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Chapter Text

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Isagi!”

Bachira had leapt in front of Isagi the second he’d turned away from retrieving his lunch, nearly making his drop his tray. He had his own tray in his hands already, and he was smiling like he didn’t have a care in the world. Isagi sighed, and then smiled.

“Bachira,” he said, stepping around him, listening to his steps follow his own. “You know Valentine’s Day is a romantic holiday, right?”

“I know that,” Bachira said. He slid into the seat across from Isagi at the empty table they’d taken. “That’s why I drew a heart, silly.”

Bachira pointed down at his stir fry, and when Isagi leaned over to find out what the hell he was talking about, Bachira had indeed arranged the meat and vegetables in a heart shape. Isagi shook his head a little and let out a laugh.

He was so weird, sometimes.

“Cute,” Isagi said.

“I know, right?” Bachira said, picking up a piece of meat from the heart with his chopsticks, holding it across the table. “Wanna share? I’ll let you have some.”

“No, I’m.”

But before Isagi could get out the word okay, Bachira had taken advantage of the fact that he had to part his lips to speak, and shoved it in his mouth anyways. It was hot, and he nearly choked on it, but it was good. Much better than his natto, that was for sure.

“Yummy, right?” Bachira asked, eyeing him as he waited for confirmation.

Isagi gave in and nodded, going through his daily routine of reminding himself that when it came to Bachira, it was usually easier to give in than it was to fight.

“So,” Bachira said, watching Isagi chew another bite he’d fed him. “What do you want to do today?”

“Uh,” Isagi said, speeding through the chewing and swallowing. “I don’t know. Train?”

Bachira looked like he was taking a moment to think that over.

“Okay,” he said afterwards. “Whatever you want.”

After lunch, the two of them made their way down to the fields. Isagi had done his cardio and strength training after breakfast, when Bachira was having his first nap of the day, and now he was ready to play some real soccer. None of the other guys seemed to be around, so they decided to play a one on one. Isagi tried to lean into the inspiration rather than the dread. He liked learning from Bachira, but it irked him how little he was able to get an upper hand on him.

Bachira had grabbed them a ball and was dribbling it mindlessly as he watched Isagi.

“Let’s play first one to five,” Bachira said. Isagi nodded. It was something they often played when it was just the two of them. “But to make things interesting, the one of us who wins today gets a special prize.”

“It’d better not be any more force fed stir fry,” Isagi warned. It was playful, but he meant it.

“No,” Bachira said, laughing. “It’ll be really special.”

“Okay,” Isagi said, once again reminding himself that it was usually easier to just go along with it. “Sure.”

“But you have to try your hardest,” Bachira warned, his smile suddenly dropping. This too, this immediate flipping of the switch into soccer mode, Isagi was also used to. “Promise?”

“I always do,” Isagi answered.

“Okay,” Bachira said. “Good.”

And then he took off. Isagi knew he shouldn’t be surprised, how Bachira’s playful footwork could become deadly in an instant. But it always did, somehow. He had such an uncanny ability to take him off guard.

Bachira took the first point before Isagi even had a chance to register what was happening. It startled him. He knew, objectively, Bachira was more skilled than he was, but this felt very different. It made Isagi wonder what this so called special prize might be.

Bachira either slowed down, or Isagi caught his footing, because he held his own enough to get two goals of his own. The confidence, or his own monster perhaps, was igniting at having taken the lead. There was something coursing through him, something instinctual and competitive and hungry. Bachira took another point, and Isagi got himself two more.

One more, and he’d take it. He didn’t have to know what the prize was. He’d mostly forgotten about it. He just wanted to win.

But now, Bachira had switched tactics. He was just toying with him. It made Isagi think that maybe all the goals he’d scored so far had been flukes. Just when he thought he was making ground, Bachira would steal the ball, and it would take everything Isagi had to steal it back. It didn’t even seem like Bachira was getting tired, but Isagi felt near ready to collapse. A quick glance at the clock told him that he has spent longer trying to get this last point that he had getting the first four.

Until finally, he did. He’d had to trip Bachira, which was technically a foul, and he hadn’t really meant to do it, but it had happened, and based on his laughter, it didn’t seem likely he was going to call him out on it. Was it a dirty move? Maybe. But Isagi didn’t care. He stole the ball and shot it directly into the net, stealing his fifth point.

Winning.

“Yes!” Isagi found himself screaming.

This little first to five scrimmage had gotten so intense, that Isagi felt the same way he did during a real match with real stakes. However, now that he had won and it was indeed over, he realized he’d used as much effort as during a real match too, and found himself falling to his hands and knees. His muscles ached, and he needed to catch his breath.

“Great job, Isagi,” Bachira said, coming over to him and taking a seat at his side. Isagi looked up at him enough to offer him a half smile before letting himself collapse onto his back. “You really did try your hardest.”

“I wanted,” Isagi said, still trying to catch his breath. “To win.”

“And you did,” Bachira said cheerily.

“Yeah,” Isagi said. He closed his eyes.

“So,” Bachira continued. “Do you want your special prize now?”

Isagi had been so pumped up about the win, about beating Bachira, that he’d forgotten about that. But he had been serious when he’d first mentioned it and he was serious about it now. Isagi was too tired to notice. All he was thinking was, he doesn’t have any food with him, so I’m probably safe.

So, he just said, “Sure.”

Bachira smiled to himself. Isagi was so cute when he was exhausted. He was cute all the time, as far as Bachira was concerned. He hadn’t let Isagi win, but he was hoping he would, even though he was pretty sure he would have made sure the outcome was the same. He leaned over where Isagi was still lying on the field, coaxing his breath down to its regular rate.

Isagi was none the wiser of Bachira’s intention until he felt something hit his mouth.

Where had he gotten food from that fast? Isagi thought.

It took him no longer than two seconds to figure out that’s not what was happening at all.

He opened his eyes, only to find Bachira’s yellow eyes wide open and only an inch or two away from his own. Watching him as he kissed him. Isagi felt frozen, aware only of the fact that Bachira was kissing him. Zero awareness of how he felt about it, or what he should do.

Before he’d come to a conclusion on either, Bachira’s lips smacked as he ended the kiss, and then he pulled back, grinning like nothing had happened.

“Pretty special, huh?”

Isagi didn’t know what to say. Bachira just giggled, like he hadn’t expected an answer, or his own laughter was enough of one. He jerked a thumb back towards the field.

“You wanna go again?”

“Sure,” Isagi said, pulling himself to sitting.

This time, there was no mention of a super special prize, or any urging to try their hardest. There also wasn’t any acknowledgement whatsoever of what had just happened. Bachira was so nonchalant that Isagi wondered if he’d imagined the entire thing. And this time, whether it be from how exhausted he was, or how distracted he felt, Isagi lost five-nothing.

“Wow,” Bachira said, laughing after his last goal. “You really used all your energy during the first game, huh?”

Isagi just watched him, trying to figure out if he was fucking with him. It didn’t look like it, but then again, with Bachira, you could never really tell.

“Yeah,” Isagi finally agreed. “I guess so.”

“Well, I’m exhausted,” Bachira said next, rubbing his first into his eye. “I’m going for another nap. I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Sure,” Isagi said.

He wasn’t sure what else to say, if there was anything else he should say, but Bachira was gone too quickly and made the decision for him. The field was now bare and lonesome, so Isagi decided to head down to the main gym and zone out while he tried to make sense of that whole special prize. He wanted to know why it had happened, but of higher priority, was how he felt about it.

After an hour on the treadmill and another hour mulling about the machines, he still didn’t know. He sat down in the open area to stretch, looking at himself in the mirror before he closed his eyes again. Maybe returning to the same conditions will jerk the memory back, and I can figure it out that way, he reasoned.

He tried to picture it, how it had looked having Bachira so close, but he just found himself circling back to all the other instances of Bachira being that close to him for whatever reason he saw fit. Leaning in to whisper something, to wipe something off his cheek, to get a good look at his eyes. Isagi had never thought twice about any of that. This was different.

