Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

L/N Y/N could be seen trudging in the hallway, looking for a place to eat the lunch his grandfather packed.

with the dining halls filled to the brim and people flocking the rooftop and staircases, it's a wonder how a prestigious school like hakuho could be this overflowing like the small container of syrup y/n is holding.

"ah... grandfather's sugar syrup..." y/n muttered, his voice flat, as he tried to wipe it with his thumb, only for more to drip.

he stares at his sticky finger, then the staircase ahead of him, and then back at his lunch box. with a newfound determination, the male begins walking upstairs.

as he reaches the intermediate landing connecting the two staircases, he finds a patch of snow-white hair leaning his side on the bannister, despite it being summer, he was wearing a hoodie underneath his blazer. the phone in his hand making noises y/n could only assume is from a shooting game.

'interesting... i don't know what's going on, but it's fascinating to watch.' y/n's footsteps halted so he could watch in silence at the stranger's device.

the stranger glances behind him at the same time y/n turns to stare at him when the screen writes out 'GAME OVER'.

"ah, i'm sorry, i didn't mean to peek."

the stranger stares at him for a moment before turning his head back to speak, "...it's fine, you can stay."

"...thank you."

y/n proceeded to walk past and sat an arm's length beside him.

'oh, it was upside down. no wonder...'

he thinks as he flips his sugar syrup container and wipes it with his finger before unpacking his lunch.

they do their own things without a word, the only sound being y/n's chopsticks and the same shooting noises from before.

that is until a stomach growl could be heard from a certain someone.

y/n stops eating and glances at the boy beside him, who's just tapping away as if nothing happened.

"you haven't had lunch?"

"not really, it's too much work." the male leans further into the railing, making his body droop a little.

"then you can have some of my cold soba."

the white-haired's fingers stop. gray eyes stare back at (e/c)s.

feeling scrutinized under his gaze, y/n speaks again, "only if you-"

"sure."

"huh?"

"...it's a bother to eat later, so i'll accept your offer."

y/n wordlessly scoots over to him. he puts some of his noodles atop the lid of his lunch box, along with a pair of backup chopsticks, and he hands it over to him.

"...thank you." he sits up and bows slightly as he takes the lid.

"it's no problem."

as the stranger eats, though you can barely see it, he can't help but glance at how the boy next to him is tapping on the stairs they're sitting on with the fingers of his left hand.

unbeknownst to the game boy, the motion of his hands stops to fully focus his attention on the rhythm of y/n's fingers.

y/n notices his staring, "why aren't you eating?"

"you're not eating either."

y/n's eyes widen a little before instantly going back to their bored state. "well... i was just wondering... if you..." the fringes of his hair fall along with his head, "if... you'd like my grandfather to pack one more lunch to school since you find it a bother to find lunch. so..." his voice got smaller and smaller until he stopped.

the snow haired boy follows y/n in bowing his head down. he doesn't know why, but he's starting to feel a little bashful like the latter, too.

"...if your grandpa doesn't mind."

y/n immediately snaps his head to look at him. "he wouldn't. he's a retired chef, so he'd be more than glad."

the boy glances back up to see a small glint in y/n's eyes. as if it was contagious, a glint follows to shine in his eyes.

"i'm nagi seishirou."

"i'm l/n y/n, pleased to meet you." y/n pulls out two containers and holds them out to seishirou, "it's warabi mochi with black sugar syrup. please... please be my friend."

seishirou clasps over both of y/n's hands and shakes them gently. "let's get along well, y/n."

even if it was just for a moment, those five words broke the impassive exterior y/n had since coming here. his eyes gleamed a little, and if seishirou squinted, joy radiated from his face.

both of them made a new friend at the end of lunch break.

- ADDITIONAL TIME !

"oh? you want me to prepare two lunch boxes from now on? what's this? what's this? you got a boyfriend now?" y/n's grandfather had his hands on his hips, and he grins with his eyes closed.

"oh, my! don't be like that! what if our y/n-kun gets all shy?" y/n's grandmother laughs out, ruffling y/n's hair.

"no, i just made a new friend." y/n stares blankly at them and pats down his hair.

"say less! i'll make a hundred lunches if my grandson asks!"

"calm down, honey, or else your hips will make that snapping sound again..."

-✮

Chapter Text

THE SUMMER when they met has now turned into autumn. the leaves outside the window near y/n and seishirou have fallen, and the days are getting shorter and colder. it's good weather to play sports, but they prefer the tranquillity of the other's presence more.

the staircase has also turned into their hangout spot.

on every lunch break, y/n would find seishirou to either be gaming or napping away. he would then wake him up, hand him his lunch box, courtesy of his grandfather, and waste time watching seishirou game or lend his shoulder to rest his head for a nap.

they've just met a few months ago, yet their dynamic feels familiar to their typical daily lives from before. the new presence they've found is curious, but not unwelcomed.

the idleness was a serenity both seishirou and y/n were becoming fond of. if they were to not meet, would anything change? no, but they also wouldn't be able to experience what they've felt from it. it's strange how a simple change can mean this much.

"nagi-san, get off me, i'm gonna go to the cafeteria to buy melon bread." y/n says as he pushes seishirou's head off of his shoulder. seishirou tries to lean his head again only for it to be pushed back to him.

"stay here, i'll be back." with that, y/n makes his way downstairs.

'i'm not a dog....' seishirou thinks, staring at where he left off as he rubs the spot his hair was leaning on y/n before.

he pulls out his phone and clicks on a random game he and y/n downloaded on his device from when they were browsing the play store together yesterday.

he lets out a yawn and taps mindlessly, too sleepy to even know what he's doing. he just wants y/n to come back so he can sleep again before the blue light emitting from his screen wakes him up.

unbeknownst to him, a person approaching the staircase he's sitting on accidentally bumps into him, making the phone in his grasp fly away.

but without missing a beat, seishirou jumps down and catches it with his foot, then crouches and continues with his gameplay.

"dude! what the hell was that?!" the person gawks and runs down to him. "are you on the soccer team?!"

"oh, you're that rich guy's son. can you give me money? i don't play any sports. i just want to chill and do nothing for the rest of my life." seishirou says as he holds out his hand to him.

"bro, if you work hard, you can become a pro player!"

"work hard? sounds like a hassle, i'll pass."

"that's fine! you don't need to change! say, what about playing soccer with me?" he puts his arm around seishirou and leans in.

"nagi-san?" y/n calls out until he notices another presence among them. "and you're...." he tilts his head, "...mikage-san, right?"

"that's me! and you must be this genius' friend! hey, mind if i steal him?"

"y/n, send help...."

"steal him? why?" y/n tilts his head to the other side.

"'cause i'm gonna win the FIFA world cup with him! oh, wait, since you're his friend, how about joining us?"

"soccer isn't my thing." y/n's usual unexpressive eyes felt a bit dimmer. his grip on the two melon breads mildly tightened.

"that's fine too! you can watch over us! or anything you want!" he grins and brings an arm around y/n to pull him closer to them. "i'm mikage reo! we're in this together!"

"what a pain...." seishirou slumps. he glances at how y/n's eyes widen a little upon hearing reo saying 'together'. "but... 'kay. don't make me work, though."

"all you need to do is receive my passes and score! so the rules are...."

☆✮☆

'i don't think mikage-san sees me as a friend as he does with nagi-san....' y/n thinks as he kicks a pebble on the road to his grandparents' house.

as y/n and seishirou never brought up going home together, or anything else friends do besides having lunch with each other, they went their separate ways after the second lunch break. every time.

the concept of friends was foreign to y/n. as his parents sheltered him from other kids who weren't 'worthy' of him, he never exactly knew what it was like to have... someone you're fond of? he doesn't get it, why make 'special' connections you can lose at any moment?

yet, he still longs for them.

he longs when he sees other kids playing in the playground, his classmates laughing and chattering away in the morning, and the helpers back in his parents' house would bid each other farewell with a hug sometimes.

he thinks about his past companions, of the boy he met at the park and the junior he guided to his former passion. he wonders if they thought of him as a friend too.

y/n shakes his head. 'i'll befriend mikage-san no matter what!'

with determination burning within him, he speed walks to his grandparents' home. and if he gets weird looks because of that, he ignores them for the sake of an ambitious, lavender-like male.

☆✮☆

"i'm back!" y/n bursts the door open, his voice a bit louder than usual.

"welcome home, y/n-kun! today's dinner will-"

"i'm sorry, grandfather, but can i borrow the kitchen tomorrow? i want to make something for someone." y/n bows to him.

his grandfather visibly lights up, "of course! are you gonna make something for that lunch box guy?"

y/n blinks, "ah, nagi-san? you're right, i should make something for him too..." he ponders with his pointer finger and thumb holding his chin.

now it's his grandfather's turn to blink, "nagi? is that his name? wait, too?! you got another friend now?! y/n-kun! this grandpa of yours is proud of you! shall i make a lunch box for your new friend?!?!"

"huuuh! our y/n-kun made another friend?! tonight will be a feast! a feaaaast!" his grandmother comes out of the hallway and pats him on his back at the same time his grandfather stands up to ruffle his hair.

he stares down as they make a mess of him than he already was before from all that moving he did. though it doesn't show, y/n's always been bashful whenever his grandparents shower him with affection. hell, does y/n himself even know that?

"nagi's my friend i think... but the other, i'm not sure." y/n fiddles with his uniform.

"food is the way to the heart, i'll give him a lunch he'll never forget! obviously, your food will instantly woo him away!"

"what kind of fool doesn't want to be friends with our lovely y/n-kun? send them my way!" his grandparents huffs.

"grandfather, grandmother... you're right, i'll make him my friend." his tone is flat, but his resolve could be seen... he hopes.

•

•

•

that's what y/n said, but he doesn't know what to do.

he had lied down in bed and tried to stay up thinking of recipes only to fall asleep shortly after. though, he did wake up at four in the morning to put something together fresh out of the kitchen.

he puts his grandfather's apron on and clips his hair off his face with his grandmother's hairpins.

'now, what should i do....'

the male looks around, opening and closing every cabinet he sees until he stumbles upon a worn notebook; its pages are yellow on the edges with a smell that reminds y/n of vanilla. did his grandfather drop a bottle of it when he was younger?

he flips the mildly wrinkling pages filled with star ratings (probably from his grandma) before spotting an oddly long title, dorayaki -love at first bite- ☆☆☆☆☆

wife
fiancee grandma
future- girlfriend approved!!!
mom

there were scribbles of what seems to be y/n's grandmother previous to current status to his grandfather. y/n reads the slightly fading handwriting, squinting whenever he sees a number.

"seems easy enough," he mumbles and closes the notebook then puts it back in the cabinet he found it from.

'i'll definitely make him my friend!'

☆✮☆

"l/n!" reo exclaims.

"oh, y/n, you're finally here. what took you so long?" seishirou walks up to y/n sluggishly and places his head on his shoulder.

"mikage-san, nagi-san. sorry i took a while, the homeroom teacher reprimanded me after class for being late." 'i didn't realise i was remaking them for nearly 3 hours...'

reo follows seishirou and places a hand on y/n's other shoulder. "you were late? did you accidentally sleep in or something?"

y/n takes a step back, making seishirou and reo lose their holds. he hung his head low, his voice barely a whisper, "quite the opposite, actually I..."

"what? we couldn't hear you." the violet-haired male leans his ear near y/n's face.

"i... i made something for you...! mikage-san, nagi-san." y/n declares, probably the loudest his voice has been this year, as he holds out a container to them both.

"deja vu...."

"woah! thank you, l/n! you didn't have to!" reo takes it happily with a grin.

"no, i had to. because i want to be friends with you, mikage-san." y/n lowers his head to the side, his hair following along and hiding how he looks to the men in front of him.

reo freezes in place. his smile unchanging as he blinks several times. he's plainly dumbfounded. is y/n offering dorayakis as an offering for their friendship? the container feels a bit warm too.

'don't tell me... was he late because he was making these? he's unexpectedly so...'

the thought contorts his face into a small chuckle. the violet-haired tries to hide it by covering the bottom half of his face with the back of his hand, though the gesture fails him as his eyes crinkle along and the sound of his laughter is caught by the two boys.

"reo...?"

"mikage-san?"

"huh? oh, sorry! sorry! it's just that...." 'you're so damn cute, y/n!'

"ah, never mind that! let's dig in! they're gonna be so good!" reo marvels as he opens the plastic box, revealing two dorayakis (he guesses). they're a bit burnt and the shape looks like a deranged star, but it's fine 'cause it's y/n!

"woah, dorayakis... i think." seishirou grabs one and examines it. is the filling supposed to be this dark of red? is it even supposed to be spilling out like this? whatever, it's fine 'cause it's y/n.

as y/n carefully observes them, reo and seishirou raise their dorayakis to their mouth.

however, as soon as they do, reo holds onto the railing and clasps a hand to his mouth while seishirou merely drops to the ground and lies there with his mouth agape, the filling coming out of it makes it look like he's vomiting blood.

"mikage-san? nagi-san? is everything okay?" y/n, who did not taste his products at all and was only judging through their appearances, asks innocently.

seishirou weakly holds up a thumbs up, "quite edible."

reo swallows before turning to y/n, "let's get along well, l/n...!"

"mikage-san..." y/n's eyes sparkles slightly.

"guys... i didn't get to try the dorayakis because i was in a hurry, so i'm glad," he says, the aura surrounding the (h/c)ette beaming with pride. "maybe i should try-"

"for your well-being, don't." seishirou was suddenly standing again. when did he do that? geniuses are awesome.

"anyways, we're gonna be the bestest of friends!" reo holds their hands up, "hooray to us future victors!"

maybe it's pointless to have friends, and they might just leave him at any moment, but also maybe, just maybe, the fondness growing within him now will worth more than what his parents ever said.

— ADDITIONAL TIME !

"y/n, where are the lunch boxes?" seishirou asks after their little celebration.

"huh? ah, it seems like i forgot to take them since i was in a hurry...."

'so you were late because of the dorayakis!'

"pause! l/n brings homemade lunches for the both of you?!" reo exclaims, being put out of his trance after a delayed realisation.

"my grandfather makes them. if you'd like, i can start bringing three of them tomorrow."

"really? if it's fine with you and him! thanks a lot, y/n!"

"reo, don't you have chefs back at your house?"

—✮

Chapter Text

WHEN CLASSES have ended, the three friends go to the school's field for reo and seishirou (or reo dragging seishirou) to practice while y/n silently cheers them on from the sidelines.

"nagi!"

seishirou takes the ball from reo with his feet, and directly goals, and then slumps to the ground. y/n softly claps at their performance before walking to the blob of white on the field, holding two water bottles in one hand and the other free.

"reo~ i'm tired." the blob whines and melts. he only manifests physically when a (s/c) hand reaches out to him.

as y/n pulls him up, reo approaches them and says, "then we'll stop here for today!"

"good work." y/n turns to hand their bottles. as he gives seishirou his, their fingertips briefly touch. keyword: briefly.

usually, after they're done for the day, they would part ways to go home, but reo seems to have a different idea today. "hey! hey! we should go to nagi's house today!" reo declares after chugging the whole bottle down his throat. in one go.

"sure." seishirou replies, eyes still on the finger(tip)s that brushed with y/n's.

"nice! are you coming, l/n?"

at the mention of the (h/c) male, gray eyes immediately snap to him, the bottle in his hand clutched a bit tighter.

"hmm...." y/n ponders, 'this would be a good time to give them the gifts.'

"i'm going to have to get something from home first. i'll follow after."

"too bad we can't walk there together! then, we'll go ahead first! see you! let's go, nagi!" reo waves both of his hands while walking past y/n.

seishirou stares at (e/c) eyes for a second before mumbling, "later."

y/n nods at them and begins to stride alone towards his destination.

✮

upon arriving, a suspicious-looking black car was parked in front of his house. not at the street across, but directly in front of it. not only that, it was placed horizontally. y/n barely opens the gate to the path of how oddly narrow the space between it was.

'we barely get visitors though?'

the pathway leading into his home was surrounded by his grandmother's garden accompanied by a bamboo water fountain.

normally the sound of the bamboo rocker's arm hitting the rock would soothe him, but it's starting to unnerve him even more because of the strange vehicle outside. the thought of it makes him quicken his steps.

"i'm home- huh?" y/n slides the door hastily, revealing his grandparents and an unknown man sitting on the short-legged table together.

"oh, y/n-kun! you didn't say a friend of yours would be coming!" his grandmother's ever-booming voice echoes. his grandfather was smiling and laughing while pouring tea to a pale man with black hair and a pair of glasses.

"what friend?" y/n responds after quietly gasping for air.

"good afternoon, l/n y/n." the black-haired man passes him a nod. wow, his hair was more peculiar than y/n thought. no offense.

"...do i know you?"

"how could you? i was one of the players your parents' bank sponsored, ego jinpachi. i'm hurt."

y/n stands silent. he does remember his parents talking about sponsoring sports youth camps over dinner a long time ago. though, they didn't let him witness it as they were afraid he might spark an interest in anything other than being heir.

he did, once, however, observe the field those players played on from afar.

but anyways.

"grandpa, we should be leaving y/n-kun and his friend alone now!" the oldest woman in the room yanks her husband away.

"y/n-kun, if you need anything grandpa and grandma will be in the other room! have fun!"

his grandparents disappeared from the room, leaving y/n with someone-he-doesn't-even know-but-apparently-the-other-does.

y/n sighs and steps down to sit across from him and asks, "why are you here?"

jinpachi tastes his tea and glances at the teen before him and takes another sip.

"l/n-kun, i have an offering."

"please get straight to the point." y/n stares blandly. he needs to get this over with soon so he can hang out for the first time with his first high school friends, please.

jinpachi finally puts his cup down and speaks, "a member of JFU named teieri anri has created a project titled blue lock. it's where i, the director and coach, have planned soccer players ranging from 15-18 into future world cup winners as egoists. and we'd like to invite you, l/n y/n, as our assistant.

y/n's eyes widen. "what? why me? i don't even play soccer-"

"anymore," jinpachi cuts him off. "you spent nearly 6 years pursuing soccer, didn't you? you even went against your parents in order to go to a different middle school just to pursue soccer."

y/n feels his blood run cold. "how'd you know?"

jinpachi shrugs, and holds his hands together on the table for his chin to rest on. with a grin, he says, "i have my ways."

y/n remains silent, and jinpachi takes that as a sign to continue.

"anyways, judging by how you're still listening to me, you seem to be pretty hung up on this damn sport despite being past your prime, aren't you, former midfielder l/n y/n?"

abruptly standing up, he slams the table, and grits his teeth to snarl at jinpachi.

"who are you?"

"i've already told you, i'm ego jinpachi. someone your parents sponsored before, and now a director of blue lock. so, l/n-kun, what do you say?"

his eyes are swirling with something y/n has yet to understand. they were sinister, confident, and ambitious.

y/n glares down at him. his hands on the surface clenching so hard he could feel his nails digging through his skin.

he's feeling two things: anger at how the man before him dared to bring up a fragment of his fragile past in front of him, and the smallest, tiniest spark of hope that came when he did.

truth be told, y/n still yearns for soccer.

after he damaged three of the four ligaments in the knee, he was forbidden from athletics since there were too many risks with soccer that could render him disabled.

but despite that, y/n is still desperate to be connected to the one thing that made him feel alive.

alive and away from the pressure of his parents.

the flicker of hope seems to win him over as he decides to mumble, "...i still don't understand why you chose me."

jinpachi shrugs, "you're around the players' age range and you used to be a striker. plus, you're still passionate about soccer, aren't you?"

"...."

"i'm not hearing a 'no'." he smugly accuses, grinning from ear to ear.

y/n mumbles something that sounds more like a whisper in response.

"what was that?"

"fine. i accept your offer," he repeats louder.

and if that damn smirk of jinpachi couldn't get any bigger, it did.

"very well. go get ready, we're gonna take you to the facility now."

y/n quietly walks out to his grandparents in the other room. he tells them of the offer jinpachi gave.

"can i go?"

"good for you, y/n-kun! do what you want, we'll support you no matter what!"

"you will forever be our lovely and handsome y/n-kun! follow your heart!"

y/n feels like his grandparents are always exaggerating when it comes to him, but he always leans in when his grandfather ruffles his hair wildly and when his grandmother smothers him in hugs and kisses.

☆✮☆

"and that should be the last one." y/n mutters, putting an (f/c) cardigan into his luggage.

there's not a lot in there honestly, just dress shirts, pants to go along with them, pyjamas, undergarments, along with his handy dandy cardigans. y/n is a simple, formal man. really.

'oh, i almost forgot. the keychains.'

the (h/c)ette scurries to his closet, and he digs to find a treasure box the size of his palm. blowing the dust, he opens it.

there aren't many things inside. only a purple-red snap hairclip, seashells, dried hubricht's bluestar and tatarian aster flowers, a silver bracelet with a charm of the initial 'S', and sun, moon, and star keychains.

the plastic clashes with each other as he holds them up. they shine under the light of his room.

four years ago when he was thirteen, he visited a pawnshop after a rehab session on his way home. he intended to share them with his old trio until they fell apart, he misses them sometimes. but certain albino-haired sloth and lavender-scented heir started to occupy his mind enough that he barely thinks of them now.

he's glad honestly, that he met seishirou and reo. he thought he'd keep not only the keychains, but also himself hidden for much longer.

like real gold on a treasure box, he carefully puts the keychains back into the wooden case and hides it underneath all his clothes in the luggage.

'time to give these to them.'

"wait... where even is nagi-san's place?"

y/n blankly stares at the ground.

"well... i guess i'll just gift them another day."

☆✮☆

after bidding his grandparents farewell, y/n quickly found out that the weirdly parked car outside his house was jinpachi's.

y/n and jinpachi stares blankly at the car in front of the gate.

"how do we get there?"

"...we'll figure it out."

— ADDITIONAL TIME !

at seishirou's place, said albino-haired and lavender-scented were lying down on the carpeted surface.

"hey reo, isn't y/n taking too long? buy a helicopter with your dad's money and pick him up."

"maybe he got lost. also, that's not how it works!"

"...wait." seishirou opens his eyes. "does he even know my address...?"

"...i'll ask my dad if i can rent a helicopter." reo stands up and goes to grab his phone.

(he said no.)

—✮

Chapter Text

"L/N'S STILL not here?"

the class leader shakes her head. "we, including the teacher, still haven't heard from him."

"i see, thank you."

with a sigh, reo slumps as he walks towards where seishirou is waiting for him at the gate. the latter runs up to him expectantly and asks, "any news?"

reo shakes his head the same way y/n's class leader did, sighing and looking out longingly into the sky. he's been doing those a lot these days since y/n suddenly took a leave after they agreed to meet up (only to realize y/n doesn't even know where seishirou lives).

seishirou pouts and slumps back into his seat on the ground. he's just a blob now, no y/n to physically transform him back.

he turns on his phone to check his notifications for the hundredth time today. reo does the same, except it's for the hundredth time this hour.

"my messages are still on sent...." seishirou grumbles, dropping his phone onto the concrete. he doesn't care anymore, what is the point of a phone if y/n, his friend of not even a year, doesn't reply to him?

"same here...." reo lets out another defeated sigh. "let's just go to the building the invitation addressed."

"what if y/n comes back when we're gone...." seishirou droops.

"i'll pay them to have him with us if that happens. let's go." reo drags seishirou to his bike. despite the former being the initiative one, he's also as begrudging to move as the latter is.

instead of the dramatic separation the trio enjoy, which is reo pushing his bike while seishirou and y/n trudge beside him until their epic parting point, reo has started carrying seishirou home using his bicycle.

it's a bit odd considering how seishirou can walk on his own just fine when y/n was around, but who is he to judge when reo can also simply call his driver?

sigh. y/n, where are you?

☆✮☆

"i forgot my phone."

jinpachi twitches his eye. "why are you only mentioning it now? we're literally about to go on stage."

"don't worry, y/n! ego will get you a new one after this!" a woman with matching brown hair and eyes laughs.

"you mean you, the jfa, will, anri-chan."

"can't i just go back and get it?"

"let's settle that later. for now, we'll get this introduction over with." jinpachi's glasses gleam from the lights as he pushes them.

jinpachi walks to the center of the stage, leaving y/n and anri behind in the left wing. he waits until the last bit of strikers join in before he speaks into his head-worn microphone.

"test, test. one, two." jinpachi tests. "congratulations, you unpolished gems."

students in various uniforms look up at him in bewilderment, be it from his words or his sudden appearance.

"all you under-18 strikers have been chosen solely based on my criteria and biases to be here today. all 300 of you." the lanky man puts one hand on his chest, the other strangely pointing at him. "i am ego jinpachi. my job is to make japan a team capable of winning the world cup."

the flag of japan emerges behind him. "i'll put it in simple terms. japan only requires one thing to become the strongest powerhouse in soccer.

"and that is the creation of a revolutionary striker. from you 300 players gathered here today, i will forge the best striker in the world through a certain project." he's already on a platform, but jinpachi seems to loom over them even more with his statements.

"look here," the screen immediately flashes into view. jinpachi points at it, his eyes still on the audience before him. "for this purpose, we have built this facility called 'blue lock'".

the screen shows a pentagon with another pentagon on each of the sides, save for the center, which is the pentagons were designed to seem like a soccer ball, each of the segments indicates a room in the facility. except for the middle of the pentagon, which was the ultimate soccer field, probably.

"starting today, all of you will live in this building. and follow, down to the letter, my personally designed training regime." jinpachi declares, "you will not be able to go back home, and as of now, consider your soccer careers as you know them, over.

"but i will say this, if you manage to survive on blue lock, and defeat the other 299 players around you..." jinpachi leans to the audience. "you, the last player standing will have become the best striker in the world."

figuratively, he ends his speech with a mic drop. "that is all for the details. nice to meet you all."

and like a mic drop, it leaves the spectators astonished. jinpachi's speech was short and straight to the point, it left no room for arguments.

well, except for one.

"excuse me! sorry, but i can't agree with what you said just now." a young boy, probably the same age as y/n, speaks up. "there's no way i can accept those kinds of terms. i... i will not throw away my team!"

he was like a beam of light, with his shining appearance of ivory hair and mahogany eyes, (though y/n has seen a more striking ivory.) his light illuminates with how his courage spreads over his surroundings, more people start to protest against jinpachi and his system.

"that's right! i'm also playing at nationals!"

"why do we all have to live together anyway?"

"yeah! yeah!"

"who the hell even are you?"

"let us see someone we know!"

jinpachi taps at his head as if he's gearing on his brain. "i... see. all of you are really fucked in the head, huh." bringing up his hands in a shooing motion, he speaks in a matter-of-fact tone,

"lock off, then." jinpachi makes a shooing motion with his hands.

the air suddenly feels cold.

"your teams are what now? you'd really choose your teams over becoming the best striker in the world? you'd rather be a school champ in this shithole of a country? huh?"

the players are completely perplexed at his harsh words, but jinpachi merely cranks his head.

"when i look at all of you, i cringe at the thought of japan's future in soccer.

"you get it? japan is the best country in the world when it comes to organizational skills in soccer, which most people attribute to our innate national character."

the screen changes into the japan's national soccer team. "but before you get any ideas, in everything else..." jinpachi tilts his head, his eyes shifts into an incomprehensible shape. "we're second rate."

he stares down, unrelenting at the players before him as he speaks.

"i want to know something... what is soccer to you all?" with his hands now in his pockets, jinpachi leans on them, as if he's ridiculing them. "a sport where you try to score goals in teams of eleven members...? 'our bonds are important'? 'i will play for my teammates'?"

he huffs, "well, that's wrong. that way of thinking is exactly why japan lacks soccer skills. i will show you what it's all about...

"soccer is, at its core, a sport about scoring goals even at the expense of your teammates. the best player is the one that scores the most goals. if you want to play pretend soccer instead, then lock off."

the atmosphere turns all the more tense. some of the viewers were sweating. fear was evident in their gazes. but despite that, the same boy, the reminiscent of light, vocalizes his disapproval once more.

"how insulting...! take those words back," like how hope won over anger for y/n before, agitation defeats the ivory boy's dread. "players like honda, or kagawa, and many others... all of those who shape the japan national team's lineup, the value of team play instilled in the national teams the same that's a part of us! they are our stars! you're wrong!"

jinpachi scratches his head as a click of his tongue echoes throughout the room, making some of the audience, especially the ivory, flinch.

the dark-haired man rises his head more to stare down further at them. "fine. any questions you have will be handled by my assistant from now on."

jinpachi gestures his hand at the left wing, signaling for y/n to step out. anri tosses the teen a mic and a thumbs up.

gasps and murmurs could be heard. the weird, lanky man's assistant? they must be as strange as jinpachi is. god, another him but a mini version talking down (literally) on them sounds like a nightmare.

but instead of a clone as intimidating as jinpachi, a boy most definitely around the strikers' age appears instead.

if jinpachi seems like a spine-chilling and cruel conceit, y/n serves an aura of aloofness, a nice chill you'd find yourself attracted to on a hot summer day. or any day, really.

the lesser of an ivory male may be light, but y/n is a star. his stride towards the center gleams with brilliance, with his white button-up and charcoal pants highlighting his already ethereal beauty.

the players are astonished, some surprised that jinpachi's assistant wasn't what they expected to be, a handful widen their eyes at who it was.

meanwhile, y/n is entirely in his own world. eyes unfocused as his body moves on autopilot. the only presence he acknowledges are jinpachi, anri, and the ivory. y/n is actually confused as hell right now.

this wasn't what we discussed... but then again we did nothing for the past few days besides putting my room together.

he recalls, the memory of anri accidentally hitting the back of jinpachi's head with a board flashes into his mind.

y/n's grip on the microphone tightens as he lifts it in front of his lips, his gaze solely on the instrument. "i'm l/n y/n, ego-san's assistant, pleased to meet you."

after y/n slightly bows to the still-surprised crowd, he demolishes his surroundings to raise his head and focus his eyes entirely on the white-haired boy with brown eyes far ahead of him.

he swears he saw him flinch.

"to answer your question: i must admit that the players you've mentioned are good, but they never won, did they?"

as y/n becomes more nervous, he strums against the length of the microphone with his finger. some outsiders have started to misunderstand his movement.

'kira, he's counting your days....'

'as expected, the directors here are freaky.'

'should i get a pic with kira before he's gone?'

'i hope i'm right....' y/n thinks mildly. "as ego-san had mentioned, japan never changes their altruistic and selfless methods. while those ideals are indeed admirable, they simply don't work when it comes to the world cup."

y/n steals a glance at anri, she throws a thumbs up in response. relief washes over his body, his finger halts its motion.

"for example... noel noa. an astounding player like him speaks as if he's the best in the world. he said and i quote, 'i feel better losing 3-4 after scoring a hat-trick than winning only by 1-0 with an assist.'

"the great éric cantona also have said, 'when the seagulls follow the trawler, it's because they think sardines will be thrown at the sea.'

"not just them, but pelé, arguably the best player in history, winner of three world cups, once said, 'the best striker? midfielder? defender? goalkeeper? to all those questions, i always answer that it's me.'"

y/n takes a deep breath.

"those words would've sounded conceited and awful if it weren't for the fact that they're all revolutionary strikers, right?"

y/n's face looms with something inexplicable, even to him. "you'll understand what they mean when you have the ego to match."

"so imagine this, you're a nobody yet you're at the very finals of the world cup. nearly a hundred thousand eyes are on you in the stadium. you're on the field. the score is 0-0. the stoppage time of the second half, the very last play. a teammate managed to pass the ball to you, and now it's one one-on-one with the goalkeeper.

"there's a teammate six meters to your right. if you pass to him, your team will probably score that goal. the hopes of all of japan lie on your shoulders. the turning point at the world cup finals is you.

"so with the ego you will build here if you desire, you'll shoot without a second's hesitation."

the stage, which turned out to be faux, opens in half as a gate. the air flows through y/n, constructing a grand and dramatic entrance.

y/n probably looks unhinged right now. his hair a mess from the wind and the unfathomable stare still looms over his face.

"soccer is a sport to develop you all as strikers, everyone else on the field is there to support you. as long as you're on the field, you are the star. if your greatest joy is scoring points, then that shall be your reasoning. for that very moment, you are the perfect striker."

y/n instinctively runs to anri's side, also realising he zoned out throughout his speech, the moment he sees a boy sprinting towards the gate.

thrill blooms within him when he sees him coursing through the hall. his eyes and hair are a deep blue. they remind y/n of the seaside he once cherished. he nearly forgot how it felt, both the thrill and the sight.

how alluring, how curious, how lovely.

anri pats y/n's head despite their height difference, his microphone practically slipping off his hand, as she revels in the view of every other player hastily following after the first striker.

on the other hand, all that speaking y/n did make him feel dizzy, even though he was barely conscious the whole time. the faintness turns him oblivious to the stray glances thrown in his way.

"i didn't expect you to say that last part, l/n-kun." jinpachi says, covering his mic. amidst crackling footsteps and shouts, their voices found the other two.

y/n averts his gaze to the side. "...i just did what i thought i was supposed to do."

"still," jinpachi's lips tug into the faintest of smiles, his eyes downcast. "you're quite similar to me, in a way."

"my head hurts too much to make sense of that...." y/n's voice trails off as he leans his weight more towards anri.

she slings his arm over her shoulder with a hand supporting his waist. she takes off with a grin, "i'll escort l/n-kun to his room. he did so well today!"

jinpachi merely waves them off. his gaze, ahead, ignoring the desperate strikers running past him.

until there were only three of them left in that hall.

— ADDITIONAL TIME !

"let's build l/n-kun the best dresser ever!"

as anri turns to the left, the long board she's holding crashes into a solid form behind her. simultaneously, jinpachi loudly groans.

