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Hakuho wins; their victory, as always, is a given, but still a cause for celebration. One of their teammates runs over to the bleachers, and his girlfriend jumps into his arms; he spins her around, kisses her, and the crowd goes even wilder.
It’s almost like a movie scene. Nagi thinks that it should be raining, then, to really sell it — actually, Nagi thinks it would be best if it were cloudy. Not too hot, not too cold. Perfectly untroublesome weather.
“Nagi!”
The air rushes out of Nagi’s lungs as Reo leaps onto his back, throwing his arms around his neck and hooking his legs around his waist. Nagi cranes his neck, ready to complain, and his lips brush against Reo’s cheek.
Reo doesn’t seem to notice, but Nagi feels something spark in his stomach. Reo’s skin tastes like salt and sunblock, and it’s — it’s soft —
An image rises, unbidden but almost tangible with how much Nagi can feel it: scoring a goal for Reo, turning around with Reo’s name on his lips, and seeing him already there, flushed pink and wearing his lopsided, cocky grin. There would be sunlight warming their skin, softened by a cool breeze — not too hot, not too cold. Nagi would hold Reo’s soft, soft face, his hands eclipsing his cheekbones, and Reo would surge up to kiss him, fingers tangling in Nagi’s hair. He imagines Reo would be laughing, happiness spilling out of him like shaken soda, and Nagi doesn’t know what a kiss feels like but he imagines that it’s perfect.
He imagines that he gets to spin Reo around, too, and even if it rains, Reo would keep laughing, and so it wouldn’t matter.
Nagi thinks he must’ve fallen in love slowly, like the way lava crawls, burning yet unhurried — moving closer and closer to Reo with each day, fire kindling in his heart quietly. Even if it’s slow, it consumes what it touches, and all of Nagi, within six months, is forever changed.
Nagi doesn’t have the power, or the will, to fight it. He follows his heart to Blue Lock, a promise thrumming through his veins.
He used to wonder if Reo knew what he was saying, calling a slacker like Nagi his treasure. The months kept passing; Reo kept saying it. So he must know, must feel what Nagi feels — what they have is special. What they have is worth going to the ends of the world for. People say that love isn’t easy, but it’s easy with Reo. If he keeps scoring goals, Reo will be happy, and Reo will want him, need him.
And then — well. It gets less simple. They aren’t the strongest anymore, and so Nagi has to go, to become stronger for the sake of Reo’s dream.
He thinks Reo understands, because Reo always does.
But today, Reo slaps his hand away. Reo’s eyes are dark, and his skin is pale, like all the life’s been drained out of him.
I’m going to crush you, Reo tells him, and it sounds like a promise. Going to, Reo had said, but those words have a head start, because Nagi already feels his insides crumbling, like he could just sink into the water and never resurface, and okay, yeah, he’s crushed, right then and there, so can it be over now?
It isn’t over. Reo keeps talking. Nagi doesn’t understand.
Worse, he thinks about kissing Reo’s forehead, right in the center where it’s creased unhappily. He thinks about kissing the edge of Reo’s mouth, where it’s slanted downwards, instead of up, up, up, the way it always ticked towards bright purple eyes. Now, it points towards a faint beauty spot — Nagi hadn’t noticed it before, hiding there. No, he’d always looked at Reo’s eyes.
Reo’s face is an entire constellation in its brightness. This new expression, this pained, pinched look, is a black hole. In their six months together, Nagi’s always been weak to Reo’s sadness. He wants to fix it, and right now, he can't fix it with soccer.
If he kissed Reo now, would Reo’s face smooth out? Would the corner of his lips rise again? Would Reo understand his feelings?
As much as he wishes it could, Nagi knows it wouldn’t help. What Reo wants is a rematch. A fight. Okay, fine. If that’s what Reo wants, that’s what Reo will get. Nagi will make the pain disappear soon enough — the two of them have always been strong, right? Nagi won’t give up.
There was a time before Reo — just six months ago — but it’s a completely different life. Nagi doesn’t want to go back. Refuses to go back.