Or, he thought so, anyways.

He lifted his hand and pressed his fingertips into his mouth. It had all happened so fast. It was over before he’d even realized it had begun. His touch was light as he tried to make it as mouth-like as possible and asked himself what he would have done if he had realized what was happening in time to react.

Before he really finished the question, he found he was pressing his mouth into his hand.

“Uh,” he then heard. “What are you doing?”

Isagi’s eyes shot open, and he felt horribly stupid. He’d known a couple of the other guys were in the gym with him, as there normally were when they had down time, but he’d kind of forgotten about it with all that was on his mind.

“Nothing,” Isagi answered.

“You sure?” Kunigami asked. “Because it kind of looks like you were kissing your hand.”

“I wasn’t,” Isagi said. He was trying to figure out what he could have possibly been doing, what excuse he could give. He finally landed on, “I was wiping my mouth.”

“Alright,” Kunigami said. “So, can you spot me?”

“Sure,” Isagi said.

He followed Kunigami, did barely anything as a spot for the absolute powerhouse, but finally came to a conclusion with the jolt of surprise that it offered him. He wasn’t sure what he felt about it, so he was just going to have to kiss Bachira again to figure it out.

Isagi saw Bachira already sitting at a table with his own dinner when he got into the cafeteria. He waved to him and moved to get his own food. It was the same as it always was.

But it didn’t take all that much effort to arrange his natto into the shape of a heart on his rice. He knew he wouldn’t want to share, but he figured it was a nice gesture either way.

“Hey, Isagi!” Bachira greeted him happily.

“Hey, Bachira,” Isagi said, sitting across from him. “How’d you sleep?”

“Mmm,” Bachira hummed, grinning. Isagi knew him well enough to take it as a positive response. The yellow eyed boy them caught sight of Isagi’s tray, and his half hearted natto heart. “Woah! Is that for me?”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Bachira,” Isagi told him.

“Looks yummy,” Bachira said.

“You don’t have to lie,” Isagi joked.

Bachira didn’t answer. He just opened his mouth and watched Isagi in wait.

It took him a second, but finally, Isagi lifted his chopsticks, dug out a bite of rice and natto, and stuck it into Bachira’s mouth across the table. He accepted it readily, and chewed animatedly, like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. Isagi did smile at the sight, all the while trying to watch Bachira’s mouth without making it seem like he was.

After they were finished with dinner, they were heading back to the room, and Isagi decided to make good use of the silent hallway to create his opportunity. He’d been thinking about how exactly to go about this, and figured taking a page out of Bachira’s book was as good as any.

“You wanna race back to the room?” Isagi asked him.

“Huh?” Bachira asked.

“But to make things interesting,” he continued. “The winner gets a super special prize.”

He hadn’t been able to look at Bachira while he said that part, but he could feel his yellow gaze all but burning into his quickly reddening face. And before he even said anything, he could hear his grin.

“You’re on,” Bachira said simply, before taking off down the hall. Despite his efforts, which Isagi himself wasn’t even sure were his best, he lost. Not by much, but enough to be the loser. Enough for Bachira to be standing in the room proudly when he arrived, a finger outstretched to him, announcing, “I won!”

“You did,” Isagi said.

“What are you two fucking idiots up to?” Raichi yelled at them immediately.

“Aw,” Iemon teased. “Let the kids play.”

Bachira didn’t say anything else, but he watched Isagi like he hadn’t forgotten about his special prize, knew what it was, and wanted it.

But he didn’t bring it up the entire rest of the night. Which was fine by Isagi, who was surprised he even had enough stability to hold a toothbrush. The time would come, he reasoned. When lights out time came, Bachira slid into the futon beside Isagi, and he smiled at him before sticking him thumb in his mouth, closing his eyes, and passing out. Isagi did the same and tried his best to fall asleep, and he was sure when he finally did, he was the last one to do so.

Isagi was shaken awake. The room was quiet, and he was sure it was Igarashi kicking him after having squirmed his way out of his blankets in his sleep. But it wasn’t. When he blinked the sleep out of his eyes and they finally adjusted, Bachira was leaned over less than a foot above his face, his hand gripping his shoulder. Grinning.

“Isagi,” he whispered. “Isagi, wake up.”

“I’m awake,” Isagi whispered back. “What’s going on?”

“I want my prize now,” Bachira told him.

Isagi was suddenly wide awake. “Right now?”

Bachira nodded, still grinning.

Isagi’s chest jerked, probably from how rapidly his heartbeat spiked. He felt something roll through his stomach, and his cheeks were flushed immediately. He swallowed, took a breath, and started nodding.

“Okay.”

Isagi sat up and took a look around the room, wanting to be double and triple sure that everyone else was asleep. It seemed to be the case. Bachira had lay back down, and was watching Isagi scan the room. When he was satisfied, he lay back down, and then they were both facing each other. Waiting. Bachira, for his prize, and Isagi, to finish gathering the nerve.

“Everyone’s asleep,” Bachira confirmed. “I already checked.”

“I know,” Isagi said. “I’m just.”

“Nervous?” Bachira asked. “Yeah. Better to just get it over with, I think.”

It seemed like pretty decent advice.

Isagi slowly crept over as close as he could get to Bachira, until he could feel his body heat even through their clothes and blankets. Isagi didn’t want to think about that, though. He didn’t want to think about how Bachira was watching him or how someone might hear or how this could change everything between them. So, he didn’t. He just leaned forward until his mouth met Bachira’s and kissed him, no thoughts in his mind at all.

Isagi could feel Bachira’s grin on his mouth. It was so characteristic of his friend that it immediately made it real, and he was entirely aware of what was happening. He thought his first thought would be this is kind of weird, but instead what flashed in his mind was this is really nice.

So, he kept going. Bachira’s mouth parted and kissed him again. Isagi followed suit. He hadn’t kissed anyone before, unless you counted Bachira earlier that same day, but instinct was taking over as he slipped his tongue into Bachira’s mouth, let his slide through his lips in return, and let his hand find his cheek so he could both remind him of where he was and prevented him from pulling away.

It didn’t take long for Bachira to start grabbing him back, but he was more forceful with it, less careful. He had waited this long, and he wasn’t trying to be quiet. He wasn’t trying to do anything except what he’d been waiting to do since he’d met Isagi. By the time Bachira was slipping out of his own blankets to slide over and into Isagi’s, Isagi was sure they were being loud.

“Shh,” Isagi whispered between kisses. “Someone’s going to wake up.”

“Pfft,” Bachira whispered back. “No, they’re not.”

He rolled himself on top of Isagi, straddling him, and Isagi didn’t have a single urge to fight him on it. He was sure this was against his better judgement, but he decided to trust Bachira, if for no other reason than he didn’t want to stop. He was still grabbing his back, one hand on his neck, one hand clutching a handful of his sweatshirt, pulling him down and onto himself, wondering how long they could do this, how much they might get away with.

“Would you guys at least go to the bathroom or something?” the two of them suddenly heard Chigiri whisper.

Isagi and Bachira stopped and pulled away, eyes wide and smiling at each other. Bachira couldn’t help but giggle, so he pulled his pillow into his face to do so. Isagi too, felt the urge the laugh. He didn’t feel the slightest bit embarrassed at having been caught. It was just funny to him.

“That was a really special prize,” Bachira whispered once he’d placed himself back into his own bed and was settling back onto his pillow. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Isagi.”

“Yeah,” Isagi agreed. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Bachira.”

“Oh my god!” Raichi yelled. “Shut up already!”

Chapter Text

Kunigami often tried to stagger his workouts, to go when nobody else was there, but mostly, to go when Chigiri wasn’t. He always tended to have his worse sessions when he was there.