"hm? what happened, ego?" she turns to the right, and another groan escapes jinpachi.

"you're doing this on purpose, aren't you?!" jinpachi hisses, holding his head with one hand and the other accusing anri.

"what the hell are you talking about?!"

y/n watches the scene unfolding before him in silence.

'i would preserve this if i could... i wonder how....'

—✮

Chapter Text

AT FIRST, IT WAS OUT OF IMPULSE.

"ah, i'm sorry, i didn't mean to peek." a voice creeps from behind seishirou. languid, he thinks, but duller than mine.

seishirou stares at the owner of the voice. he can't help but notice how some of his h/c strands were astray. just a bit.

but he also can't care less. besides, he doesn't even brush his own hair, so why bother with someone else's?

he blinks at the stranger before turning his head back to restart on his new, three point eight stars of an average rating, zombie-shooting download. "it's fine, you can stay."

"...thank you." stranger, unkempt stranger, said. seishirou doesn't know where the gratitude came from. or for what. whatever.

as unkempt stranger walks past him, seishirou can smell a saccharine fragrance. was it his cologne? maybe unkempt stranger isn't so unkempt after all. the mild earthy and buckwheat scent of cold soba, and oh, was that the umami of tsuyu permeating his nostrils too? what a col-

grumble.

seishirou continues shooting away zombies in his game. and if unkempt stranger was shooting him a glance in his peripheral vision, no, he was not.

now that seishirou thinks about it, unkempt stranger kinda resembles the zombies he's shooting. tousled (seishirou doesn't care if the stray hair isn't even a handful anymore) and weird-smelling.

"you haven't had lunch?" damn it.

"not really, it's too much work." seishirou responds, a beat too late. somehow. whatever that means. the direction his thoughts are going makes him lean further into the railing.

"then you can have some of my cold soba."

seishirou's fingers come to a halt. with the speed his head snaps towards unkempt stranger, he swears he is seeing stars when his grey eyes stare back at e/cs. by the way, the stray hair of unkempt stranger was still there.

unkempt stranger seems to be startled by it. seishirou briefly thinks the former's impassive exterior must be false. "only if you-"

"sure."

"huh?"

"...it's a bother to eat later, so i'll accept your offer." seishirou averts his gaze from unkempt stranger (and his equally unkempt strands) back to his device.

he doesn't know what came over him when he says that, but when unkempt stranger scoots closer with some of his noodles atop the lid of a lunch box along with a pair of chopsticks, seishirou chooses to not dwell on it further.

"...thank you." seishirou thanks him, and is quick to find that he doesn't mind this new camaraderie. he guesses that unkempt stranger feels the same, too. hopefully.

"it's no problem."

at least he thought so. but the drumming of unkempt stranger's fingers may imply otherwise. or another thing. whatever it was.

some of the hair framing his face was still astray, though.

seishirou briefly wonders if he should lean in to count the strands of them.

"why aren't you eating?" unkempt stranger's voice breaks him out of his daze, making him blink owlishly. "you're not eating either."

seishirou watches as unkempt stranger's eyes mildly widen before immediately going back to their impassive look. huh. "well... i was just wondering... if you..."

the fringes of his hair fall besides the stray hair, and seishirou could feel his fingers twitch against his will.

"if... you'd like my grandfather to pack one more lunch to school since you find it a bother to find lunch. so..." unkempt stranger trails off.

seishirou clones unkempt stranger in bowing his head, whether it's to stop his urges or it's starting to feel a little hot, he doesn't know and doesn't want to know. "...if your grandpa doesn't mind."

"he wouldn't. he's a retired chef, so he'd be more than glad."

seishirou swears it was just for the food until he glances up to see unkempt stranger's eyes in wonder. though the twinkles are barely there, they're still a sight to behold (since he doesn't expect him to be able to make a face like that, of course).

"i'm nagi seishirou." seishirou blurts out in the spur of the moment. well, his moment.

"i'm l/n y/n, pleased to meet you." unk- y/n pulls out two containers and holds them out to him, "it's warabi mochi with black sugar syrup. please... please be my friend."

oh my god. seishirou clasps over both of y/n's hands and shakes them gently, the container following along. "let's get along well, y/n."

y/n beams and holy shit, seishirou's eyes are probably the ones that look like they're in wonder now. he doesn't think he cares about y/n's hair anymore.

one look is all it takes for seishirou to immediately tear up his stereotype of y/n being remotely similar to him or impassive.

how'd he even get that conclusion, anyway? seishirou wouldn't put up this much effort to befriend someone (maybe that's why he doesn't have any friends in the first place).

for now, he'll just enjoy the sweetness of the mochi, and maybe of l/n y/n. just a bit, really.

☆✮☆

THEN, IT BECAME A ROUTINE.

"y/n~ what's the menu for today?" seishirou approaches y/n outside of his class. the latter have been picking him up for lunch break a few days after they met (seishirou slept for too long once and y/n got worried), and seishirou would be lying to say it doesn't lift his mood.

because classes are dreadful and nothing cheers him up more than the idea of a full stomach, obviously.

y/n fixes up seishirou's collar before they start walking. "grandfather slept in, so we'll be buying from the cafeteria today."

seishirou hums, the ghost of y/n's touch lingers like perfume on his neck. "and your grandmother?"

"she doesn't cook very well."

"and you?"

y/n stops in his tracks.

"nagi-san, are you implying that you're willing to taste my cooking?"

seishirou turns his heel to stare at y/n in confusion. "why not?"

"...i'll see what i can do soon."

"huh? okay," seishirou nods at him. "can't wait."

they don't talk about the small peps in the h/c-ette's steps when they resume their way to their staircase.

the moment they arrive, seishirou latches himself on y/n's side and leans his head on his shoulder as he always does. except he forgets that y/n didn't bring their lunch boxes.

"nagi-san, get off me, i'm gonna go to the cafeteria to buy melon bread." y/n pushes his head off of his shoulder. seishirou groans as his head gets pushed back when he tries to lean in again.

"stay here, i'll be back." as though seishirou was a dog, y/n orders him before making his way downstairs.

'i'm not a dog....' seishirou rubs the spot his hair was leaning on y/n and stares at where the latter left off to make him look like an abandoned puppy. seishirou doesn't like this metaphor.

he pulls out his phone and clicks on a random game he and y/n downloaded on his device from when they were browsing the play store together yesterday. ah, the good days when y/n would let him lean on his shoulder.

he yawns as he taps mindlessly, seishirou's getting drowsy enough to have y/n worry for him again.

when is y/n coming back? he needs a good pillow to sleep on before the blue light emitting from his screen wakes him up (and before he starts missing e/c eyes a bit too much for his liking).

suddenly, a thud gets the phone in his loose grip falls down the stairs. but before it could touch the ground, seishirou deftly catches it with his foot.

he hasn't lost the game yet, thankfully.

"dude! what the hell was that?!" the dude behind him exclaims. "are you on the soccer team?!"

this guy smells really good. like some sort of floral herbal but in purple, just like his face.

"oh, you're that rich guy's son. can you give me money? i don't play any sports. i just want to chill and do nothing for the rest of my life." seishirou says as he holds out his hand to him.

"bro, if you work hard, you can become a pro player!"

"work hard? sounds like a hassle, i'll pass." he'd rather spend the rest of his high school days rotting away with y/n (as transactional best friends!) anyway.

chill, seishirou. it has only been months since you met him.

reo puts his arm around him and leans in. the scent is lavender, seishirou thinks.

"that's fine! you don't need to change! say, what about playing soccer with me?"

"nagi-san?" y/n calls out too late, seishirou's not sleepy anymore. the h/c-ette glances towards reo. "and you're...." he tilts his head, "...mikage-san, right?"

reo grins. "that's me! and you must be this genius' friend! hey, mind if i steal him?"

"y/n, send help...." if seishirou fakes a faint, will y/n carry him away as though he's the sleeping beauty and he is his prince charming?

"steal him? why?" y/n tilts his head to the other side. seishirou's eyes find this motion very interesting.

"'cause i'm gonna win the FIFA world cup with him! oh, wait, since you're his friend, how about joining us?"

"soccer isn't my thing." y/n's usual inexpressive eyes felt a bit dimmer. his grip on the two melon breads mildly tightened. the two don't pry if they noticed it.

"that's fine too! you can watch over us! or anything you want!" reo smiles an eye smile, bringing his other arm around y/n to pull him closer to them. "i'm mikage reo! we're in this together!"

"what a pain...." seishirou slumps. he glances at how y/n's eyes widen a little upon hearing reo saying 'together'. "but... 'kay. don't make me work, though."

reo grins even wider at that.

☆

with a new addition to their lunch buddies group, after the dorayaki disaster, seishirou's routine changes once more.

the heir has been dragging them around the school to form a soccer club using his rich boy connections for days.

seishirou would be sick of it if it weren't for him piggybacking on reo and y/n looking a little too excited about these after-school hangouts of theirs.

today, there might be another slight modification to his routine. at least that's what seishirou thinks when he hears reo ask y/n,

"nice! are you coming, l/n?"

the same fingers that twitched for the y/n's hair gnaw at the bottle in seishirou's hands.

it's normal to be like this when there's a possibility of one of your friends, who you happen to be paying more attention to, coming over to your place, right?

"hmm...." y/n ponders for a moment, "i'm going to have to get something from home first. i'll follow after."

his grip loosens.

"too bad we can't walk there together! then, we'll go ahead first! see you! let's go, nagi!" seishirou finds it silly how reo doesn't even try to hide his adoration towards y/n. the people at their school would go crazy if they saw the mikage reo waving both his hands like a child.

staring at y/n, careful to not be entranced again, seishirou mumbles, "later."

he watches until he can no longer see his figure in the distance, and reo doesn't comment on it.

☆✮☆

SUDDENLY, IT'S ADORATION. NOT. IT'S CARE, PROBABLY.

"choki, i'm home."

"choki?"

"my pet cactus."

reo hums. "me and y/n have gardens."

at the mention of him, seishirou visibly slumps.

"sigh."

"dude, what's up with you?" reo questions, circling him.

seishirou doesn't respond. the moment he throws his bag and shoes to who knows where, he lies down on the floor of his living room, boring holes into the white ceiling.

the more he stares at it, the more his vision sees y/n's pondering face taking over.

"i'll follow after."

seishirou groans as he closes his eyes, hoping whatever illusion the ceiling has will go away when he opens them again.

the faint fragrance of lavender reaches him briefly when reo settles down alongside him, looking at the very ceiling that plays seishirou.

the silence between them is broken by the sound of the obnoxiously circulating fan and the occasional humming of songs from reo. they stay like that for an awfully long while until seishirou speaks his mind.

"hey, reo, isn't y/n taking too long?" seishirou mutters, "buy a helicopter with your dad's money and pick him up."

"maybe he got lost. also, that's not how it works!" reo playfully punches his shoulder.

"...wait." seishirou glances at reo. "does he even know my address...?"

"i'll ask my dad if i can rent a helicopter." reo stands up and goes to grab his phone.

muffled voices can be heard from the other side of the room. seishirou shuts his eyeballs after glancing at reo. thank god the y/n he saw in his damn ceiling doesn't appear in his jet-black sight.

two minutes later, he feels a foot nudging his torso. with a huff, seishirou wakes up and raises himself to sit instead.

"my dad said no." reo says as he perches himself in front of him.

"why?"

"said it was a waste of fuel and would harm the environment or something." he shrugs.

to seishirou, y/n is a serenity, tranquillity of idleness. it's peace, it's calm, it's what he recognises as the definition of solace now. every other word synonymous to

it doesn't even compare to him.

y/n's not a waste, nor is he a threat.

"oh?"

shit. he said the last part out loud.

"don't say anything." seishirou grumbles.

"i wasn't about to, but now you've tempted me." reo's lips quirked up into a smirk. "i think he's adorable too."

if it weren't for reo being the heir of the mikage corporation, seishirou would've punched that smile off his face.

"i didn't say that."

"he's not a waste or a threat, so what else would he be if not cute?" reo turns his words against him. "i'm sure you think just as much."

seishirou pouts, and lies back down and rolls to the side, showing his back to reo. "talking to you is a pain in the ass!" he groans, covering his ears, which feel weirdly hot against his palms. "this hassle of a conversation is over."

"oh, come on now!" reo laughs. damn bastard. "you didn't even deny it!"

"i said this conversation is over! you're such a bother!"

"whatever you say~! for your information, i think y/n is adorable too! the cutest, even!"

seishirou grumbles. "you've said that twice already!"

"and you didn't deny it thrice now!"

"damn you-"

☆

"hey, nagi. can you check my phone again?" reo asks as he pedals their bike towards the jfu building.

"what a hassle." seishirou says, but he's already opening both of their phones. "you asked me that a minute ago."

reo clicks his tongue. "just in case y/n replies!"

"why would he message you first? he's known me longer."

"he saved us as mikage-san and nagi-san. which letter do you think comes first in his contacts list?"

"don't know, don't care. i'll just spam him until i'm at the top of his notifications."

"i hope he ignores you, nagi-san." reo makes sure he says seishirou's name as impassive as he can.

"he's ignoring both of us, mikage-san." seishirou doesn't even try to impersonate y/n like reo did when his voice has always been languid, but not duller than y/n's.

the reminder of y/n ghosting them makes them sag even more. damn, why did seishirou have to say that? now it's going to ghost him just like how y/n ghosts them.

"reo, pedal faster...."

"yeah...."

reo, in fact, does (can) not pedal faster.

☆✮☆

NOW, IT'S...

arriving, everything passes by like a blur to seishirou.

maybe it's because of all the brooding he did on the way here, but he doesn't even have the energy to play his games anymore.

reo took deep breaths and repeated mantras of, "we'll kick everyone's asses before y/n gets back!" and shakes seishirou vigorously as if he was trying to allot some of his energy to him. seriously, wasn't he sulking just as much as seishirou did?

that's all seishirou caught on until some bowl-cut dude with concerning eyebags started his speech.

the man manages to get his attention, he catches a few keywords, but his interest isn't enough for him to concentrate. he doesn't know what can.

that is, before he hears the familiar voice he's been longing to pull him out of his daze, and lo and behold.

"i'm l/n y/n, ego-san's assistant, pleased to meet you."

it was l/n fucking y/n in the flesh.

seishirou can't believe the first time he sees y/n outside of their school uniform is in a crowded hall filled with hundreds of other sweating and stinking men.

in a soccer training camp nonetheless, seishirou thought he wasn't even interested in soccer.

(the white button-up and black pants combo really suits him, though.)

with his jaw probably on the floor, seishirou immediately stirs himself awake from his near slumber. he would've missed both y/n and this sight of him. he would've missed y/n either way, actually. thank goodness he didn't leave when he contemplated it.

even if he did try, reo would stop and drag him back to his feet no matter what.

seishirou eyes every fibre of y/n's being like a hawk, just in case the latter magically disappears on them again. if that happens, at least they'll have some clues

now. white button-up. black pants. tousled hair (seishirou's fingers don't twitch this time!), and... disturbing e/c eyes. and- oh, seishirou just realised y/n's fingers stopped tapping on the mic, he's no longer nervous now.

that's good.

looking out for your friends doesn't imply that you think they're adorable or cute, right?

seishirou has just been trying not to blink because he cares for y/n and doesn't want him to vanish again. it's all there is to it.

he holds the words y/n said in the back of his mind and a corner of his heart. he tries to recall what the man before him says, what an ego is, what it means to win, what it means to be a striker, and how only one out of three hundred of them can survive.

(seishirou notes how y/n's gaze never falters, always on a boy with the same hair colour as him)

seishirou isn't interested. he'll probably get bored and leave. but...

he glances at reo, who's just as shocked as he is, and y/n, who doesn't seem to notice that his friends are here.

he's willing to doubt that.

even though it's a pain.

even though it's something he would never consider in the past.

it was so easy for him to imagine winning the world cup, anyway.

so he lets reo drag him, like he always does, towards where y/n had run to one of the wings.

"we can't fall behind y/n and let him leave again, hurry up!"

he sees the fire in reo's eyes. they see y/n being carried away by a woman he doesn't know.

(and something twists in his gut.)

he'll have the two win the world cup with him, and even longer after that.

jinpachi held out his hand before they could get near the wing. "blue lock is that way." he pointed to his right.

"is y/n okay?" seishirou says ahead of reo. he's impatient.

"we're his friends! we wanna check up on him, please!" reo pleads.

jinpachi lets a smirk creep up on his face. "join blue lock, and maybe you can see him for yourselves."

reo clicks his tongue "let's go, nagi! the sooner we see him, the better!"

reo pulls him and has them sprint to where jinpachi had pointed. seishirou's ears felt like his ears were being grated when reo yelled, "i'll make sure to get back at you, ego jinpachi! mark my words!"

leaving a dumbfounded jinpachi behind.

"they could've just walked past me though…?" he turns his heel to stride towards the way to the staff's bus. "y/n has some weird-ass friends."

☆

seishirou stares at the same lady who carried y/n before in front of him and reo.

"welcome to blue lock," she holds out her hand to him, "please hand over your wallets and phones."

reo is quick to obey and hand his items over, while seishirou keeps on staring at her, frozen.

"um… can you please hand yours over"

"do you know y/n?"

the woman blinks. "are you a friend of his?"

"we are friends of his, actually." reo rests his arm on seishirou's shoulder. "can we see him? we're worried, and saw how you were supporting his-"

"teieri-san?" a monotonous voice tinged with curiosity interrupts them.

y/n is standing across from them, still dressed in his previous attire, hair somehow messier than the last time seishirou saw him, and a(n) f/c cardigan slung over his shoulders now.

he seems tired, like he just woke up from a nap.

"oh, y/n, speak of the devil! your friends want to see you!"

"my friends…?" only then did y/n's gaze fall on seishirou and reo. he rubbed his eyes, blinking them again twice.

"mikage-san, nagi-san. it's been a while."

reo audibly shuts his jaw with his hand before scrambling towards y/n and hugging him, nearly throwing them both off balance with how he jumped to do so.

"y/n! here you are!"

"m-mikage-san…! you're squeezing me too hard!" y/n rapidly pats reo's back.

"sorry! sorry!" reo laughs, "i just miss you so much! we were so worried you'd be unreachable forever!"

seishirou takes that as a cue to approach them. he opts to pat his shoulder since reo left no other space for him. "y/n, i miss you, too."

"thank you, you two." the previous grogginess of the h/c-ette is now gone, replaced with his own, y/n-esque radiance of joy. "sorry about the last few days, i forgot to bring my phone here."

reo pulls out of the embrace to ruffle y/n's hair. "that's so like you!" he gives the latter a lopsided grin, "you owe us a three-day hangout for that!"

"make it three weeks." seishirou parrots.

"i'll try my best…!" y/n says, ever so genuine. reo's hand on his hair freezes for a moment before messing them even more. "just how can i not squeeze you every time!"

"mikage-san…." y/n sweat drops.

"see?!"

seishirou was about to open his mouth when anri beat him to it. "alright now! your reunion is really sweet, but you're holding up the line!" she holds out her hand to him again, "wallet and phone, please!"

grumbling, seishirou begrudgingly offers them to her. he feels his wrist being hastily dragged by the warmth of an s/c hand, he glances to reo and sees that he's being held too.

the two let y/n bring them in front of a van with the blue lock logo embossed on it. y/n lets go and faces them, and seishirou feels warm all over his hand.

"wait here. i have something for you." y/n doesn't wait for their response and immediately enters the van.

"i'll look forward to it!"

"i'll look forward to it."

seishirou and reo say simultaneously, making them look at each other blankly.

"he probably means the both of us!" reo chirps.

of course, who else? "right."

then seishirou thinks, he wants to ask y/n about why he's here; in a dormitory to train soccer players when he's not one. he knows reo wants to ask too.

but they glance at each other, and telepathically agree to never ask. instead, they'll wait for y/n to open up to them.

'cause they're friends.

when y/n comes back, half of his cardigan is off his shoulder.

"thank you for waiting. here." he holds his palms out, there are keychains of a star, moon, and sun on them. "they reminded me of us."

seishirou is suddenly aware of the thudding of his heart.

"which one do you think represents us individually?" y/n asks, tilting his head. seishirou wants to say something, but he's afraid his heart will get to his throat before his voice does.

he takes the leap anyway. "y/n should take the star." his words earn confused hums from the other two. "i mean, sometimes they shine in his eyes."

at that, reo snaps his fingers as though he realizes what he means. "i totally see that! if you squint, they've always been faint in his eyes!"

too flustered to retort, y/n hangs his head low. the tips of his ears are red.

fuck.

reo seems to have noticed too, looking at how he tries to bite back his widening grin. is he being merciful because y/n is about to give them something?

their y/n-watching moment is cut off with the subject of their adoration lifting his head in concerning speed, and a slight pout on his lips.

another new shot has been added to seishirou's growing folder of y/n in his head. wait, since when did he have that?

"then…" y/n mumbles, a contemplative look on his face. "nagi-san is the moon, and mikage-san is the sun."

then, a small smile tugs on y/n's lips, and seishirou makes sure to burn the sight into his retinas.

"because nagi-san makes me feel at ease, and mikage-san brightens my day."

…how frustrating.

— ADDITIONAL TIME !

"you know, nagi-san, my grandfather thought you were my boyfriend at first."

seishirou drops his phone, reo chokes.

"what."

—✮

Chapter Text

"L/N-KUN, go check if the electrical wiring in here has any problems." jinpachi circles an area on the map before handing it to him. the paper crinkles in y/n's hands as he inspects it. "you always give me the weirdest jobs, ego-san."

"it's what assistants like you are supposed to do. take it or leave it."

"you literally made me pay someone to do your laundry yesterday."

"so what? you wanna do them instead?" jinpachi clicks his tongue. "mind you, i had to pay four thousand yen out of my own pocket for that. it wasn't even a kilogram."

"i think that last sentence says a lot about you, ego-san."

jinpachi stands up and pushes y/n out the door,

"get out."

before slamming it on his face.

surveying the map given to him, y/n tilts his head. "ego-san's office isn't even drawn in here."

☆

the longer y/n wanders in the dormitory, the more unfamiliar the map becomes.

"i wish i paid someone to deliver my phone here instead of a laundry service for ego-san..." y/n mumbles.

as his eyebrows are furrowed together, y/n goes to resume his journey until—

"what are you doing?"

y/n jerks his head around, his e/c hues meeting bright yellows. y/n scans the male before him and notices he's wearing a bodysuit with black with grey stripes, a pentagon of the number 265 and the letter “z” embedded on his shoulder. y/n assumes he would be one of the players.

"oh! you're that glasses guy's sidekick!"

"glasses... what?"

his doe-like eyes crinkle as he grins at y/n. "i'm bachira meguru!" he leans closer, and y/n takes a step back. "what's that on your hands?"

"a map." y/n holds it out to meguru, pointing at the circle jinpachi drew. "ego-san wants me to check the electrical wiring in this area, but i don't know where it is."

“an ultra mega outline of the prison!” meguru moves closer to y/n as he gawks, not noticing the way his dark curls tickle against y/n’s face. “woah, what a coincidence! i’m actually going there right now!”

y/n shuffles away, and his eyes wince when meguru beams. he feels like he's being blinded by the sun. “...is that so?”

“let's go together!” hugging y/n's arm, the latter nearly stumbles from the sudden shift. meguru begins to lead them forward as he chirps, “i wanna know more about what kind of person that glasses guy has for an assistant! plus, having a map makes it feel like i’m on an adventure! a soccer side quest!”

oh, y/n recognises those words from when seishiro sometimes told him about the games he's playing.

“wouldn’t that make me a npc?” y/n murmurs.

“a bit! but don't worry, i’ll unlock your character after your quest!” meguru sing-songs.

y/n lets out a hum. “you'd get along well with one of my friends, he likes that gaming thing a lot. but hmm…” y/n ponders as he glances at meguru. “he'll probably be overwhelmed by your energy, though.”

meguru halts, his hands are still snaked around y/n’s arm, making y/n nearly stumble yet again. “why? are you overwhelmed by it right now?” he tilts his head, large eyes staring up at y/n, and the latter doesn't know what to make of his sudden change in behaviour.

y/n follows to tilt his head. “why would i be?”

as if the last few seconds didn't happen, meguru's face lights up again. “never mind then!” he chirps, and goes to continue leading the duo. “what other stuff do you

do for your boss?”

“assistant… stuff. he makes me refill his food stock and repair his coffee machine.”

“well, that doesn't sound very assistant stuff.”

“then, what's an example of a very assistant stuff?”

“i wouldn't know, i’m not an assistant.”

“...you're quite the character, bachira-san.”

meguru brings up a hand to his mouth to stifle a giggle, but the sound gets out anyway. “y/n, did you just make a joke?”

“i suppose i did if i got you to laugh.”

“hah!” with a lopsided grin, meguru bumps his shoulder with y/n’s. “maybe you and i should become a dynamic duo in the entertainment industry if soccer doesn't work out for us.”

“what does that mean—”

“oh, look! we've arrived! i’m gonna warm up then do my drills, you wanna watch?” meguru cuts y/n off, and it seems to be working seeing how y/n closes his eyes to consider. “hmm… sure, i don't see why not.”

“great!” meguru’s grip on y/n’s arm tightened for no other reason than to drag the latter to the bench faster. he's just an excited little bee.

meguru sits y/n down, as though he was tidying up a plushie on his bed.

“my dribbling is suuuper awesome! your jaw is gonna be on the floor when you see it.” he puffs out his chest in pride, and y/n can feel the flicker of a smile on his face. “as long as it makes you happy.”

meguru doesn't know which “it” y/n is referring to.

“of course! dribbling is a lot of fun! actually, soccer in general is a lot of fun! do you find it fun too, y/n?”

“i guess so…? if not then i wouldn't be ego-san’s assistant, i think.” y/n takes a few seconds to respond, but he still sounds unsure.

meguru’s arms fall limp like noodles on his sides. “what do you mean by ‘i think’? this can't be… does that mean you don't like soccer?”

“that's not exactly what i said,” y/n lifts a finger to scratch his cheek, almost shy. “i’ve actually been wondering about it as well.”

“whatever that means,” meguru huffs, “then what do you like? besides soccer, i like dolphins.”

“...i’m just not sure.”

meguru furrows his eyebrows, frowning. “how about what do you not like? i don't like mozuku, it tastes funny.”

y/n doesn't answer and averts his gaze. seeing this, meguru finds himself frowning even more.

meguru's sigh catches y/n’s attention back on him as meguru stretches his body towards the ceiling.

“alright! let's find out what l/n y/n likes and doesn't like! for example….” he grins as he pulls the taller male to him, wrapping his arms around y/n’s waist before he could fall. “dancing!”

y/n flails his arms around, confusion is evident in his widened eyes. “bachira-san, i don't think i can do this! i've never done this before.”

the melody of meguru’s laughter enchants y/n’s face in front of him. “me too! but we’ll never know unless we try, right?”

meguru takes hold of y/n’s hand, then settles his other hand on meguru's waist. the hair on his neck stands when meguru perches a hand on it.

meguru begins to sway them from side to side in a fit of giggles. y/n can feel the whisper of his humming that comes after it against his ear as their steps fall into an awkward rhythm, both of them don't even know if their positions are correct.

“it's like we're in a movie! the main characters in a coming-of-age.”

y/n’s shoulders visibly relax when he hears that. “that's really cute. do you like movies, bachira-san?”

“a bit!” meguru chirps as he twirls them around. “i rarely finish them, though. do you watch movies, y/n?”

“i can't remember the last time i did. also, you stepped on my foot just now.”

“whoops, my bad!” meguru hums in thought when his snicker dies down. “maybe we should watch one soon.”

“maybe. what would you recommend?”

“dunno, what coming-of-age movie has the main characters slow dance in a field of fake grass from a soccer training dorm?”

their little sequence of steps comes to a pause when y/n retracts his hand from meguru’s waist to cover a chuckle.

meguru smiles and grabs y/n’s hand away from his face to put it back on his waist. “i've been grinning at you all day—it's not fair if you hide your smile from me.”

“i see.” tugging the corners of his lips further, y/n retracts the same hand again but this time, it's to tuck meguru’s black hair behind his ear. his touch is something gentle, like how a gardener would tend to a flower. “i hope you take that as an apology.”

“i'm not easily swayed by such a small act!” meguru huffs, but the blush painting his cheeks betrays his words.

y/n lets out a small chuckle again as he tilts his head. “shall i sway you with a twirl instead and end this dance, then?”

meguru smirks. “depends, will you be back here tomorrow?”

“probably not if we're gonna dance again.”

his teasing earns a pout from meguru. “why not?”

“i don't think i like dancing, it was hard not to mess up and step on your feet.”

“sucks. i was planning on using you as a slow dancing practice mannequin.” meguru slumps before grinning again. “then let's try something else! promise me you'll come and watch my match tomorrow, and then decide if you like how my dribbling is as cool as i think it is!”

meguru twirls them around the field before y/n can respond as his laugh whirls along with them. the fluorescent lights feel blinding against their closed eyes, and their feet are as light as a feather atop the faux grass. they're in an illusion of flying hand in hand with each other, and they don't want to wake up from it.

they only completely stop once meguru feels short of breath. he puts a hand to support his knee as he pants while the other is still linked with y/n’s.

“that… huff… was so… huff… much fun. huff….” meguru wheezes, he glances at y/n, who’s also silently panting, as he wipes beads of sweat from his face with a

hint of a smile.

the moment y/n catches his eye, he stands in front of meguru and leans down, letting go of their hands to pull out a handkerchief from his pocket.

“about your previous offer,” y/n says as he pats the handkerchief on meguru's temple. “i’ll look forward to it.”

after folding the handkerchief into a square, y/n sets it on the bench before he walks out and leaves.

“i’ll be off, take care, bachira-san.”

and after y/n leaves, the slight hang of meguru’s jaw is replaced with a stupid grin.

☆

the hallway would be dead silent if it weren't for the echoes of y/n’s footsteps.

“two hundred and sixty-five… z….” y/n mumbles to no one but himself. he's doing it so he won't forget which team meguru is on.

as he makes a turn, y/n glances at a familiar shade of sapphire eyes passing by and acknowledging him with a nod.

he moves on with his stride, but y/n halts, turning to stare at the back of his blue hair and sprout.

y/n blinks and continues to stride towards jinpachi's office.

☆

“well? is there a problem with the wiring or not?” jinpachi asks the moment he hears the click from his door.

y/n scratches his cheek. “what wiring?”

jinpachi stops whatever he's doing to stare at y/n. “are you kidding me? you forgot?” he glances down at his hands. “where the hell did the map go?”

“well.”

jinpachi curses something that sounds suspiciously like “i should've picked up another ball freak.” as he pinches the area between his eyebrows.

y/n ignores him. “can i take a look at who the players are?”

sighing, jinpachi pushes a stack of folders towards him. “you're not cut out for errand boy work, so do what you want.”

“i thought i was an assistant?” y/n takes the folders anyway. “thank you.”

“consider this as a promotion. congrats on actually becoming my assistant.”

“i can't tell if you're joking or not, ego-san.”

“good. now, don't bother me.” jinpachi turns his back on y/n.

y/n eyes the stack, each of them is colour-coded and labelled. y/n bets that it was anri who did it. the woman deserves a promotion more than he does.

he draws his gaze to the folder at the top. seeing that it's not labeled as team z, y/n puts it aside until he finds it. and when he does, he opens it and the profile of a reddish-pink-haired man stares back at him with rose-coloured eyes.

he closes the folder, sorts them into a stack again, and exits from jinpachi’s office.

— ADDITIONAL TIME !

it's only when y/n leaves the room that reality dawns on meguru.

‘we were so close! he was so close! way too close! oh my god, i was the one who got him way too close! i literally just met him! i even asked him to… gosh.’

“oh, bachira! you're here too— woah, dude. why are you crouching like that?” yoichi walks over to meguru and crouches in front of him. “bro?”

“i hope this embarrassment kills me before i can face him tomorrow.” meguru grumbles into his hands, smoke practically coming out of his ears.

—✮

Chapter Text

‘HE’S FAST,’ y/n thinks when he sees a man wearing glasses score a goal. he glances at the purple-red snap hair clip in his hands, and caresses it as it shines beneath the fluorescent tubes’ light. would he sneer at him if he told him someone may be faster than him?

the blowing whistle brings him out of his reverie. he blinks away his thoughts before glancing at the field before him, and catches seishirou and reo turning their heads towards the corner of the field. the scoreboard is up there, yet why do they keep looking at him each time the ball hits team y’s net?

reo has his hands up in the air. y/n lifts a hand for a wave of his own. grinning even wider, reo gestures his index fingers on his lips to curve a smile. behind him, seishirou makes a wave of his own, albeit slower and quickly to let his hand fall to his side.

glancing back and forth between the cell thing and reo and seishirou, the fast guy looks at the two weirdly. y/n can't hear what he's saying to them, but he can only guess after seeing how fast reo’s smile falters, dropping into a comical frown.

but just as reo opens his lips to retort, they get called for the play to be restarted with a kick-off.

reo glares at the guy, and snaps his head to grin at y/n again before finally grabbing seishirou’s hand, and stomping over to the other side.

he's kind of silly, y/n thinks.

y/n’s thumb goes back to rub itself against the hair clip almost mindlessly. the hair clip reflects the events of last night; how fast he ran to find the trinket last night, the way he clings onto the trinket when he finds it in his treasure box, the coldness of it piercing the warmth of his fingers the moment he touches it.

but most of all, the colour. a beautiful shade of crimson, the one a carnation in bloom can have, the one that feels like silk against his fingers.

the light illuminates the small scratch on the side of the magenta hair clip. y/n doesn't remember when it got there, and that clenches his heart a little more than it should.

he digs his memories for a clue, but all he gets are the small smiles that follow after someone when he snaps the clip on his fringes.

y/n wonders what he should do when he's not allowed another chance to be at the receiving end of those small smiles anymore.

sighing, he runs a hand through his hair as he glares at the hair clip. it's not its fault that things have come like this for y/n and him, in fact, it was one of the things that bonded them the most.

another sigh escapes him. the movement is all too familiar and light on his fingers as he snaps the hair clip open. he purses his lips before finally deciding on something, and snaps the hair clip on his hair.

he moves his gaze back to the field, and finds a bunch of bangs in the distance facing towards him.

y/n may not be able to see his eyes, but he can feel the judging stare from afar. and also an intense heat beginning to radiate from his own face.

in response to fight-or-flight, y/n skims his eyes across the faux turf, only to turn around and realise the exit is behind him.

he looks back at the guy staring at him, and the guy shakes his head so rapidly y/n is starting to worry that his bangs may be pushed away to reveal his eyes. y/n doesn't think the guy would want that, so he takes that as a cue to leave, and he has never walked out faster in his life.

the speed y/n rips the hair clip off his head the moment he’s outside can be rivalled with the speed of the guy from before.

