards the mirror.

"Shit. It's too big," you mutter, your breath quick and shallow, gasping for air. Your trembling hands slide down your face as anxious thoughts consume you. 'All of them are going to find out!' You attempt to tuck the top of the jersey into the pants, but it bounces back up awkwardly. Your pants start sliding down your legs amidst your rapid breaths, and a sting of tears wells up in your eyes. 'Maybe I can tell them it's too big? No! They'll take my measurements and find out!' You struggle to regain control of your breathing, counting your fingers and gently massaging your palm for several minutes before finally calming down. "All better," you say with a faint attempt at a smile.