Today was a day he wasn’t so lucky, but he was already there, so when Chigiri showed up, hopped on the treadmill, and started running, Kunigami tried to do his best to keep him out of his eyeline and just keep going, even if he knew his workout was as good as over.

He got distracted, watching him on the treadmill. He didn’t understand what he was seeing. They’d spent weeks at Blue Lock together, and it was a sight he felt he should have gotten used to by now, just like he’d gotten used to the comings and goings and the actions of everyone else, but Chigiri was a different devil entirely.

Chigiri didn’t use headphones when he ran. It was hardly the weirdest part, but it was worth noting, as far as Kunigami was concerned. He himself liked using the portable music players the facility provided. He liked to zone out. Not Chigiri. He could run despite any distraction. He liked it that much.

He didn’t watch the treadmill screen, either. He just stared straight forward. Kunigami used to think he was watching himself in the mirror, watching his form, as a lot of them did. But it wasn’t that either. He was staring somewhere past the realm of what they could see, running away from something or towards something that only he knew of.

Kunigami knew this, because every so often, without any stimuli, without the machine beeping to tell him he’d reached a certain speed or distance, Chigiri’s mouth lifted into just the slightest smile, celebrating some type of win that meant something to him and him alone.

It was beautiful. And it always took Kunigami off guard.

Today more than usual, apparently.

“Shit!” Kunigami exclaimed, scrambling his foot out of the way from the dumbbell he’d dropped, narrowly avoiding it. “Fuck!”

Chigiri noticed the commotion and looked over. He caught Kunigami’s eye. He quirked a single eyebrow up, silently asking him, you good? Kunigami exhaled and waved him off. Chigiri nodded and turned his head back forward, continuing on. He never once dropped speed, nor missed a step.

Kunigami understood strength and power well, but this level of grace and agility floored him.

He finished as many sets as he could, which admittedly, weren’t many, and then fell into the open space to stretch his muscles out. It felt pathetic to do so after they weren’t pushed to their max, but he knew better than to skip it, even so. Tonight’s session would be better. Besides, nobody but himself knew how poorly he’d done. Everyone else in the gym had shown up after he had. Not that it made it sting any less.

“Hey,” Chigiri said, taking a seat beside him.

Kunigami was surprised. He hadn’t heard the treadmill stop. He hadn’t heard him walk over, either.

“Hey,” he said back. “Done already?”

“It’s a short day,” Chigiri answered with a nod. “Only 10k.”

“Jesus,” Kunigami said. Ten kilometers was his max on a good day. But then again, as he already knew, Chigiri was very different in a number of ways.

“You good?” Chigiri asked him, out loud this time.

Kunigami didn’t want to talk about it, and even if he did, he wouldn’t know where to start, so he just said, “Yeah.”

“You seem off today,” Chigiri said.

“You watch my workouts enough to know when I’m not doing well?” Kunigami asked.

It was bold, he realized, after he’d said it. But he figured it was hardly odd. They all watched each other as players. It would make him feel a little less weird to hear Chigiri admit it, though.

“No,” Chigiri answered. It was a hum of a word, lasting longer than it needed to. “What I mean is you’ve been staring into space and you’ve been stretching the same leg for like, five minutes. And you never drop stuff.”

Kunigami didn’t feel particularly inclined to acknowledge any of that. He hadn’t realized what he’d been doing, but he believed Chigiri’s observations, all things considered.

“I’m fine,” Kunigami said, pulling his outstretched leg in.

“Okay,” Chigiri said, seeming to accept it. “Well, if you’re all done stretching out that leg, you wanna help me with mine?”

He nudged him in the thigh with his poor knee. Kunigami nodded. It was something he’d done before. Most of the guys had. It was a bit of a right of passage, to get up and close with the speedster’s bad knee, to do your part to ensure it stayed in working condition, to keep his weapon on the field. Kunigami liked it more than most, he was sure. It made him feel heroic, like he was doing his part towards a greater goal.

And he knew the process well. Standing over Chigiri as he lay on his back, he knew the stopping point before he had to stay anything. When to push it, when to hold it steady, when to ease off. He was good at it. Chigiri smiled up at him as he brushed a few pieces of loose hair off his face.

That was another odd thing about Chigiri. He never tied his hair back in the gym. It wasn’t something Kunigami would have normally noticed, but he just had so much of it, and a few of the other guys with longer hair tended to gel it up or tie it back. Chigiri did, sometimes. Or braided it. But he never seemed to want it entirely out of the way when he was in the gym or on the field. It made him seem kind of ethereal.

Kunigami suddenly needed to fill the silence. “What do you think about when you’re running?”

“Huh?” Chigiri asked.

“When you’re running,” Kunigami repeated. “What do you think about?”

“Nothing,” Chigiri answered.

“Bullshit,” Kunigami said.

Chigiri smiled. “What? It’s not enough to like running so much, that I think about that?”

“So, when you’re running, you think about running?” Kunigami asked. Against the mat, Chigiri moved his head from side to side, still smiling, his eyes saying more or less without having to actually voice it. Kunigami found himself smiling back. “I still don’t believe you.”

“Well, I don’t believe something’s not bothering you,” Chigiri said. “So, I guess we’re even.”

“Touché.”

Chigiri smiled victoriously, and neither of them said anything else. He closed his eyes and inhaled carefully, and Kunigami understood this as a time to push his leg a little further. He kept going until his brows furrowed a bit, and held it there.

“You’re really pretty, you know that?” Kunigami found himself saying.

Chigiri opened his eyes. “What?”

“Nothing,” Kunigami said.

“Did you just call me pretty?” Chigiri asked. He didn’t seem to be mocking him. He didn’t seem to think any which way about it.

“Don’t let it go to your head, princess,” Kunigami said. It was as much of a confession as he was willing to give.

“Princess?” Chigiri said. His smile was back; he was almost laughing now. He knew some of the other guys referred to him this way, whether it be due to his looks or his knee. It was usually behind his back, sometimes to his face. He hadn’t heard Kunigami say this yet, though. “And does that make you the hero of my fairy tale?”

“I could be,” Kunigami answered, without really thinking about it.

Chigiri smiled and bent his leg, pulling it back. “I think that’s good.”

They separated. Chigiri sat back up, and Kunigami sat back down. He halfheartedly pretended he had more to stretch, or more to recover from. Chigiri did not. He was sitting lazily. His hair had fallen back into his face, and he was watching Kunigami through it, thinking that he still looked awfully troubled.

“Maybe we should get our so called hero upstairs for a bath,” Chigiri said.

It stung Kunigami, thinking he’d made things weird.

“Trying to get rid of me already?” He joked.

“I’ll join you,” Chigiri said, lifting his chin to fan his neck with his hand. “Pretty as I am, I feel disgusting.”

Kunigami logically understood that he was making fun of him, but he didn’t really mind this time.

By the time he slid into the bath, he wasn’t really feeling any less foggy, but he was hoping the steam might clear his head, and he might be able to soak whatever this was off of him.

Chigiri slid into the communal bath after him, methodically running his fingers through the freshly conditioned lengths of his hair. There was something calming about this to him, feeling the softness of it, feeling in control of eliminating every kink and tangle. It was the control he wished he had over the rest of his body.

Kunigami wasn’t thinking that far ahead. He was thinking that he’d like to run his fingers through Chigiri’s hair too.

And this, Chigiri didn’t know. But he felt the ominousness still hanging over them.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Chigiri asked Kunigami, who suddenly felt like he was choking.

“What?” he asked.

“You have enough goals to trade in to get your phone back, you know,” Chigiri continued, not catching the surprise. “If you have someone waiting to hear from you. I know some of the guys are especially depressed about it today, it being Valentine’s Day and all.”

There was so much overwhelming information packed into those few phrases that Kunigami felt like his head was spinning. The first coherent thought that he caught racing through his head, however, was shit, is it really Valentine’s Day? I didn’t even know.

Chigiri did though, apparently.