‘none of this would've happened if i watched from the control room.’

why is it suddenly so hot here? what happened to the air conditioners? y/n feels like he's in hell right now. actually, hell sounds nicer than having the chance to see that guy again.

but he has to see that guy since he's promised reo and seishirou that he'll be rooting them on today!

y/n groans in his hands, before turning back and taking a peek through his fingers at the door.

should he? should he not? it's inevitable that he'll meet the guy even after this, but he's so embarrassed that he's not sure if he can face him now. but if he breaks his promise, reo and seishirou are gonna be so sad, and y/n doesn't want them to be sad!

y/n groans into his hands again. each stomp he takes to get back inside contains bits of his dignity, so reo and seishirou better win this.

☆✮☆

they won.

fortunately, whether or not team v knows it, y/n’s dignity is saved by them for another day. hanging out with reo has been making him more dramatic.

a small huff escapes y/n’s lips as he stands outside of team v’s changing room. the snap hair clip feels warm from him holding it all day.

(all night, too. he held it close to his chest, and fell asleep with the thought of bright pink eyes, but was unable to dream of them.)

‘team z’s match is next.’ y/n solemnly thinks, ‘will he do well? i'm worried. after all…’ he stops snapping the hair clip repeatedly, and clutches it in his palm.

‘this is his—’

“y/n!”

the mentioned male flinches as reo throws an arm around him. since when were they done? he didn't hear the creaking of the door.

“what are you thinking?” seishirou says, his voice laced with more languidness than normal. he appears from y/n’s empty side, grey eyes that always seem to be unblinking bore onto him.

“right! you didn't turn to us the first time nagi called out to you! probably ‘cause his voice was barely audible in the first place.” reo pouts, muttering the last sentence. the smell of the facility’s shampoo fills the air around y/n when reo leans his head into the crook of his neck. he makes a note to get reo his usual lavender cologne if jinpachi ever sends him to another errand.

“it’s ‘cause i'm tired. talking like this is taking my last bit of energy.” seishirou sends a weak glare to reo’s way, making the latter snicker and lean his head even further in. y/n can feel his jaw tickling from his curls.

‘now that i think of it… his hair had grown when i saw his profile last night.’

“i’m gonna have to carry you back to our team v room after this then!” reo sing-songs, “though, with y/n here, it would be really~ hard to not ditch you and run away with him instead!”

‘did he get new hair clips to hold his hair? they would get in his way if he doesn't….’

seishirou pouts with whatever facial muscle he has left. “you're saying that like he won't be carrying me with you guys. y/n’s nice.”

‘maybe he tied them back instead. his sister would've taught him a few styles the moment his hair reached below neck length….’

“why would he?” reo teases, “when he and i will be going to a no-nagi-zone~?” he's been having a little too much fun teasing seishirou ever since that conversation in his apartment.

‘but knowing him, he'd be too prideful for that….’

“the hell?” seishirou says incredulously, “what kind of zone is that?”

“i don't know, his bedroom?”

‘i bet he swatted her hands away and ran to his room to watch youtube tutorials instead….’

seishirou's jaw hangs open. his pout turns into a frown when he says, “that makes no sense. why wouldn't he let me in?”

‘and his sister would come in and teach him a few basics, not before laughing at him first, though.’

reo bites his cheek in an attempt to hold back a smirk, but it fails the moment he opens his lips to speak again. “why would he? when he and i are together? alone? in the anti-nagi room?”

‘i bet he prefers braids. he would say they're more efficient, when he really just thinks they're prettier on him.’

“i really don't like what you're implying.” seishirou wraps his arms around y/n protectively, as if he's trying to release him from reo's hold. “it's illegal, by the way. you're minors.”

“how is getting crab meat out of the shells in the ‘peeling crab meat out of the shells’ room that happens to be y/n’s room illegal—” reo pauses momentarily before gasping dramatically, his free hand covering his mouth and eyes wide open and all. “wait, oh my god. don't tell me, you were thinking of….”

‘but then again he might've changed, and say they're pretty when he thinks they're pretty.’

“huh? wait, um. what? no.” seishirou stammers. “i mean that, no, you were the one to say… ugh. whatever. this is so annoying.”

like the little devil he is, reo snickers. accustomed to reo's tendency to tease when it comes to y/n, seishirou sighs. “i can't deal with this anymore. i'm done. y/n, carry me.”

seishirou frees y/n from his grasp to hold his arms out. reo is about to send a quip his way when they notice how he doesn't receive a response from the heart of their squabbling.

“y/n?” reo tilts his head up to the said male. simultaneously, seishirou drops his arms, and follows reo to tilt his head.

furrowing his brows, reo taps lightly on y/n’s cheek. the gesture finally gets his attention back to them.

and as though he has been spacing out, y/n blinks at his surroundings before landing his gaze on reo, and then on seishirou.

“sorry, can you repeat that?” he says, an apologetic tone seeping into the monotone of his voice. he slips the hair clip into the pocket of his trousers.

“what are you thinking?” before reo can get a word in, seishirou beats him to it. “you've been out of it today.”

“thanks for the concern, but i’m fine, really,” says y/n, but only a ghost of a smile flits across his features.

reo unleashes his arm around y/n’s shoulders as he stands in front of him. he then proceeds to give y/n a very, very serious look.

“mikage-san…?” confused, y/n questions in a small voice.

the hallway becomes silent enough that y/n can hear the thumping of his heart beginning to crescendo. until,

“sigh!”

reo sighs out loud. the raucous noise gets both seishirou and y/n to turn to him with widened eyes.

“what the—”

seishirou shrieks and nearly stumbles when reo jerks him to them just as he cries out, “group hug!”

closing his eyes in contentment, reo hugs them. the warmth of their bodies colliding with one another. y/n stiffens, and when he melts into the embrace, reo cups the back of his head gently. they huddle together like a cluster of stars; their own sanctuary in the vast galaxy.

“...group hug.” seishirou repeats after reo in a daze. and as if he gets a sudden revelation, he follows to secure his arms around them the moment he senses what reo is about to pull.

reo grins, like he always does, before clearing his throat, and lowering his voice down an octave in an attempt to sound a declaration. “we, mikage reo and nagi seishirou, hereby declare that all worries and concerns dwelling within l/n y/n would now be ours to dwell on too!”

the corners of his mouth turn up again, his eyes crinkling and apple cheeks prominent. his voice goes back to the one y/n has grown fond of when he says, “so the aforementioned man can tell us anything!”

“and we'll give him lots of hugs,” seishirou murmurs, his words nearly lost inside the crook of y/n’s (notably heating) neck.

y/n wants to, really wants to thank them but he feels so warm all over that he thinks he's going to fly into the sun, and fight him for the hottest star position.

instead, he begins to open and close his mouth over and over, trying to get any word out but all that emerges are unintelligible sounds.

in the end, he opts to completely shut his mouth, and go back to lean into their affection. he bets they look silly in front of the cctv; three ridiculously tall men nestling closely together, as if they'll die if they were to be separated for more than five minutes.

…reo bets they can't last more than a minute, actually.

stealing another glance at y/n, reo grits his teeth in an effort to hold back a squeal when y/n surrenders into their embrace. after watching him stammer on for a solid minute, reo's hands are twitching and fighting for their lives to not just tilt y/n’s head towards him, and pinch the living cuteness out of his cheeks!

as reo tightens his hold around them, he can feel seishirou’s eyes boring into the side of his head. it's like he has senses for whenever reo’s y/n cuteness aggression acts up.

they don't work ‘cause the only thing stopping reo is y/n’s comfort, anyway! it's not like seishirou has the balls to get y/n’s permission too since he's in denial. whoops!

“...you.” a whisper slices through the silence in the hallway. oh, right! they were supposed to get back to their team v room. though, hugging y/n like this recharges him more efficiently than any futon can.

“hmm? what was that?” reo leans closer to y/n. he sees seishirou doing the same in his peripheral vision.

“thank you. i was just thinking about…” y/n pauses, thinking of the right words to describe his relationship with someone. “... an old friend of mine. that's all.”

and then, as if to reassure him, he nods in reo’s direction, a small smile unfurls across the firm line of his lips.

and that's all it took for reo to combust.

throwing his head back with both hands covering his face, reo lets out an involuntary screech. fuck his cool but nice boy image, or whatever the hell the people think of him, he's risking it all for y/n right now.

seishirou brings y/n closer to him as they both stare at reo. the other doesn't fight against it, and lets him do what he wants. even if seishirou is literally breathing into his hair.

“i can't believe we're friends with him.” seishirou whispers, concerned for reo’s wellbeing and visibly judging his current behaviour.

“that’s… yeah.” y/n whispers back, touched by how moved reo was by his gratitude.

after taking a deep breath, reo is back to facing seishirou and y/n. red dusting his forehead from his fingers holding onto it when he covered his face. he looks a bit goofy, but it's okay. ‘cause he has calmed down and is ready to speak to his friends like a perfectly fine human being again.

at least that's what he thinks until he sees y/n mildly furrowing his eyebrows. oh my god, is this his way of showing concern for reo?

reo can't take this anymore!

his fingers lunge to stretch the living stars out of y/n’s cheeks, and the object of his aggression flinches from seishirou’s hold. and reo honest to god squeals like he's not mikage reo, the heir of the mikage corporation. “seriously! who could get a dear like you to be brooding like that?”

if it weren't y/n tugging on his wrists to give him a chance to speak, reo would've kept going until seishirou got over his devastation (read: denial) and stopped him or something.

with his hands cradling y/n’s face, reo admires him. he feels so high from positivity right now that he'll probably believe y/n if he says he was the one to hang the constellations.

“a dear like me…” y/n mumbles, and reo can feel him getting warmer under his palms. yes, y/n, a dear like you. “i don't think you've met him yet? he's someone from team z.”

“yeah, we don't know him.” seishirou goes back to inserting himself into the crook of y/n’s neck, successfully getting one of reo’s hands off of him with the interruption.

reo pouts, and pinches seishirou’s cheek, making him whine from the pain. “at least give it a bit of thought first! but yeah, we haven't gone against team z yet.”

“don't know, don't care— ouch!” reo pinches even harder.

“we don't know, but we do care! get it right, nagi.”

“sorry, y/n.”

“it's fine. his match is next actually.” y/n ponders for a moment, before adding: “that's what i've been thinking.”

“is that so?” reo says, breaking apart seishirou and y/n to link the three of their hands together. with reo in the middle, they walk towards where team v resides. “are you gonna watch?”

it's a wonder for y/n how their hands perfectly slot each time, but it's a convenience for reo.

“i don't know if i should. we didn't exactly end on… precise terms.” y/n tears his eyes away from their hands, and settles them on the ground. “wouldn't it make him even more angry if i suddenly appeared into his life again? when i left without much of a word?”

“hmm. i guess it would.” reo ponders. “but at the same time, he deserves an explanation of why you left him like that if you're gonna talk again.”

reo smiles at him, his eyes crinkling a little when he does. “i know i would be mad if someone did that to me, i mean, leaving out of the blue and then trying to talk to me again as if nothing happened between us.”

“oh.” y/n has never thought of that. “maybe… i should watch from afar, like in the control room, to prepare the words i'll tell him before meeting him.”

“yeah!” reo gives his hand a squeeze, fondness practically oozing from his gaze.

“i think i would be sad—or mad—too. i don't know. honestly, i'm struggling to keep my eyes open, let alone keep up with the conversation… so i— i can't help. good luck, y/n.” with those last words, seishirou drops to the ground.

“nagi, hey! damn it!” hastily picking him up from the ground, reo throws an apologetic glance at y/n. “sorry, y/n! i'm gonna have to carry him to team v room before he actually dozes off on the floor! see ya! good luck! adore you!”

reo scurries off with seishirou draped by his shoulders in a fireman’s lift. and it's only then does y/n notices the plastic-plated sun, the same one from the keychain y/n had given him, glistens in the fluorescent light on a string entwining around his wrist.

as the hair clip in his pocket numbs with cold, y/n can't believe he's friends with reo. and seishirou.

— ADDITIONAL TIME !

seishirou yawns as he sleepily blinks open his eyes. but even when they're open, his vision is nothing but darkness.

has he been kidnapped? no problem. reo would track his location, and y/n would save him, and then use his cooking as lethal poison for the kidnappers. after that they'll have a stereotypical hero and princess moment and—

right. he accidentally dozed off while conversing with reo and y/n.

might as well go back to sleep and dream of… his hypothetical scenario again.

the day after they found y/n again, during a night after training, reo carefully unwraps the sun from its silver chain. he cuts the cotton string he pulled from his sweater with his teeth before delicately putting it into the small hole the sun has at the top. as he wraps the string around his wrist, he doesn't forget to admire how the sun glistens under the bathroom light.

when he gets back, the sun, moon, and star orbit each other above the ocean's tides in his sleep. the warmth of his dream is now woven into the new bracelet on his wrist.

—✮

Chapter Text

AT NINE YEARS OLD, hyouma runs the world.

kind of.

as the representative of his class, he ran like a bat out of hell in the marathon during the sports festival, bringing them their one and only victory with ease.

so the next day he goes to school, he's not surprised when he's bombarded with compliments by his classmates.

“chigiri-kun, you were amazing yesterday!”

“you totally owned that marathon!”

“man, you should've seen the other classes' faces when they saw how fast you were!”

“at this point, chigiri-kun can even compete with those high school grown-ups!”

hyouma flashes them a polite smile. “thanks.”

he sets his bag on his desk in silence, propping his head against his palm as he stares at the view beyond the window. it's a bit of a strange one: a handful of kids passing a ball back and forth using their feet. one of them sticks out like a sore thumb with his height, and also because he keeps kicking the ball out of bounds. but hyouma must keep his vibes as an olympian.

“chigiri’s so cool….”

“pretty guys with pretty abilities are a different breed.”

“i’m gonna confess to him when we graduate.”

“he rejected the whole class in one go when we were in first grade, i don't think you'll have a chance.”

“i bet he's making a plan on how he's gonna destroy those four-b guys at the next festival.”

“nah, i wouldn't be surprised if an idol agency scouted him and he's contemplating their offer….”

the breeze from the window causes some of his fringes to sway majestically, and it makes the whispers around him grow louder.

heh.

‘praise me more.’

obviously, hyouma’s cool. his pretty face has nothing to do with how fast he runs, he just has always loved running. no, don't confess to him, he's not ready to reject the entire school in one day yet. he doesn't care about four-b. he didn't get scouted, unfortunate ‘cause it would've gotten the people talking more.

he slides a hand over his mouth, hiding the unruly smirk on his face.

hyouma’s life is as easy as the marathon is. he's born with genetics that happen to be conventionally attractive, he found his talent just by the age of six, and people adore him for those reasons. if hyouma was another lucky bystander who gets to breathe within hyouma’s distance, he would wax lyrical poetry about him, too.

running the world couldn't have been easier.

okay, maybe it can be a bit better. for example, his sister can be less annoying…

“i want you to play soccer with me.”

…and the guy standing in front of him can repeat and hear himself say the ridiculous joke he just told hyouma.

it takes a few seconds of himself blinking at the intruder to register his words. is this a fellow fourth grader talking to him right now? his voice is way too monotone, even his dad doesn't sound like that; and the old man’s dead.

“sorry, what?”

“i said, i want you to play soccer with me.”

not even asked, but said. hyouma’s not against the sport at all, but who is a guy who wears a dang formal dress shirt with an absurdly fancy collar in this temperature to tell him what to do?

hyouma shifts his gaze back to the window. he has to keep his cool like the cool man he is. “why should i? sorry, but i don't know you.” that one's definitely making it out to the cafeteria gossip.

“i'm l/n y/n, and i want you to play soccer with me,” y/n says. a horribly nice name, by the way.

“again, why should i?”

“what else do you need? you asked for my name, and i gave it to you.”

this is getting on hyouma’s nerves. “i don't see how that owes you to have me play soccer. with you, mind you.”

“you run fast. you have the potential to be a world-class striker.” someone needs to tell victorian boy to hear himself right now.

“nice try, but if i run fast then i can be the best at every other sport.”

“but i like soccer, and i like your speed. so i think you should play soccer with me.”

with that logic, it's no wonder hyouma never notices him. he has decided that he's tired of arguing with someone who probably has soccer balls for brain cells, and will be gracious by ignoring him.

“chigiri-san?”

no response.

“are we playing soccer together or not?”

no response.

“you were amazing yesterday, by the way.”

no resp— his chin is yanked and he's forced to meet e/c eyes.

woah.

hyouma has seen livelier eyes from the fishes by the riverbank.

what is this kid's problem?

"you were amazing yesterday."

"thanks." hyouma forces a smile. be mature, be mature, be mature—

"no problem. now play soccer with me."

BANG!

hyouma slams his hands against the wooden table. the noise startles everyone in the class, making them snap their heads to his desk.

curses, his reputation!

hyouma laughs awkwardly, rubbing his nape. "...sorry! there were… bugs on my table." he frowns, eyebrows furrowing at y/n. "l/n, are you okay? you must've been scared."

‘get the hint, fish eyes!’

y/n tilts his head at him, and hyouma waits for him to blink. he doesn't.

then, he cups hyouma's ear with both of his hands. "if i say i was scared, would you play soccer with me?"

hyouma is given no choice but to nod his head.

after letting go, y/n faces their classmates and takes one, big breath. "yeah! i was scared." he freaking yells in his voice that shows absolutely zero fear, or anything for that matter.

‘idiot! who would believe you if you say it like—’

"thank goodness hyouma was there to protect you from the bugs!"

"was it a spider? it was really loud...."

"hyouma's as cool as always! looking out for l/n-kun even when he was scared himself!"

they crowd hyouma's table, more like y/n.

it kinda pisses hyouma off, and it reminds him of a quote from one of his sister's horrible otome games.

'everyone circles the victim, but never the hero.'

for context, at least as far as hyouma recalls when his sister rants his ear off, the victim was the heroine who was supposed to get cursed by the bad guy until a side love interest stands in front of her and takes it for her. the main love interests who were conveniently in the same party as the heroine fusses over her while the side love interest dies. one less rival, his sister supposes.

but hyouma doesn't want to be the forgotten hero who crumbles into dust! he doesn't want to watch y/n take all of the glorious attention as he dies, and may his mother forgive him for cussing inside his head, but damn it!

positioning himself strategically so that the crowd can get a three-quarters view of his face, hyouma pushes his hair back. casually. "as long as i can protect our friend l/n, bugs will never be scary to me."

"chigiri-san...." y/n mumbles, but why are his eyes suddenly starry? all hyouma did was repeat the line the side love interest said as his final words! don't go falling in love with him now!

"chigiri-kun, isn't that the same hand you used to crush the bug...." someone points out, and the others follow her line of sight.

someone else gags. "ew! chigiri has bugs on his hair now! stinky!"

heck no! this is not the cafeteria gossip he intends to make out! the bugs aren't even real and his hair smells perfectly like his sister's strawberry shampoo!

the moment hyouma opens his mouth to defend himself, the person he least expects beats him to it.

"it's okay, the bug on his left hand was invisible, and the one on his right was an ant," y/n firmly declares.

‘your bullcrap isn't gonna work twice—’

"ants are bugs...?" someone muses. hyouma wants to scream, 'how are you just gonna skip over the invisible part?'

"yes." oh my god. "they're from the same family as butterflies."

"woah! no wonder why we draw the weird body first before the wings!"

"l/n-kun's really smart!"

"it's always the quiet ones at the back who know the most...."

again, they flock over to y/n, heaping praise on him like they did to hyouma when he got here. hyouma doesn't try to get the attention back on him anymore, fearing he'll be misunderstood again. he doesn't trust y/n to have any leftover luck to save him for the third time.

hyouma silently turns back to the front, ignoring the creepy, unblinking stare boring into the back of his head, courtesy of y/n.

☆

y/n didn't stop staring at him, with the most unsettling starstruck eyes he ever felt, until the bell rang and another classmate pulled the dude into their seats, which were conveniently just two chairs behind hyouma, making it a free real estate for y/n to watch him for the rest of the day.

(before y/n could approach him, hyouma had to run out when the first few seconds of lunchbreak started. he swore he heard someone whisper "soccer" to him when he was peeing.)

after what may be one of the weirdest school days hyouma ever had, classes are finally over. he can't wait to wash his hair again when he gets home.

now he just has to somehow escape the breathing vintage porcelain doll that unfortunately takes the form of hyouma's classmate, y/n.

'after teach leaves, run straight out of the door! don't even look behind you! you got this, sports festival track star!'

unfortunately, as today is not at all his lucky day, hyouma is being held in his place by a firm grip on his shoulder just as their teacher steps a foot out of the room.

'crap.'

"chigiri-san," y/n murmurs in his ear, hyouma can only shudder underneath his hand. "play soccer with me."

with a click of his tongue, he swats y/n's hand away. "no! i'm not interested!"

y/n finally blinks at him. “i thought your mom signed you up for a half-day soccer camp.”

hyouma can feel his heart stop with a thump.

how… how does he know…?

“the girl next to me who heard from the guy in front of you who eavesdropped when you told the guy next to you told me.”

“are you a mind reader?” hyouma’s jaw drops.

“no, you spoke your thoughts out loud,” y/n says in his matter-of-fact tone that makes hyouma want to strangle him.

crossing his arms, hyouma glares at him. it has only come to his attention now that the doll is half a head taller than him. “so what if i'm interested in soccer? that doesn't mean i have to play with you.”

“you have to.” y/n says. “because we're gonna win the world cup together. i can't win without you, and you can't win without me.”

the irk mark in hyouma’s head is about to tempt him into headbutting the soccer balls out of y/n’s brain. “nonsense! i can win without you!”

“really? then prove it to me. let's go one-on-one in the field now.”

“you… i’ll make you regret sitting two rows behind me!”

“fine.”

“fine!”

when he sees y/n turning away with a light pep in his step, hyouma realises he walked right into it.

☆✮☆

to their dismay, the field is occupied by the soccer club.

“should we do this another day?” y/n has the audacity to ask hyouma and his pride.

he glares. “no. i'll destroy you right here right now.”

y/n tilts his head at him. insufferable. “okay. i'll make them get out of our way.”

huh? “wait—”

“excuse me, coach! me and chigiri-san need the field for ourselves.” before hyouma can stop him, y/n shouts into the distance. and after a moment of thought, he adds, “please.”

hyouma wishes for a soccer ball to collide with the idiot’s face. “are you insane? what do you think you're—!”

hyouma is interrupted once more by y/n. he's beginning to think that y/n’s more annoying than creepy.

“shh. that tall guy is about to give us the field.”

'he looks like he's about to beat you up, but okay.'

the guy stomps over to them, and the rumbling vibrations beneath hyouma sets the alarms in his head off. he mentally prepares his legs to run as if it's the starting line of a marathon again.

for an elementary school kid, the person they're facing is beyond taller than y/n and questionably muscular. instead of the coach, he's most likely the president of the soccer club, actually is, judging by the bold comic sans letters of "leader" etched across his cap. corny.

he's also the same person hyouma saw from the window this morning.

y/n clears his throat and straightens his back, it's almost comical. "good afternoon, sir."

"sir?" he snarls. "i'm twelve! just like you!"

"i'm nine." y/n takes a step back, and hyouma follows to hide behind him. he may be prideful, but he's not gonna fight someone who looks like he can rip him to shreds. the taller one out of them both, obviously y/n, would be the one to do that.

he bends himself to meet y/n’s eyes. "don't talk back to your seniors! i've gone against a junior high and won! they even called me 'hulk' since i was just as good as the real brazilian striker."

y/n tilts his head. hyouma wonders when will it snap from the number of times he's done it today. "i went against a future professional. i lost, but he said i put up a good fight."

"future professionals are nothing compared to actual pros like junior high students! they're stronger, cooler, and faster!" hulk huffs, puffing out his chest.

"i disagree." y/n wholeheartedly takes a step towards him. "no one is faster than chigiri-san."

'l/n! don't bring me into this!'

"chigiri... who?" ouch. and it's not even hulk trying to be rude, he looks genuinely confused. bur more importantly…

"him," y/n says as he drags hyouma in front of him.

…there goes hyouma’s safety. his pride was sacrificed for a few seconds just to get betrayed by y/n.

"i will fight him and make him play soccer with me when he loses."

hyouma turns to glare at him. "what makes you so confident that i'll lose? if anything, you should be scared. i am the track star of this season after all." clenching his fists, hyouma tries his best to not choose violence, especially when the guy near them looks like he'd join in.

y/n puts his hand on his chin. "but i'm the one with experience in soccer, though?"

before hyouma can land a punch on y/n's annoyingly inexpressive face, hulk breaks in between them and pushes hyouma away from y/n.

"there, there! i like your resolve, kids." hulk pats y/n on the back hard enough that he stumbles. "what about this instead, you and chigiri will go against my team and i. if you two win, i'll let you join our crew!"

nodding a little too eager than hyouma thought y/n’s apathetic self could do, y/n looks at hulk with those stars in his eyes again.

"let's do it, chigiri-san. a captain like hulk would be good for you."

"i see that you have good eyes!" hulk chirps as he pats him on the back, y/n stumbles the second time.

hyouma scowls at them before turning his head.

"no."

"it would be nice if the track star chigiri could make use of his amazing speed in a sport like soccer."

hyouma clicks his tongue, the tip of his ear that's poking out of his hair can camouflage in them if y/n would try a bit more.

"i'll beat you at your own game, hulk!" hyouma stomps over to one side of the field. "hurry up and get your team to play!"

hulk snickers. "simpleton."

"simpleton," y/n echoes.

"shut up!"

☆

"what's our strategy?" y/n asks with no ill intent whatsoever.

"i run and you do soccer things. that's the strategy." hyouma answers with fully ill intent. the intent is to somehow absolutely demolish y/n as his teammate.

"chigiri-san..." y/n looks at him in something too close to pity. "you don't know the rules."

"yes, i do." he does not.

and aggravatingly, y/n knows that. "no, you don't."

"go warm up or something! stop bothering me, i know what i'm doing."

"i'm always prepared for soccer, you should be the one warming up instead."

does y/n have a disease that makes him spout bullcrap each time he talks to hyouma? or is it part of his soccer victorian boy syndrome?

"would it kill you to just go?"

"it would, because i'm your teammate. if i go, then you can't win the world cup without me."

turning to face him, hyouma rolls his eyes. "it's a match between children. it's not that serious."

(the second time hyouma provokes an emotion from y/n, it's something akin to anger.)

"it is to me.” there's a slight trembling in his voice as he glowers at him. “i don't want to do this with anyone else. it's you who i want to win with, chigiri-san."

hyouma opts to stay silent, not like he has anything more to say, and instead goes to stretch his quadriceps. they've known each other since like, what? midday? but hyouma doesn't understand y/n, and that should be enough for them to not play together, let alone forever. why doesn't y/n get that?

"alright. let's win this one, boys!" hulk's roar magically reverberates throughout the open field. whoever nicknamed him is correct. a genius, even.

hyouma doesn't need to look back to know y/n is following behind him. hyouma stands idly in the middle of their pitch, y/n stops on the right wing close to him. this is not how soccer works, but it's not as if there's anything else they can do as a two-man team.

hulk's team has hulk himself as the goalkeeper, four guys spread in front of him horizontally, another four guys, and another three guys. while hyouma's team has nothing but y/n and a dream. awesome.

"chigiri-san," y/n calls out. his tone is back to the impassive one hyouma first encountered.

hyouma resorts to humming in response. he's still adamant about not looking at him, it's embarrassing, but hyouma can't look at him after he's offended y/n. he doesn't care if y/n doesn't care. why is hyouma here, anyway? oh, right. it's 'cause he has a pride to maintain, even if it's in front of the kid who looks like he belongs in a graveyard, six feet under. it's like every interaction he has with y/n is to test how much more his ego can endure.

'it's annoying.'

"stay there, chigiri-san. i’ll take care of everything else for you.”

"as if i'll listen to you. i'm here to prove something, not have you do all the work," hyouma huffs, but still positions himself closer to y/n.

"okay. then run and look at me from time to time."

"is that the only strategy you can come up with?"

"maybe."

the whistle doesn't give hyouma a chance to snap back. mercilessly, one kid is charging at them while dribbling a ball, and at least four dudes are circling him.

“...y/n, are you sure we even have a chance? what the hell is that?”

an 11vs2 like this is not in hyouma's textbook knowledge of soccer.

“don't worry, we'll figure something out.”

hyouma wouldn't believe him even if he wasn't wearing that ridiculous, cuffed long-sleeved dress shirt. so let him retract a few things from his previous statement, hyouma's team has nothing but y/n.

and as though to prove his statement correct, y/n throws himself into the middle of their opponent’s crowd, and emerges with a ball under the control of his feet.

what the hell—

“chigiri-san!”

hyouma’s legs move before he can think, he's suddenly near the touchline with a bunch of dudes trying to catch up to him and y/n is yards away from him in the centre but he kicks the ball and it lands in front of him and he can't think of anything but he—

the ball flies over someone's foot sliding before him, then through hulk’s fingertips.

GOAL!

what… just happened?

one second he was looking at y/n and the next he—

“nice one, dude!” the owner of the foot stands up and gives him a pat on his shoulder.

someone also gives him a pat on his shoulder. “that speed-up was superb! you were like messi out there.”

someone else snorts. “you're just saying that ‘cause you don't know any other players. anyway, good job!” he grabs hyouma’s hand and high-fives it.

“i bet the only other player you can name is also ronaldo….”

—he surpassed everyone.

as they bicker on and on, he hears hulk’s voice roaring to get back into position. his reddened palm is a reminder of his short-lived goal, but his legs take it as a note to turn it into something perennial.

a familiar, but just a better sense of accomplishment overwhelms him. it's like finding out how fast he can overrun the other kids all over again. except, he can cycle back to this moment endlessly—the haze of being one with the wind only to wake up when he's declared winner—until this sport has more to take than to lose from him even if hyouma himself has nothing left to offer.

hyouma loves running, but he thinks he might like soccer even more.

when he glances to the centre of the field, he finds a smile tugging the corners of y/n’s lips.

he looks at hyouma as if he's the treasure he's been looking for.

✮☆✮

though after roughly thirty minutes of losing by a mile besides that one goal, hyouma is now drowning in his sweat.

the other guys are gasping for their life. especially hulk, he's pouring a water bottle over his face while encouraging others to do the same. the puddle of mineral water whirls its way near hyouma, one stretch of his arm and he'll be touching it, but he's too tired to be grossed out.

the sunset is all shades of pretty, the kind that his mom would snap pictures of. the kind where his sister would daydream on and about on her balcony. and hyouma would admire the image before helping his mom prepare food, and then knocking his sister out of her daze, yelling that dinner was ready.

hyouma closes his eyes, taking in everything the sky has to extend to him. the light relieves him when his muscles start to throb. this state of contentment is almost like an aftercare for his first game; he's not fulfilled considering his lack of victory, but he's at ease knowing he's found something he will devote himself to.

soccer is a lot of fun, hyouma thinks.

the gliding of someone's slides becomes louder as it inches closer to him. it comes to a halt at the same time hyouma feels a shadow looming over him, blocking the sky that taught him what it meant to be truly content.

when he opens his eyes, and just as he guesses, he sees y/n towering over him. his face is void of a hint of the smile he showed earlier.

“hello,” hyouma tries.

“hello.”

y/n doesn't say anything else, so hyouma goes back to closing his eyes. he only opens them again after a moment when y/n asks him,

“do you want to get up?”

hyouma purses his lips, contemplating, before reaching his arm out for y/n to take.

y/n pulls hyouma up to his feet. hyouma knows he looks awful right now—his hair sticking up everywhere from sweat and static, shirt and shorts a sweaty wrinkled mess, face that glows from the late afternoon gaze as the millionth sweat drips down to his neck.

(but when y/n tucks hyouma’s hair behind his ear, he realises he can be adored all the same.)

"your speed… no, the existence of your athleticism exists to support the perfect striker in you." y/n's hands are warm when they hold hyouma's face. "just like soccer itself, my sole reason to be in this field is to make you a star. as long as i’m here, i won't let you know any greater joy than scoring."

the gust of wind feels colder than usual when it hits his face the moment y/n lets go. as y/n reaches a fist out to him, hyouma rearranges the first emotion he discovers from y/n: he's more stubborn than he is persistent.