Reo’s earnestness was a tidal wave; before he knew it, Nagi had been swept along. It was like floating in an ocean, gently enveloped and eased along by its waves. Reo was there to make life’s troubles a little more tolerable, and Nagi knows he can live without him, has to, so why, why is it so hard to even breathe?
This isn’t a manga, Nagi used to tell Reo, but now here they are, in this surreal place. Blue Lock is worse than a manga, because Nagi can’t flip to the ending, can’t see when Reo will come back to him.
It’s more like leveling up, hurrying so he can save the princess in the tower, but the hearts are depleting, and time is running out. That’s what it feels like, and he doesn’t know how much longer it’ll be before Reo’s heart will empty.
But Reo had said he didn’t want to be handed anything — why is this different? Aren’t they here to do whatever it takes to be the best?
Nagi doesn’t know. He can’t see their ending, but he’ll keep writing his part.
The days pass, and Nagi keeps trying. He keeps reaching out to Reo, just to let him know (I’m here, I’m here, Reo, I’m here) . Reo seems to thaw, sometimes, before freezing back up.
So Nagi hides in his dreams. He dreams about kissing the dark circles under Reo’s eyes, the near-permanent crease of his forehead. Reo kisses him too, all over his hair, his cheeks, his forehead, his closed eyes, the tip of his nose, the point of his chin. Reo says things like don’t cry, Nagi, and that’s when he wakes up, eyes burning.
Even during their time off from Blue Lock, the others want to meet up.
Nagi doesn’t mind it; he’s a little surprised, deep down, that he’s been invited. His life really has changed, hasn’t it?
He wonders if Reo would be proud. Happy. He wonders if Reo is invited too.
He hasn’t texted Reo about Choki, yet. He doesn’t feel like he’s allowed. It’s a strange thing to lean into his ego at Blue Lock, only to hold back now.
He trusts Ba-ya. And maybe if Reo is with Isagi and Chigiri, he can ask him.. or maybe he shouldn’t…?
It’s a pain to think too much about it, so he decides not to. If Reo is there, he’s there. If he isn’t, he isn’t.
It’s not Nagi who finds Reo, but Reo who finds Nagi. It feels like that’s the way it’s supposed to be. Sure, there are others, but Nagi’s eyes have trained themselves to find Reo first, always.
One more rule. This one’s important.
Play soccer by trusting only in me, looking only at me.
“Caught ya red-handed, criminal,” Reo teases. Nagi wonders if he should feel guilty, guilty for everything, and decides not to think too hard. Reo is smiling, after all. Reo is closer to him than before.
Nagi’s used to following Reo’s lead — so when Reo makes small talk, so does Nagi. Reo stays in his orbit, but doesn’t break past a certain distance, so Nagi hovers, too, as close as he’s allowed.
He imagines the weight, the warmth, of Reo’s arm around him, the way it used to be, and wonders if Reo misses it too.
Reo’s spoiled him, getting to know everything that Nagi likes and dislikes so earnestly, trapping Nagi’s heart faster than a hummingbird beats its wings. Because of him, Nagi had forgotten, all too quickly, just how cold life could feel. There’s something to be said about the mind and body’s equilibrium, isn’t there? Homeostasis, or whatever. Reo dragged him from one set point to another, and then left him there, forcing him to miss Reo in all of their entangled entirety. He misses Reo’s voice, his laugh, his smile — the way just the sparkle of his eyes can make Nagi want to move — and he misses how their bodies fit together as if Reo was made for him, how Reo would stroke his hair and cup his face, and jump on his back after a goal, arms around Nagi’s neck, legs around his waist, and if Nagi fell asleep in the car, Reo would lift him up and carry him up the stairs, and home wasn’t his bed but the person tucking him in, brushing his hair back and whispering, good night, my treasure.
Nagi never believed in soulmates before, but what else could Reo be?
Reo had been so close before, his laughing mouth always right by Nagi’s. Nagi should’ve kissed him then.
Before Isagi has to leave, they all take a photo together. Chigiri promptly sends it to everyone, and there it is — the first photo Nagi has with Reo after a long, long time.