“No,” Kunigami finally answered. He grabbed one of the pails and poured water over his head, to give his face an excuse to scrunch and do anything other than gawk, which he was sure it was doing. “No one’s waiting to hear from me. Not today, anyways.”

“I see,” Chigiri said. He then leaned back in the bath and closed his eyes again.

Kunigami tried to piece together those bits of information now that his mind had slowed. He didn’t have a girlfriend, that much was true. And other than his mom, and maybe a couple old teammates, he didn’t have anyone who would be waiting to hear from him on any day. But he wondered about those who might. Have someone, that was. As he thought through his teammates, he couldn’t readily see any of them entertaining any romantic company of any kind. The thought of Bachira or Raichi having a girlfriend actually made him shudder, suddenly sorry for these hypothetical girls.

Chigiri, though. It’s not like it was impossible to picture.

“Do you?” Kunigami asked. Chigiri opened his eyes, but he didn’t sit up. “Have a girlfriend?”

He smiled to himself and shook his head. “Lonely at the top, apparently.”

“Of your ivory tower, princess?” Kunigami said.

“Ha!” Chigiri’s head whipped up, and his laugh was another beautiful sight.

His eyes squinted at the involuntary surprise of his amusement. When he opened his eyes again, he was grinning. He didn’t care either which way when anyone referred to him as a princess, but he kind of enjoyed it when Kunigami did.

Which Kunigami noticed, and fueled by Chigiri’s laughter, continued with the joke. “Hyoma, Hyoma, won’t you let down your hair?”

“Only for you,” Chigiri joked back. “My hero.”

Continuing to laugh, Chigiri whipped his head around, fast and harsh enough so that his hair sent water right into Kunigami’s face. He hadn’t had time to dodge or block it, because those words were continuing to play in my mind. My hero.

He wiped it out of his eyes with one hand, splashing him back with the other. Chigiri blocked the water, or most of it anyways, lowering the lower half of his face into the bath, lifting to spit his mouthful of water across the space between them.

Kunigami blocked it that time.

“Ugh!” He exclaimed. “Gross! Don’t spit in the bath!”

“I’ll have you know,” Chigiri said, lifting his chin a bit. “That my mouth is very clean.”

“I,” Kunigami started, but the half formed sentence fell away and laughter took its place. “What?”

“Don’t believe me?”

“Who says something like that?”

Chigiri splashed back, using his hand this time, before he tucked his hair behind his ear and answered, “Someone you find pretty, apparently.”

Kunigami let out a long exhale. “You’re not going to let that go, are you?”

“Probably not,” Chigiri answered. And then, softer, “I liked it.”

All of a sudden, the whole room felt a lot quieter, the water a lot more still.

“You’re not hard on the eyes either, you know,” Chigiri told him.

His voice sounded so steady, and he watched Kunigami as he said it. It sounded, for lack of a better term, factual. But Kunigami felt himself flush anyways, with that same overwhelming feeling he usually got around Chigiri. His pink eyes were still watching him, like he was waiting for a response.

“Are you…?” Kunigami started, but then the words dissipated, refused to form. He felt stupid, even thinking them.

“Flirting with you?” Chigiri asked. It wasn’t exactly how Kunigami would have worded it, but it was indeed the sentiment that had half formed. Chigiri smiled a bit. “Have been for a couple weeks now. Thanks for finally noticing.”

“Seriously?” It was all Kunigami could think to ask.

Chigiri just watched him, blinking a few times.

“Shit,” Kunigami said, mostly to himself. “Sorry.”

“Okay,” Chigiri said, not really bothering to accept or acknowledge the apology. “So, should I stop?”

“Stop what?”

“You’ve taken a few too many soccer balls to the head,” Chigirl said, his hands moving back to his hair, fingers combing through it. He wasn’t looking at Kunigami anymore, and Kunigami felt the absence of his gaze like an ache.

Kunigami didn’t have it in him to laugh, even though he genuinely thought it was funny. He didn’t know what he was doing, but he knew he wasn’t nailing it. It was just that the fogginess that he’d been carrying around with him all day was intensifying, and he couldn’t focus on the moment in front of him when he was slowly seeing a playback compilation of a bunch of moments he’d spent with Chigiri over the past few weeks, as they were suddenly appearing in a brand new light.

Chigiri was just trying to swallow and mask the disappointment. He leaned his head down, and his hands moved from his hair to his knee, starting to massage it. It was yet another thing that he felt out of control about, and it felt fitting to give it the attention now.

“Knee bothering you?” Kunigami asked.

Chigiri shook his head a little, but he didn’t lift it. He simply understood the question as Kunigami wanting to change the subject, and thus, his answer. “It’s mostly preventative.”

“Let me do it,” Kunigami said. It was quick and thoughtless, but he meant it.

Chigiri lifted his gaze then, watched him for a few seconds, and upon seeing he meant it, he shrugged and swung his leg over Kunigami’s, his bad knee sitting across the so called hero’s own. Kunigami’s hands went to it instinctively, moving solidly and certainly. They weren’t looking at each other. Not directly, anyways. They were both sneaking side glances, but out of time with the other, so neither of them noticed their shared curiosity, and both felt ashamed of it.

Finally, Kunigami decided he was going to gather the nerve to say something.

He leaned in and lowered his voice. “You’ve seriously been flirting with me?”

“Yes,” Chigiri answered, leaning in himself, leaving only half a foot or so between their faces. “My hero.”

Shit, Kunigami thought to himself, feeling impossibly dense. But with the humiliation came another rush of excitement he felt at having Chigiri call him that, and he was suddenly very grateful that Chigiri’s leg wasn’t any further down his thighs.

He didn’t know what else to say, so he kept massaging, deciding to focus on that. He couldn’t really watch, not wanting to look to closely at their skin touching beneath the soft waves of the bath’s surface. Instead, he let his hands take over, and he kept going until Chigiri cleared his throat a little.

“That’s not my knee anymore, you know,” Chigiri said.

Kunigami looked down, realizing his hands had indeed been working their way up Chigiri’s thigh. They were about halfway, and he hadn’t even noticed. He pulled them back frantically, and their legs all but disappeared under the panicked waves he made.

“Shit,” Kunigami said again. “Sorry.”

“I didn’t mind,” Chigiri said, soft and slow.

“Yeah, well.”

Kunigami flexed his hands in and out of fists at his sides a couple times, like that would give him control back over them. He then placed one palm onto Chigiri’s knee, no longer massaging it, just resting it there. The action, so simple and mild, made Chigiri pause. Kunigami’s hand was massive, covering the entire knee bone, the joints, and having it rest atop it, still and solid, felt protective. Like it could keep it from injuring itself any further. It stung the back of his throat and pricked at the corners of his eyes.

“I’m a gentleman, so,” Kunigami then said. “I’d rather do this thing right.”

And without moving his hand from Chigiri’s knee, he used his free hand to tuck some of Chigiri’s hair behind his ear. It was true, he didn’t have a girlfriend. He’d never had one. But he understood the basics of what to do with one. Surely the principles of the matter were the same. He called the guy princess, after all. When he was finished with that action, he pulled his face in, eliminating the last few inches between them.

Kunigami found himself thinking, wow, was this what he was aiming for when he said his mouth was clean? and then felt stupid for thinking instead of enjoying it, and promptly kicked himself. He wanted to be pissed that it had taken so long for them to get here, that Chigiri hadn’t said anything earlier, but let that thought dissipate too. He could only blame himself, for not picking up on it sooner.

The kiss was nice, as he’d intended it, and, in his mind anyways, very heroic. But it wasn’t going to be that way for long. Having Chigiri this close, in this context, in the bath with no clothes between them, the urge to pull him in harshly was creeping in, hard and fast. He wondered if this was what everyone had been talking about when they talked about the urge to devour another human being.

He felt it resonated here and now.