"chigiri hyouma, play soccer with me. you and i will win the world cup together, side by side."

hyouma still doesn't understand y/n. he doesn't know if what he's truly after is a trophy, or something much more unattainable. still…

as he bumps y/n’s fist with his own, the roll of hyouma’s eyes contains something that he’s yet to recognize as fondness.

"try not to fall behind," hyouma taunts, smirking.

a hint of a smile flickers across y/n's face. "who knows? maybe i’d be the one to leave you behind.”

“i’d kick a ball to your head before you even have a chance to. and please, call me hyouma, y/n.”

the weather forecasted rain, but it appears to be a false prediction as the sky seems clearer than ever when reds and yellows stumble into one another for a scene in y/n’s eyes.

(his sister screams at the pure otome game energy from y/n's declaration when hyouma tells her about his day.)

☆✮☆

the soccer club surprisingly welcomes them with open arms. hulk says it's because he and y/n have the determination the club's looking for, but hyouma knows it's because half of the sixth-graders are about to graduate and they can't keep a club running unless it has seven members. hyouma feels like the criteria should be higher for a soccer club, but it is what it is.

"oi, y/n! tell your junior to hurry up unless you two don't want any popsicles!" hulk yells, his shirt can be barely called a t-shirt with how cracked its golden retriever print is.

"we're the same age!" hyouma can only hope that y/n doesn't take the senior-junior jokes they've been getting seriously. he slides into his sandals, which he switches the cleats out for after practice, and shoves the rest of his belongings in his magenta tote bag. "let's go, y/n."

despite being the only two left on the field, y/n has enough patience to always be waiting for hyouma. maybe it came as a package along with his stubbornness.

it's also part of something he's been noticing. it's a bit odd, honestly; the dude only goes to the club hangouts if hyouma's there. if hyouma says he won't be joining, he'll leave to god knows where with only a nod as a farewell.

what a weird guy.

"chigiri-san, you didn't zip it all the way off," y/n says, but he zips hyouma’s tote bag for him anyway. he's also done this countless times since the first week they got accepted.

“huh? oh, yeah, thanks."

though it's been months, hyouma is still not used to y/n’s… antics. sometimes he'll do this or straight up hold his bag, most of the time he smooths hyouma’s hair. it's getting hard to keep track of how inconsistent y/n is in the things he does, honestly.

y/n nods his head in hulk’s direction. “let's go.”

hyouma only hums in response.

☆

the soccer club is incredibly rowdy.

“that last aice is mine!”

“no, it's mine!”

“aice is so overrated.”

“you're overrated! you're literally about to graduate.”

“no, no. he's right—”

it's to be expected when they're being led by someone called hulk, after all.

“has anybody seen that one dog-shaped ice cream?” hulk asks, glancing around before walking up to y/n and hyouma, the only two to stand idly in front of the entrance. at least two teenagers have cursed them for blocking the way by now, but hyouma won't move unless y/n moves. which, the latter surprisingly hasn't.

“the one they're fighting for is the dog-shaped one,” y/n answers.

“aw, shucks! it's my fav since it looks like my own pup.”

the hell is that supposed to mean? “i'm getting dorayakis.” hyouma walks away from them to go search in a random aisle.

“me too.” hyouma can feel y/n following closely behind him, as he always does.

hyouma keeps his eyes forward. “you like dorayaki?”

“no, i'm getting it since you're getting it.”

hyouma’s eyes want to falter to y/n, and it feels a little like losing.

☆

after giving the poor seven eleven cashier hell with sweaty kids brawling on the counter to pay first, only for them to pay in multiple one-hundred yen coins. as they walk back to school together, the team chugs down their convenience store goodies like their lives depended on it.

“aice is kinda crap for this one.”

“don't look at me like that. i’m not switching after you scratched half of my face.”

“at least the dog’s kinda cute!”

“it’s missing an eyeball from the production process.”

“there you sixth graders go again, using old people words….”

hulk turns to hyouma and y/n, ignoring the conversation (that hyouma is sure will escalate into another fight soon) in front of them.

“speaking of dogs, i want to show you two this pic i took of pup yesterday! that reminds me, i'm worried if she's tearing the couch out right now since she's home alone….”

“pup? you named your dog pup?” hyouma looks at hulk incredulously. with how he flaunts his dog merch every second he gets, hyouma expects the pet’s name to be something worth praising too, like a major constellation’s name or whatever. yun, even.

“i was nine when i named her! it's not that bad, right y/n?”

y/n hums nonchalantly.

hyouma scoffs. “you should worry about where you're going after elementary.”

“oh, come on! obviously my moms are deciding that. i’ll think about adult stuff when they tell me to. don'tcha agree, y/n?”

this time, y/n gives a proper answer after tucking the dorayaki’s wrapping in his pocket.

“me and hyouma are taking over the world as world cup champions, so i'm following him wherever he goes.”

“when the hell did we discuss that?”

“when you promised you won't leave me.”

“when?!”

“don't remember.” y/n shrugs. “now, i guess.”

the stars that have begun to appear above them are trying to imitate a constellation, but it only looks like a faux bridge to hyouma.

understanding y/n will prove to be impossible.

☆✮☆

ever since they were welcomed to the soccer club, he and y/n have also been going to afternoon practices together. they're only mandatory once a week, but y/n insists (and by 'insists', hyouma means y/n can and will manhandle him if needed) on going to them from monday until thursday. but strangely enough, never friday.

hyouma just knows it's because y/n is secretly running a soccer cult filled with his fellow creepy victorian children. not like it's any of hyouma's business. hopefully, it'll never have to be.

and now, a few weeks later, hyouma finally gives in and decides to observe y/n.

so naturally, as y/n's good, erm, soccer buddy and fellow future world cup trophy holder, hyouma begins to find his own eyes darting behind him whenever he can.

and one thing to note from his observations, y/n has no friends.

hyouma has seen kids come and go by his table to make small talk, but the only responses y/n would make are limited to: nodding, humming, and if the opponent is lucky, y/n would throw them a glance before going back to his book.

hyouma can't tell if he's a nerd or just terrible with people. he has a feeling it's both.

y/n's not that bad. his only flaw might only be that he doesn't move a single muscle of his face, and maybe his voice is always weirdly monotone, also he dresses like a victorian boy with those ribbons thing on dress shirts of his. despite all that, he's not that bad! he... he once laced hyouma's cleats for him! and uh... he was the one to get him into his favourite sport...?

maaaybe y/n is too much of an enigma. hyouma doesn't know anything about him, and that curiosity made him start to watch him like a freak. which is insane because the freak between the both of them is supposed to be only y/n, not hyouma who can run the universe with his legs if he tries hard enough.

hyouma lies his head in his arms. he listens (eavesdrops) from his desk as another one of their unfortunate classmates approaches y/n. hyouma can't see who it is from his faux sleeping position, but judging by their voice, it seems to be the girl that sits next to y/n.

"l/n-kun! did you do the english homework today?" she chirps. hyouma can hear the slight screech of her chair when she pulls it.

"yeah." y/n says dryly.

"wow! um, it was hard, wasn't it? thankfully, my mom helped me with it!"

"it was, so i had someone do it for me, too."

"what?"

"what?"

"oh, well... anyways! is your book that fun? i always see you reading it even at lunch break."

hyouma's beginning to feel bad for the girl now, like he does with every classmate and their failed attempts to start a conversation with y/n.

hyouma imagines y/n flipping over a page before responding to her. "i guess so, it lets me learn things that aren't allowed."

"aren't allowed as in... illegal?"

"what's illegal?"

"it's, uh, what you just said, not allowed."

"oh," y/n says, pondering for a moment. "yeah."

"i see!" she shouts, her voice as squeaky as her chair when she abruptly stands up. "i think the teacher just called me, bye!"

"really...? i didn't hear anyone." y/n mumbles, but the girl's footsteps are already echoing down the hallway.

hyouma takes that as his cue to wake up.

lifting his head, hyouma glances at y/n.

after taking a deep breath, he gets up and sits on the empty seat in front of y/n.

"hey."

no response. hyouma’s a bit of a reader himself, but what is y/n reading that's more interesting than talking to hyouma?

"i said, hey!" crossing his arms over the chair, hyouma raises his voice.

y/n finally looks up from his book. glancing his eyes down to take a peek at the paperback in y/n’s hands, hyouma tries to make out the title from the footnote of its page.

‘sos—soccer… nomics.’

oh, he's definitely a nerd.

he glances at y/n again, and finds dull e/cs staring back at him.

“do you need something?” y/n says with zero interest in his tone, but he closes his book anyway.

hyouma paused.

right.

why was he here again?

the objective is to observe y/n, and what comes after that is never thought by him. in fact, he doesn't even remember why he's observing him in the first place.

is it from pity? because he notices how y/n has no friends whatsoever, or is it from a sense of debt? since y/n is the one to get him interested in soccer?

hyouma can't think of any other reasons. is there ever one in the first place? his mind is too foggy all of a sudden.

does it need a reason in the first place? y/n approached him first, and to be frank, his reasoning makes no sense. but maybe that's also because hyouma doesn't fully understand y/n yet.

…oh!

so that's it! hyouma wishes to know more about him. to understand y/n further!

“no, i just want to be here.” grinning, hyouma leans into y/n’s desk more.

y/n props his cheek against his hand. “why?”

“no reason. do i even need one?”

y/n hums. “if you want to talk about your soccer, then we can do it after school during practice.”

it's hyouma's turn to be confused now.

“what? i don't only approach you when i need something, do i? do i seem that low to you?”

y/n widens his eyes. “it's all we talk about so i'm assuming….” he trails off. oh, he's also most definitely terrible with people.

sighing, hyouma runs through his hair with his hand in frustration. his partner may be a bit more of an idiot than he thought.

“i don't— i don't just want to talk to you about soccer. i… i want to be friends with you… too.” hyouma mumbles as he averts his eyes. he can't believe the day when he tells someone that would come. for the kid who looks like he time-travelled from the eight-hundreds nonetheless.

the silence that comes after it drags longer than hyouma’s pride can take.

he turns to glare at y/n, but his gaze softens when he sees how y/n looks at him, as if he just told him he’s the author of the soccernomics.

‘his eyes are all starry again.’

hyouma averts his gaze again, and he doesn't look anywhere except for the shiny wooden floor. he can't let y/n see how those stupid eyes got him smiling like he's the author of soccernomics.

“well? are we friends or not?”

hyouma guesses y/n is nodding vigorously, so when he takes a peek at him—

“yes!”

the clouds overcast the sun, but hyouma feels like today is the sunniest summer has ever been.

☆✮☆

love isn't a foreign concept for hyouma. in truth, he’s sure at least eleven people in his sixth-grade class like him.

years have gone by, and hyouma is no longer terrified by y/n now (not that he's ever been in the first place, he just thinks he should point that out). and having known the male for so long, he just knows y/n might be one of them. for years hyouma has caught him watching him from afar multiple times, but each time, y/n merely nods his head. he's no longer scared when y/n does that no, but besides that!

hyouma has a mission today, and it is to buy his oh-so-dear sister a bouquet for her soon-to-be girlfriend. and being the cringe romantic his sister is, she requested one with red roses so the girl can be reminded of her red hair and eyes. he doesn't think she needs to since the girl she's trying to woo already looks at her like she's the only woman out there ever. yuck.

unlike his sister, hyouma has no time to spare for something silly like a crush. his first and eternal love is soccer, end of story.

hyouma takes the florist and marches to leave, only to find a peculiar sight across the street from him also doing the same thing.

it’s y/n standing outside of a garden shop with a sprouting seedling bag in his hands.

this is not very victorian cult boy of him, or maybe it is?

if it is, then the half-a-decade-old mystery has been solved. is this where y/n goes on fridays? to find plants in grow bags and sacrifice innocent nature to whatever soccer devil he's worshipping?

just kidding. hyouma is just not over how y/n still dresses like a wealthy son from the victorian era. though, he loves to exaggerate when it comes to y/n. it started because of his slight fear when he first met him, but now he’s doing it to tease him, even if it's only inside his head.

“oh, it’s you, hyouma. good day.” without checking if the street is safe to cross, y/n skips over to him, the sprout in the bag bouncing along. “what’s that you're holding?”

“...just some roses for my sister.” hyouma says, raising his head to look at y/n. it’s annoying how he still has to do that every time they talk.

“that’s nice. you must adore her a lot.”

“no, i’m being forced to do this. it's not even for her, it's for her girlfriend.” it's future girlfriend, but whatever. those sapphics are probably gonna be kissing and holding hands on their porch the second the girl gets her flowers, anyway.

y/n tilts his head. “good for them, but how are you being forced?”

his neck hurts already, so hyouma begins to walk away. “she said she’d get me eden hazard’s nonfiction book. by the way, do you read stuff like that, too? you know, soccer things.” hyouma has known the answer for years, and y/n knows that. he asks simply to divert the topic, since there’s something inherently embarrassing about admitting which man you like most from the sports world, but maybe that's just hyouma.

“i do.” y/n catches up beside him and stands on the outside of the sidewalk, closest to the street.

‘this seems familiar.’

hyouma has seen his sister doing the same to her alleged friend countless of times outside their home, the same friend she’s buying a bouquet of red roses for. if hyouma doesn't know any better, he would think y/n likes likes him… or something… haha….

he’s not, right?

the only thing they have in common is that they both like soccer. not only that, hyouma barely knows anything about y/n. aside from that, he’s a soccer-obsessed freak every day except for friday, when he sacrifices plants for the victorian slash y/n themed cult he’s leading.

but… y/n was the one who approached him first, and bothered him until hyouma agreed to play soccer together… and promised to make him a star, out of all things, so that he wouldn’t know any joy greater than being with him… on the field. as two men, who happen to be playing soccer together.

yeah, y/n doesn't like him. he just likes him as a striker. it’s not that big of a deal.

except, y/n takes soccer as a very big of a deal.

then that… would make the possibility of y/n having a crush on him low, but never zero.

“i do.”

an inscrutable voice echoes in hyouma’s head, unhelpfully supplied with an image of stardust scattering in y/n’s eyes.

this— this can't be!

l/n y/n likes chigiri hyouma?! what a joke! y/n isn't a love interest of hyouma’s from one of his sister’s otome games, they're just two guys who happen to both be lovely and like soccer!

…right?

the image turns into something worse, a view of y/n’s small smile accompanied by the sunset.

right?!

“...ma? hyouma?”

suddenly, a voice breaks hyouma out of his reverie. he blinks at y/n’s hand waving in front of him.

hyouma tries his best not to be shaken by the main character of his thoughts breathing in front of him. “what's wrong?”

“you've been out of it for a while. are you okay?”

no. if you don't stop with your acts of service, i’ll think that you're in love with me. “yeah, all good.”

“thank goodness.” the ghost of a smile y/n gives him does not help to ease his turmoil. “oh, and, is this your house?”

glancing as he didn't realise he was staring at y/n the whole time, hyouma was indeed in front of his home, the house of the chigiri family.

“it… is.”

he shudders. did his legs carry him to his house without him knowing? the human body can be both amazing and terrifying at times. good thing it's y/n who he brought with him.

“then i'll be going. see you at school next week, hyouma.” with that, y/n nods and turns his heel.

“wait!” hyouma shouts, grabbing y/n’s arm before he can even make his first step.

tilting his head, y/n examines him up and down with his eyes. “is there something wrong?”

“i have something to show you at home— my home. i got a bunch of novels that can improve our mindset about soccer, i haven't checked any of them out yet, but i wanna do it with you.”

“oh…” y/n says meekly, “but why me?”

“who else would it be if not you?”

and then y/n lights up, as in the air surrounding them suddenly feels like the sun is beaming a spotlight on them. if the tomato sprout in y/n’s seedling bag was wilting, it certainly isn't now.

“you're right, hyouma and i are friends after all.”

“yeah, we are.” hyouma reassures nonchalantly as he creaks the gate open. “thank god nee-san’s out until six today, so we won't—”

“what do you mean by ‘thank god’?”

his sister interrupts, leaning on the door with a lopsided grin.

“nee-san!”

“pardon my intrusion,” says y/n, ever so polite (not really), as he slightly bows.

“oh my goodness! are you the one hyouma won't stop blabbering about?” she croons, eyeing y/n just to coo at him.

“he talks about me?” y/n tilts his head, and hyouma can only hope it's not out of amusement.

in a heartbeat, he shoves the bouquet into his sister's face before she can reveal anything else.

“nee-san, you're embarrassing me! take your flowers and leave!” he whisper-shouts, desperately begging with his entire being for her to get a hint.

“but what about that book about the soccer dude you're obsessed with? am i buying it for you or not?” his sister chuckles, making no effort to lower her voice, as if she's trying to embarrass hyouma more.

“i hope a bird shits on you and your ugly flowers.”

“the flowers have the same colour as our hair and eyes, but thanks for the good luck!” her eyes settle on y/n. “though, with your guest here, getting the girl later won't hurt.” she winks at him.

hyouma doesn't know what's more irritating: her being aware that her crush reciprocates her feelings but still insists on the mutual pining, or her prioritizing torturing hyouma over her (absolutely!) cringeworthy grand confession.

my god, it's like she only exists to annoy hyouma. beating the crap out of her and becoming an only child sounds so tempting right now. if y/n wasn't here, maybe it could've come true.

y/n nods awkwardly, putting his plant down behind their gate. “i’m sorry for bothering you.”

shoving the flowers back to hyouma, who catches it with a yelp, she croons at y/n again. “aww, you're so sweet! hyouma should take notes of that part about you instead of what book you brought that day.”

“um… what?”

out of all things…. hyouma clicks his tongue. “don't listen to her! just get inside!”

after hastily shoving the stupid roses back into his sister’s hands, hyouma grabs y/n’s wrist before making a run for it.

“hyouma, welcome back!”

why does his mom have to schedule a day off today out of all days?!

“i’m home, mom! can't talk now! sorry!”

blurring past the picture frames lining up in the hallway, they get to his room at the end of the corridor. he pushes y/n in and shuts the door with a bang.

“who's that with hyouma? he's unusually in a rush.”

“his boyfriend. don't worry about it.”

good thing he threw y/n in first so he can't hear the muffled voices of hyouma’s family outside.

sighing, he glances at y/n to find him admiring the piles of novels and scattered dvds hyouma never bothers to sort out.

‘crap, i forgot to clean up! i would've done it if i knew someone would be coming over!’

y/n picks up an otome game disc. his sister must've stored it in his room when he ran an errand for her. fuck. “hyouma, you like this type of stuff?”

the illustrated wink on the cover is almost mocking. even when his sister is not in the same room as him, she still manages to ruin his life.

he immediately snatches the game from y/n. “no, that's my sister's. her room has no more space left, so she uses mine as a dumpster.”

looking around for a place to hide the dvd, he looks at his desk only to find it thrashed with stationeries and opened notebooks.

“are those your sister's as well?”

“...yeah, she's a pain like that.”

imagining one of the notebooks as his sister's face, hyouma slaps the game on it before slamming the book shut.

he turns back to y/n with a smile. “you can sit on the floor.” he cannot let y/n find the match notes he took about them both the night before on his bed.

sliding a jacket that hyouma has forgotten exists away with his hand, y/n sits with his knees tucked to his chest as he leans his back on hyouma's bed. hyouma should really start cleaning his room more often.

trying not to let the regret consume his whole, hyouma grabs every book on his ghost-reads shelf—because why would he read self-help books willingly after buying them—and tosses them in front of y/n.

y/n marvels at the books scattered everywhere in front of him. “that's a lot. you're really into this stuff, huh, hyouma.”

hyouma rolls his eyes, pointing a finger accusingly at y/n. “you're one to talk! i see you bringing a different one every week.”

“so your sister was right about you taking notes of what book i brought that day?”

y/n’s gaze has never felt this burdensome. “no! she's lying! i told you to not believe anything she says.” hyouma huffs. it's not not a lie unless he admits it, which he never will, thanks.

“whatever you say,” y/n murmurs. “i've never seen any of these before.”

“how?” there are dozens of copies of any of these basic arse books displayed in the front of local bookstores and libraries, it's hard to believe that y/n hasn't at least read any of them once.

“i don't go around much.” y/n hums as he flips through an untitled book hyouma forgets he owns, save for the words ‘ambition: what is life without?’ on the right corner in the back.

the dust from it makes y/n blink for two solid seconds. hyouma counts it before he asks, “then where did you get your reads?”

y/n puts the book down. “someone gave them to me.” he mutters, rubbing his eyes.

his answer is too vague, hyouma can't dissect anything from that, can't understand y/n more than that. what is there to understand when there isn't even something to understand in the first place? hyouma has already started to feel bitter about the word.

this isn't even the first time; it's always been like this even before hyouma befriended him, and hyouma goes for the same route each time. thinking that maybe he's being impatient, maybe he shouldn't prod on. maybe being friends isn't how they should—

(he buries those thoughts into the back of his mind, and leaves them to rot like everything with y/n.)

“...hyouma? are you okay?”

(if y/n had asked if there was something on his mind, would hyouma be honest with him?)

hyouma smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. “yeah. you were saying?”

“i was just asking where you got yours. are you sure you're okay?” y/n asks. hyouma’s known him long enough to recognise that he's concerned for him.

“all good.” hyouma sits across from y/n, propping one knee up to lean his head against. “my sister bought most of them from bookstores she finds during her walks.”

more like she throws them at hyouma and turns them against him any time he refuses to do her a favour. siblings are so fun to have around.

“i already knew it, but she's nice.” she's very much not. “bookstores sound cool.”

“then let's shop at one,” hyouma offers without thinking.

y/n blinks. “now?”

hyouma rolls his eyes as he desperately tries not to think of what prompted himself to say that. “no, not now. we're still gonna be hanging out in here for the rest of the day. we'll schedule a time and date one day, though.”

plus if hyouma were to come out of his room, his sister would definitely tease him (and y/n) until her (not) girlfriend picks her up. the thought sends a shiver down his spine.

“okay, one day.” y/n nods, staring down at his knees with something a little suspiciously like a tug on his lips.

hyouma wonders if it would surprise y/n if he were to lean in and softly press against them using his own lips.

but moving on!

“y/n, you should read this one!” hyouma grabs the first thing he sees and pushes it to y/n. “i read— i mean, i heard it's really good!”

“overcoming storms in life? told by the weather?”

“um— yeah! it tells about the stages of… uh, you know! yeah! just read it, i think you'll like it!”

“i thought we're here to improve our mindset for soccer?”

“well…!” hyouma completely forgot about that the moment his sister appeared. “in order to win the world cup, you'll be going through a lot of tough things in life, like, especially with your relationships. so… if you overcome them, then you'll be closer to our goal!”

thankfully, y/n seems to buy it. he nods as he admires the book with a newfound appreciation. “i trust you.”

“i'm gonna,” he stumbles, snatching the dusty book beside y/n. “read this one.”

he doesn't think about how highly suspicious he seems. he refuses to know and can only hope y/n doesn't notice anything, that's his current ambition to match up with the title of the book in his hand. he lies down on his back and snaps open the spine of his decades-old paperback into a makeshift roof that perfectly hides his face.

hopefully.

☆

how long has it been?

blinking as he adjusts his eyes, hyouma’s vision is filled with nothing but clouds and stars.

he wakes up with a blanket over him. the room didn't feel this cold before he slept.

he glances to see his air-conditioner turned on to twenty celsius, he doesn't remember doing that.

he also doesn't see y/n anywhere when he looks around again.

hyouma begrudgingly gets up with a groan, the blanket slipping off of him. he realises it's the one from his bed.

he walks past the neatly stacked books. and just as he reaches for the door handle, he freezes when he hears two familiar voices outside of his room.

his sister’s laughter echoes between the walls. “hyouma's been smiling a lot more ever since he told me you guys became friends. i don't know what you see in him, but thanks for that!”

“it's nothing to thank me for. i like hyouma.”

his heart drops.

“he waits for me when we go to the cafeteria or practice together, he gets all impatient before checking if i have everything i need with me, and then acts all angry when i forget something but still waits for me, anyway. he says he doesn't need them anymore when he lends me his pencils, but i'll see him buy more in the school’s stationery store.”

it feels like his heart is hammering against his ribcage the more the words flow out of y/n.

“he's kind. i was happy when he asked me to be his friend. sometimes i think i don't deserve him, but i would also think that i wouldn't let go of him at all.”

hyouma turns to lie on the ground he slept on, ignoring how the dusty book next to his pillow on the ground is gleaming brand-new again,

“i hope he feels the same way.”

and forces the erratic beating of his heart to sleep.

(as the rain prattles gently against his window, chigiri hyouma is reminded that he is a treasured friend of l/n y/n.)

☆

when hyouma wakes up, a blanket is draped over him again, and the air conditioner unit is still set to twenty celsius.

but there's no y/n with him, or muffled voices outside his room anymore.

hyouma scurries through their hallway, past the walls lined with all sorts of framed pictures: the last one being a photo of himself as a toddler, his sister, and his mother posing in commemoration of their new, current house. and finds his family near their table of four.

“i’m up. where’s y/n?”

“hyouma! your fancy friend left an hour ago. he's as polite as he looks! you should bring him over more often.” his mom chirps, setting up placemats over the table. “be a dear and help me set up the table.”

“sure, i’ll ask him about it.”

hyouma holds his breath as he passes by his sister stirring a pot of curry. and just when he thinks he's in the clear when he reaches the cabinet, she clears her throat.

“should i dress up as y/n instead of santa this year?”

hyouma points a plate at her. “do you want to die?”

“language!”

“yes, mom.”

his sister snickers and when he narrows his eyes to glare, he notices something beyond the window behind her, near the gate of their house.

a particular seedling bag, with a sprout of a supposed tomato, is more or less drowning in the fine drops of rain.

the bastard forgot to bring it home with him.

— ADDITIONAL TIME !

“hyouma,” y/n calls out, his hands behind him, as if he's hiding something.

“what?”

“give me your hand.”

though confused, hyouma does as he says.

y/n hands him a purple-red snap hair clip, the size is no larger than his index finger.

“a hair clip?” hyouma mumbles, examining the accessory. it's in his favourite colour. “why?”

y/n’s lips tug up into a small smile. “your hair’s getting long.”

-☆

Chapter Text

SOPHOMORE YEAR might go wild, but hyouma has no time to worry about that when he's trying to figure out if he and y/n will be in the same class for this year.

"damn it, I can't see anything." hyouma mumbles, standing on his toes for a glimpse of the announcement board.

though, he's quick to give up. he instead tries to push through the crowd with half-assed ‘excuse me’ apologies, only to be pushed back by a surge of more people.

it's too early for this shit.

unfortunately, back where he started, hyouma pats the dust off his uniform and sighs.

it's not his height that's the problem, people just don't understand the concept of first come first serve. hyouma has no flaws, thanks.

"you're in class b, and I'm in class a. that's too bad." y/n mutters beside him. hyouma would joke about y/n appearing out of thin air being one of his cult witchcrafts if it weren't for y/n and his mighty one-hundred-and-seventy-centimetres self being able to effortlessly see the board hyouma was desperately fighting for.

"oh." hyouma's pathetic one-hundred-and-sixty-three centimeters self mutters. he's not even that short, he's literally one centimeter above average. it's just y/n who's ridiculously tall, damn it. whatever y/n is being fed at home, hyouma wants it. not a need because again, hyouma has no flaws.

nothing wrong with short people, by the way. hyouma just can't relate.

"what are we gonna do?" y/n asks, turning and leaning his head down to catch hyouma's eye, and hyouma is given a chance to experience a fraction of what short people go through daily. "we're in different classes again this year."

"it's fine." hyouma brushes him off. please do not lean down, y/n. it's making him feel things. "we're still on the same soccer team."

y/n droops. not really but what the fuck. “but we haven't been in the same class for one year.”

hyouma rolls his eyes. maybe it's time to stop with these bunch of sentences in between dialogues, it makes hyouma’s feelings a bit tad exposed.

platonic feelings, he clarifies.

“what about it? we were in the same class for, like, three years in grade school,” hyouma says.

“it was six,” says y/n out of fucking nowhere.

“the hell? since when?”

“for as long as i remember.”

“well, sure,” hyouma huffs. “but we became friends in fourth grade, so it's three.”

y/n smiles faintly. “yeah, we became friends.”

what a weirdo.

hyouma turns around and power walks to nowhere. anywhere is fine with the provision that y/n doesn't see his frown accompanied by reddening cheeks.

what a freaking weirdo.

“hyouma, where are we going?” y/n asks, catching up to his briskening pace.

“i just need some fresh air.” hyouma says.

“oh, did the crowd suffocate you that much?”

hyouma halts, and y/n nearly stumbles backward. “what do you mean by ‘that much?’”

taking a step back, y/n shrugs. “you got pushed back by them. i was behind everyone so i saw it.”

one day, hyouma will learn one of his witchcraft methods and shrink him into one-hundred-and-sixty-two-centimetres. “oh my god, please forget that.”

“i can't, i won't forget it until i know you're okay.”

hyouma stares at y/n.

“what?” y/n questions after a minute passes. he tilts his head under hyouma’s indescribable gaze.

with a sigh, hyouma treads next to him. “i’m okay, i didn't even feel anything. it’s nothing serious.”

“it is since it's you.”

hyouma sprints.

“hyouma, wait!” y/n follows after him. “why are you running?!” he shouts, which is really, just his voice being louder than anything.

if hyouma can't have longer legs than y/n, then at least he has the speed to compromise.

hyouma widens the distance between them, going faster than he ever did in tournaments. “get away from me!”

“why are you getting farther?! the bell will be ringing soon!”

“it’s six a.m.! leave me alone!”

“i can't! i've been following you around since we were nine!”

“i don't give a— what the fuck?! ” hyouma yelps, his wrist in y/n’s possession.

it has happened a handful of times before, but somehow, the warmth etches itself onto his skin almost desperately each time.

and so to speak, things remain unchanged.

"hyouma, wait." y/n mumbles, he releases his hold and hyouma’s wrist feels nostalgic already. it's tingly and it's chasing after something hyouma isn't ready to consider.

"what?" he asks, turning to him as he smooths over the hair that his magenta hair clip isn't holding. hyouma might grow out his hair more.

"i think… i think we should go somewhere else." y/n says. and it's new because hyouma has never heard him sound hesitant like this. he's always so compliant and is stupidly stubborn about it.

"why? what's wrong?" hyouma tries to face forward again, but he stiffens when y/n pulls on his sleeve.

is it possible for an unmoving item to yearn? hyouma's afraid he'll find the answer when y/n lets go.

"it's just that… i think there are better opportunities for us." y/n mutters, breaking hyouma out of his reverie.

hyouma rolls his eyes. "what the hell is that supposed to mean? let's just go. i’m not walking around no more in this weather."

he turns to face ahead, y/n doesn't let go.

in the distance is a black cat with golden eyes peering at them.

"oh, look. it's a cat," hyouma muses, whistling about the blob of void underneath a bench.

from the corner of his eye, he sees y/n scoot closer behind him.

hyouma looks between him and the cat. "what's wrong?"

from the corner of his eye again, he sees y/n flinching.

"nothing. should we go somewhere else? i don't want to disturb the cat." he tugs on hyouma's sleeve.

"what, are you scared of 'em?" hyouma teases.

for the second time since their half-a-decade friendship, y/n flinches. "no, i just think it should get its well-deserved rest. it must've had a rough day."

"it's six a.m., y/n."

and ‘it’ is a cat. what do cats even do? all they do is run over his hanged laundry and piss at his door. middle school students like hyouma—y/n isn't included ‘cause hyouma doesn't want to think about him right now—have it way harder: going home after playing soccer until his feet are sore only to be greeted with cat piss near the front of his house. and then he gets tasked to iron and fold laundry when said laundry is still outside near the cat piss.

"still...." y/n scrunches up hyouma's self-ironed sleeve and he tries not to screech what the fuck . “we have classes soon, let's not bother it.”

"it's a harmless little thing. worst that can go wrong is you getting scratched,” hyouma says, he doesn't care about being late unless it’s for soccer practice. and he feels the need to add: “that doesn't even hurt, by the way."

after shaking y/n off, which made his sleeve crumple up more due to y/n’s grip being hard enough that his knuckles turn white, hyouma crouches in front of the cat.

"hey there little guy. how'd you get here?" he croons in the same voice his sister would converse y/n with to embarrass hyouma.

the cat would've been one with the shadows if it weren't for the unblinking bright yellow eyes staring at him. they kinda remind him of the y/n from their grade school days.

yikes, creepy.

maybe this one is a member of y/n’s alleged soccer occult from elementary instead of a harmless little thing.

years of trying to read y/n prepared him for this. stepping closer, hyouma reaches his hand out, gesturing to ask the animal for permission to pet it. “c’mere. i'll scratch that part behind your pretty ears.”

the cat continues to peer up at him before it glances at his hand and paws at it. the sun makes its black fur shine like the obsidian lining of his dad’s picture frame.

hyouma blinks. “it’s cute, don't you think?”

he turns his head around, only to find y/n leaning down on one knee. his e/c eyes peering along at him.

y/n tilts his head, and he does not blink. “sure.”

hyouma feels hot all of a sudden.

those are the same fish eyes from fourth grade, get a grip! it would've been fine if they're starstruck, but they're not! they look dead, hyouma! dead! as dead as your sister's obsession with otome games!

without thinking, hyouma picks up the cat from under the bench.

he shuts his eyes and thrusts the poor cat in front of y/n’s face. “don't get any closer!”

drip.

hyouma slowly opens his eyes again, and sees a drop of blood dramatically streaming down the cat’s nail. and maybe a slash of red on y/n’s cheek.

y/n wipes the blood off his cheek, which just smears his face even more. he stares at the smudge of crimson on the back of his hand without a word.

certainly a slash of red on y/n’s cheek.

hyouma glances between the cat’s stained nail and the new wound on y/n’s cheek.

what the fuck, what the fuck. he sets the cat down as carefully as his frantic mind can manage, and turns to y/n just to panic about him. “y/n! are you okay— oh my god! you're bleeding!”