When Chigiri had told them to huddle for the photo, Reo had popped up beside Nagi, like a sudden wildflower shooting out of the ground. He hadn’t put his arm around Nagi, but he had leaned into him, the tips of his hair bleeding purple against Nagi’s white sweater, and Nagi had turned his head to catch the tail end of Reo’s smile, blinded before the flash even went off.
Later, in the dull, dark quiet of his room, Nagi kisses Reo’s photo goodnight.
The world tilts on its axis, but Reo has always been where Nagi aligns — he keeps his gaze steadily fixed on him, on his eyes, bright and shining like violet stars, and on his mouth, still open with exhilaration, even as they fall backwards.
I’ve got you, Nagi thinks, and hopes Reo knows it.
“Sorry,” Reo says breathlessly, but he doesn’t move. He’s exhausted; they both are, panting hard, with their skin dyed red from exertion.
“Can we,” Reo says, “Nagi, can we rest here for a minute?”
There’s no way that Nagi can catch his breath if they do, but he nods, and Reo goes limp, collapsing onto Nagi’s chest. Nagi’s hands rub gentle circles in his jersey, trace over the blocky print on the back: R-E-O. Not Mikage, but Reo. A name fit for a king, a name fit for a lover, because no other name tastes as sweet on Nagi’s lips.
“You fought well, Nagi,” Reo mumbles. Over the cheers of the crowd, Nagi can still hear his voice. “Like I knew you would.”
“You too,” Nagi says. “Reo’s amazing as always.”
“We know each other best, after all,” Reo beams, like muted pink sunlight. His hair is damp with sweat, sliding out of his ponytail and sticking to his nape. Reo huffs a bit, sitting up and moving off of Nagi. He watches the flash of Reo’s wrist, peeking from his glove, as Reo twists up his hair again. It’s gotten a little longer, the edges brushing his collarbones.
Nagi sits up next to him, just to brush their shoulders together. Reo smiles at him; Reo, finally, finally, smiles all the time again. It’s the best he’s ever looked; it’s the best they’ve ever been.
Nagi still hasn’t kissed anyone before, and he still wants to kiss Reo, wants to kiss him now , but god, he’s scared. He’s so scared of fucking up and losing Reo again, and at least Reo’s here, here and happy , and Nagi won’t dare to ruin that.
It still hurts to remember what they went through, but they’ve come out of it stronger. They’ve come out of it closer; Nagi’s found all the words adjacent to love, offered them up to Reo, again and again, until Reo started to accept them.
Nagi likes it when Reo’s bossy, greedy, overconfident — even now, Nagi wants Reo to tell him what to do.
He wants Reo to want to kiss him, too. He wants Reo to look at his mouth the way that Nagi looks at his: at his gorgeous, lopsided stretch of crushed velvet, at the faint beauty spot at the right corner, just underneath his lips, that demands to be kissed.
He’ll be patient, and one day, he’ll kiss Reo whenever Reo wants him to. Whenever Reo tells him he can, he’ll be ready.
Blue Lock ends, but this is just the beginning — that’s what Reo says, anyway. The road to the World Cup still stretches far beyond them, but they’re on this path together, with every step is plotted out in Reo’s worn-out, well-loved notebook.
For Nagi, it began in a stairwell, years and years ago, when a boy with eyes like amethyst found him.
Today, though, is a day off. They’re set to meet up with Kunigami and Chigiri at a cafe that Reo really wants to go to — according to him, it has lemon cake for Nagi, decadent sweets for Chigiri, and salty and sour snacks for Kunigami.
“It needs dark chocolate for Reo too. And coffee milk,” Nagi had murmured, tugging at Reo’s sleeve, and Reo had laughed, ruffled his hair, and assured him that it did.
So here they are now, sitting outside and waiting for the others. Spring is in full bloom, and petals are drifting from the trees into their hair. Reo reaches over, and Nagi catches a hint of his cologne.
“Ah, no, wait,” Reo says, and snaps a photo instead. He grins, shows off his captured moment in time. “Nagi, you look so cute!”
“That’s because I am cute,” Nagi says. “All the time.”