But he was hell bent on making good on his word. He wanted to keep this gentlemanly, and to do this thing right. Even though it pained him to do it, he used the hand on Chigiri’s cheek as leverage to pull his own face away and break the kiss.

“Hyoma,” he said, once he recalled how to form speech.

“Yes, Rensuke?” Chigiri said back.

It was soft, but he was mocking him. The mockery too, was light, the way he tended to poke fun when he was nervous, or felt vulnerable. Kunigami knew this. Without having to be told, he knew.

This is stupid, Kunigami thought to himself. Followed by, just say it.

“Will you be my valentine?” he asked, holding his breath afterwards.

Chigiri let out a breath that was just barely a laugh. “If it’s all the same, I’d much rather be your princess.”

“Okay,” Kunigami said, letting himself laugh.

He’d never known someone to make him laugh this much, or this easily. But Chigiri was different, and Kunigami was sure that subconsciously, he’d always known that. But different wasn’t quite the word. Special, maybe. Or beautiful.

“Only if I can be your hero,” Kunigami said, finishing the thought.

“What a fairytale,” Chigiri said, that light sarcasm still coming through, and dissipating into Kunigami’s mouth and he brought it back to his own.

The mockery may have been there, but it didn’t hit. Kunigami knew, on some inexplicable level, that he’d meant what he’d said.

And he was glad for it, because he agreed with him.

Chapter Text

“Get lost, Zantetsu.”

That phrase, not only the words but the tone, had both Zantetsu and Reo looking up in surprise. Well, offense, on Zantetsu’s part. Reo was but surprised. He wasn’t good enough friends with Zantetsu to be offended on his behalf, and besides, it’s not like Nagi was telling him to get lost.

Nagi had been in a mood all day. Since he’d woken up. Nobody else seemed to notice, but Reo did. It was impossible for him not to notice. He’d woken up restless and seemed more alert than usual. Reo was pretty sure Nagi was pissed at him. He just hadn’t had the chance nor the nerve to ask him about it yet.

“I beg your parlor?” Zantetsu said. “To what do I owe this divination?”

“Even I know those aren’t the right words,” Nagi told him. “Now get lost.”

Zantetsu looked up at the white haired boy for a moment, as if to see if he was joking, or if he’d change his mind. When Nagi’s expression didn’t change, Zantetsu looked at Reo, as if he might save him. He could have, Reo supposed. But again, he didn’t consider Zantetsu a good enough from to contradict Nagi on his behalf. Reo gave him half a nervous smile and shrugged.

Zantetsu huffed, grabbed his tray, and walked off towards another table.

“You okay?” Reo asked Nagi once it was just the two of them.

“Yeah,” Nagi said, his tone returning to normal.

Not quite normal, but not as harsh, if that’s even a word you could ever use to describe Nagi’s voice. It wasn’t whatever it was when it was telling Zantetsu to get lost. Reo let out a little breath of relief, but it was short lived. Just because he wasn’t taking that tone with him, didn’t mean he wasn’t the source of whatever was bothering Nagi.

“You mad at idiot Zantetsu or something?” Reo asked.

“No,” Nagi then said. “I just wanted to be alone.”

With you, the silent implication whispered, slithering its way into the air without having to be said. Nervousness flooded in, and he wondered if he was about to get cussed out. Or, you know, whatever the slacker version of that was.

“Oh,” Reo said.

“I got this for us to share,” Nagi then said, placing his tray down onto the table.

This was another bit of evidence Reo had noticed and not yet gathered the nerve to ask about. When he’d offered to carry Nagi downstairs for breakfast, he’d shrugged him off and walked off on his own. And he insisted on getting his own tray. And this was why, apparently. To get them some gourmet meal to share for breakfast. Reo couldn’t even begin to fathom why, but he was hoping it wasn’t some type of last meal.

“Why?” Reo found himself asking. “You could have gotten your own luxury bed with the same amount of goal points.”

“Why would I do that?” Nagi asked, looking across the table at him. “When you already have one?”

It was, admittedly, a good point. It had been of utmost priority for Reo to get off the futon they’d provided him upon their arrival. When he’d gotten his deluxe bed, it wasn’t quite the king size he had at home, but there was enough room for two, and it just seemed the obvious development for Nagi to share it with him. They’d never even discussed it. Reo had simply expected Nagi to slide into bed with him the first night after they’d delivered it and he had. As far as he was concerned, his treasure deserved to be getting the best sleep he possibly could, so of course it was a gift for the both of them until Nagi inevitably wanted his own.

“That’s.”

Fair, Reo was about to say, until he saw Nagi do something else that really bothered him. He picked up his own chopsticks, used them to grip a piece of squid, and lifted it to his own mouth. Without waiting for Reo to do so for him.

“Nagi,” Reo said, forcing courage onto himself. “Are you pissed at me?”

Nagi looked up, his eyes showing more surprise that Reo had ever seen them. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Why would you think that?”

“You’re acting kind of weird,” Reo said. “You didn’t want me to carry you, and now you’re feeding yourself, even though I know you hate it.”

“I just wanted to give you a break,” Nagi said.

“I don’t need one,” Reo said honestly.

“I know,” Nagi said. And he did.

But Reo didn’t. He was still confused as ever. “And you were kind of rude today.”

“To Zantetsu,” Nagi said, acknowledging it. Reo felt a slight bit saner. “I just wanted to be alone with you.”

“Why?” Reo asked, still feeling like he might be about to get a scolding or something.

“Because,” Nagi said. He stopped eating, and looked up at Reo, wondering if he was joking. When he saw he wasn’t, Nagi reasoned to himself that between taking care of him and planning all their soccer plays, he must have just forgotten. “It’s Valentine’s Day.”

For a half a second, Reo wondered if he was having a heart attack.

“And I just wanted to make it special,” Nagi said, reaching for a radish all on his own. Reo wished he had it in him to wince, but he couldn’t, because he was still trying to figure out if Nagi was saying what he thought he might be. “Because this is the first time I have someone to celebrate it with.”

Reo was suddenly certain he was having a heart attack.

Nagi didn’t notice. He just ate a little more, and then, as if all five bites of the meal exhausted him, crossed his arms on  the table, and lay his head on them. He didn’t close his eyes though. He kept them open, looking at Reo.

“And you mean me?” Reo asked, a shaky hand pointing to himself. Nagi smiled.

“You’re funny,” Nagi told him. He lifted his head enough to push the tray ever so slightly towards Reo. “Have some.”

Reo forced himself through a few bites, a miraculous feat in and of itself, because he was still shaking.  

Nagi thought they were dating.

Not that he cared, really. And he wasn’t planning on correcting him. He’d thought about it once or twice, when he’d awoke to find them clutching each other, or when he cared to look at how excited he got whenever he was around for any length of time. But he thought his feelings were unnoticed and unreturned, and he’d made a quiet peace with them, grateful for what he had.

But that wasn’t the case at all. Nagi thought they were dating, and not only that, he clearly thought Reo knew all about it.

The thought that boggled his mind moreso than the thought itself was why? If they’d never talked about it or discussed it, what in Nagi’s mind had shifted and made it something he so concretely believed. He was curious, painfully so, but he didn’t have it in him to ask.

He was happy to roll with it.

He lifted his own chopsticks into their shared meal, picked up one of the better pieces, smeared it in sauce and held it towards Nagi’s mouth.

“You don’t have to,” Nagi said.

Now that he looked at that statement more closely, Reo was touched. The best gifts the lazy boy could give when locked in a soccer prison were a shared meal bought with goal points and wanting to save his friend -or boyfriend, rather- the trouble of hassling over him. It was awfully romantic.

“I want to,” Reo said.

Nagi’s smile parted and he accepted it readily.

After they were finished eating, Nagi told Reo to follow him. There was a bit of back and forth about Reo not having to carry Nagi, met with his own insistence that he wanted to. Reo won, and he left the cafeteria carrying the boyfriend he didn’t know he had off to the Valentine’s Day date that he didn’t know he was on.