“i'm bleeding,” y/n says.

“i can see that! why are you just standing there?! run to the infirmary!” a few students around them whip their heads towards hyouma when he shouts. but he's not nine anymore, he doesn't give a damn about his star image when he has soccer to worry about. and y/n, too. like a package. a collection of stars, a constellation—

“oh, i forgot where it is,” y/n mutters as he wipes his bloodstained hand on his uniform.

well, damn. a dumbass.

☆

“ouch,” y/n says, the closest thing to a whine hyouma will ever hear from him.

an irk mark forms on hyouma’s head, but he makes sure the presses of the gauze pad are more gentle against y/n’s cheek. “stop saying that every time i dab on it!”

“ouch, ouch, ouch.”

his hand cupping y/n’s face itches to squeeze it. but instead, hyouma stops to glare at him. “stop it!”

y/n doesn't whine again. hyouma throws out the wet cotton pad and opens a cabinet for sterile band-aids. he chooses the bland, boring one. just like the person he's about to turn his foot to apply it on.

sitting on the infirmary’s bed, y/n looks out into the window blankly. his eyes in a daze and his lips pursed into a line. the curtains are slid to the sides but they still fly along when the occasional wind invites itself in. hyouma can only see the side of y/n’s figure, yet…

he's beautiful, hyouma realises.

y/n glances at him, and hyouma wants to say something, but he shuts his mouth when he notices he already has it open.

“hyouma.” since when were there faint creases around y/n’s eyes when he wears that stupid small smile? “look, it is the cat from before.” y/n turns back to the window.

hyouma huffs. “sit still.”

he holds a hand on y/n’s uninjured cheek, and shifts his face to get a better look at the injured one.

he stamps the band-aid, and when he lets his hands drop to his side, he wonders if his touch makes y/n feel tingly, too.

he wishes the thought can be shaken off easily as his other musings of y/n.

but then he glances at how y/n is still contemplating into the distance, and the thought shuts down itself as it rises.

“what are you looking at?” hyouma asks, folding his hands over the window sill as he leans on it.

y/n stands to lean next to him. “the same cat.”

hyouma doesn't need to look everywhere to find it. he stares down below the window for a black cat with golden eyes.

as golden as the pee it's pissing.

he turns to stare at y/n.

y/n shrugs. “it wasn't peeing until you got here.”

“fuck is that supposed to mean?” hyouma says, now glaring at him. “are you saying i urge cats to urinate?”

“you do seem numb to the smell.”

“the fuck?”

y/n doesn't respond, so hyouma only huffs and turns to face the stupid cat again. it has stopped peeing.

“i think it's to apologise. say sorry, bitch,” hyouma asserts.

“you gotta stop saying those words, hyouma,” y/n says, bumping his elbow against hyouma’s side.

“sorry or bitch?”

“you know which.”

“so, sorry?”

y/n turns to look at him with what hyouma can only guess as disappointment.

“no can do.” hyouma sighs dramatically. “who knows when my sister would snitch on my mom about it again? i gotta make the most out of this opportunity.”

“you're a bit silly.” says the guy who got scratched by a cat. “speaking of which, are they doing well?”

“yeah. my sister is annoying as always. mom got mad at her for doing that gross pda stuff with her girlfriend while i’m around.” hyouma says, propping his head against his palm to glance at y/n. “mom’s been doing her own thing, but she's gonna get a new drive disc for her photos. since the sky’s getting prettier or whatever. everything's the same, more or less.”

y/n hums, closing his eyes. “the sky's getting prettier.”

and so are you.

“...y/n, this is sudden, but what do you think of men?”

“males assigned at birth have physical capabilities that are—"

“no, no. like, romantically—you know? feelings? attraction? love ? have you ever had a crush on another man?”

y/n blinks. “i guess i'm attracted to men, i don't know."

"how'd you know? just asking, by the way."

y/n blinks, and hyouma has never felt so attracted to those dead eyes. sign him up for a no-blinking challenge against y/n, and he'll sweep it in seconds since y/n loves to blink so fucking much.

"i kind of just do. i think one day i imagined how it'd feel or be if i were to kiss and get married to a man, then i just kind of knew," y/n says. "oh, the cat ran away."

"it's homophobic," hyouma scoffs. but he closes his eyes anyway.

he tries to imagine it; kissing and marrying a man. the things he thought he wanted with a woman, but when he thinks of doing them with one, it feels impossible. the image of someone who identifies as a woman doesn't even exist in those prospects.

hyouma thinks of a man, and it would've been easier to get to the conclusion of his pondering if the man wasn’t y/n.

“...y/n, who was the man you imagined?”

“just a guy. i don't think he was anyone in particular.”

“okay, but what did he look like?”

"i don't know. i don't remember."

"okay, then imagine it again. right now. think of a man you'd kiss and marry."

"hyouma...." y/n takes a step farther than hyouma.

"what?"

"why are you so insistent? it's not because you're also... homophobic, is it?"

"the fuck? of course not!" (who’s gonna tell him that he's both gay and homophobic?) "and what do you mean ‘ also ?’ are you being discriminated against by those losers in our team?” hyouma gasps. “i knew it! they're all assholess! i never liked them, anyway!"

"oh, it's nothing like that.” y/n waves him off, he takes a step near hyouma. “you just said that the cat is homophobic for running off."

"what? ugh, whatever. i'm not homophobic. i hate this conversation.” hyouma huffs and drops his head into his arms.

but it doesn't take him long to glance up at the boy beside him, not when it's so easy for hyouma to immerse himself in y/n's atmosphere.

the glancing turns into staring, and the staring turns into something akin to admiring. admiring turns into something he's not quite ready to look into, but the choice to avoid doing that is available at all times.

maybe that's why it's so easy.

stardusts can fall on them and y/n would look like he belongs with them at any given time. if those remnants of a star structure itself back into its original form, it would be y/n.

admiring y/n feels like stargazing. infectious actions or thoughts are generally ones that are loud and boisteorous, but something about seeing y/n undisturbed makes him feel serene. hyouma has gotten used it, yet he can only hope that y/n doesn't feel any differently than he does. any differently than the atmosphere y/n is built upon, one that sometimes feels dense enough hyouma is afraid to stumble in further. one wrong move and he might crash the peace their friendship evolves on.

“...i hope everyday would be the same, too. more or less,” hyouma mumbles.

“that can't happen. if every day is the same, then you can't change and grow. and if you can't grow, we can't win the world cup." y/n replies, as if it's an automatic response to the same thought he might have had multiple times.

“so you're saying you're okay with change? good or bad?”

“not necessarily,” y/n says. “i think it's something not even you and i can avoid.”

hyouma didn't even think that deeply when he spoke. he doesn't care if one of them changes as long as they're together in it. he was only thinking about staying with his friend, y/n.

but he's sure y/n wouldn't be able to guess that, even if his future is on the line.

☆✮☆

junior high is shit. everyone is so fucking mean for no reason.

“l/n-kun, you should learn better. you're smart, but you only have your height and stamina. you should work harder to use them. you're not very effective at any skill.”

“yes, coach.” y/n says, his gaze on the ground.

it pisses hyouma off.

he—and the entire soccer team lining up in front of coach—has heard him advise y/n the same thing for the third time this month. the calendar hasn't even been flipped to the twentieth. he doesn't get why y/n just takes the shit thrown at him every time.

and why the other guys just don’t give a shit.

hyouma has had enough.

“coach—”

“hyouma,” y/n interrupts, the slight sharpness in his tone is a warning sign he’s heard before. “it's fine.”

turning away, hyouma clicks his tongue. but he’s still an earful distance with y/n, just in case the coach wants to get fucked up.

“then that would be all from me, i'll be expecting improvement from you next week, l/n-kun. all of you can be dismissed.” the coach waves y/n off. about damn time.

with his hands tucked behind him, y/n bows. “i’ll work hard. thank you, coach.”

just as hyouma plans to walk to him, he hears a poorly concealed whisper from someone near him. “i feel bad for y/n. he's always on the receiving end of coach’s temper for some reason.”

“yeah, he says the same things too. i don't know how y/n still wants to be on the team when all the coach does is use him as a punching bag. guess that's what

happens when you're the quietest one,” someone else mutters. their tones are all too sorry for hyouma’s comfort and own temper.

he glares at them when they saunter towards y/n, but they don’t seem to notice. and hyouma doesn’t go beyond trying to burn holes in the back of their heads.

someone grins at y/n. “l/n-kun! you got this!”

“we’re rooting you on! fighting, fighting!” someone else cheers, raising his fist in the air to emphasize his point.

y/n nods before throwing his gaze back at his cleats. “thank you, i’ll work even harder from now on.”

they pat his shoulders and run off with the rest of the team on leaving.

all but hyouma and y/n. makes hyouma doubt the world revolves around them, doesn't it?

hyouma clicks his tongue. “those damn…!”

“they didn't do anything wrong, hyouma.” y/n says, his eyes persisting on staring at the grass at his feet.

“they literally just cheered for you because they pity you!”

“and i'm thankful for that. it’s nice of them to think about me.”

“if they were oh so sorry they would've defended you from that damned coach.” hyouma grumbles, glaring at the spot that old geezer left.

“they aren't obligated to.” y/n says. “that applies to you, as well. and i don't expect you to do anything, especially when both of us can put that energy and time into soccer.”

“but i want to.” hyouma huffs, like it should be expected of him as his friend.

“but i don't need you to. i’m fine, coach doesn't bother me that much. he's just concerned for me.”

“ concerned for you ? that's what you consider as concerned ?” then what the fuck has hyouma been doing this entire time? “my god— fine ! i'll shit on him ‘cause he bothers me instead.”

y/n tilts his head. “why does he bother you?”

(hyouma doesn't know if he deliberately ignored the implication behind hyouma’s former sentence, or if he's prioritising hyouma's well-being over the latter.

and it's confusing enough that recognising is becoming a chore.)

‘cause you’re too fucking nonchalant about this. “he's just annoying.”

hyouma sighs. he doesn't understand how y/n lets people say whatever the fuck they want in front of him. fuck, fuck, fuck. it's all he wants to swear, and he thinks he wouldn't do it so much if it weren't for y/n. of course, it all started because of y/n. who else if not him? this is what he gets for agreeing to be a fellow resident soccer freak; now they barely have any friends at school outside of one another.

glancing back to y/n, he notices how his lips are pressed into a thin line and his gaze far away. it’s the same expression as his daily ones; it punctuates to hyouma that y/n genuinely doesn’t give a fuck.

but hyouma does, he’s always had.

“y/n?” hyouma says, leaning down to block y/n’s line of sight.

“hyouma.” y/n blinks before lifting his head. hyouma stands straight. “what’s wrong?”

hyouma huffs as he straightens his posture. “shouldn't i be asking you that? you're suddenly out of it.”

y/n scratches the back of his neck, averting his eyes. “i am, aren't i? i'll work hard to not drag the team down, so don't worry about me, hyouma.”

hyouma furrows his eyebrows. “you idiot!” he shouts, shakingy/n’s shoulders in hopes it would wave off his dumb statement too. “that's not what i meant! i was saying if you're okay as in—as in as a person!”

“oh.” a familiar ghost of a smile flickers across y/n’s features, but his eyes don't crease.“thank you, but i'm okay. don't worry about that, either.”

frowning, hyouma stops swaying y/n back and forth. y/n had been saying that since the first time he got scolded by hyouma himself or their goofy ass coach, but each and every time, he'll find his friend being lost in thought after it.

how could hyouma not worry?

“sure,” hyouma says, but there's no assurance in his tone. if y/n picks up on it, he doesn't say anything. but then again, hyouma isn't sure if he even noticed. “i’m going to borrow a couple of things from the library, you wanna come?”

“i’m sorry, but i have to buy some stuff from the convenience store.”

“i can drop you off there if you want.”

y/n shakes his head. “you must be exhausted from today.” hyouma doesn't even remember what they did today. “i don't want to tire you anymore by having you going back and forth.”

hyouma squints at y/n.

“ please correct me if i'm wrong,” he says, crossing his arms. “ but you're not buying muscle relieving patches again, right?”

y/n’s shoulders stiffen. he turns his head away so as to not face hyouma.

this damn….

“y/n.”

“...hyouma.”

“what are you getting from the convenience store?” hyouma asks, tone more scolding than it is curious. he stands on his tiptoes just to try and face y/n directly. he fails, but he glowers at him anyway.

y/n insists on averting his eyes. “they're for my grandfather.”

“are you sure you're not gonna use the ‘leftovers' like last time? you know, when you bought them for your gramps only to use them yourself.” though y/n can’t see it, hyouma rolls his eyes.

“depends…? it'll be a waste to have them hanging around in their packaging for a day after grandfather decides he doesn't need them anymore….” y/n trails off.

hyouma pulls y/n’s collar to rock him back and forth. “what kind of excuse is that?! you don't think i'm dumb, do you?”

“no,” y/n mumbles when he finally stops shaking him. “hyouma is very smart and diligent.”

“that's not what i want to hear!” hyouma glares. “what are you buying those damn patches for?!”

“my gra—”

“not your grandfather!”

y/n’s shoulder sags along with his frown.

he takes a deep breath, and hyouma can guess what he’s going to say. “my joints are just a bit sore.”

“you—!” hyouma holds himself back before sighing. they've been over with this conversation a thousand of times, yet it won't go through y/n’s thickass head. this is his least treasured trait about y/n.

he always makes sure hyouma goes home earlier than usual if his temperature is a degree higher than normal, but trains harder by himself when he thinks hyouma isn't there. he gets hyouma’s favourite steamed bun with his favourite fillings but nothing for himself. he visits hyouma’s family and brushes off hyouma’s sister when she says the way he talks is funny once, but hyouma isn’t even sure of what he himself is unsure of.

it's frustrating, to not be able to care for y/n the same as he would hyouma.

hyouma doesn't know shit about him other than that he probably lives with his grandparents and grips onto whatever he's holding tighter when he dodges a topic. sure, there are more hyouma knows but he only learnt them from the pitch. they’re friends, not teammates.

that’s why he just wants to share a few of his burdens, no matter how trivial.

“one patch and i should be okay again,” y/n mutters.

“i think it'll only work if you stop overworking yourself to the point of cramps,” hyouma deadpans.

y/n shrugs. “it’s normal. i have seen it happen a lot on tv.”

“well, i don't want you to be a damn tv star.”

“what do you want me to be then?”

“fucking healthy.”

✮☆✮

it happened in the blink of an eye.

SNAP—!

hyouma doesn’t know if he’s imagining it, but he thinks it’s similar to the sound of a rubber band snapping. the sound of y/n’s knee popping after he lands in a collapsing pattern is enough for the referee to blow his whistle.

hyouma runs faster than he has during that game towards y/n. he's squirming, clutching onto his right knee and ankle like it would block the pain. evidently, it doesn’t since y/n is biting his lip hard enough that it bleeds.

“y/n!” hyouma yells, but the medical team rushes to block y/n out of everyone’s view, and then out of the field.

he wants to run after him, but a hand on his shoulder stops him before he can even take his first step.

“chigiri-kun, he'll be fine. go continue the game,” his coach says, his tone holds no room for argument.

but hyouma is not one to suck up to him, that’s a y/n thing. hyouma needs to get y/n back.

hyouma shrugs off his hand as he scowls at him. “but he—”

“chigiri.” the coach glares at him, patience thinning like his receding hairline. “do you want to win or not?”

briefly, the world came to a halt in hyouma’s eyes. “i do, but…” hyouma glances past the pitch, he meets eyes with y/n beyond.

he doesn't look at him in a haze—he can't—but he looks at him as though this is what it means to be a treasure of the speculated occult leader and resident soccer freak, l/n y/n.

this, is to win.

a tinge of guilt hits hyouma when he guesses the unspoken words in a snap of a rubber.

the coach follows his line of sight. “see? even y/n is telling you to not care.” he pushes hyouma back to the field. “it's not like him being here changes a thing anyway. back to your position, chigiri-kun.”

hyouma turns back, he tries not to acknowledge the player substituting for y/n.

☆

because then he would also be acknowledging their first win without y/n.

(and the fact that coach may be right.)

“you okay?”

hyouma asks the moment he arrives at the orthopedic clinic. he ditched the afterparty and rushed here, so he can only hope the smell of grass and sweat aren’t clinging to his tracks.

“i'll be fine.” y/n says, as though he’s hyouma’s patient in the school’s infirmary and not a health centre’s registered patient for a possible career-ending injury.

snap, snap, snap.

it wasn’t hyouma’s fault, but guilt stains him like the magenta of his hair clip. like the dirt on his cleats, like the win of a soccer game.

snap.

hyouma needs to get a grip on himself before the stain paints him as a whole.

“did you win?” y/n asks, and it’s just what hyouma needs to break out of his reverie.

“of course i did. who do you take me for?” hyouma huffs, taking off his tracksuit to place it atop of y/n’s thighs.

y/n only hums in response. the creases around his eyes are discernible, but he’s not smiling.

hyouma would think he’s been crying if it weren’t for the uniform haze in his eyes.

y/n must be treating this as another sore joint occurrence.

he is okay.

…hyouma mumbles something incoherent.

“what?” y/n asks, leaning towards him. he pulls hyouma’s tracksuit closer when it nearly slips off.

“...aren't you scared?” hyouma mutters, and it sounds more like he’s seeking reassurance than an answer.

y/n leans back. “why would i be?”

“dunno. what if that was the last time you played? even though you'll be back soon.” hyouma shrugs, he knows y/n will be back, but he’s still trying to be as nonchalant as y/n is right now. “it's not like you'll be the same again. literally.”

“it doesn't matter.” y/n shuts his eyes, and hyouma feels like he’s back in the infirmary. “i'll keep going until it's physically impossible to.”

“that's concerning. what if you die?”

“then i’ll die as a soccer player.”

“you're so weird,” hyouma says, but relief washes over him. y/n is still y/n. “but i kinda get it.”

y/n opens his eyes slowly before tilting his head just as long. “do you?”

raising an eyebrow, hyouma sits on the counter across from him. “yeah. we're talking about becoming the best together, right?”

y/n hums.

“i don't think i'm sure what i want to become,” y/n says. “maybe it's because of this thing.” he swings his wrapped leg. “or maybe it's because i’m getting older, and there's more to the world than just soccer.”

“you're only fourteen,” hyouma feels the rush to answer.

“i am only fourteen, yet in years one-third of my age, i only get one chance to change everything.”

“then just decide on soccer. that's what i'm doing.” that's what we're supposed to be doing. that shared dream about you and i, did it grow old with you too?

“there's more to the world than just soccer, hyouma,” y/n mumbles. the low volume stings more than having coach raise his voice. “i don't want to be tied down by a sport i have been playing since i was a child.”

hyouma wonders if y/n is also being tied down by the boy he's been playing with.

(the stain is an ugly blemish, discoloured into a shade akin to fear.)

☆✮☆

today feels as though a star has fallen.

the world he used to run at nine years old must've felt it as well.

it's as if the world goes round and round, rotating to the same axis. if this is a symbol of an impending doom of a friendship; the only thing that grows about them is their age. then hyouma doesn't want to run through the records of the world any longer. it implies that history repeats itself, but hyouma can’t have a first meeting with y/n again, so it may be a false statement. then at the same time, it appears to be true when y/n some-fucking-how tears another ligament in the same knee.

his trips to the physical therapy centre are mind-numbing. he's not the one whose practices are replaced with strengthening exercises, but seeing y/n gradually becoming more silent and distant compels hyouma to be apathetic too.

if y/n seems okay, then hyouma is okay.

that is the law of their world, a reoccurring record in a history built from peace existing for a golden trophy that weighs less than what hyouma feels towards y/n.

when the star has fallen, hyouma wishes it would be a shooting star. but instead, he gets a boy assembled by stardusts and muscle-relieving patches.

it repeats itself, y/n drops to the ground because he fucked up his land positioning mid-air after jumping. hyouma can only watch while another player substitutes in for y/n.

even during this time in senior year, hyouma doesn't get the chance to leave and run to y/n. it's a bit ironic; how his legs are his most prized possession, yet they can't even carry him to someone who introduced the value of them to him.

but when hyouma tries to push past the coach, y/n doesn't look at him. rather, he stares in a daze at his right knee.

the coach doesn't use it against him, he scowls at hyouma expectantly, and he has no choice but to watch as another player substitute for y/n.

y/n doesn't need to say a word to leave hyouma with more questions than answers, he just needs to look at him.

what a star.

☆

the same receptionist from last year greets hyouma, and he nods his head at her in response. she doesn't ask why he's here again when recognition flashes in her eyes, and it makes hyouma curious if other guests also visited for the patients they did before; if there were someone like him with their very own y/n.

and then he's curious, if those y/ns thought of their hyoumas as a friend or as a teammate.

he thinks of the possibility that they didn't meet because of soccer. he imagines a world where he's not nine and a track star, but maybe fourteen and a classmate.

but that would be impossible because y/n only attended the same junior high for hyouma.

he can just be nine years old, but that wouldn't lead y/n to him either, and hyouma wouldn't have noticed that he existed instead.

and he wouldn't be thinking of the possibilities in which they were friends without a common ambition.

they wouldn't even be friends.

hyouma ponders about how helpless the thought makes him feel.

☆✮☆

wins don't feel like one when you weren't there.

hyouma wants to say, but the words die in his throat when he sees y/n's eyes being starstruck. it's something hyouma has noticed by now; if it's anything related to soccer whenever he visits, y/n's lips will quirk up and he'll say:

"that's great, hyouma." a smile barely tugs on his lips. but it's there, hyouma reminds himself. "sorry i wasn't there to celebrate with you."

there are no more creases around his eyes and stardust in them, there are only lingering remains of someone hyouma doesn't recognise. someone he doesn't know outside of the pitch.

y/n isn't a stranger to hyouma, but he might as well be now.

he turns his head to avert his gaze, his bangs tucked by his hairclip flutter along. "it’s fine. by the way, coach's gonna treat the team for that win, you wanna come?”

y/n shakes his head. "i'm good. you can celebrate with yourselves."

"oh, uh, okay," hyouma stutters.

silence falls over them, and it's not the soothing one hyouma would give up everything for, it's the one where it feels like something between them is gently falling into bits and he’s uninformed of what components are becoming fragments. he hates it. it's annoying and awkward and he doesn't know what y/n is thinking.

they condition hyouma to be irrational.

did he say something wrong? maybe y/n is just not feeling today. but he's been like this since he got back from his surgery. he's been told last year and again by the same physical therapist that y/n might undergo some changes since having injuries can affect him emotionally and mentally,

but why?

it's just another injury. it didn't take y/n's life, he's still with hyouma. it's just a sport, even if hyouma will dedicate his life to it. it's just another injury. y/n can get through this. he's done it once before, so although a second time is scary, it shouldn't be all that different. after all, it's y/n. the same impassive and unnerving loser who's a stubborn and idiotic freak when it comes to soccer.

he'll get through this. he has made the same mistake long ago and has fixed it before, so it won't be different this time around.

teammates or friends, hyouma will accompany y/n for only being y/n.

but…

it would be nice, if hyouma can bear a bit of his burdens.

just for once.

☆✮☆

I'VE LONG NOTICED, BUT I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT YOU.

"hyouma."

"what?" he asks, tilting his head up at y/n.

y/n drums his fingers on the marble table of the rehab facility. a rhythm hyouma has yet to grasp the cue to.

"they advised that it would be best if i quit soccer as an ambition," y/n declares, and it feels like one to a war hyouma already lost. “they said i got lucky for not getting affected sooner, but since soccer puts repeated stress on the joints, they told me i might eventually develop osteoarthritis if i keep going.”

AND SOMETIMES, I CAN’T EVEN UNDERSTAND YOU.

what pisses hyouma off isn't the words he said, but the impassive character he acted on. he’s too fucking chill for someone who just announced that he’ll be quitting the sport he had set his future on. they’re teenagers with a whole life ahead of them, but who gives a shit when the one thing they poured their entire life into at this very moment is gone because of one misstep in a landing? gosh, hyouma doesn’t know.

yada, yada, yada. it’s not the end of the world, it will still rotate even if y/n and hyouma become nothing, but the axis that acts as their friendship can be disoriented and hyouma won’t know what he’ll do when he cannot even recognise the drumming of y/n’s fingers.

STILL, I THOUGHT IT WAS OKAY AS LONG AS WE WERE TOGETHER.

"so i won't be able to play with you anymore, sorry. you don't have to keep visiting me anymore." y/n is still drumming his fingers, the tapping pauses after one beat before continuing.

though being with y/n makes him wish, he’s not a mind reader. he’s not a musician with that damn drumming, he’s fucking fifteen and scared he might lose his best friend because their only common interest is a black-and-white sphere that they treat as if it’s the living planet instead of earth.

hyouma wants it to crumble.

"is that what you have to say? you think i worry for you all this time because of fucking soccer?” hyouma's eyes burn and the croaking of his voice makes him cringe, but he can't stop. he doesn’t want to lose. “have you ever thought that maybe it's cause i—” care about you? he wants to yell, but he’s held back by a convulsive gasp that’s too ugly for a sob. he must've sounded like the sole of a cleat being torn off. in that situation, he's starting to believe that y/n would've given more fucks about how they're gonna play in that afternoon instead of—like, who knows, their friendship or something.

were they even friends? clearly, he remembered asking y/n to be his. but what happens after that? y/n hangs out in his place from time to time, he knows everything about hyouma; from the obsidian lining of his dad's picture frame to the questioning of his own sexuality. but what does he know about y/n? what? he has grandparents, probably lives with them. he doesn’t fucking know, how was he supposed to know? y/n is just so —

fucking annoying.

he's so fucking annoying with the way he keeps things to himself, and hyouma is even more of a dumbass for believing he'll come through sooner or later.

but why would he? why should he, when all he thinks of hyouma is his ability to kick a fucking ball.

AND MAYBE I WAS FOOLISH,

the tears don't fall— hyouma doesn’t let them. he refuses to have y/n see him vulnerable. the word is a little too insensitive for a friendship like theirs, but then again what even was it?

hyouma doesn't reach for the door handle and slam it shut, he leaves it open just to show that he doesn't care anymore. call him petty and bitter but he doesn’t give a shit unless y/n runs to him and— and… and… fix everything.

FOR SNAPPING AT YOU AND RUINING THAT.

but he doesn’t.

BUT YOU STARTED IT.

he doesn't say anything. when hyouma looks back, his cheeks are wet and his vision is blurry, y/n isn't drumming his fingers anymore. he's staring at the counter hyouma last sat on like he's seeing a ghost.

like he's already grieving for the loss of their friendship, and not the dream he's forced to give up on.

YOU DIDN’T RUIN EVERYTHING AS I DID, BUT YOU STARTED IT.

hyouma doesn't look back, his footsteps one with the pounding of the rain against the roof. he strolls through the mocking white walls of the facility like he didn't just fucking end everything with y/n.

and he knows he won’t be coming back, even when the downpour of the rain is one with his sobs as it buckets his hair glossy like his eyes.

SO NOW I KNOW I WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO RETURN, EVEN IF I LEFT MY HAIR CLIP BEHIND.

—ADDITIONAL TIME !

“welcome ho— what the?! why the hell are you soaked?!” his sister screams. “holy shit, you’re like those wet, pathetic cats.”

she pulls out her phone, and hyouma can guess what it’s for. but he stays silent as his swollen eyes well up with more tears.

“oh, um.” her camera flashes before she pockets her phone in. “there, there.” his sister awkwardly pats him on the back, the action makes him want to sob again. now she has two blackmail materials: him ugly crying and him ugly crying.

“why the hell are you crying more?” she tries to soothe, rubbing circles on his back. “uh… i’m pretty sure you’re back from y/n’s rehab. so did something happen or….”

“no,” hyouma hiccups. “he— we— sob … i saw him and…” he starts to wail instead.

his sister carries on rubbing circles on his back without a word.

“do you… do you want tissues?” she offers awkwardly, grabbing him a tissue when he feels the salty taste of snot reaching his lips.

hyouma nods meekly, blowing his nose before wiping his the puffy corners of eyes with his sleeves.

"don't tell mom," hyouma says once he gets the weird feeling of a headache forming post-tears. "she'll be worried."

"why would she?" she asks, pushing a tissue box towards him.

hyouma takes it without expressing his gratitude. "'cause it's lame. i'm crying more about a guy i was friends with for some time than i ever cried about our dad."

her shoulders stiffen, and hyouma regrets crying already.

he's about to apologize and bolt into his room when his own shoulders are swatted by a hand. some points scratched more than it slapped. kinda like a nail.

"are you dumb or are you just stupid?" his sister spits, glossing over her manicured edges with her fingers. "you were friends with him for years. you literally couldn't shut up about him! even now, you're still whining."

" obviously i'd be whining! i was friends with him for—"

she smirks.

hyouma glares at her. "whatever. i don't give a shit about him anymore."

"you cried."

"you stink."

"i don't!" she yells, but sniffs at her armpits anyway. "you're annoying.”

hyouma shrugs, blowing his snot into his third bundle of tissues.

“i got a date with my girl, so if you want food just ask mom when she gets home.” his sister says, pulling out her phone again to type something. “or teach yourself how to finally cook."

"lend me your hair straightener and i'll consider it."

"oh? you're finally interested in styling outside of a hair clip?” she whistles. “i'm not trusting you with my shit, though."

hyouma ignores the sense of an empty attachment on his hair. "oh, okay. i guess i'll tell mom that you got back at 2 a.m. and not before midnight last week."

she glares at him before flicking him on the forehead. "wipe your nasty ass snot before taking out my holy grail."

the area underneath hyouma’s eyes is damp, but his eyes are burning. "i'm planning on crying on it instead of my pillow tonight, but self-care doesn’t sound so bad right now."

-☆

Chapter Text

HE WAS A HORRIBLE FRIEND.

and when he fails his landing, hyouma also realises that the tear sound is similar to a rubber band.

he wants to try and stand up and run away from the prying eyes of the stadium, but his knee feels so fucking painful to bear more weight on top of the shame he feels.

so embarrassing. first season in the first year of high school and the first thing he loses is his oh-so-treasured ability to kick a ball.

hyouma should've been used to it by now; losing things that he cares about, only for them to grow into grief that defines him as a person, whether he cares or not.

so regardless of whether he likes it or not, he'll just have to hold back his tears as he bites his lip hard enough that it bleeds. even with the taste of iron enriching his tongue, he doesn't feel any pain from it. the pop on his knee hurts damn well that he feels numb everywhere else.

perhaps that's why he doesn't notice it until teardrops stain the dirt on his knee.

crying in front of people is more humiliating than the pain he has.

he wants to answer the yells of his name and worried questions of the people around him, but his throat is burning as much as his eyes are. his breath hitches just so his cries can be silent instead of pathetic muffles and sobs. he can't let anyone see him like this, but his eyes can't stop welling up with more tears.

the shouts from the stands are almost as muffled as his sobs are in his ears. he wonders if that asshole y/n is watching his downfall, too. if he's yelling beside hyouma's family or if he's just staring at him like another ghost to grieve.

the medics pull him to his feet to place him on the stretcher, except hyouma feels like the purpose of it is to emphasise that he most likely just tore a ligament in his knee.

and that he was a horrible friend for making light of y/n's injuries, furthermore only realising that after he experienced it himself.

asshole may be a bit too much. that word should be on behalf of hyouma when it's resentment that he clutches with a rubber band, reserved just in case y/n ever runs back, so hyouma will have something to hold against him; against their relationship.

so damn bitter and useless, yet hyouma can't let go. it's the last flake of his stardust that hyouma has. it sprinkles his world in moments of aching, and it leaves its sky begging for more.

he's holding desperately onto the loss of a friendship that never mattered to y/n.

it fucking hurts.

☆✮☆

sometimes, hyouma would catch y/n looking out beyond the window.

he would stare at y/n, and the longing in his eyes that's not directed towards him, that could've never been him, but rather, at the park past the glass frame.

it should've been obvious then, how hyouma and y/n were both longing. except y/n didn't reciprocate his stare, too busy being in a daze for kids kicking back and forth a soccer ball across the street.

hyouma wished they didn't build the centre near a park, then perhaps y/n would look at him.

it didn't matter if it didn't have any more stars, he just wanted to be seen again. he wanted to be nine and feel secure under a gaze that once looked at him as if he was the treasure he'd been looking for in this lifetime; in this universe that had y/n looking for one. that made hyouma the one and only.

it may be that y/n wished he was nine too, frolicking in a field round and about a soccer ball.

if that was the case, then was hyouma in that perfect view? was hyouma the person he thinks of first when the object of their shared ambition springs up to mind?

anyway, seeing children run around with a soccer ball, in a different window in a different physical therapy centre, hyouma gets why y/n's gaze is overflowing with so much compassion it can be yearning.

seeing it for himself now, in the same damned situation and exercising the same damned quad sets, hyouma finally understands.

it's a different type of pain, one no amount of surgeries and therapies can manage. it doesn't get more swollen or relieved, but it's a numbing prompt for a spiral about failing to become the person his nine-year-old self had wished to be.

numb. it's all rehab beginning to feel like.

but at least y/n had hyouma during it.

☆✮☆

"hyouma, do you want me to put on the premier league?" his mom asks, going through channel after channel with the tv remote.