“You are, you are,” Reo laughs, and with that, he gently brushes the petals out of fluffy white hair, his touch lingering even when there are no more blossoms to move. Reo scratches at his scalp affectionately, and Nagi nuzzles against his hand.
“Reo’s cute too,” Nagi mumbles, and Reo preens.
“Oi, lovebirds,” comes Chigiri’s voice. His fingers are entwined with Kunigami’s, and Nagi feels a flicker of envy. “What are you doing, sitting around out here? Let’s go.”
“We were waiting for you, ” Reo accuses teasingly, and then — oh — Reo takes his hand, palm to palm, fingers folding together to leave no space, and leads them all inside. Nagi can only stare at how their hands hang between them, as Reo orders for all of them, shoving his card at the cashier before Chigiri can. Reo squeezes his hand, winks and sticks out his tongue as Chigiri curses him out, promising to pay for their next outing. Reo’s tongue piercing, finally healed, glints as he closes his mouth, and Nagi adds it to the constellation of what he’d like to kiss: beauty mark — tongue — fading sunspots — eyes — nose — lips.
Lemon cake for Nagi. Salted caramel toffee for Kunigami. Chocolate truffles for Reo and Chigiri to share. They take their bounty back outside, under the flurry of petals, and Nagi loses himself in Reo and Chigiri’s banter and laughter. He and Kunigami, as usual, are the quieter ones, but the way Kunigami looks at Chigiri is a language that Nagi knows well enough.
They aren’t officially together, not like Chigiri and Kunigami are, but like Reo said, maybe this is a beginning. Something shy and sweet, something that comes with spring, something that comes with leaving the arduous summers and winters of Blue Lock behind.
This is something slowly pushing from the ground, something blooming.
After all, Reo’s still holding his hand, and Nagi pulses with the thought that soon, soon, they’ll be ready.
They win.
They win.
It doesn’t feel real, not when Nagi’s dreamed about this moment for years. For all he knows, he could still be dreaming, but when he falls to his knees, the ache in his muscles, the grass under his skin — it all feels real. The crowd is screaming, the world a dull roar in his ears, but one voice cuts through:
“Nagi!”
Reo is charging towards him, and Nagi knows he should stand, to make sure he can catch Reo, just as easily and gently as he can stop a speeding soccer ball.
Reo throws himself to the ground, colliding with Nagi and nearly sending them both sprawling. Nagi braces them there, arms around Reo’s waist, and Reo’s arms fling themselves around Nagi’s neck. Reo’s laughing so hard that he just might be sobbing. “Nagi, Nagi, Nagi , we won, we won !”
“Just for you, boss,” Nagi whispers. “One World Cup, ready to go.”
“Just for me,” Reo repeats, and laughs, loud and bright and wild. Nagi’s ears are ringing already, but when he hears Reo’s voice, it’s like his whole body starts to vibrate too.
“Reo,” Nagi says hoarsely. He can’t wait anymore. “Reo, can I—”
And Reo knows, because Reo always knows, so he takes Nagi’s face in his hands and kisses him. It’s rough and desperate and Reo’s lips are chapped, and Nagi’s mouth is dry, but it doesn’t matter, because Nagi would kiss him rain or shine, morning or night, anywhere, anytime, and this — this is their end, their beginning, because the World Cup is finally theirs, but there’s still forever to go.
“Nagi,” Reo says, “Nagi, I love you, I wanted to tell you first—”
“You have,” Nagi says hoarsely. “Every day you’ve known me.”
Reo laughs again, but this time, he really is crying. “You’ve told me too, haven't you?” Reo says, “I’m sorry I took so long, Nagi. Thank you for waiting for me.”
“I love you,” Nagi says. “I love you, Reo. Reo, Reo, I love you.” He draws Reo in again, kisses his tears away, and finally, finally, he can kiss every cherished, every beloved part of him.
This is how it began years ago, when Nagi Seishiro first wanted to kiss Mikage Reo on a soccer field, and never stopped wanting. This is how it continues, laying in the grass like there’s nothing else in the world but desperate hands and flushed faces and swollen mouths.
It’s as perfect as Nagi dreamed it would be.