Not that he was complaining.

Nagi lead them to the viewing room with all the screens.

“You really want to watch old game footage?” Reo asked, surprised. It was almost pulling teeth to get Nagi to play soccer, let alone strategize or reflect on it at the best of times.

“No,” Nagi answered honestly. “But it’s the closest thing to a movie I could think of.”

Oh, Reo thought to himself. He didn’t say anything else.

Reo considered it fairly creative, all things considered. He was just impressed that Nagi didn’t try to play phone games as they watched old footage of the games that had been played so far.

Or, kind of watched them. Nagi considered it too much effort to keep his eyes in focus, and he just kind of eyed the blurs, and Reo was watching Nagi. As directly as he could without seeming like it was shameless. Or maybe it was fine to be shameless with his gazing, he thought. Just as Nagi leaned over and put his head of Reo’s shoulder.

Reo put an arm around him, giving him more surface area against which he could relax into. It was a mindless action; one that was simply muscle memory. This was the first time that he actually thought about what he was doing.

Because, as Reo suddenly realized, they did this all the time. Whenever they weren’t moving, and even sometimes when they were, it wasn’t enough to just exist beside each other. They were always reaching for each other, leaning into each other, thinking nothing of every touch, or how their breathing seemed to find a complementary rhythm. It just seemed so natural.

Maybe it did make sense that Nagi thought they were dating. Maybe Reo was the clueless one.

They’d closed the door behind them, but even so, Reo was aware of how quiet the hallway was behind it. It was hard to find any private space or alone time inside Blue Lock; it was just the nature of the program. Reo was suddenly hyperaware of this private moment they were sharing, and felt shaky inside it. Nothing had really changed, yet everything had.

Nagi didn’t notice. Not the privacy, nor the silence. It would have taken too much effort to notice, and he wouldn’t have cared either way.

“Reo,” Nagi said, lifting his head, turning to look at him. For the first time, Reo felt this rush of excitement at hearing Nagi say his name. “Should we do it?”

Suddenly, that rush of excitement exploded, and he found himself terrified of it. Reo stole a sudden glance at the door behind them. It was closed, yes, and the hallway was still silent, but these doors didn’t lock and sound carried through these hallways pretty effectively.

“I probably won’t be very good at it,” Nagi continued, oblivious to Reo’s panic. He was harbouring his own nervousness. and was watching the blurs of the screens in an attempt to settle it. “Because I’ve never done it before. But we could try.”

“To do what?” Reo asked, suddenly needing the clarification, needing it said.

Nagi looked back at him. “Kiss.”

“Oh,” Reo said, letting out an exasperated breath that gave way to laughter.

“What did you think I meant?” Nagi asked.

“Nothing,” Reo answered. Nagi didn’t push it. “Yeah, okay.”

There was a brief second when Reo wondered if it would be weird, but that thought was chased out just as quickly by the surprise at Nagi making the suggestion that they do anything at all that would require any amount of effort. Suddenly he found himself more concerned with how long he might have been waiting for Reo to oblige this request, to fill this need of his. He hated the guilt of denying Nagi anything, ever, and that chased out any hesitation.

And so he kissed him.

Reo expected it to be quick. A peck with some pause. Something brief and something Nagi would consider more than enough. But Nagi was the one parting his lips without breaking the kiss to continue it, grabbing at him, making it so he couldn’t pull back. Not that he wanted to, or would have, without prompting.

Reo wasn’t sure if either of them were good at it. He’d never kissed anyone before either. But it didn’t really matter to him. In his mind, it was perfect. It was heaven. The treasure he’d found had never before felt more his.

After some time, Reo had no idea how long, Nagi pulled back. He tried to smile at his friend, no, boyfriend, he corrected himself, but the white haired boy didn’t smile back. He had a rare type of look on his face, like he was giving something an awful lot of thought.

The panic was setting back in. In his mind, Reo was convinced that Nagi had hated that, that he himself was the awful kisser, and he was about to get dumped on the same day he’d discovered even having a boyfriend to begin with.

Was that weird? Reo wanted to ask.

But before he got the chance, Nagi cut him off.

“Do you think,” he said, lifting his fingers to brush his bottom lip before continuing. “That we could do that on days that aren’t Valentine’s Day?”

The storm inside Reo settled back into a glass smooth ocean in the span of a second.

“Yes,” he answered immediately. “We can do that whenever you want.”

Now Nagi smiled. “Okay.”

That night, after Reo was finished the self care routine he indulged in using the limited products the facility provided, he found Nagi already lying in their shared bed. Nagi was, as usual, on his back, looking up at his phone, tapping furiously. It was such a common sight, Reo found himself feeling like the rest of the day and everything within it had been a dream.

Until Nagi caught sight of him and locked his phone immediately, sliding it under his pillow. Reo was floored. He was sure Nagi would have died, something he would have complained incessantly about normally, and he seemed not to care the slightest bit. Reo smiled to himself, making a quiet promise to subtly find out when Nagi thought they’d started dating so Reo could really go all out for their anniversary. He then extended the arm closest to Reo out, across his side of the bed, his small smile seeming to say come here.

Reo didn’t feel any hesitation this time.

He crawled right into bed, laying his head onto Nagi’s shoulder, his face nearly in the crook of his neck. The extended arm wrapped around him, and he felt nothing about it but the contentment one feels when coming home.

Nobody else on Team V thought anything about it either. Everything might have changed for Reo over the past sixteen hours, but as far as anyone else was concerned, this was just how the two of them behaved.

Nagi’s breath became rhythmic and slow a minute or two after lights out, without any complaint about his arm that was under Reo falling asleep. Which it was, kind of, but it was a pain he could bear today of all days. Reo stayed awake, feeling unable to sleep, like he may never be able to again. He lay a hand on Nagi’s chest and watched it rise and fall with his breath. It was a beautiful sight.

“I love you, Nagi,” Reo whispered.

It surprised even him. The words just came out as the thought crossed his mind. He’d often thought it, but he hadn’t understood that love until this moment. He did now.

And he was sure it was true. It didn’t matter how long he’d known Nagi or how long he’d even known he loved him. What was love if not a deep appreciation for the person in front of you exactly as they are? Seeing the treasure in front of you and knowing that’s exactly what they were to you? Reo was certain in his love, and his let himself become wrapped up in it along with Nagi’s arm.

Reo was so sure, he was already thinking about how to tell Nagi this when he was awake, when he could hear it. What kind of moment he’d want to create to make it perfect. He wanted to tell him. He wanted him to know.

He’d almost figured it out when he heard back from the darkness, “I love you too, Reo.”

Chapter Text

“Itoshi Saeeeee,” Ryusei sang into his phone, still thrilled that he’d actually gotten the number off the soccer star, and even more thrilled that he’d actually picked up. “How’s the prettiest guy in the world doing today?”

“I knew it was a mistake picking up,” Sae said back.

“But you did,” Ryusei said. “Must not be able to resist me.”

“I’m hanging up,” Sae said.

“No!” Ryusei pleaded. “Wait!”

There was no click. Instead, Sae sighed. “What?”

“What are you doing tonight?” Ryusei asked him.

The question took Sae aback. Since getting his number, Ryusei often called him. He never answered. He wasn’t sure why he’d answered today, of all days. Boredom, maybe. Definitely not loneliness.

Sae looked around his hotel room, and then decided to be honest. “Nothing.”

“Nothing? You?” Ryusei said back, forcing his shock. “On Valentine’s Day? That’s a surprise.”

“Dating is a waste of my time,” Sae said back, and he meant it.

Ryusei wasn’t the first to poke fun at his lack of romantic prospects, and he wouldn’t be the last. None of them would sway him. Romantic partners were a lot of work, and he just wasn’t motivated to put in the effort to get so little out of it.

And having to open up to another person? That was another battle all its own.

