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- He will get cold at night
The first time Reo discovers it, he swears it’s an accident. It’s late and Reo’s reaching past his shoulder for his textbook. Nagi’s skin is cool to the touch and he yelps at the contact.
“Why are you so cold?! Are you sick?” He’s leaning forward before he can think, taking his temperature on an instinct. His palm is pressed up against his forehead and sure enough, it’s just as cool as before. Surely this can’t be healthy–although this is Nagi they’re talking about and no part of his lifestyle is even remotely healthy.
Nagi blinks up at him, eyes bleary from probably another late-night video game run. He has his head propped up on the geometry textbook they’re supposed to be studying from and he rubs at his face with his free hand.
“What are you talking about?” he mumbles, seemingly unbothered by the fact that he’s a walking, talking human refrigerator. “I’m always like this.” Huh?
Reo slumps back into his chair and the seat creaks with the motion. He’s heard of people who naturally run hot or cold but he’s never seen a case this extreme. And considering he’s warmer than most at night, it’s almost like a perfect balance if he thinks about it for too long.
“Reo,” Nagi mumbles and Reo snaps his attention to more important matters than potential (literal) sleeping together and zeroing out body temperatures. “Can I sleep here tonight?”
“What?” The word comes out as choked and strangled and Nagi’s brow furrows in confusion.
“I just thought…” Nagi trails off, his gaze sliding sideways in the room. “You pick me up every morning anyways so wouldn’t this just be easier?”
Sure, it would be easier for Ba-Ya who practically has to make a U-turn every time they pick up Nagi but it’s not easier for his already-suffering heart condition that is worsening at the news.
“Sure,” Reo grinds out and he brushes off his clothes as he stands up. “You can have the bed. I’ll go get a spare futon.”
“Why?” Nagi asks and Reo feels his neck crane around to face him, one slow inch at a time. “It’s more comfortable on the bed and there’s enough room.”
Reo balks at the implications before realizing that this is Nagi and he doesn’t act with something that requires so much effort as implications. Subtleties are a bother and his logic is sound so Reo hears his response bubble up from somewhere deep inside his chest.
“Sure.”
Sleeping with Nagi–in a purely literal sense, of course–is nothing like Reo thought it would be. There’s a very visible half-an-inch of empty bed space before them, a thin line of barren sheets that gives him room to breathe until Nagi completely crashes through the border in his sleep and rolls straight into Reo’s back.
“Warm,” Nagi mumbles, right up against his ear and it takes what little remains of Reo’s self-control to not scream, combust or all of the above. He never thought he’d be the little spoon at 6 feet tall but Nagi’s always had a way of defying the odds.
Never mind the strangeness of their situation, there’s a truth to Nagi’s words. He’s cold and Reo’s hot and so in some respects, this is all just a method to regulate body temperature and maintain equilibrium through osmosis.
Reo falls asleep that night to the Second Law of Thermodynamics and his best friend’s breathing.
- He might be over 6 feet tall but he’s incapable of walking to places on his own
“Nagi,” Reo calls out, watching Nagi’s sneaker bang against the wall. “It’s time for practice.”
Nagi huffs in response, the chime on his phone alerting him to another defeated boss and another cleared level. He slides further against the concrete, pulling the phone closer to his face.
He’s gonna damage his eyes if he keeps looking at the screen like that. Practice also starts in ten minutes and it takes five to climb down the staircase.
“Nagi,” Reo repeats, more urgency slipping into his voice. Nagi finally perks up at the tone change. “You promised.”
Nagi glances down at the soccer field through the gated fencing, letting loose another dramatic sigh.
“The field is so far,” he mumbles, flopping over onto his back now. “Soccer is a bother.” Right, because apparently scaling their rooftop is deemed acceptable in Nagi’s book but walking downhill to the soccer field is considered too much work.
“I’ll carry you then.” The words are out of his mouth before he can process them and Nagi blinks back at him, slow in contrast to Reo’s fleeting heartbeat.
“Okay,” Nagi says and drops himself onto Reo’s back without hesitation. He buckles under the unexpected weight but straightens up after a few moments, carrying him over to the staircase.
“Nagi, you have to move your game. I can’t see.”
“Oh, right.”
- The inability to walk carries over to vehicles
“You don’t wanna take the bus?” Reo asks him one day after practice, sitting on the turf. Nagi shakes his head and tips a water bottle back. Some of it dribbles onto his chin and Reo wipes it off with a towel for him.
“Too bumpy,” he says and Reo nods along sagely. He’s never been on a bus personally but from all the American films they’ve watched, school buses look like horrendously shaky environments that render video game playing impossible.
“And the limo?” Reo asks but Nagi just shakes his head again.
“Too much attention,” he mumbles, which is true enough. The limo is enough of an attention-grabber as is and the giant MIKAGE CORP emblazoned on the bumper probably doesn’t help.
“What else is left then?” Reo asks, fingers digging into the grass. Nagi’s gaze travels off to the road as one of their classmates comes sailing past them, a bell ringing in their wake.
Oh. That could work.
“Hold on tight,” Reo says, wringing the handle once. Nagi makes a noncommittal noise but the grip around his stomach tightens minimally as he sets off down the road.
