Pure vanilla and shadow milk

The stadium erupts into deafening cheers.

Thousands of fans leap to their feet as the ball slams into the back of the net.

GOAL!

Pure Vanilla Cookie stands frozen for a second, almost unable to believe it.

Then the realization hits.

He did it.

He scored.

His teammates rush toward him immediately, shouting and celebrating as the scoreboard flashes their team's newest point.

The crowd chants his name.

Flags wave.

Cameras focus on him from every angle.

But Pure Vanilla barely notices any of it.

Because the first person he sees is Shadow Milk Cookie.

Number 13.

The star player.

The player every reporter wants to interview.

The player whose face is plastered across countless magazines.

And right now?

He's grinning like an idiot.

Shadow Milk sprints across the field and wraps an arm around Pure Vanilla's shoulders before ruffling his hair.

"THAT'S MY BOYFRIEND!"

The microphone nearby picks it up.

The crowd instantly becomes even louder.

Pure Vanilla's face turns bright red.

"Shadow!"

"What?" Shadow Milk laughs. "Did you see that goal? That was incredible!"

The rest of the team gathers around them, celebrating the successful play.

Shadow Milk refuses to stop smiling.

His eyes practically sparkle with pride.

"You've been training for weeks, and look at you now."

He gently bumps their shoulders together.

"Told you you'd score."

The match isn't over yet.

The crowd is still roaring.

The opposing team is already preparing for the next kickoff.

But for this brief moment, none of that matters.

Shadow Milk looks at Pure Vanilla like he's just won the entire championship.

And honestly?

It feels even better than scoring the goal.

The referee blows the whistle for play to resume.

Shadow Milk jogs backward toward his position, flashing Pure Vanilla a playful wink.

"Don't stop now, sweetheart."

His grin widens.

"Let's win this thing."

The stadium roars around the two of you as the match continues.