"no, it's fine," hyouma mumbles, picking on the salmon roe in his rice bowl.

watching or doing anything related to soccer pierces him a different tear from his knee: he's impaled by the probability that he won't be able to play the same, if not, ever.

and hyouma doesn't know if he's allowed to feel that way when he underplayed y/n's injuries before. it may be out of fear, but that doesn't justify how he would brush off y/n's concerns about it, even if the latter didn't exactly express them.

plus, y/n tore two ligaments, whereas hyouma only tore one. it's clear to him who has it worse.

hyouma doesn't even remember what those ligaments are, so he doesn't think he deserves to be butthurt over some acl.

his mom only hums in response. she settles on the couch as she decides on a random drama.

hyouma resumes poking at the reddish-orange roes with his chopsticks mindlessly. as he stabs at the hardened rice underneath, he briefly sees a glimpse of y/n in his mind, and how he would've found a way to soften the rice for him.

similar to how there could've been a way around their friendship. perhaps there was.

his poking ceases.

pain isn't a competition.

sure, it could've been worse or whatever, but his suffering is still valid. 'cause his career was at risk. 'cause that shit was painful. 'cause it was him who was hurt, too.

it's easy to belittle his problems, but hyouma has gotten the cues and triggers to stop doing it. and this is one of them.

i shouldn't ignore how something hurts me, he reminds himself. it's not helping anyone, not even y/n.

just because someone has it worse, doesn't mean that your issues don't matter. if it hurts you, then it matters. you're still valid, you know. so go be butthurt over your shit like you deserve to. you were hurt by it.

"eat your damn food!"

his sister shouts, slapping the back of his head using her new obsession: romance novels, sapphic ones. hyouma doesn't think that's any different from her otome games, but she says that a single gay man like him won't ever get it.

"what— i am eating!" he shouts back, caressing his head. that novel must've weighed the same as her hair straightener because he feels a bump on the back of his head.

his sister rolls her eyes as she sits herself down across from hyouma. she turns on her phone instead of turning a page of the book she brought. "obviously not. i bet you're wallowing over those soccer men who are married with three kids."

hyouma huffs. he will probably never get to be one of those men since his knee is essentially damned now. "most of them are prioritising their careers over their love life. you should take some notes."

she gasps with her hand over her mouth and her eyes widening. dramatic bitch. "i am going to be my girl's housewife, a plan you can never imagine because you don't get any bitches."

hyouma gasps just as dramatically. "excuse you—"

a sigh interrupts him.

"i get home from work and you two start to fight like animals. i just want to see when this kazehaya boy and sawako girl will confess," she says from the couch, her tone given up on being firm with her kids.

his sister snickers and mutters under her breath, "you can't relate to them, by the way."

she hisses when hyouma kicks her under the table.

☆✮☆

looking back on it now, his relationship with y/n was something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

it's not as if hyouma doesn't know a thing about him, even though that's what he's been saying, it's just... it's just that he was never exactly close with him.

sure, they were almost together twenty-four-seven in middle school, but sometimes it feels like if they were to drift apart at any moment, they would've been okay. almost as though the amount of words exchanged between them doesn't equal the worth of each of them.

it's too bad that they ended up as anything but okay as a result of hyouma cutting things off between them. he values emotional intimacy, but he won't seek it out. he'd rather take the impulse from rage than the initiation for comfort.

but he did it because y/n was the one to drift away first.

not to exactly blame him but it's just so... god. try getting to know y/n for yourself and you'll understand. not understand y/n—though that works too—but what hyouma is trying to go on about here.

there's a chance hyouma was the problem here, snapping and leaving like that.

still, it's not like y/n shouted after him.

silence was his response, yet it said enough and more than what hyouma wanted to know.

☆

vulnerability isn't the son of chigiri's household's strongest suit.

it's an uncharted territory hyouma tries to ignore, one he will never get near even if his sister looks at him with something as strange as concern.

men can and should cry, but not hyouma. and that's not because he's a man, but because he's hyouma. also not because of who he is, but because of the foundation of who he is.

do you feel him?

take this as an excuse if you want, but it's just how he was raised. he's not made of feelings spoken to one another in words or confrontation, he's raised by actions left unspoken and tears a taboo topic. soft conversations go cold with hyouma's bitter nature and averting gaze.

in the world that etches y/n's name in the sky by weaving its constellations, perhaps if hyouma were to let go of his heart for a second and face the world ahead, then he would've gotten the courage to tell him directly: i care about you.

it wasn't only his pride that held him back.

(there is also a fear in me that you would let go of me if you noticed how i loved you.

but you did it regardless, and in the same way, i loved you nonetheless.)

☆

there's no point in trying to figure y/n out anymore— not when they're nothing but words left unsaid.

the fragments of y/n and their friendship pierce his heart, but they do not bleed. hyouma will never let them stain his world crimson as long as they belong to him and y/n.

(and his world doesn't revolve around y/n, however, his axis of rotation is relative to him.)

afternoons of training sessions with his team are replaced with physical therapy sessions. evenings of ranting to y/n about plays from pro matches are long gone and replaced with admiring the clouds and sunset on the way home after rehab, but hyouma thinks about it from time to time.

it's useless to be jealous of not being able to join training and forlorn of losing someone, even if none of those things are really gone.

but here's the difference more striking than the pearly whites of his dad's smile: he can reach one of them, while the other is out of his grasp.

yet he still latches onto the existence of the latter.

☆

talks at dinner and with his family have been less and less. hyouma has nothing to talk about, his rehab doesn't count as a topic when he dreads every second of it. and when a soccer game is accidentally put on the tv channel, it almost pokes fun at him.

does y/n resent him, hyouma wonders, for speaking about his experiences on the soccer team in that physical therapy centre?

hopefully, hopefully not. hyouma wouldn't be able to ask if he wanted to.

but the thought never escapes him—no thought of y/n does—because he'll be reminded when he sees kids his age passing by with grass dirtying their tracksuits from the window of the clinic, and when the faint stars above him form another faux bridge from how close they were with one another.

he's not scared of y/n's resentment, but he's terrified that y/n will let go of it while hyouma's desperately dusting the remains left by a star that was once his. hyouma is willing to be the receiving end of his hatred for as long as he can bear to understand.

of a bridge over clouds and busted links and knees, hyouma doesn't know if they can ever be friends again without resenting one another for the hurt they have caused, for the depart of hyouma and his inability to be patient with his own fucking best friend.

so it has come to his attention—in the middle of his physiotherapist's weekly evaluation—that hyouma might have been the flawed one between him and y/n.

"was that clear, chigiri-kun?" his physiotherapist asks, handing him a paper containing his care plan and assessment. the paper slightly crumples when he does, but hyouma takes it with less effort.

he doesn't look at it; only the letters chigiri hyouma, sixteen, acl tear are unnecessarily bolded and capitalised. he's seen it enough to know.

hyouma stares at his physiotherapist, eyelids hanging and lips downturned. he's tired. today's session was tiring, half squats are hell personified. today's mention of y/n is an ugly, simple drawing of a star left behind on the belongings counter., hyouma leaves it be.

"yes. yes, it was."

☆✮☆

hyouma is sure he's well-versed in grief.

the loss is as quiet as it happens. as silent as everything around hyouma gets when he stares at a deteriorating picture of his father in the hallway.

it didn't affect him much, at least he thinks it didn't. he's not sure how to perceive the man separated from him by a sky and picture-framing glass whose only striking resemblance with hyouma is his smile.

his sister and mom thought otherwise, hyouma can guess that much. even if the look on their faces are incomprehensible when they catch hyouma staring at the frame in the hallway.

he lost his dad when he could barely speak, his last memory of him being a visit to his ashes that have been scattered across the ocean. he looked at the sunset more than he looked at the sea that day. oranges and reds are prettier than a void of nothing that disguises itself as blue. it's just like the colour; melancholic and quiet and something hyouma doesn't know what to make of.

there are no feelings for him to harbour towards his dad. if he had a reason to be angry or sad, then he would've also gotten the answer of whether or not he should be mourning. he doesn't think he deserves to, not when there isn't anything he longs for from him. but he'll never admit that to his family. his dad was someone his sister held fond memories of, someone his mom loved for half of her life.

as hyouma grows older, so do the flowers in memory of his dad.

however, the reminders of him are just as quiet as hyouma's decision about mourning. they're merely there: in the fourth chair of their dining table of the house they bought after his death. in the occasional appearances of his toothy grin in their hallway of picture frames. in the sunset polaroid from the day of his death on the back of his mom's phone case.

he doesn't grieve, not when there's nothing for him to grieve for in the first place. but when his mom shows him pictures of the sunset and when he sees his sister wiping glass frames in the hallway with care, he feels like he does.

he's no longer sure if he's well-versed in grief when he's never been grief-stricken.

does he deserve to grieve alongside them for his dad, who to his family was everything, when he feels little to nothing for him?

should he?

(the earth continues to rotate despite our grief. it moves as if our suffering has no effect on the planet, although we want nothing more than for everything to end right then and there. in moments when something loses its matter, the world makes you feel like you don't.)

☆✮☆

a cat.

in front of the seven-eleven in his district is a cat with black fur and golden eyes.

wow, wonder who this bitch is.

"you're still alive?" hyouma asks, placing the plastic bag in his hands next to him. "if you pee right now, i will cry."

the cat stares at him, its habit of being creepily unblinking has stuck around enough until now. does y/n still do it, too?

"guess you're still kicking," hyouma mutters. his rajitsu tech's tracksuit makes a mild rustling sound when he crouches with his knees glued together. "you're pretty cute."

he reaches a hand out to pet it, only for the cat to jump away without a sound.

he balls his hand into a fist.

"i see how it is."

it meows.

"oh, so now you're talking," hyouma huffs, pulling his hand back.

the cat glances around him, before blinking up at hyouma again.

hyouma follows to look around by turning his head.

"what are you looking for?" he asks, tilting his head at it when he finds nothing worth noting near him.

it blinks at him once, then it stares at him.

it stares and stares.

hyouma sighs.

"you're looking for y/n, aren't you?" he sits next to the cat, but not near enough that he can pet it. he's experienced, he's afraid of what might happen to his face if he touches it.

"sometimes, i look for him too."

the cat is back to blinking like a normal animal.

"do you think he looks for me too?"

it meows.

"yeah."

it meows.

"but it's whatever. i'm not gonna let myself be held back by my friend. ex-friend."

two letters, yet hyouma wants to crumble.

if i was gone, then i would want you to speak of me like i'm still someone you know, so that the life i've had with you wouldn't seem like a regret. because i loved you, and i don't want that to be reduced to two letters and lingering feelings; feelings that are as genuine as my regret.

hyouma sags his shoulders.

"fuck this shit, man," he breathes out, picking up a handful of pebbles only to throw them at the pavement.

the cat flinches.

"oh, sorry, dude. didn't mean to scare you."

it shakes its head in disapproval.

hyouma tilts his head. "oh, you're a girl cat."

it meows, wagging its tail lazily.

"i don't like girls," hyouma mumbles, adjusting his tracksuit pants. "and i'm pretty sure i'm gay."

it meows, and hyouma is almost sure he sees it rolling its eyes.

he flutters his eyelids shut in an attempt to copy his sister whenever she's daydreaming, his hands touch his face just to mock her more. even if she's not here to see it. "i am gay, but like, have you seen eden hazard? who wouldn't question their sexuality after that?"

it does not meow.

hyouma sighs and drops the act. "you're a bitch, you know that? a pretty one. look at your eyes, so pretty."

it turns away from hyouma, but not without a look over at him.

"are you judging me?" hyouma gasps, leaning over at the cat. "is it because i called you a bitch? or is it because you're so insecure of yourself that you can't accept a compliment?"

it meows as it closes its eyes.

"you think i'd understand you? dumbass." hyouma reaches out a hand, testing the waters.

the cat doesn't jump away when he's a hair away from petting it, but still, he retrieves his hand.

something about befriending this cat again doesn't feel right.

it doesn't help when an irking voice that suspiciously sounds like his sister's tells him it's because the cat is his and y/n's.

funny, 'cause he used to think about kissing men as much as he thought about y/n.

haha.

haha... ha.

hyouma slumps further in his seat, folding his arms over his knees and burying his head in it.

"y/n wouldn't have missed you and your ugly whiskers," he mutters, his voice muffled in his sleeves. "'cause he's scared of— fuck!"

hyouma shrieks, flailing his bleeding hand pathetically.

"did you just scratch me?" he asks in disbelief, though the answer is clear when the cat puts its paw back on the ground.

"i was just trying to say he's scared of cats! damn."

hyouma examines the wound on his hand, blood oozing from it every time he presses it.

swearing under his breath, he stops touching the scratch when a paw comes in contact with his elbow.

when hyouma turns his head, the paw is already putting itself back down, and he's met with golden eyes looking up at him again. the colours are pretty like the sun after rain.

"i would call you a bitch for scratching me but i'm terrified that you'll do it again," hyouma says, holding his injured hand away. "so i guess i'll call you meow."

meow meows.

"meow," hyouma either names or mews.

he grabs a cold karinto manjuu from his pocket. he takes it out of its package, and pockets the plastic to trash later.

"y/n would buy me buns with fillings in them before i knew that they're my favourite. isn't that as terrifying as how you scratched me?"

he lays it in front of meow, directly on the ground. he doesn't think this is sanitary for a cat, but he's never taken care of one so he's not sure either way.

"eat up. it's my favourite," hyouma says, pushing it towards meow when it only tilts its head at him. "if you don't eat this then you're officially a bitch."

it stares at it the same way it stares at hyouma before; with a wonder that he can't decipher. it makes him doubt if this is a cat and not a bittersweet reminiscent boy with eyes more dead than the fish meow probably eats.

it fills him with a sense of aching.

☆✮☆

it's not like hyouma's life revolves around y/n or something, no, it just happens that he was around in hyouma's life long enough that his absence in the ceremony of rajitsu tech becomes the first thing he notices.

and that was last year. he's broken a knee and healed it in that timespan.

y/n had no choice but to resign from their middle school team, so hyouma has known, but now that he's seen y/n is no longer following him around the world, the realisation is a glaring reminder of his own guilt.

their promise was broken, anyway.

but the value of it is worth nothing like the way y/n once looked at him.

their friendship was more than a measly ambition agreed upon hyouma in grade school, it was a treasure of priceless merit. hyouma's treasure, but a trinket he leaves to collect dust in hopes one particle will turn into stardust.

hyouma wishes he was nine again, innocent and popular and talented and yet to meet a child from the victorian era who runs a secret society for creepy kids who enjoy creepy sports.

but even then, the world wasn't easy on him. it was only a build-up of a loss that was bound to shatter his pride. he is a squandered jewel, he no longer holds the same value according to y/n, but still, he made him feel like he was a treasure worth looking for.

and hyouma still clasps onto that pride, as shameful as he is.

☆✮☆

"i'm back."

hyouma halts his footsteps in front of meow.

it's sitting on its rear with its paws dutifully on the ground. its ear twitches when hyouma calls meow's name. it's almost like meow's been waiting for him.

"this is the last time i'll be here, though."

meow tilts its head at him. it blinks its bright yellow eyes, and hyouma has an inkling it understands him.

"no reason. i just don't think this is right." hyouma shrugs, dropping a plastic bag in front of meow with his bandaged hand. "this is my parting gift. karinto manjuus."

meow paws the plastic bag, taking a peek at its contents. maybe it doesn't understand hyouma after all, or it doesn't believe him.

"take care."

with those final words, he turns his heel and saunters away.

when he suddenly stops at a turning point.

hyouma glances back, and he sees meow frozen in place. the plastic bag near meow ignored, instead trying to have the sunlight in its eyes glare at hyouma. an unwavering gaze, one that hyouma thinks he could've seen before.

huh.

he stares at it for a moment, before taking another step and walking again.

like human like cat.

☆✮☆

for the sake of not seeing meow ever again, hyouma no longer makes a run to that convenience store.

and that leaves him with no choice but to make detours on the way home.

but as hyouma strolls through the sidewalk, he squints when he sees a burly man frantically looking around. the star-shaped sunglasses perched on his head are on the verge of falling.

hyouma's feeling like a good person today, therefore he's going to help.

he approaches him, and stops at a good length behind him just in case the guy wants to jump him.

"excuse me...," hyouma tries to interrupt.

"meow! where are you?!" this massive guy with a massive voice yells, coursing through the bushes and making some of the branches explode. something in hyouma's gut is telling him to run away, but the dude sounds like he's on the verge of crying— oh god, his sunglasses have fallen.

"excuse me, sir...."

"meow! please come back! i promise i'll give you that silly red bean-filling bread! please! i won't restrict you on any human food ever again!"

"sir!" hyouma shouts, squeezing his eyes shut.

the taller makes turns to look at him, warm beige cheeks stained with tears—oh god he's already crying—and his exposed collarbone is a mix of leaves and freckles.

he blinks. "junior?"

hyouma blinks back. "what?"

his eyes well up with more tears. "junior! it's you! my saviour!"

"sorry, what? shit! don't hug me!" hyouma shrieks, slapping his arms away.

who is this guy, and why is he calling hyouma junior? what's that supposed to mean? how are his hands so damn muddy when he's looking through bushes?

he sucks in his comically large snot before making himself meek despite his bigger appearance. he turns to look at hyouma again.

"have you seen my cat?"

"um... what?"

"my cat. you know, about this big." he waves his hand. hyouma can't tell if the cat's really that big or if it's the size of his palm. "she got these really adorable eyes. looking at them makes you feel like you're looking at your first love. how sweet!"

"i... don't think i know what you're talking about?" hyouma says, but it comes off more as asking. "who even are you?"

"oh, you don't recognise me?" that's why hyouma asked. "i'm hulk! the strongest captain in all of grade schools! and your favourite!"

hyouma racks up his memory. grade school... grade school... uh-huh, y/n. y/n forcing hyouma to play soccer. y/n covering up for him. y/n forcing him to play soccer. y/n is successful. y/n sitting two seats behind him. y/n's starstruck eyes.

y/n... y/n... hulk... y/n... gay awakening... y/n... y/n— oh.

hulk. right.

"yeah, i remember you." hyouma smooths his hair away from his eyes. it gets in the way sometimes, but he doesn't think he'll feel like cutting it any time soon.

"you do?! yipeeee!" the gleam in hulk's eyes is no longer a product of his tears, but authentic joy. "you were like, one of my favourite eleven members!"

"the team had eleven members."

"exactly! i loooved you all!"

hyouma awkwardly and silently stands in front of hulk as the latter wipes his tears with his dirty hands.

"but anyways," hulk says. "how are you?"

shit. "good, i guess. and you?" hyouma's never had such an english textbook conversation in years.

hulk instantly goes back to sagging his shoulders. hyouma can't get over how comical his broad shoulders look when he does that.

"awful, junior. really awful. meow is gone."

hyouma doesn't like what revelation this might lead him. "who the hell is meow?"

"my cat! the one i told you about just now!" hulk beams. "it has black fur and pretty, pretty gold eyes!"

um.

that's very suspicious.

"why do you look like you're gonna cry?" hulk asks. the answer is because he has just as bad of a naming sense as hulk. but it's a genuine question that makes hyouma want to cry even more.

"wait!" hulk gasps. he's probably aware of the mud in his hands, seeing how he doesn't clasp them over his mouth, just near enough to hide it. "are you one of those empaths that can feel exactly what someone else is feeling?"

"yeah, i am. show me a photo of your cat." hyouma says, his soul sucked out of his body with every vowel.

"sure!" hulk chirps. hyouma is not an empath.

hulk rummages through his fanny bag for a moment. the clattering sounds of glass are a bit concerning, but hyouma has higher priorities than that.

like how he has the same shitty naming sense for the same shitty cat as hulk.

god, hyouma does not enjoy this familiar-though-not-the-same dynamic from grade school.

"ta-da!" hulk shouts, giving his cracked phone screen to hyouma. "so pretty, right?"

and he's right, meow is pretty. still pretty. the cracks of his screen sting hyouma's fingers when he zooms in to get a closer look at the cat's eyes. hulk truly hasn't changed.

"wow... it's... wow," hyouma says, lifeless.

"i know right! she's got that cuteness that just makes you speechless!" hulk squeals, taking his phone back to hug it against his chest.

"she's certainly something."

"she's everything!" hulk grins, and his freckles seem to be smiling as well with the way the sun makes them shine more. "i love animals, man. do you like animals?"

"i like soccer more," comes hyouma's automatic response.

"hell yeah! love soccer!" hulk beams. "i don't aim for it to be a profession anymore, though."

hyouma's eyes widen. "what? why?"

hulk shrugs. "dunno. guess i've just grown of out it."

"but you liked it so much."

"there's more to the world out there than i thought," hulk says, smiling softly. "i knew it ever since pup was gone."

"oh. i'm sorry for your loss."

what do you say to someone who experiences a loss, when your only reference material is your own grief?

no one said anything because you were all too busy mourning for the same loss. a loss you can barely comprehend because you don't even have an attachment to it in the first place. you are deprived of words of comfort to say to them whereas they are deprived of something significant. you stand silent while they cry because the sunset looks really pretty during their death anniversary.

'i'm sorry for your loss.' then what? what comes after, now that the ghost of what was once a living essence hangs in the air? the ghost is ignored amidst everything until you address it out loud. then you notice.

and then they stare at you for mentioning the dead, and you flee out of embarrassment and or guilt. you don't say anything else because you don't know what. you were never taught to, and there shouldn't be a reason for you to be, but in the end, you must.

this is all dragging out like the silence between hulk and hyouma.

"thank you." hulk smiles, his eyes creasing into crescents as he does.

hyouma can't help but mimic his smile. "what was pup like? if you don't mind."

"oooh, i love this question!" hulk claps his hands together. "she was a cutie. mãe scolded her for tearing off the couch one time, but mama laughed it off and had us watch soccer games together on the floor instead."

hyouma snorts. "she sounds cheeky as shit."

"right?!" hulk giggles. "mama called her 'dog' instead of 'pup' because of that once, and she was so sad! she only stuck around to me and mãe until mãe got annoyed and told mama to apologise."

hulk's giggles turn into a fit of laughter, and it infects hyouma to laugh with him, too.

until they're interrupted by a mewl.

hulk stops laughing and jumps to his feet.

he gasps. "meow!"

the black cat sits there with star-shaped sunglasses in its mouth. hyouma doesn't know where it came from and how it picked those up, but as an occult cat, it must've had its ways.

hulk scoops it up and cradles it like a mother would after giving birth to a child. "my baby! my baby! i thought you left me! but here you are with my sunglasses!"

hyouma stares at the cat blinking at him as hulk croons at it. this family reunion has no place for someone who left one of its members like hyouma.

as hulk rubs his cheeks against meow's, meow points a paw out to hyouma.

"junior! i think she likes you!" hulk beams before squealing, "you're such a sweetie, aren't you, meow? befriending anyone without judging! soo sweet of you, girl!"

hyouma's going to ignore that last part. "well... i actually met it before," he reveals, scratching the back of his head. he feels embarrassed all of a sudden.

hulk gasps, and he doesn't need those sunglasses anymore when he has stars in his eyes right now.

"really?!" he shouts, circling hyouma with meow. the sunglasses drop from meow's mouth and to the ground.

"yeah...." i even named her meow, too. fuck. "a couple months ago, i think? i don't remember, i left her," hyouma admits.

"you did?!" hulk's jaw practically drops. "junior! awful, awful, awful!"

he picks meow up by its armpits and pushes it in hyouma's face.

"apologise to her!"

"wait, what—"

it meows before he can finish speaking.

it stares at hyouma with the same sunlike eyes, and he feels as though he's about to melt.

hyouma blinks at it.

"well...," he mutters. "i'm sorry for leaving you behind, meow."

hulk bounces, unable to contain his happiness. "you did it, junior!" he peeks his face out of meow with a grin. "do you forgive him, meow?"

meow raises a paw in the air and mewls.

hyouma tries to smile. "thank— thank you...?"

"yay!" hulk rejoices, twirling meow around. "thank you, meow. thank you, junior!!"

"no problem...." hyouma can only stare at them in disbelief. for years he tried to placate meow only to give up, and then he met it again just for him to leave it behind because it feels too personal to get close to.

and it still felt too personal when he apologised.

☆✮☆

days are starting to go by in a daze for hyouma.

those twins are so annoying he can't be bothered to remember their names, meow is adopted by hulk who gave her the same shitty name, he's gay, and he just can't run right in practice today. and yesterday. and every day.

hyouma sighs.

at least it's no longer raining, but the aftermath doesn't feel any different than its cause. it's gloomy and despondent like it's still mourning for the water droplets lost in the soil. the clouds are at fault for their own loss, but why are they grieving? they don't have the right to. they should've looked at what they've done and dissipated in the sky like the droplets did in soil.

but alas, the clouds still hold water to precipitate. hyouma hopes they fall and disappear quickly.

the puddles left by the rain splatter on his shoes as he steps on them without a care. an umbrella is being dragged by his hand, bumping each time it faces a particularly rocky path; the mud on the ferrule makes faint wet linings on the said path, too.

he has no destination, but as his body is programmed to take him home on any occasion, it might not be true. he might have a purpose.

a man jogging by stops to stare at hyouma.

he looks at him in wonder, as if hyouma is the intriguing one and not him, who's running in this humid weather.

"hmm? are you... chigiri-kun?" he asks, approaching him.

chigiri halts, propping the umbrella to his side. "yeah...," he replies as he tilts his head. "do i know you?"

the man laughs and lifts his cap. "it's me, your coach from junior high."

what's up with hyouma and meeting people (and cats) from the past? it's as though he's getting to a reflection point in a movie, a climax of a goal he missed.

coach nods at his uniform. "i see you went to rajitsu. good job. i'm happy to see everyone in our soccer team doing well."

"everyone?" chigiri asks, skipping his greetings.

coach seems to notice and blinks, and then he chuckles like this is still the hyouma from the soccer team he speaks of.

"yeah. i met them, and saw how they're doing good," he says.

"all of them?"

"oh, no. not all of them. just a couple." he waves hyouma off. "i'm judging everyone else by their high school choices. all which i support."

everyone.

"when you say everyone...," hyouma hesitates, refusing to make eye contact with coach. "do you know how y/n is doing, then?"

"of course, i do! i'm both his coach and homeroom, after all. but he's doing well!" coach lights up, the smile lines around his mouth make his smile more beautiful.

"i was quite strict on him— a mistake on my part, even if i did it out of concern." coach sighs, looking out into the sky wistfully. "he was always in the back and out of touch with everyone. it made me worried if he was getting isolated by his classmates, but it turned out that he was just more awkward and silent than most."

"he kinda was," hyouma replies. whenever someone approaches them, y/n would turn to hyouma expectantly. like he just knows people come to them for hyouma. and only him. "he really was."

coach smiles at him and it's as genuine as his next words: "so i'm glad he has someone like chigiri-kun, who cares about him."

hyouma can't deny the present tense, but he also can't act on it.

"he was quite the character in junior high, wasn't he? so i understand how you might be worried, but— oh! aren't you his best friend?" so why are you asking? goes unsaid when a look of puzzlement crosses coach's face.

"we..." are. were. could've— should've been. "drifted apart. we don't talk as much anymore."

"ah, that can happen." it didn't have to. "i'm sorry for only realising it now. my age seems to be catching up to me."

"it's okay," hyouma forgives. there's no reason for coach to be apologising when hyouma is the liar here.

"but as far as i know, he went to hakuho, a prep school. it surprised me a bit since i thought he'd be pursuing soccer even if it's theoretical, but i hope the young lad is growing well there."

coach laughs, but it's static in hyouma's ears.

hakuho? y/n has been nearer than hyouma thought. it's in the opposite direction of his way home from and to school.

he could've met y/n if he decided to take an alternate route for once. yet he only finds out about it now, two years later from a coach he judged harshly two years ago. and he wouldn't have met him if it weren't for meow.

he doesn't know what to feel. he doesn't think he should feel anything when he and y/n are supposed to be nothing now. it's getting redundant, each reminiscence with y/n comes with a dirty reminder at the end of them. and after that comes nothing but the shitty smell of rain and dirty boots.

the stain of his feelings is a blemish on his once friendship with y/n, and as it discoloured into fear, it seems to never have faded away.

this is not how things are supposed to be, and the word 'this' can be read as their friendship and his sprint the moment he turns his heel.

"chigiri-kun?! it's overcast! go home!" coach shouts from behind hyouma.

"sorry! i gotta check something! see you around, coach!" chigiri shouts back, not looking back. he's done that enough.

his destination is no longer home, however, it's a consideration of one in the past. a possibility at no time explored. it could have been a boy he picks out the stars in his eyes for. it could have been something a little like love.

RAIN IS ANNOYING TO DEAL WITH.

his pace accelerates with each step he takes, and although he's ashamed of his speed not being able to be what it used to be, he runs. the puddles beneath his feet splash his legs as his umbrella flies along with him.

through jagged breaths and a quickening pulse, his mind is a one-way track.

y/n.

y/n. y/n. y/n.

in the whole wide world, somehow, y/n is his friend. his ex-friend. his best friend. dearest y/n, a person he loathes. he can't find an adjective that suits the enigma

who stood by his side for his entire childhood. he wanted, wants, to understand him just as dear.

IT MAKES EVERYTHING COLD AND HUMID.

water wets hyouma's socks through the soles of his shoes, but in hakuho is a student named l/n y/n. in hakuho is a prep school with possibly no presence in the sports area.

hyouma is ready to lose y/n at the cost of his dreams, but he's yet to consider if y/n has already done the same.

and the thought terrifies him more than the blemish left of their friendship, one no amount of rain can dissolve.

if only his theme didn't revolve around rubber bands and running and ugly stains, then perhaps there could be a way around his problems. those topics are only a loop of problems; he runs, and then his knee snaps like a rubber band, and the rubber band flicks a stain since it's been soiled by the ground. it's like there's no way around it unless hyouma completely stops running.

his feet are damp and gross. his legs are sticky and he should glance to know when to skip over the puddles, yet he only has his sight for the serenity stripped off of y/n's title.

IT TAKES THE SUNSETS AWAY FROM MOM AND DAYDREAMING EVENINGS FROM SISTER.

nevertheless, he begs for them to share the same fate as he's bound to a promise he didn't start.

although they are now nothing, the years hyouma spent with him were once alive. and they are not running anywhere unlike how hyouma did y/n.

skipping past the gate, hyouma runs around the school— to a soccer field that started and ruined y/n's career. hyouma doesn't know what the career means for y/n, but he just wants to make sure—

hyouma slows down when he hears someone's laughter, and freezes in place when he sees the back of h/c hair.

—that he's not the only miserable one here. that y/n would run to him too if he were to find out hyouma is nearby.

hyouma takes a moment to steady his breathing, tucking his hair, wet from sweat, behind his ear.

he carefully walks to the chain-link fence dividing the school and outsiders. each step he takes derives from anxiety that he might be caught in the act of yearning.

hyouma's breath hitches, the umbrella in his hand almost slips from the sudden looseness.

as y/n sits on a bench far away from hyouma, the owner of the laughter—who's now giggling—places an easy hand on y/n's shoulder. he pats him twice before his hand pauses mid-air near y/n's cheek. it falls on his side, and rises again when a white-haired guy with sagging shoulders approaches them. he slaps him on the back repetitively with a smile. hyouma doesn't think it's encouragement he's giving.

the white-haired pathetically faints and tries leaning on y/n, but y/n evades by swerving his own body to the side— where the owner of the laughter shields him with the same ease from before.

y/n must've said something, because the owner of the laughter lives up to his nickname again and side-hugs y/n. the white-haired whines loud enough that

hyouma can hear it, though barely.

y/n moves his head to where hyouma can see half of his face, and he makes out a star in y/n's eyes.

BUT WORSE OF ALL,

hyouma clutches his umbrella tighter as he turns away from them. the laughter of y/n's companion echoes along with hyouma's footsteps, and as the distance gradually separates him from the noise, his stride remains at the same pace.

he lowers his head, as though he wants to hide his intention from y/n and his friends despite their unawareness of his interruption.

RAIN COMES AND GOES,

unbeknownst to him, the corners of his lips have tugged up into a small smile. so in a conscious decision, they tugged again, but back down into a frown.

his mind is no longer a one-way track, for his conclusion is the denouement of a promise he made when he was nine.

YET THE MEMORIES OF YOU REMAIN LIKE FLOOD.

—ADDITIONAL TIME !

hyouma kicks off his shoes, his feet drenching the rug. "i'm home—"

"hyouma."

a gentle voice interrupts him, but the sirens in his head are going off.

because it belongs to his mom.

"mom? you're home early," hyouma says, hiding his nervousness as to why his mom would greet him first.

his mom steps away from the wall she leans on to step in front of hyouma. she was probably leaning there the whole time she was waiting for him.

"you've been crying," she says.

oh.

so that's why.

"no, i haven't."

she sighs, and hyouma is disappointed with himself. "hyouma, please."

he hesitates for a moment. god, he hates this. vulnerability became a zone he doesn't barricade but still avoids at all costs.

typically with his mom.

it's one thing if his sister knows about him, but please, not his mom. she who looks for the nonexistent resemblance of his dad in hyouma, when he can only look back at her with the same red, almond eyes. and he who cannot be the son he, himself, wishes to be.

he stares at her without a word, lips pursed into a thin line. his bangs stick to his forehead like it's imitating a hairclip.

"you've been crying," she says.

over a lot. his friendships, career, future. "it's not over dad, don't worry, mom."

"what?" his mom sounds exasperated. hurt. "i wasn't gonna ask that. i just wanted to make sure you're okay."

"oh." now hyouma is confused. "what? then what else..."

she frowns. "to make sure you're okay. has that not been said?"

"but mom, you're... you're not mad? i just admitted that... me and dad...," hyouma trails off, panic seeping in.