“A tragedy, then.”

“And Valentine’s Day is a stupid holiday,” he added.

“Boo.” Ryusei chuckled to himself, not believing a word of it. “Let me change your mind. Let’s meet up for a drink.”

“We’re both underage,” Sae reminded him.

“Right,” Ryusei said. “A meal, then. Nothing illegal about that.”

“Not illegal, but nauseating,” Sae said back.

“If you’re playing hard to get,” Ryusei teased. “I can work with that.”

Sae rolled his eyes, and then sighed, to get his point across through the phone. “Fine. Whatever. Only because I was just about to go eat anyways.”

He wasn’t. But that was besides the point.

“Fuck yeah!” Ryusei exclaimed, celebrating his victory and refusing to be shy about it.

“But this isn’t a date,” Sae said.

“Yeah, of course,” Ryusei said. “Totally not a date.”

“I mean it.”

“Uh huh.”

“Meet me at my hotel,” Sae told him. “It’s the tall one. You know it?”

“Is it weird if I say I’m already outside?” Ryusei asked.

“Yes,” Sae answered. And then, “I’ll be down in a minute.”

The two of them wandered the surrounding blocks for a half hour. Sae’s hands were in his pockets and his patience was wearing thin. Ryusei had popped into at least ten different restaurants, all of which had a wait of an hour or longer.

“This is a fucking nightmare,” Ryusei complained. “I finally get you to go on a date with me, and nobody will take us.”

“It’s not a date,” Sae reminded him. “And what did you expect? It’s Valentine’s Day, you dumbass demon.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know?” Ryusei said, his head swivelling at he looked for any viable options. This block didn’t seem to have any to offer either. “I’m not really a dinner date on Valentine’s Day kind of guy.”

“You don’t say,” Sae said.

“Hold the judgement there, Underlashes Senior,” Ryusei shot back. “It’s not like you had any plans today either.”

“By choice,” Sae reminded him.

“Uh huh,” Ryusei said. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“This is bullshit,” Sae said after another block. “I’m starving and I’m freezing. I’m going back to my hotel and ordering room service.”

“Oh, fuck yeah, let’s do that,” Ryusei agreed. “I bet you have a king sized bed. Probably a soaker tub too, yeah?”

Sae glared at him. Ryusei’s grin didn’t fall. He was joking, mostly, but if Sae offered, he wouldn’t be against the idea. Sae continued to glare as he turned his head back and shoved the better half of it into the collar of his jacket.

“Well, I’m trying here,” Ryusei said, letting out a sigh. “And aren’t you the Itoshi Sae? Shouldn’t that have some swing somewhere around here?”

Sae stopped walking. He wasn’t going to acknowledge how stupid he felt, but Ryusei was absolutely right, and he hadn’t even thought about it. He considered making some excuse to save face, but he really was starving and freezing, and they weren’t far from a restaurant run by someone that owed him pretty much infinite favours.

He leafed through his contacts, found the number he was looking for, and barely said more than it’s Itoshi Sae before he’d acquired them a table, a fact that was told to him in a chipper voice, urging them to come right over, it’d be ready when they arrived.

“Fuck yeah,” Ryusei said, less mocking this time. He threw an arm around Sae’s shoulders. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

Despite his better judgement, Sae let him do this. It made the cold more bearable, he reasoned.

The table had indeed been ready for them. It was on the upper floor balcony of the restaurant, overlooking the rest of the Valentine’s Day chaos. The upper level was quieter, with fewer tables, and better service.

Once the server left to get their drinks, Ryusei let out a low whistle. “Some fancy place this is, Itoshi.”

“Don’t embarrass me,” Sae warned him. “I actually really like this place.”

Ryusei put a hand over his heart. “I’ll be on my best behaviour. You have my word, hot stuff.”

“You’re pushing it,” Sae said, lowering his eyes back to the menu. He knew what he wanted. He knew the whole menu by heart. But it gave him something to do either way.

He hadn’t been holding it particularly tightly, because he hadn’t expected Ryusei to lean over the table and pluck it right out of his hands, which was exactly why he was successful in doing so. Sae’s lack of amusement was all over his face, Ryusei’s showing the exact opposite.

“Let’s just get a bunch of stuff to share,” Ryusei said.

“No,” Sae answered. “I know what I want.”

“Join the club,” Ryusei said with a wink. Sae rolled his eyes. “No, seriously. Let’s do it. It’ll be romantic.”

“This isn’t a date,” Sae reminded him.

“I hate to break it to you, Itoshi,” Ryusei said, placing both the menus aside so he could reach across the table, laying his hand down, palm up. “But we’re having dinner together at a fancy restaurant on Valentine’s Day.”

Sae didn’t want to acknowledge that, so he didn’t bother. Instead, he just eyed Ryusei’s hand. “And what do you expect me to do with that?”

“Hold it,” Ryusei told him. Sae was quick with his refusals, but he hadn’t even formed the first bit of no on his lips before Ryusei continued. “Or I will make a scene so batshit that not only will we definitely get kicked out, but I will make sure you’re banned for life.”

Sae felt the colour drain from his face. Ryusei was watching him expectantly, his fingers starting to wiggle where his hand was still rested on the table. Sae considered, for half a second, refusing him anyways. And if it was anyone else, he probably would have called their bluff. But this was Ryusei, someone psychotic even in his finest moments, and he figured he probably meant it. Sae took a glimpse over the rest of the restaurant, wondering if it would be worth the loss, before deciding no. He hadn’t lied when he’d said he really liked this place.

He reached and placed his hand in Ryusei’s, making sure he was glaring while he did it.

Much to his surprise, Ryusei didn’t make any victorious comment about it. He just closed his fingers around it, and started rubbing his thumb across Sae’s knuckles.

It was kind of nice, actually.

When the waitress came by to take their orders, Sae was tempted to rip his hand back and shove it between his knees, but he didn’t. He just repeated his order in his mind to give himself something to focus on.

But Ryusei took advantage of Sae’s uneasiness, giving his hand an affectionate squeeze before he said, “Don’t worry, babe. I got this.”

Sae knew full well he couldn’t snap back nor protest without Ryusei making good on his threat, so he just watched the candle flickering in the middle of the table while Ryusei ordered for the both of them, trying not to focus on where their hands were still clasped, laying on the table for all the world to see.

Which they did, apparently. The table behind Sae started whispering, and whether it was because they were careless or clueless, he could hear what they were saying, and they were indeed talking about them. I think that’s Itoshi Sae! Are you sure? I think so! Oh my god, is he on a date? I mean, that other guy just called him babe. I didn’t know he was gay! Good for him!

Sae wanted to murder Ryusei.

As Sae watched him finish ordering and hand over the menus, Sae tightened his grip and dug him thumbnail into the side of Ryusei’s hand, hoping it conveyed anger or some type of threat of his own. But Ryusei didn’t seem bothered. In fact, he just seemed to grin wider.

“I can take whatever you dish out, pretty Itoshi,” Ryusei told him.

Sae gave up on his efforts and his hand became an indifferent prisoner once again.

The indifference didn’t last long. Sae really did his best to clutch at it, but it was escaping his grasp as he became hyperfocused on the tenderness of Ryusei’s thumb moving back and forth on his knuckles, how comforting his grip felt, tight enough to feel like he intended to hold it, not tight enough that it felt constrained. Sae wasn’t used to this kind of intimacy. He wasn’t used to any kind intimacy at all.

He tried to think about the last time he’d come into contact with another human being in this soft type of way. His parents had been loving, in their own ways, but neither of them were particularly physically affectionate. The last time he’d even hugged another human being, he must have been like twelve years old. And because it had definitely been Rin, he tended to block the memory out. He didn’t even shake hands with players after games. They’d always reach out their hands for him, fake or genuine grin on their face, telling him Good game!

“Good game,” he’d say back. And then, “Don’t touch me.”

It had all but become his catch phrase.