He hasn’t ridden a bike in ages and he’s pretty sure Ba-Ya didn’t teach him the skill with this scenario in mind. Reo’s always been resourceful though and now he’s just funneling his efforts into a different goal.
The asphalt is bumpy beneath the tires and yet Nagi doesn’t complain, head resting on his shoulder and hands locked around his stomach. Because somehow, in Nagi’s book, a rickety school bus ride is bothersome but leaning against Reo’s back as they topple over the crest of the hill is deemed acceptable.
Nagi’s always been a locked box of contradictions though—one that Reo’s not sure if he’ll ever truly unravel.
- He will get lost if you do not watch him carefully
“Nagi!” Reo calls out into the crowd, spinning around frantically. The mall is far too crowded for a Sunday and he has half a mind to buy out the whole complex so they can actually have some breathing room. “Nagi!”
Reo retraces his steps slowly and thanks the gods above for Nagi’s laziness. He hasn’t moved from the spot they were at when they first entered, his gaze expectedly glued to his phone.
“Oh, Reo,” Nagi mumbles as he finally registers his existence. His chin tips up slightly and his eyes are glazed over with a familiar fatigue.
“Did you forget what we’re here for?” Reo asks and Nagi’s expression sours instantly, his gaze sliding sideways as his mouth folds into a pout.
“I don’t need new clothes,” he protests for the millionth time.
Nagi’s fashion sense is non-existent on a good day and cringe-gamer-meets-all-nighter on a bad day. It’s his duty to society to fix that. The mall is still jam-packed though, as demonstrated by the pointy elbow that jabs into his side when he sticks his hand out, palm-up to Nagi.
“Come on,” he says, the words an invitation from a place that Reo keeps locked up deep inside his chest.
Nagi stares at the outstretched hand and Reo feels the second stretch and split into eternity. Nagi eventually sighs though, pocketing his phone and slipping his hand wordlessly into Reo’s.
“As long as we’re still going to the video game store after,” Nagi mumbles and Reo laughs in response, swinging their joined hands together. He gives a light squeeze and he thinks he feels a very small, very minimal squeeze in return.
“Of course, Nagi.”
- Handle with care
“Choki,” Nagi mumbles, cradling the pot like a newborn baby. Reo doesn’t quite understand what all the fuss is about a cactus but to each their own, he supposes.
Nagi finally sets his beloved plant down on the table, gaze sliding back towards Ba-Ya.
“Thank you,” he mumbles, his head bowed, and Reo’s eyes widen because it’s one of the few times he’s seen Nagi display this much effort or emotion.
“It was my pleasure,” Ba-Ya replies, her voice crackly with familiarity. “Were you able to complete my request?”
Request? Reo doesn’t remember anything like that, but clearly Nagi does from the way his gaze slides down to the floor.
“I think Reo’s taken more care of me than I’ve taken care of him,” he finally says and Reo chokes on the words because he’s never realized that Nagi was self-aware. That he knew Reo treated him differently than everyone else–that piggyback rides and sleeping side-by-side and handholding were a right reserved exclusively for him. And if he knew that , what else did he know?
Ba-Ya hums, the sound neither disappointed nor surprised. She mumbles something about food and disappears into the hallway. Reo’s attention swings back to the present and he turns to face Nagi.
“You knew ?” he asks, on the cusp of shouting. His mind feels feverish, thoughts spinning in a whirlwind around his mind. “Did you know the reason why?”
He grabs Nagi by the shoulder and Nagi startles at the touch but doesn’t pull away. Reo tracks the motion and forces himself to relax his grip, gentle as his hand rests against his shirt.
“Well, yeah, of course,” Nagi mumbles and that’s enough to shatter Reo’s world, a single gunshot through his fantasy.
“You knew I liked you all this time and you never said anything?” Reo hears his voice break, the words rough at the edges as Nagi blinks back at him, face cycling through a series of emotions. It might come off as impassive to any passerby but a careful observer–and that’s a generous term for Reo’s position–can notice the miniscule differences, the slight tightening of facial muscles that indicates worry or fear.
“I… did say something,” Nagi finally says. He seems to be fumbling with his words and so he grabs Reo’s hand instead and slots their fingers together. “Like this.” Nagi shuffles closer until his chin is resting on his shoulder. His eyes go glossy at the contact. “Like this.”
Oh. Oh. Reo, the self-proclaimed and infamous Nagi translator has somehow failed to decipher the most important message of all. He feels like he can’t be the only one to blame though when Nagi acts like some sort of loyal animal, sticking to his side and cuddling closer to show affection. He’s never been one to care for the conventional though.
Nagi leans a little closer and Reo feels his back bump up against the wall. Nagi lifts one hand to his face, fingers grazing the edge of his cheek. He tips his head and looks up, the question in his eyes. May I?
Reo’s never been able to say no to Nagi’s requests and he’s not about to start now.
He nods once and Nagi leans in to close the gap. Their first kiss is clumsy and their teeth clack together but Reo just laughs as Nagi pulls back, chest light even as he feels warmth flooding through his face.
“Like this?” Reo asks and Nagi meets his gaze head-on, lightning flickering through his eyes.
“Like this,” he replies and leans in to kiss him again.