"no? why would i ever be?" her face flushes, and hyouma thinks she might cry. "hyouma..."

"oh."

sighing, she runs a hand through her hair. her grey streaks are yet to be picked apart by his sister. "i've left you two alone for too long. i should've begun cutting off work years ago."

hyouma stands silent. he bites his bottom lip so his rapid breaths won't show. he glares at the ground hard enough so tears won't well up. he won't cry. he can't let the bottle of emotions he's overflowed shatter in the zone of him and his mom. he's been letting it drip by crying occasionally, it can't explode now.

"ma is sorry. she didn't grieve right."

he falls apart.

but what does it mean to grieve right? grief is as unpredictable as it happens, yet it doesn't even hold the same weight every time a (un)known trigger sets it off. one moment you would be numb by the small reminders of them surrounding you, and next, before you knew it, you would be sobbing in front of someone who shared the same loss, but not the same remembrance.

it's different for everyone, and all are valid. but it's not like they're going to notice that. and nobody is expecting them to. would noticing even help? would it help you and i?

no one knows how it works. nothing could've prepared anyone for any kind of loss. how was someone supposed to know the instructions when there was never a manual in the first place? no one wanted one. no one deserved one.

"i should've stayed together with you two more. i should've known something was wrong."

hyouma holds his hands over his face, and tears stain his palms the moment he does. "but i— i don't think i even love dad. i don't... i don't remember a thing about him. i barely look like him. i don't know him like mom and sister do. and i don't care that i don't."

his voice trembles, trying not to sob in between his words. and then arms wrap themselves around him and he melts.

his mom caresses his back with her stubby hands. her hug is warm enough that hyouma forgets there was rain in the first place. "it's okay. that doesn't affect how i care for you. i will love you all the same because you are my son. my hyouma, my reason. one of my two reasons."

even if someone were to get one, then what do they do with the knowledge? it was already out of their control. there was nothing to prepare for in the first place.

you and i would've burned the manual because it sounded ridiculous, and considering the possibility of loss is terrifying. they're still well and happy with you, yet a manual is trying to tell you that it won't last long? that manual expects you to cherish your moments with them, while facing their mortality and ignoring yours? you're already afraid of the thought that your person can let go of your joy, yet the manual is declaring that it'll be unleashed to the fucking cosmos whether you like it or not.

and you're selfish for thinking of only your interest in it, but you can't help it and i don't blame you. you cared about your person and the way they cared for you, too. you're scared to utter the word 'love' because then you'll be acknowledging that it can be gone along with them.

you're sick of it and so am i, so perhaps we'd read one line before tossing it to the fire in commemoration of their funeral.

but what if i was alone? what if my person only had me, and i only had them? who will i share this grief with, for the reason is far gone? this burden that leaves and returns at random points in my life, i want it over with. but without it, i'll lose the last sight of them. my final memory. rather than losing it, i'd rather break down again at the collection of steamed buns of a seven-eleven because i saw a black cat who had similar eyes as them outside the window.

i don't know, but i don't think you'll ever be truly alone. maybe over their remains was a bridge of stars, a bullshit metaphor of a constellation—because we're all just trying to cope—and a new addition to the already starry night. or, just clouds watching your pitiful figure wail the stupid night away. both of those may sound dumb, but at least you're not alone.

really though, if you didn't know, then how was i supposed to know?

i was nothing during that, and am only a tangle of words being written now. and words can only go so far. i can't even use pretty words to make you understand. i can't comfort you.

your experiences and mine differ greatly. i won't be able to bear half of your loss, and you'll never grasp half of mine. you'll understand, but you can't feel it for yourself, even if we went through the same thing. do you get me? do you get the narration i want to show you, our wounds i'm forcing to open, just so we can see how there's truly nothing we can do about it?

haha, funny. i poured my heart out and you're using the narrative as an excuse. fuck the narrative that took them away from me, and fuck you and your narrative for giving me false hope that you even cared. we're talking about grief, please read the room.

but it is not your grief or mine, it is the chigiri's family loss of a dad, of a husband, and in hyouma's perspective: of who could have been.

"'m sorry for lying." hyouma pauses, sniffing. "'m sorry for hiding this from ma."

"oh dear, it's okay, it's okay." she whispers, repeating her response to his childish apologies. he leans more into her embrace, and she accepts him with ease. "oh dear, i love you. hyouma, my son, ma loves you."

hyouma's story does not centre around grief, but his world builds around it.

and i hope yours does, too.

—✭

Chapter Text

PATIENCE IS KEY. a saying more familiar with seishirou than one might expect from him.

he can wait dozens of minutes—twenty-four hours of the day, even—for someone or something to arrive at their designated location.

it's not as if he's willing to wait, he's not going to be patient if he's not going to wait in the first place.

but good things come to those who wait. and waiting barely matters when he'll find things more precious than a moment of time at the end of the day. anticipation is vain when serenity stands beside him in the form of a star and the sun.

above all, he does not give a fuck. seishirou doesn't look forward to events, he looks down with his head in his arms as he sleeps through half of the school day after entering class minutes before the bell.

though, someone can scold him and he'll give them a look before telling them, “but it's such a pain.” and then he doesn't bother to attend. if they're lucky and reo is there, he might ‘reprimand’ seishirou with: “it's fine! i'll bring you there with my limousine,” he'll say. “l/n’s coming too!” he'll also say, but this is completely irrelevant. it's only being mentioned because reo always says that before he says—

“c’mon, nagi! stay awake!” reo shakes his shoulders with one hand; the other holding y/n’s for emotional support.

seishirou flutters his eyelids, trying to get the sleepiness out of his eyes without resorting to rubbing them. y/n’s grandmother once told y/n it was bad. and then y/n told seishirou (and reo in extension) that it was bad. so now seishirou has no choice but to not rub his eyes or else y/n will look upset.

like he does now, a frown threatening to tug at the corners of his lips and mildly furrowed brows.

it would be a bit… endearing as reo might (already) put it if it weren't for the context that y/n is upset about something serious.

something about a boy who serves as a remnant of his past, who made a mistake that can be considered as a defence— even if it only hurt the both of them.

about someone y/n once adored enough to be seeking him out and see through his flaws.

someone seishirou doesn't think he'll be fond of.

seishirou averts his eyes away from y/n, they keep doing that without him knowing. and yet, he doesn't find a means to stop it.

he knows he’ll fall asleep if he lies his head down, so he props his head on both of his hands. empty, empty hands that reo will not hold. that y/n cannot hold because reo is sitting between them.

not like y/n ever does when reo isn't an obstacle. and again, that's irrelevant. it's only being mentioned because it happens to be a thought in seishirou's head.

…like all thoughts with y/n happen to be.

“mikage-san, nagi-san, you two didn't have to come along with me...,” y/n mutters, and the silence that comes after makes it easy for seishirou to repeat his voice in his head. y/n puts the notepad and his hands together on his lap. his hands nearly hide the notepad as it's the size of seishirou’s palm.

if he felt like yearning today, then seishirou would've imagined that was what it would be like to hold y/n’s hand.

“but thank you, anyway,” y/n mutters again,

there is comfort in silence and joy in talking with others. but seishirou thinks the mere presence of his friends can be both simultaneously.

seishirou wouldn't dare to seek more, as he is content as much as he is patient.

“it's okay, y/n. we're here to support you,” seishirou mumbles. he can't help but tone down his voice after hearing y/n do it. it's all he seems to be around y/n: helpless. “we also don't have anything else better to do.”

reo nods vigorously, a determined look on his face; the one he uses when he thinks y/n is saying something odd. but honestly, in seishirou's opinion, reo's the odd one between the three of them. his tendency to capitalise on everything is certainly not an ordinary trait. one commoners like seishirou don't have. though, seishirou never mentioned it since it benefits him as well.

“yeah! you don't know how comforting it is to have other people accompany you in moments like these.” reo beams, glancing (glaring perhaps, as he is the sun?) back to y/n and putting his hand over his again. “even if we do have better things to do, then we'll just drop them! easy.”

y/n looks mildly concerned, but he doesn't move reo's hand away. “mikage-san…, that is, um….”

“just say thanks, y/n.” seishirou interrupts. he yawns, eyes folding into crescent moons as tears well up.

y/n hesitates before nodding. “thank you.”

reo lights up. “no problem!”

reo provides comforting words as easily as he learns them, it makes seishirou wonder if they're only words said for the sake of it, or if they hold as much value as the gesture of his hand over y/n’s.

well, a lot of things have been making seishirou wonder these days. especially when y/n comes to mind.

but scratch that, his friends have been seemingly different these days.

they don't turn out to be the people seishirou expected them to be— to stay as—and the realisation tugs at the seams of his being. they do not tear, they only stretch and swallow his being whole as time passes. when compared to his friends, seishirou is… not moving forward as much.

but this is him, this is who he is supposed to be. someone who doesn't put in any effort and only does things for his own benefit, and yet .

the mellowness of y/n’s melancholy overshadows his apathetic impression, and seeing it is a mismatch to watching reo let go of everything that disinterests him and deciding his own path— even if it's in the interest of his pride. but why do they seem to be in the same matter?

content. to be at peace with something, but what if he were to fall behind and this moment slips away from his already loose grasp? can he still be content, when they're getting further away from him, towards the promise they made as he stands still in the concept of his future?

a future of his will not be one unless he is accompanied by y/n and reo. if he were to stray away, then let it be destiny.

☆

“where is this guy?” seishirou asks, and then another yawn escapes him. a fly could've flown into his mouth from how wide he opened it, but blue lock’s cafeteria is shockingly pest-free despite its disgusting bugs as players.

y/n shrugs, skimming through his notepad for the third time, occasionally glancing towards the door like how seishirou would unconsciously glance at him.

“oh, well! waiting is nothing for me! if us mikages aren't first in line, then we'll simply pull the strings to move up the queue," reo says, smiling his little capitalistic smile. "say, what's the guy's name, l/n?”

“chigiri hyouma-san,” y/n replies flatly, glancing at the door, and then reo. never at seishirou. "please don't pay him to meet me.”

reo's smile almost falters. “ha… haha! what makes you think i would do that?” he laughs, avoiding y/n's stare.

“drop it, reo,” seishirou mumbles. “you always suggest paying our way out of our problems when we bring them up.”

reo frowns, or more accurately, he pouts. yuck, he definitely thinks he looks cute when he does that. “money is the solution for everything! isn't that why you went to hakuho, nagi? so you can get rich and retire early.”

“is there any hope for me there anymore? i bet they already crossed my name off for being absent without notice.”

a tear almost escapes reo's glossy eyes. “wow… since when did you care? i thought you went to school only to see us. i mean, i do that too, but oh my….”

seishirou rolls his eyes. “like you said, i go so i can find a job that can make me rich and retire early.”

reo sniffles, wiping the corner of his eyes. "you have such amicable goals. too bad, though. you're stuck in this soccer prison forever now."

“that's not true,” seishirou protests, glaring at him. “we can go home when we win, right, y/n?”

seishirou is met with silence as a response, the only sound between the three of them being the rustling papers of y/n’s notepad as he flips them through one by one. he pays more attention to that stack of paper than he ever did seishirou today.

y/n finally gets to the cover front— which is horribly painted colours of plain white, shimmering purple, and muted yellow. unlike the other two, the white doesn't have anything about it; tint it with the tip of a brush and it becomes something else entirely.

if it weren't for the watercolour-like effect (what does reo even mean by that?) reo was trying for when he ‘did a favour’ of painting the front, though far-fetched, it could've been a starry sky.

y/n pauses. “i don't think ego-san will let anyone off… unless they’ve lost. which, of course, will have its own consequences.”

seishirou blinks. “what? you make it sound like we're going to die if we don't make it out.”

“like in squid game!” reo giggles. y/n does not. reo’s laughter dies down when he realises that.

“...l/n? you're lying, right?”

y/n shakes his head, closing his eyes. “i cannot make any promises.”

☆✮☆

reo has no idea what he should do.

he darts his eyes between y/n and the door behind them. they strut into the hallway just outside of the cafeteria.

“was that chigiri? he's... not what i imagine,” reo muses, a hand on his chin. “but i probably don't have any say in that. don'tcha think, l/n?”

y/n heaves a sigh. “i didn't imagine this to happen either,” he mutters. and reo can roughly guess what he's thinking judging by the void in his eyes.

maybe it's too much to say that you can guess what someone's feeling only by the look of their eyes, as they're only eyes after all.

thouuuuugh, a bit of worrying and guessing wouldn't hurt.

you can't have an eye-to-eye, but you can have a heart-to-heart.

“doesn't mean you deserve it, though.” reo hastily replies, grabbing y/n and seishirou’s hands as he is, once again, between them. he swings them around in a senseless rhythm, one he's memorised without looking at the music sheet. he turns to seishirou, gaze piercing—begging—for him to take a hint. “you agree, right, nagi?”

seishirou blinks before shrugging. “probably. him ignoring you was a realistic possibility, though. and also probably the most realistic one.”

reo wants to let go of their hands and beat the living stars out of seishirou. for the sake of world peace (their friendship), he opts to squeeze y/n's hand instead.

and… they're nice. y/n's hands are nice and holding them is even nicer.

reo has noticed for a while, even so, it still manages to surprise him how y/n's hands are quite rough.

not an unpleasant surprise per se, just… unexpected.

from reo's observations, y/n doesn't seem to be in any club activities in hakuho, and the heaviest work he's seen him do is deliver papers to the teacher's office. so reo has expected him to be more... maintained? well taken care of? you know, stuff like hand cream and all. or soft, perhaps? as soft as the way he'd caught him looking at him and seishirou?

the first time reo held his hand, he expected softness like the star-shaped plushies from home.

and though that one was proven to be false, there's still something else to be figured out: if y/n is similar to those plushies, then does that mean his cheeks would be fluffy?

hmm, reo has only one way to find out. two, if y/n asks him to bite him.

that can count as another time reo succeeds, or another time y/n has defied his expectations. y/n’s been doing that a lot for the past few days, especially when he discovered the presence of his childhood friend in blue lock.

reo feels like it's too strong of a reaction to have for an old friend. if it was reo, he would've already forgotten. and if it was seishirou, he would've never gotten in that fallout if he never made an effort in the first place.

unless… y/n’s feelings regarding his childhood friend were—are—surpassing reo’s comprehension.

reo cannot read the expression on y/n's face when he asks: “what do you mean, nagi-san?”

“i mean…,” seishirou trails off, and then he shrugs. “you guys are really old friends right? and just ‘cause you spend a long time with someone, it doesn't mean it's a must for you to stay forever or something.”

y/n pauses, his hand going loose in reo's. reo lets it be. “but i want to. i care for him,” he says, and it's an automatic response for reo’s hand to reach for him again. it's a reflex, but soon to be his daily movement.

some things are out of his control.

“so what? he can share the same sentiment but it wouldn't change how the best ending for you two is to separate,” seishirou says. “think about it, it's been years . you've made it to a present where he doesn't matter as much in your life anymore as he did back then. things can repeat only for you to drift apart again and you would still be here, y/n.”

reo stays silent in between them. he's thought about interrupting now, but perhaps this is what y/n needs; a reminder of the contemporary life with reo and seishirou, his current friends who care about him as important as the stars are to the universe.

“it’s true that it's idealistic—and maybe selfish—for me to only envision a future where things are back to the way they were the moment i met him again,” y/n says. “i would still be where i am now without him, and i would've still preferred for him to be here the whole time with me.”

then perhaps the notepad he was holding only contained the words he'd say, and not the actions he'd take if hyouma were to ignore him.

where does reo stand between those words and y/n’s heart, where they are as close and tucked away in the warmth of y/n’s pocket? as close as their trio is in reo’s own heart?

"do you miss him, or do you miss the time and the you when you were with him?” seishirou asks.

“him.” y/n replies in a heartbeat. “if it weren't for him, the latter wouldn't even be a consideration.”

y/n’s youth started with hyouma, yet reo hopes it can end with him and seishirou by his side.

they don't have to be something more as long as they're never less.

the only thing reo dares to hope for being abundant is their time together, as unpredictability is more unpleasant than a surprise.

☆✮☆

sometimes, there is a means to an end.

the past is precious, but when the people in the present come to mind, y/n finds it less difficult to move forward.

time is an accessory decorated for those you spend it on.

unkempt strangers, childhood friends, unlabeled relationships, acquaintances, friends, almost-lovers, who could have been, someone you loved.

they're all started by a chain of fate and almost always end with a reasoning from time. time which you are bound to an endless possibility only the beginning can determine its conclusion.

they all end the same; towards the inevitable.

they say to cherish the present as you can't tell when it's going to disappear, but what becomes of the past when its core formula is the time wasted into unresolved resentment?

you cannot take it back the same way you can't tell when it will be gone. can something be named as precious, as if a jewel or a cheap hair clip, when you don't know its true value?

only the time spent afterwards when you realise if it's as worth it as they say.

☆

there's a likelihood in the confirmation that hyouma has given up on him in the same manner y/n has surrendered himself to nothing.

it's discouraging enough to be a hazard.

‘ what do i do with this? ’

y/n inspects the purple-red hair clip, he flashes it around as each flaw of it glistens, as if in his hand is a precious gem and not cheap metal coated in resin.

he's seen many jewels that shine prettier than this, but at this moment, nothing shines as bright as his childhood trinket underneath fluorescent lights.

magenta wasn’t any less beautiful even when he considered it between ivory and lavender. there shouldn’t be a need for him to choose, but for some reason, it feels like he’s doing a ‘true’ or ‘false’ test. he can’t choose a middle ground for them when it doesn’t exist in the first place.

it’s all so black and white, similar to the concept of how there are only good guys and bad guys. the consideration of something or someone having valid points and flaws is terrifying when they’re someone you hold resentment or fondness for. funnily enough, those two are also simply defined opposites.

and yet, which allures him more is as clear as the sound of the clock’s ticking hand. the time keeps going and the world moves on, each second he goes into consideration is another wasted.

as if time is a lavish thing.

‘ it’d be a waste to throw it out. ’

y/n opens a drawer by his deserted desk. his desk, like his whole room, is almost empty. save for a few things anri and jinpachi gave him. anri has been nagging him to go shopping to fill up some of the voids, but jinpachi is against it, knowing y/n would be using his card instead of the company’s.

‘ but what bothers me more… is that i’m not as upset as i thought i would be. ’

he places the hair clip inside with needless care, much like many things he has loved. beautiful things, akin to a treasure, may never know they were when they've only thought of the indifference of the beholder.

‘ could it be that i'm no longer as fond of him as nagi-san had said? ’

he glances at himself in the small mirror above the desk.

(beauty is in the eye of the beholder until the proverb looks at you; as you are lovely from an objective perspective.)

a room more of a place to stay than home. a drawer with nothing but a useless reminder inside of it. a reflection of a boy with faults almost to the point of ruin.

so fucking ugly it's nearly poetic.

‘ how do i say this…. it's like, now that it has come to this, ’

the world moves around too much to notice a star amongst them. a little more attention and the earth would've cradled you in its arms.

‘it feels like a heavy burden is lifted off my shoulders,’ he ponders. ‘yet it’s also becoming…’

y/n holds a hand to his chest.

“...stuffy. i should ask ego-san to check the vents.”

if only so much of us didn't start from nothing. even if we become significant enough to be recognised as dust in a world that only adores stars, parts of us would have already strayed far enough to turn that recognition into something whole despite our fault of redemption.

(but i wouldn't mind being half of only a fool with you.)

☆✮☆

“if you have no business here, then get out.”

jinpachi doesn't bother glancing up from his tablet, scanning his bank notes; laundromat notes. since anri and y/n reprimanded him for treating them as servants.

y/n pretends he doesn't hear him. he needs to stop hanging out with seishirou and reo before their influence brings him to places he never imagined. “may i look over the player folders again?”

jinpachi clicks his tongue, in an attempt to release his anger when he realises he can't punch someone without risking his job. someone he picked up at his grandparents’ house at that. “how about getting your phone first?”

“those folders are physical. my phone wouldn't have them.”

“you know that's not what i meant, genius. do you not miss your mom and dad or something? you don't even have your phone. please go and get your phone.”

“the blue light emitting from device screens can be disastrous towards one's health.” y/n clears his throat, briefly eyeing sideways at jinpachi's thirteen-inch tablet. “at least that's what my grandmother tells me. she adds that it's because she doesn’t want me to get sick.”

“i'm already sick of you.”

“may i borrow those folders, then?”

jinpachi sighs. “i don't know if this is another one of your weird friendship ploys, but please leave my project out of it.”

“my friends are perfectly normal and healthy.” y/n gives jinpachi a look over. “really healthy.”

if it weren't for his tablet costing him three paychecks, jinpachi would've thrown it at y/n. “what are you insinuating about your boss?”

“ l/n-kun !”

it was anri. the door behind her slides closed as she speed walks to them.

the bright smile on her face withers when she sees jinpachi. understandably, she scoffs, “hello to you too, ego.”

and then she snaps her head back to y/n, a smile blooming again as though she's a flower. “oh, yeah! i saw a notepad in the bin, and it was similar to the one you were holding last night. was it yours?”

y/n nods. “it was mine.”

anri blinks at his nonchalance. “oh, okay! did you need something from ego?”

y/n considers it for a moment. “yes. i want to take a look at the player folders.”

he drops his head and musters up his most pitiful imitation of how seishirou looks when reo doesn't want to comply with him.

“but ego-san won't let me....”

this brief shamelessness is nothing compared to how seishirou whines every day, hell, even how reo and seishirou would sometimes act to get y/n’s attention. jinpachi may be right about him having weird friends.

anri holds a hand over her mouth. "y/n, are you okay?! what's with that look?! you look…, oh, gosh. are you sick?! ego! what did you do to our poor employee?!"

jinpachi pinches his forehead and groans. “i didn't do anything. i just said no.”

“employee? he doesn't even pay me…,” y/n mutters, as sadly as he possibly can.

“you know the numbers behind my credit card,” jinpachi spits.

anri glares at him. she turns back to y/n with her previous smile. if she were to bloom in his grandmother's garden, she would've tended to her as if her life was a gift brought upon by mother nature herself; y/n's grandfather would’ve been so jealous of anri.

“i don't think there's any harm in letting l/n-kun have a look,” she says. truly a magnificent flower.

y/n isn't the type to be compared to flowers and nature, not when a star emerges in his eyes at anri’s response. “really? then does that mean it's okay?”

anri glares at jinpachi again, if you say no to this face, then you're genuinely the worst!

jinpachi can only heave a sigh and slam his head on the table. it reminds y/n of seishirou, could it be that the roles have switched and jinpachi is now the one imitating his friend instead? hopefully he doesn't catch whatever weird-people diseases he thinks y/n friends have.

“you'll do it even if i say no, anyway,” jinpachi mutters under his breath.

well, seishirou would've been kinder with his words. and as always, he would’ve hit the nail right on the head.

☆✮☆

“thank you for your help, teieri-san.”

“don't sweat it! and please, call me anri-neechan!” she chuckles, opening drawer after drawer.

“can you two not do that while i'm here?” jinpachi groans, head in his arms over the table. the light emitting from the tablet screen across from him glistens his hair better than any cheap shampoo could.

anri shuts the next drawer particularly loud. “oh my, did you hear something, l/n-kun?”

y/n puts a hand on his chin. “i suppose i did hear a man's voice…,” he mutters, ignoring how jinpachi lifts his head to shoot them a glare.

“mind you, this is my office,” he says, grim enough that y/n is beginning to fear his occupation in blue lock.

anri clicks her tongue. “and we are your employees, now if you please excuse us as we work and do our jobs . like ordinary employees would unlike their strangely not ordinary employers….”

y/n glances between them. he lowers his voice, leaning towards anri. “if i call you anri-nee, then does that mean ego-san is my older brother?”

“oh, god. please, no. i hope you're not considering that, l/n-kun.” anri shudders, her hands moving through her arms to calm the hair that rose. “and it's anri- neechan ! the combo of - neechan is the most important part!”

“the what...? nevermind that, i don't think i can call you something as... familiar, if i must say, as that.”

“snobby-ass language,” jinpachi mumbles.

anri frowns, scrunching up her face. “what's wrong with being familiar? i can’t believe i’m saying this about my workplace, but we’re family!”

“i’m gonna fucking gag.”

“ego, shut up!”

“you're older than me, teieri-san.” y/n scratches the back of his neck. “and you’ve said it yourself, we're in a professional environment. i don’t see as to why there’s a need for me to refer to you like that…?”

anri sighs. “you can think as you like, however!” she slaps her hand onto y/n's shoulder. the sudden move almost makes him shudder. “you must call me anri .”

“um... well... anri-san?” y/n cringes, his unfamiliar usage of first names must've been evident just from how anri's name rolls off his tongue. it feels like learning a foreign language; one with too much informality in its conversations, even when talking to someone of higher regard.

anri smiles, her hold getting tighter. “good. now add - nee to it.”

y/n swallows hard. “i thought you weren't going to force me—”

“when are you two going to be done? this is not just my office, but also my living space.” jinpachi groans from his table, his tablet turned on again. the brightness is saturated enough it reflects on jinpachi's glasses despite the room's own brightness. “also if you're going to gossip about me, then do it where i can't hear you.”

“who the hell was talking about you?” anri glares at him for the hundredth time that hour.

“i thought only anri-san could hear me...,” y/n mumbles, slumping his shoulders.

“i can walk three—two if i stretch my legs all the way—steps to get to where you are. the only thing stopping me is that i have to get up and walk.”

anri clicks her tongue. she pulls a face at jinpachi. “has someone ever told you to shut the fuck up, ego-san ?”

jinpachi twitches his eye. “you do, anri-chan . you don't say it every day, but i can hear it merely from the look on your face whenever you see me.”

“then what does my face say right now?”

“it says that i'm going to make you unemployed.”

☆

“thank you for finding them for me, anri-san.”

“they're mine,” jinpachi interrupts, not looking away from his screen.

“ours now.” anri sticks out her tongue at him. for a second, y/n thought she was going to flip jinpachi off when she raised her hand. instead, she hands over a stack of folders to him. “here you go! take good care of them or else ego will throw a tantrum in his shithole.”

“i do not—”

“well, well, well! look at the time, it's going to be late soon! you better get going, don't you have an appointment with that little bee from team z,” anri says, but she's already pushing y/n out.

she only lets him go when his feet barely steps outside the door.

“oh, and y/n.” anri calls out, smiling when he meets her gaze.

“that hair clip attached to your shirt pocket suits you!”

☆✮☆

the vents weren't the problem, y/n was.

though it's ideal for him to return and pretend as if he's never done—tried—anything, like he always does, it’s not entirely possible.

or, as his grandfather might put it, morally possible. his grandmother just thinks y/n should do what he thinks is best for him. not very helpful advice for someone as indecisive as y/n.

anri has worked hard (y/n can't bear the thought of seeing jinpachi almost every hour of the day) towards finding these folders for him. and as his grandmother has once taught him, returning them without making good use of them first would feel like disrespecting her efforts.

anri would not care, but y/n’s grandmother would be a bit disappointed if he were to tell her about it. any consolation his grandfather would give him after that wouldn't be enough to recover him.

and so, y/n stares at the stack of folders in front of him.

the files seem to still be placed according to their team assortment. though, something does feel awkward. probably ‘cause they’re no longer sorted in the reverse order of the alphabet. it’s the other way around instead.

that’s more than y/n should know for the day! he can go back and return them now. facing consequences for nonexistent actions has always been better than the regret of not taking risks.

but where does he run to, now that everything he's hoping for is here? standing under a disintegrated bridge with nothing but old remains to grasp onto, his anchor in this endless sea of doubt and cowardice is beyond him in the vessel propelled by his current groundings.

there is no way to flee when reo and seishirou are here, there is no way to flee now that hyouma is here.

in the end, disappointment is inevitable.

‘ it’s not like i’m alone now, so…. ’

team x , the label reads. y/n flips through the first page, and his finger hovers over a portrait of a camera’s failed attempt to capture an eternal beauty. fluorite mines have been excavated to obtain the very colour of his eyes, yet he uses them to glare as if they're worth nothing more than the dirt surrounding those gemstones.

y/n doesn't need to look twice to know, he is familiar with all things left behind. he stumbles upon and abandons. he leaves but he still loves.

“have i let him go without realising it?” he asks, but one thing is clear:

he longs.

—ADDITIONAL TIME !

“hey, l/n.”

y/n blinks, as though he’s being called back to reality. “what’s wrong, mikage-san?”

“even if chigiri doesn't wanna be your friend anymore,” reo says, swinging their intertwined hands. “you still have us.”

a hollowness in y/n’s heart is overfilled with warmth, yet it’s unable to reach the places hyouma has taken over. the bits and pieces woven into his name without the sharpness of a needle. despite that, they pierce.

and they heal and weave into a new element, one reminiscent of a sunny sky. “thank you, mikage-san.”

“you've said thank you so many times now! if you're really grateful, then go back to your usual self already!” reo whines, pinching y/n's cheeks. he won’t stop doing that ever since that one fine day.

“yesh, mikage-shan. pleash let go.”

seishirou gives them a sideways glance. “you’re going too far now, reo….”

“you're just as worried as i am, nagi! you just suck at showing it.”

“that’s….” seishirou pauses.

“that’s?” reo echoes, his palms resting on y/n’s face now.

“...you got this, y/n,” seishirou mumbles, a finger scratching his own cheek.

“thank—” reo glares at y/n. “i appreciate it, nagi-san.”

reo huffs. “that's not any different from your thank you s!”

“don't worry, mikage-san. i’ve reverted to my usual self.”

“...what’s the difference?” seishirou mutters, trying to find a distinctive between the y/n from seconds ago and the current y/n. both of them have their lips pressed into a thin line, face as straight as ever. and…

“oh.”

“what? did you figure something out?” reo asks, tilting his head. y/n copies him. seishirou thinks he might’ve seen the reappearing but faint stars in his eyes move along, too.

seishirou averts his eyes. “nothing.”

‘ thank goodness. ’

Chapter Text

MEGURU HAS A HYPOTHESIS.

“you're really energetic today, bachira,” yoichi muses, bumping his shoulder against meguru's. “you usually are, but you're really feeling it today. did something happen?”

“hmm… but this is how i am every day!” meguru hums. he bumps his shoulders against him, except he puts every leftover force he has into it, causing yoichi to stumble.

yoichi winces when he catches himself, nearly falling onto the ceramic floor. “no, i mean, like, you kept looking towards the ceiling or at that huge screen every time you thought you did something cool during the match.”

meguru pauses. and then he glares at yoichi. “what do you mean ‘thought’?”

“is this what they call selective hearing?” yoichi sighs. “also, you'd be dead asleep by now. why the sudden visit to the cafeteria?”

meguru hooks an arm around him and leans in to whisper, “listen, dude. what i'm about to say is top secret, m'kay?”

yoichi raises an eyebrow. “uh... ‘kay?”

“absolutely top secret. no one else knows about this, and you shouldn't tell anyone.”

“...okay?”

meguru smirks, he whispers something into yoichi’s ear.

“what?” he asks, tilting his head towards meguru.

the corner of meguru's smirk twitches. then he says something in a volume yoichi should be able to hear now that they've met for one week. which, by that single record, makes yoichi meguru's best friend. meguru has low standards about that since people don't last long with him.

“what? i can't hear what you're saying.” but meguru could hear the agitation in yoichi's voice. guess he's not the best friend meguru ought him to be.

a certain boy waiting in the cafeteria for him might be. might be more, must be more. hopefully he lasts a while .

meguru inhales, and then he says in his one-day meeting volume, “i found someone.”

“you guys going to the cafeteria too?” rensuke pipes in before yoichi can respond. he's a contender for meguru's best friend title now that he's stepped foot beside meguru. “oh, and congratulations, bachira. never pegged you to be that type. you know, taken. no wonder why you seem happy all the time.”

a close winner. meguru holds up a finger in front of rensuke and sways it from side to side.

“thank you, dearest hero,” he says, a hint of melancholy in his voice. “unfortunately, he and i have yet to realise our deepest and purest desires for one another. i'm waiting for him to confess how the stars above him light up just from the thought of me, and when he says that, i'm going to melt like honey as his effervescent e/c gaze bores into my hazel ones.”

“oh, cool.” rensuke turns to yoichi. “why is he speaking like that?” rensuke whispers to yoichi, but yoichi ignores him. he seems to have had enough of any kind of whispering since meguru.

“wow, bachira,” yoichi says, desperate for the conversation to change. “have you considered to be a poet instead of a soccer player?”

“no. my adoration goes beyond the duty as a member of society. the poetry i wax won't be for occupational purposes, rather, for the purest expression of love.”

concern is the only word to describe rensuke’s face. “where the hell did you learn all these words?”

“from the centre of a star.”

“um.”

“uh… do correct me if i'm wrong, but you met this guy yesterday, right?” yoichi begrudgingly asks. honestly, this uncharacteristic behaviour from yoichi worries meguru. is this what happens when he removes people from his best friends list?

meguru sighs wistfully. he wraps an arm around yoichi’s shoulder. “i didn't just ‘meet’ him. destiny forged our paths together in order to make the universe whole once more. didn't you feel like something shifted the moment i met his eyes? it's not just a meeting, it's fate.”

"really? what's his name, then?" rensuke questions, blinking at him. he seems genuinely curious, so meguru peels himself off of yoichi, ignoring the startled noise he makes. he sprints his heel and runs ahead of them.