Dating was a waste of his time. The whole endeavour made him feel itchy. In fact, he derived more pleasure from denying potential romantic partners than he did entertaining the idea of accepting their invites. That, coupled with his so-called celebrity status, nobody touched him. Most people didn’t have the nerve to try, and nobody had the nerve to ignore his rejection.

Except Ryusei, apparently.

Sae’s annoyance and the heat in his face perked right up when their food arrived. He once again wanted to jerk back, pull his hand away, and, if he was being honest, hide under the table, but he sat still, forcing his expression of indifference on his face. Ryusei used his free hand to move things out the way to make room and thanked the server graciously. It didn’t even seem sarcastic or dramatic. Sae decided that if he wasn’t so mortified, he might actually be impressed.

“And here, Itoshi,” Ryusei said, moving one of the plates across the table towards him. “This is for you.”

Then, despite the mortification, Sae was impressed anyways.

He looked up at Ryusei. “How’d you know this is what I wanted?”

“Because I’m a good boyfriend,” Ryusei offered by means of explanation.

“You’re not my boyfriend,” Sae mumbled, not having the effort to make his voice harsh or even loud. He cleared his throat, cursing himself for becoming so soft. “Can I have my hand back to eat at least?”

“Or I could feed you,” Ryusei suggested.

“Honestly?” Sae sighed. “Make a scene. See if I care.”

Ryusei squeezed his hand a little, and then pulled his own back, a silent obliging to his request. Sae resented how aware he was of his hand’s emptiness.

He filled it with his chopsticks and focused on remedying his hunger. He’d gotten a third of the way through without any comments, and he almost felt at ease, until Ryusei jabbed his own chopsticks towards Sae’s meal.

“Is that any good?” he asked.

Sae wasn’t sure what came over him, but suddenly his chopsticks had gripped a piece of meat, and he was holding it across the table. Ryusei’s eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise. Sae felt a lump in the back of his throat appear, but assured himself that it would be more humiliating to pull back, so instead, he just raised his own eyebrows and shook his chopsticks around. Ryusei didn’t hesitate any further. He leaned forward and took the bite in his mouth, his lips sliding down the tips of the chopsticks as he finished.

Indirect kiss, Sae found himself thinking. Followed by, oh my god, what the fuck is wrong with me?

“You’re a good boyfriend too,” Ryusei told him after he was finished chewing and swallowing.

Sae didn’t bother responding. He tried to scoff, but it was half hearted and barely made a sound.

They made it through dinner, and Sae managed to worm his way out of sharing a dessert with minimal effort. The uneasiness was still making a home in his stomach, and he mistook it for fullness or something not sitting quite right with him. Either way, he needed to get out of there. When it came time to pay the bill, he handed his card over without a thought.

“I can pay for this,” Ryusei told him, almost offended.

“You’ve done enough,” Sae said.

And he’d meant it to sound sarcastic, or at the very least monotone, but it came out with a tenderness that surprised even Sae himself. Ryusei too, was surprised by his sudden tone, and Sae didn’t care to look at the expression it triggered on his face. Ryusei clearly got the impression he was making some ground. Sae wasn’t convinced that he hadn’t.

Back outside, night was upon them and Sae was made aware more aggressively of how thin his jacket was. His fists were balled up and shoved in his pockets and he was sinking his head back into his collar, but he couldn’t help it. He was freezing. And embarrassed. Had he not been at games or early morning practices with lower temperatures than this? Not that it mattered now. He just had to make it ten more blocks back to his hotel.

Without having to say anything, Ryusei was peeling his own measly sweater off his arms and held it out to Sae, shaking it a little. “You want this?”

Sae didn’t answer. After a sigh, Ryusei draped it over his shoulders anyways. He let him, but he didn’t thank him, nor did he take his hands out of his own pockets. He just let it hang over his shoulders like some type of cloak, refusing to acknowledge the warmth it provided. It wasn’t much, but it made a difference.

After another half block, Ryusei grabbed Sae by the arm through the sweater cloak and guided him to the side of the sidewalk until they’d stopped walking and were facing each other. Sae’s glare was automatic, and his protest wasn’t far behind, until he saw Ryusei giving him quite the disapproving look.

“You’re so stubborn,” Ryusei said, reaching for Sae’s arm, and pushing it into the sleeve of the sweater.

Don’t touch me, Sae wanted to say, but couldn’t bring himself to. Maybe it was the threat of losing his favourite restaurant or the bite of the cold or a mix of both, but he’d lost his will to fight, apparently.

After both his arms were in the sleeves and the sweater was a cloak no more, Ryusei zipped it all the way up to his chin, kissed his forehead, and said, “Let’s go.”

That kiss stung Sae in a way he’d never encountered. He felt it on his forehead as they walked, burning into him, alive in its own way. It was another act of tenderness done so easily. Why was it that intimacy and touch were so foreign and unnatural to him, but second nature to Ryusei? The spot in the middle of his forehead illuminated, making it impossible to focus on anything else.

“You okay>” Ryusei asked him after some time.

“Yeah,” Sae answered.

“You sure?”

“I said yes.”

“Okay, just checking,” Ryusei said. Suddenly, the slyness of his voice got Sae’s attention, and he became aware of his hand just as it was being squeezed. “Because I grabbed your hand a couple blocks back and you haven’t made some dickhead comment about it yet.”

Sae wasn’t sure whether he’d noticed or whether he’d just decided not to. He enjoyed the sensation of his hand being warm against Ryusei’s, but more than that, he enjoyed how it felt being held. Maybe he had indeed lost his will to fight, or maybe he just didn’t want to. It felt nice, the grooves of his skin moulding to and pressed up against someone else’s. Maybe he did want to be touched. Maybe he’d wanted it for a long time.

“It’s fine,” Sae told him.

Neither of them said anything else.

As Sae’s hotel came into sight, their pace slowed. Both of them noticed, and neither acknowledged it. They still hadn’t spoken, as if the silence was preserving their fragile tenderness. But alas, even the slowed pace lead them towards the glass front doors, and it was Ryusei who squeezed Sae’s hand and then pulled away.

“I guess this is where I leave you, Underlashes,” he said. It sounded like he was trying to make a joke of it, but his voice too had a half heartedness to it that Sae recognized. “But I did have fun tonight.”

“You’re not coming up?” Sae asked.

And the entire moment froze between them.

Sae had been thinking it over for the rest of the walk. In between thoughts about he was sure the forehead kiss was slowly driving him inside. He found Ryusei annoying, sure, but he felt that way about everyone. Even the people he liked most. Even the people he loved. And there was something to be said about his persistence. Nobody had ever put that much effort into him to get so little in return. So, if it was that he simply didn’t have any more fight left, perhaps he could find it in himself to indulge in his moment of weakness.

Plus, he wanted to be the one to make Ryusei squirm for once.

Which he did. He didn’t even say anything right away. He just kind of stood there on the sidewalk, mouth open, as if trying to decide whether or not he’d heard him right. He looked stupid, Sae thought to himself, and he enjoyed it, because he was sure that expression had found its way onto his own face in response to Ryusei’s antics.

Sae loved winning, and this felt like the most delicious win.

“I do have one, you know,” Sae continued. “A king sized bed.”

The stupidity only worsened. Ryusei’s eyebrows raised. His eyes bulged. His jaw twitched. He seemed to have bit his own tongue trying to respond. Sae was enjoying this very, very much.  

“And a soaker tub,” Sae added, before turning on his heels, and heading off towards the front door of the hotel.

He heard the rushed footsteps behind him, and by the time he was even passing through the door held open by the doorman, he wasn’t alone.

Maybe Valentine’s Day isn’t that stupid of a holiday, Sae found himself thinking as Ryusei’s arm wrapped around his shoulders. As he let it. And as the two of them walked like this through the bright, whisper filled lobby, he also thought, and maybe dating isn’t a waste of my time either.