“not telling! i'm not having you two think about him, too!”

he turns to face them when he thinks he has reached a safe distance, sticking out his tongue. “bleh! there are plenty of stars in the sky! find your own and stay away!”

he hastens his pace and leaves them behind.

hmm…. this possessiveness from him is unusual! the words he used to talk about y/n were unusual as well!

so many unusual and strange things are happening to him, how suspicious! but… they give him so much joy. the novelty of them makes his mundane life more exciting, even though he's just gotten into a new environment.

it's just that the idea of someone waiting for him feels so unreal. how does he begin to explain this whirlwind of feelings?

for example…which scenario in his head would happen? how would they play out in reality? they'll all go blank when he sees y/n again, but they're just so much fun to imagine! he can't help himself.

these new and unpredictable moments… the sudden rush of feelings, surging like tides in the middle of nowhere. the way y/n looks with his hair and eyes and oh, gosh. he's not making any sense now, is he?

and even that is exciting. he holds back a giggle and smiles like an idiot.

this limerence must be solved immediately! a dire situation, a sudden attack on his heart!

open the case: l/n y/n! bachira meguru will come out victorious with the answer and culprit in his hands.

but first, he needs a hypothesis.

meguru runs into the sliding door as soon as it opens. he cries out, “y/n! i’m finally here!”

luckily, he already has a perfect one in mind.

e/c eyes blink up at him from across the room. meguru ignores the glaring purple and white next to him. they're not as luminous as y/n, though!

his theory is almost as perfect as the man himself. so here's the hypothesis…

y/n holds out his hand for a wave, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. meguru thinks the room has gotten brighter.

…he might be falling for l/n y/n.

☆

reo clicks his tongue.

and immediately, meguru does not like him.

“wait, who's that?” reo asks, scooting closer to y/n and pulling seishirou with him. “why's he calling for you, y/n?”

“that's bachira-san, he—”

“y/n!” a hand slams their table. “did you watch?”

y/n turns away from reo and meguru has to suppress a grin. unfortunately, reo scoots closer, still pulling seishirou near the two of them.

y/n nods. “i did.”

“and what did you think?”

“i found your technique to be cool, bachira-san.”

“i thought so, too! i actually came up with it on the spot. aren't i cool for that?” meguru leans towards him. in the corner of his eye, reo and seishirou are staring at him like he’s going to kiss y/n. nice catch losers, that was the plan! “scratch that. i know i am. anyways! can i call you n/n?”

“no,” seishirou replies almost instantly for y/n, poking his head out. “stick to the names he has.”

meguru blinks, tilting his head in a manner he knows people find annoying. “who are you?”

“y/n's best friends,” reo responds instead. “we’ve known him far longer than before he even noticed you.”

“ah! you're n/n's best friends!” meguru clasps his hands. “so nice to meet his future groomsmen.”

“it's l/n-san to you,” seishirou huffs as he shuffles closer to his friends.

“whaaaat?! n/n, you don't mind that i call you n/n, right?”

the three of them look at y/n expectantly.

y/n blinks. “i don't mind.”

"i do,” reo says instantly, squinting at both seishirou and meguru.

meguru tilts his head and rubs his chin with his hand. "hmm… but what right do you have to say that?"

“dude, who even are you?” seishirou asks.

reo clears his throat. “what he said but! nagi and i are l/n’s best friends from day one!”

“l/n? who’s that? i only know n/n.” meguru tattles, glancing away and picking his ear with a pinky finger.

“this guy….”

“...say what you want now, nagi.” reo scoffs. he turns to whisper to y/n. “this isn't the one you're waiting for right?”

y/n shakes his head. reo turns back to meguru, huffing like a child. he thinks meguru couldn't hear the “thank god.” he muttered, but meguru automatically has his senses sharpened the moment he steps in y/n’s atmosphere.

meguru pauses, pretending to ponder. “are you sure you’re his best friends from day one? this is the first time i've heard about you two.”

reo turns back to y/n in betrayal.

“we’ve only met last night,” the traitor deadpans. then he rests his chin on his fist as he tilts his head up at meguru. “quite the memorable first meeting, i would say.”

is this flirting or is meguru hoping for too much? “very! n/n was just oh so wonderful last night! i felt like i could make a wish come true without a shooting star.”

seishirou raises his eyebrow. “i’ll make you wish for something else—”

“bachira! don't run off on your own!”

meguru lights up. “isagi! just in time.”

he sticks his tongue out at reo, ignores seishirou, and grins at y/n. “i have to go now, i’ll come back asap with the most surprising surprise you’ll ever get, so wait for me, n/n!”

and with that, meguru scurries off on his own.

reo turns to y/n, an ominous aura surrounding him. “l/n.”

“yes,” y/n says, confused by the sudden change of atmosphere. seishirou doesn’t say a thing, but he somehow looks just as grim.

“can i call you y/n?”

☆

“surprise!”

“hello again, bachira-san,” y/n says simultaneously when seishirou asks, “who told you to come back?”

venom laced his words, but it's not all that scary when meguru saw how he stiffened up the moment he appeared. “myself! i told n/n i would be back, can't disappoint him now can i?”

“you wouldn't be disappointing anyone,” reo says. “also… why the fuck do you have so much meat?”

“it's for me and n/n!” meguru grins, proudly holding up his tray. he nearly stumbles balancing it when a piece of steak almost slips out from how full it is.

“how’d you even get all of these…?” seishirou swallows dryly. no, focus! he's your rival… nemesis. he's your nemesis! don't let him see your weakness!

for him to have such delicacies… in this amount too. he must be… “...what's your rank?” reo asks.

“secret!” meguru stabs a sliced piece a little too hard. hopefully reo and seishirou feel threatened by it. he holds his fork in front of y/n. “n/n, say aaah !”

seishirou puts a hand over his mouth. “reo, i think i'm going to vomit.”

“huh? hold on, wait! stop leaning in closer to me!”

ignoring the upcoming disaster next to him, y/n dodges when meguru tries to shovel the food into his mouth. “bachira-san, where did you get all of this?”

meguru winks. “the chefs just couldn't resist my charm!”

meguru pushes his fork towards him again, and y/n dodges. again.

“chefs…?” y/n mutters, his brows drawn together. “does that mean you found the backrooms? that wasn't even in the map ego-san gave me.”

“you ask too many questions. aren't you getting hungry now? i’ll feed you! say aaah —”

meguru's fork stops midair when y/n’s eyes widen when they glance behind him. he pulls back his cutlery and shuts his mouth.

“n/n…?”

y/n’s breath hitches when something seemingly catches his eye. meguru blinks.

y/n is not the object of limerence he thinks him to be.

just what is it that catches his eye and ruins the ideas in meguru’s head?

meguru whips his head around, and behold, in all his glamour, the most infuriatingly closed-off player in team z, chigiri hyouma. he pauses near the entrance, he looks to have only entered the cafeteria now.

he only has meguru gawking because of how perplexed y/n seems to be. he stares stupidly at hyouma like he’s an arriving celebrity and he’s blown away by his presence. if this was a fanfiction, he would’ve been written like his eyes were sparkling as though hyouma hung the stars in them himself.

meguru didn’t think y/n was capable of looking like that. he finds it more shocking that he doesn’t feel inflamed with jealousy from this interaction. and instead, he feels like another flame within him has died.

and it would be like burning ashes if he were to light it up.

☆

his mind goes blank the moment reddish hues stare at him a second longer than what he has prepared, he blinks back into his senses. he stiffens when he remembers just who is across the room from him.

but contrary to y/n’s expectations,

hyouma spins his heel and steps back into the hallway.

meguru tilts his head at him before turning back to beam at y/n. he drops the fork into the tray and puts his hands together above the table, the food in front of them forgotten. “well then! he sure is something, isn’t he?”

reo glances at y/n, his eyebrows tightly neat. he pushes his own tray away and straightens up, seemingly prepared to leave at notice.

“...i don't feel well,” y/n says. meguru wonders if the faint apologetic tone was for him or himself. “can we do this another time?”

☆

“uh, bachira? i thought you said you were gonna be with that l/n guy?” yoichi asks, munching through his rice, when meguru sits next to him.

meguru pouts, pushing his tray away after putting it down. “it's delayed. i must've looked so lame out there.”

“you were? i thought you did well.” yoichi says, genuinely.

meguru smiles and pokes his cheek. yoichi grunts and tries to pull away from him. “i know i did, thanks.” and then he pouts again. “someone in our team has beef with n/n.”

“n/n?” yoichi tilts his head quizzically, and then his mouth forms an ‘o’.

meguru sighs as he props his jaw in between his hands.”if only n/n was here. he would've made everything right.”

“thanks, bachira,” yoichi deadpans. “didn't you just meet him yesterday?”

“what about it? love at first sight is real.” this is a lie, meguru is aware what he's feeling is physical attraction. but something about having a crush on someone, even if it's not for who they are, is exhilarating. it fills some gaps in his loneliness and, by extension, boredom.

“oh yeah? name three things you like about him.”

meguru pauses. “the melodious wave of his laughter, his e/c orbs that seem to pierce, the luscious locks of his h/c hair, the luminous point of my darkest nights.”

“you're crazy.”

crazy? he was crazy once. crazy genius!

the detective meguru: case l/n y/n starts now!

☆✮☆

“chigirin!” meguru chirps from behind hyouma, earning a yelp from him.

hyouma clicks his tongue the moment he sees who it is. “what do you want?”

“mmm, nothing! just wondering if you have a monster in you too.”

“hell no.”

“then do you have a boyfriend?”

“no.”

“ah! so you're interested men?” meguru asks, coking his head to the side far enough that it nearly drops and makes him stumble.

scepticism flashes across hyouma’s face before he glares at him again. “yeah. you got a problem with that?”

meguru stares before chuckling. “nope!”

hyouma assesses meguru’s response for a while. “just so you know i’m not into the likes of you.”

“oh, i know! you like n/n, right?”

“n/—,” hyouma voices out, eyes widening. is the nickname too far from y/n's name? why is everyone so shocked? meguru thinks it suits him.

don’t worry, meguru knows exactly why these people are surprised.

“what nonsense are you trying for now?” hyouma hisses.

“i already said, nothing! i’m just curious.” meguru smiles, throwing an arm around his shoulder. “so… you don’t know him anymore?”

hyouma slaps his arm off, scowling deeper. “no. if you’re done being nosy, then i’ll take my leave.”

he watches as he storms out of the room. he notes how each step becomes less stomping and more walking into the detective report in his head. he doesn’t understand what that means definitely, though. he just wants to write a report in his head.

“hmm… my suspicions were right, he was n/n’s childhood friend after all.” meguru sighs. “and here i thought i could get stories from when he was a kid.”

but he guesses not.

the investigation continues!

☆

“kunigami! over here!” meguru cries out, desperately flailing his arms in the air at the sight of rensuke.

meguru grins when he catches his eye (and hard-to-ignore waving) and approaches them. he ignores the questioning look yoichi sends him from the side.

“thanks for saving me a spot,” rensuke says, putting his tray down across from meguru and yoichi.

meguru smiles, propping his hands together. “no worries! you can always sit with us.”

“that's not how you acted yesterday,” yoichi mumbles before putting a spoonful of rice in his mouth to avoid elaborating.

meguru’s smile drops, his face serious. “i had no ulterior motives that day.”

“...but you do now?” rensuke stares at him, his fork of lettuce freezing mid-air.

“i never said that!” meguru smiles again, grabbing his own fork to stab directly into the middle of his rice bowl. after y/n left him yesterday, he went to the backrooms to give back the meat tray he stole since he only touched one slice of steak with his fork. he ate that slice but is now fined a million yen.

“say, kunigami, has chigirin told you anything?”

“no...? what are we talking about here?”

“like, hmm...,” meguru hums, acting as if he hasn't thought about it. “n/n!”

rensuke blinks “who now?”

“l/n y/n, the guy ego pushed on stage when he got tired of presenting,” yoichi cuts in. meguru nods in affirmation.

“no. we only talked about... soccer. because… we're in a soccer competition?”

meguru stands up and slams his hands on the table. “but it's been days since we've been here! there must've been something chigirin's said to hint at it.... this is a sudden turn of events. i didn’t predict any of this. how odd of the world to go against me!”

“uh, no offense, but i think you're the odd one here, bachira. you're acting really out of character.”

“what do you mean, almighty hero kunigami? i've always been a whimsical, curious little guy.”

“i don't think you've talked like this since we met.”

“it's only been days since we've met, silly!”

“i'm done," yoichi says abruptly, getting up and walking away with his empty tray.

meguru looks at rensuke in expectation.

rensuke averts his gaze, opting to eat his food at an alarmingly fast speed.

meguru sighs. no one understands the importance of investigation nowadays.

☆✮☆

“n/n~ i'm here!” meguru shouts, his voice echoing into the training room.

he pauses when he doesn't see anyone on the bench, or anywhere inside.

“n/n...?”

‘ did he bail out on me? ’ meguru thinks, pouting and crossing his arms. ‘ jeez! right when i'm so close to the conclusion of my case study too !’

“bachira-san, over here.”

that monotone voice! it sounds weirdly dejected like a robot on the verge of shutting down, but oh my gosh! y/n is here!

meguru rapidly whips his head around, trying to catch a glimpse of him.

“...i mean down here.”

meguru turns to the side and glances at the ground.

“n/n!” he lights up, skipping around y/n, who's sitting on the floor while hugging his knees. “there you are! but why are you on the floor?”

y/n flutters his eyelids close, knocking his forehead to his knees. “i feel like it.”

meguru pauses, a smile still plastered on his face.

well, this is new.

he settles himself next to him, near enough that their shoulders are grazing. he stretches his knees and glances at y/n. “why did you come then?”

y/n lifts his head and blinks at him. “what do you mean?”

“if you were gonna be mellow about something, then why did you come here?” meguru asks, smiling sadly as he picks at the faux grass. “you didn't have to come if you weren't feeling well.”

‘ i genuinely don't get it ,’ he ponders. ‘ why does everyone do that? they could've just told me and none of us would have to waste energy being an unpleasant presence while going back and forth. why can't people just be honest? why do people seem to lie, only when it comes to me— ’

“you're right, bachira-san,” y/n says, standing up and brushing the dust off his pants. “i’m sorry. it’s unfortunate that i'm not on my best behaviour today.”

eyes widened, meguru glanced up at him.

‘ are you going to leave me, too? ’

this wasn't a possibility in his hypothesis, this isn't even a matter in it.

both of them could've been a mess together, yet as it turns out, it's meguru who looks like an asshole for being insensitive.

“thank you bachira-san. so, what have you planned for the day?”

“uh, what?” meguru sputters.

y/n tilts his head, taking out his hand towards him. “ah, are we not going to…?”

“no, wait, pause.” meguru shakes his head in a flash. “weren't you going to leave?”

“what? not at all. unless you want me to?”

“no!”

y/n takes a step back in surprise.

“like, i mean, i just thought you'd leave since you weren't feeling well and all. it's not like i'm going to force you, i’d be sad at the very least but that's not…!” meguru sighs. his flailing hands fall limp on his side.

a ghost of a smile tugs at y/n’s lips. “oh, don't rush yourself. i understand now.”

“so…,” meguru drags out. ‘you're leaving?”

“um, no,” y/n says. “there are people out there who are willing to share my burden, so bemoaning over it wouldn't do me or those people any good. it also wouldn't be fair on you if i were to do nothing about it all day, even when i've promised you something.”

“you don't have to force yourself.”

“i'm not. right now, i want to put those feelings aside and be with you instead, bachira-san.”

“...you say things that can be eaaaasily misunderstood, you know that, n/n?” meguru chuckles. he reaches out for y/n’s hand and grabs it with both of his own. “but does it matter now? we'll just do whatever we’d like right now!”

“what are you—”

“like this!” he pulls y/n down onto the ground with him, earning a small shriek from him. meguru can see the stars running around his head, it's amazing, albeit a little disappointing, how y/n was able to not fall on top of meguru and by his side instead? “how'd ya like it?”

y/n shakes the stars off his head, though he's yet to know that they'll still orbit around his being by the law of the universe. and meguru thinks if he leans in close enough, he can sniff out what shampoo he uses.

so here's a new hypothesis: the shampoo—and everything that comes with the form of y/n—must be ones exclusive from the galaxy, because when y/n glances at him, meguru knows he's out of this world.

well, only handsome guys get to be in his fantasies, after all.

(add star-like boys to that criteria!)

“your eyes are very yellow, bachira-san.”

meguru turns his head towards him, making sure y/n sees them clearer. “do you find specks of gold in them?”

“um, no. just yellow.”

if only those guys share the same sentiment as him. maybe they'll notice the stardust in meguru's eyes when he looks at them too.

—ADDITIONAL TIME !

“nagi-san, mikage-san, there was no need for you two to be so defensive with bachira-san,” y/n says. “he’s my friend, i could've talked to him on my own.”

“but! you can't trust anyone in blue lock! everyone but us seems so….” reo shudders, recalling the image of meguru and his all-knowing smirk. “never mind! we just wanted to look out for you, right, nagi?”

seishirou shrugs. “i actually was scared you'll leave us for him or something. i don't know why, it just came over me.”

reo stares at him.

‘ can i say ‘me too’ or will that ruin the mood? ’

reo shakes the thoughts out of his head.

‘ no, more than that, why is l/n so quiet now? ’

he glances towards him in the corner of his eye.

‘ what the… is he surprised?! i thought we made it so obvious…. ’

“that's… interesting. um.” y/n averts his eyes, scratching his cheek. “i wouldn't do something like that. you two would still be my friends.”

reo looks away, infected by y/n’s sudden shyness. “uh, yeah. there's no problem with us having our own connections and friends and all.”

y/n awkwardly nods. “i agree with mikage-san.”

seishirou blinks, looking back and forth between the two of them. he squints. “i guess i overstepped my bounds then. sorry, y/n.”

“yeah, me too. sorry, l/n.”

“it's fine, but…,” y/n trails off, glancing at reo. “didn't you ask if you can call me y/n?”

—✮

Chapter Text

“WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO, L/N-KUN?”

y/n, a senior in his junior high, blinks. “i thought we were going through high school brochures.”

“right. i’m just asking that ‘cause i’m curious.” his homeroom teacher, coincidentally his former soccer team’s coach as well, laughs wholeheartedly. “so what do you want to do after graduating from the high school you choose, l/n-kun?”

“well… my parents expect me to seek higher education,” y/n says, clicking his pen to write on the paper.

but then, the paper is pulled away from his sight. “nope! i’m asking what you, l/n-kun, wants to do. not mister and miss l/n! and this paper is for your high school choices!”

“wouldn’t it turn out the same, teacher?” y/n asks, he drops his pen and glances up at him. “in the end, it's likely i'm going to do as they say, anyway.”

“teacher, huh? man, i’m suddenly missing the day you’d call me ‘coach’.” he chuckles, lightly for this one. “though, i don't blame you. things happen over time.”

y/n nods, unsure of what his response should be. this wasn't a concern up until recently, of when a storm came raging out into the hallway of a physical therapy centre.

his teacher sighs, staring at y/n softly, enough for y/n to forgive the words of criticism thrown at him when he was a player. though as cruel as those words might've seemed, there was care behind it as soft as the look in his eyes now. a clashing contrast, yet with the same pure intention, similar to the piercing protection hyouma tried to give him.

it's care; it has always been. not as a means to justify one's words and actions, but only to care.

“but l/n-kun,” his teacher starts. “that doesn't mean you should get it to your perspective of the future.”

he looks out into the window almost wistfully. “this might not mean much from a ‘good ol’ days’ kind of guy like me, but just ‘cause the past forms who you are today, that doesn't mean you gotta be stuck on it so much.”

“...my grandfather said the same thing a while ago, but i still don't understand what you two mean by it.” y/n mutters, his head hanging low.

“well! should this fellow geezer of your gramps give you an example then?”

y/n jerks his head upright, staring at his teacher with wide eyes. “you know my grandfather?”

“oh, no, no! i'm just saying that i’m a wise old man like your grandpa,” he chuckles as he smacks y/n on the shoulder. his smile lines are prominent, they seem to pack the wisdom he claimed to have. “i’m giving you an example, anyway!”

“ah, right. please tell me, teacher.”

he puts a hand on his chin. “hmph! guess you ought to take me for example! you know, before i was a teacher and coach, i was a chemist!”

“oh,” y/n says, unsurprised. “is that why you're appointed as a chemistry teacher now?”

“no. i mean, yes. that's part of it. but you must listen to me first!” he clears his throat. “to make it quick, it wasn't what i want. chemistry was the only major that i could get a scholarship for instead of one in the health faculty. my parents wanted me to be some sort of doctor, you see.”

“i never knew…,” y/n mumbles, rolling the pen around with his finger. “you’ve told us countless stories about yourself, teacher. but you've only mentioned you majored in chemistry before.”

“yup! so i’m telling you a secret of my past to boost your morale, so you better get yourself together by the end of it!”

“then, how come you became a teacher?”

his teacher sighs, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “though chemistry is considered good for pre-med, i never wanted to be a doctor. actually, i never knew what i wanted to become since i was so busy keeping up with the expectations of my parents. are you similar to me in that sense, l/n-kun?”

y/n pauses. “i don't know. i don't remember what i was after in the first place when i entered this school.”

“as i thought.” his teacher flips the paper over to get a blank page, and moves it closer to y/n. “now pay attention.”

he draws a poor circle. “this is me and the things that came with studying chemistry. and this.” he scribbles around the circle. “are all the things i never considered because of my parents.”

“they're all nonsensical.”

“silent. just pretend they're all not the expectations weighing on me when i was their child.” he shakes his head, and then he draws a star outside the circle and blacks it out.

“why is there a star?” y/n asks, tilting his head.

“it represents what i wanted to do.”

“but i thought you said you didn't know what it was.”

“correct. i didn't know what i want yet, but i know damn well it wasn't chemistry. or a doctor. what i would’ve wanted was all sparkly and full of light, just like a star.”

“are stars actually like that…?”

“most likely not. i’m a chemistry teacher and a soccer coach, i wouldn't know.”

“if you knew it would be something as good as you described it, then why are you in the circle instead?”

“‘cause i was trapped, or more like i felt trapped. the circle was just a cycle of doing everything to please my parents and nothing for myself. it had always been tiring and i would be constantly burnt out.” he draws a frowning stick figure inside the circle. he adds two more of them between it. “yet i was more afraid of their disappointment than the miserable future ahead of me.”

“but the people you're drawing look upset. more than the sad person between them.”

“those are my parents. they were never happy no matter what i do. and when i realised that, i called quits on trying to be a doctor and found an entry-level job after graduating instead.”

“that's… scary. i don't think my parents were that extent of unhappy about the things i do.”

“that's a bit of a relief. have you gotten any idea on what you want to do now?”

y/n shakes his head.

“all good. i’ll keep enlightening you, then.” his teacher slides the corrector tape over the circle, making a small hole in it. “and so when i hated being a chemist as well, even if it was only research, something i thought i could bear. i found my light when i impulsively volunteered to tutor my university’s students.”

he grins and crosses the circle. “so i called quits on being a chemist too! searched for available interviews nearby and applied to become a teacher in this school, and here we are.”

he draws a stick figure holding the star. a wide grin, almost identical to the one his teacher is wearing now, is drawn with closed eyes.

while his teacher adds more sparkles to the star, y/n turns to him. “why soccer then?

“hm? oh!” his teacher chuckles, pausing his drawing. “soccer's the only thing on your mind, huh?”

y/n blinks. “how about your parents?”

“could care less ‘bout them.” his teacher shrugs. “this job may not pay well, and to be honest, neither did being a chemist. but i feel more fulfilled than i could ever do with their expectations and pressure. i’m just living out here, as a teacher and coach, instead of their failure of a son.”

“teacher, your story doesn't motivate me at all.”

“you….” he sucks in a deep breath. “alright, then. i became a soccer coach since soccer was one of the only things that kept me going at university. now, l/n-kun, what about you?”

“what do you mean?” y/n asks, lightly furrowing his eyebrows.

“what do you want to do?”

“what do i want to…?”

if he doesn't make up his mind soon, everyone might leave him as hyouma did.

☆✮☆

“here.”

jinpachi gestures for y/n’s hand. “the hell are you zoning out and furrowing your brows about? i’ve got more worries than you yet you're the one stressing. give me your hand.”

y/n jerks up, and then he glances at jinpachi. “i’m sorry. did you say something, ego-san?”

jinpachi clicks his tongue. “just give me your hand.”

“oh, alright.” y/n holds out both of his hands. jinpachi drops something in them before turning away.

“this is….” y/n mutters, tilting his head. “my phone?”

“good to know your vision’s still reliable,” ego says, with an unnecessary hint of sarcasm. “i'm giving it to you on one condition, though.”

“you've already given it to me, so do i really have a say in this?”

“no. i know you don't give a shit about your phone, i just needed a reward for you to do this or else anri would nag me.”

“that's… bribery.” y/n mutters, turning the power of his phone on before a hand covers the screen.

“nuh uh. you gotta hear me out first.” jinpachi snatches the phone back from his hand. so much for being fearful of anri’s nagging. “you’re going to evaluate team z and team w with me.”

“why me?” y/n asks, averting his eyes as his lips tug downwards.

“why not you?” ego sighs. he pinches his eyebrows together. “did i or did i not hire you as my assistant?”

“i am no hire of yours, ego-san. i don't have a salary. i'm just an unpaid, overworked intern….”

“i knew hanging out with that fuckass purple cut would affect you like this! this is why i say to eat the rich.”

y/n frowns, glaring at him. “don't say that about mikage-san.”

jinpachi merely shrugs. y/n is not very intimidating with his pond fish’s gaze— glare. if glare, then maybe a sewer fish’s. “okay, that poor-postured thing instead then.”

y/n opens his mouth, only to close it again. he heaves a sigh. “...please stop.”

“hah! you can't even defend them.” jinpachi laughs out loud, claiming triumph against someone almost half his age. “i’ll stop if you agree with me.”

“i won't ever agree with the slander of my friends…!”

“i meant the match! team z versus team w!” jinpachi snaps. “gosh, hanging out with those… whatever does have an effect on you.”

y/n presses his lips into a thin line.

“are you mad?”

y/n stays silent.

“what? because i said they're whatever?” jinpachi inhales the deepest breath of this morning. he should turn to meditation to handle all the stress these forsaken teenagers give him. “oh dearest soccer, give me strength.”

y/n’s face contorts into something jinpachi can only hope is not cringe.

“at least i can still play soccer,” jinpachi says.

y/n’s face does not change. now jinpachi can only hope it's not deliberate. “at least i have friends,” y/n retorts.

“fine! fine. they're your friends. or whatever. gosh, does this generation only have the power of friendship instead of soccer talents now?”

“um… my friends play soccer very well.”

“i don't give a damn about your friends.” jinpachi rolls his eyes at the way y/n’s frown deepens. “i’ll see you in an hour or two. don’t hang around too far from here. who knows, i might start the match earlier.”

“sure,” y/n responds halfheartedly, turning away until jinpachi grabs a hold of his shoulders. he twirls him back around and pulls out his hand, placing his phone on it.

“in case you go out too far with your, ugh , buddies.” jinpachi says, or gags.

y/n blinks owlishly. “anri-san has rubbed off on you.”

“insulting.” jinpachi tells him as he pushes him out of his door. “just get out of here.”

☆

“ whaaaaaat ? you’re gonna be watching us?” meguru asks, his enthusiasm increasing with each word.

y/n nods. “at least that’s what ego-san told me.”

“nice one, four eyes,” meguru mutters, smirking as he nods in approval.

“huh? did you say something, bachira-san?” y/n questions, leaning closer to him. he smells like burnt meat.

“nothing! might be your imagination, n/n!” meguru says, a little too loud with a smile a little too wide. “did you set something on fire?”

“fire?” y/n raises his shirt to his nose and takes a whiff. “oh, you're right. i do smell burnt.”

“wait, so you didn't set anything on fire?”

“um. i was cooking.”

“...oh,” meguru replies like a loser. “well! stoves can light up a fire in them, right? and you were cooking! that makes a whole lotta sense.”

he holds his hand to his chin and repeatedly nods as if he figured out an equation for the first time in math class. “mhm, mhm. that’s definitely why!”

y/n puts his hands over his mouth, eyes widening. “oh no.”

meguru glances at him and scrunches his face. “huh? was i wrong?”

“that's not it. come here, bachira-san.” y/n gestures for him to get closer. meguru is but a man, he can only do as he (soon to be the love of his life) says. y/n cups a hand to his ear. “i wasn't supposed to tell you i was cooking…. anri-san said it was a secret to avoid any lawsuits if something happened.”

he pulls away and meguru raises an eyebrow. “lawsuits?” another whiff of burnt meat. “oh, damn.”

“i don't really get it, either. but please keep it a secret.” y/n shudders at the memory of jinpachi getting an earful when he mixed all of his laundry, including the coloured and white ones, into the dryer. “anri-san is scary when she's angry.”

“got it!” meguru chirps, unable to contain his smirk. “this shall be our little secret then.”

y/n lights up in the way his burnt meat can never again. “really? thank you, bachira-san.”

meguru holds up a finger as his smile widens. “on one condition.”

“oh…, which is?” y/n asks and meguru thinks he might be disappointed. don't worry, n/n. this is all for your little secret.

“you gotta tell me what you cooked so i can order it!”

and maybe for meguru’s own indulgence.

‘ if it's n/n, i trust he can do everything! his food probably tastes as heavenly as his face. as sweet as his words, as good as his smile! ’

all the while ignoring the smell of burnt meat.

☆✮☆

“oh my god!”

yoichi looks alarmed. “what's wrong? i thought you already took your sweet time in the bathroom. the match's about to start.”

meguru drops to his knees and punches the artificial grass. “i forgot to ask for his number! the phone in his pocket was definitely his. fuck.”

yoichi visibly relaxes despite the sight of meguru devastatingly dropping his body to the ground. then he snaps his head towards him. “wait, you were seeing someone in the bathroom?”

“yes, literally seeing.” meguru smirks. yoichi would never understand since he's never been in a relationship before. “but you can call it a practice for our first date.”

yoichi stares at him. “you're insane—”

“the match's about to start,” hyouma interrupts. “get the hell up, you're already embarrassing with that haircut.”

“you think you're the shit when you don't even do shit on the field…,” meguru mumbles, loud enough for hyouma to hear. intentionally. “you know, chigirin, if we weren't on the same team, i would've really loved to beat you.”

“dude, what? did you drop your brain too when you dropped to the ground?” hyouma spits, shooting him a glare. “i could beat you up right now.”

meguru springs up and dramatically gasps. “no, you can't! we're friends. friends shouldn't fight, if we have any misunderstandings, we must resolve them!”

“since when did you guys start getting hostile?” yoichi mutters, getting between the two of them, particularly pushing meguru away. “but seriously, the match's about to start. where's kunigami? he's usually with you, chigiri.”

“in position.” hyouma gives meguru a sideways glance. “probably ‘cause we're going to play against another team.”

“chigirin! stop it already.” meguru pouts, unknown if he's being sarcastic or just himself. “it's as isagi says, get into your position, the match's about to start! everyone's waiting for you!”

hyouma clicks his tongue but walks to his designated spot anyway.

“don't forget to glance at the entrance once in a while!” meguru waves as he smiles in triumph, a hint on mischief in his eyes.

“oh, but hmm… if he does that then the case would be closed,” meguru mumbles to himself.

“entrance? what do you—” hyouma whips his head around, and sees just the person meguru wants him to see.

y/n.

☆

“l/n-kun? what are you doing here?” anri asks, not stepping a foot inside the sliding door that has opened for her. “didn’t you tell me last night you wanted to get a closer view of the matches?”

“ego-san wants me here,” y/n responds as he pulls out his phone. the air conditioner inside lightly fans him when he jogs to her in the corridor. “he said he'll give me this in return for evaluating with him.”

“hah?!” anri exclaims, turning her heel to face y/n completely. “but you wanted an entrance view! ego even heard it when you told me that!”

y/n pockets his phone into the front of his dress shirt. “it's most likely what i need to improve, as an assistant and all.”

“are you sure? is this really what you wanted?”

“well, i did agree to be his assistant in the first place.”

“but is the need for it more important than what you want?” anri grumbles, her eyebrows creasing. but he doesn't think she's angry at him.

“there’s always a reason that needs to be met. what i want won't help anyone or anything,” y/n says, shifting his feet as though he’s a child again.

“but you were so excited for it,” she says, and she looks so devastated for something that doesn't involve her.

similar to most things in y/n’s life, he doesn't regard this as a problem. yet, why is the thought of something as insignificant as this so much more disgruntling for her than y/n?

it reminds him of his father.

y/n pauses. “i was?”

“you were!” anri huffs, fluttering her eyes closed as she recalls the memories from last night. “you were smiling your little smile and all and you even finished organising early so you could sleep sooner! because the sooner you sleep, the sooner today will come! today, the day you were excited for!”

“that… that sounds childish.” ‘i did all of that? oh, dear. i didn't even think of the last part when i slept last night… .’

“and what about it? you were cute!” anri lets out a heavy sigh. “alright! you go run to where you wanna go, i’ll hold back that darn ego for you!”

y/n sweats profusely. “wait— what if ego-san gets hurt?”

“he's him and you're you! now go!” anri walks into the door, it slides close as she points at y/n with a hand on her hip. “listen, don't worry about that stupid guy. you can rebel for today.”

the door slides shut, and it doesn't budge when y/n stands in front of it.

better not let her efforts go to waste.

‘ i might as well go .’

☆

“oh, he's looking over here… should i wave? is that even something i can do?” y/n mutters to himself, debating whether he should raise his hand or not.

he doesn't need to worry much, though. because hyouma gives him the answer as quickly as the turn of his head.

y/n lowers his hand. “i missed my chance. what did i even expect, honestly. ”

the signal blares and the match starts. y/n leans on the sidelines with his arms crossed. the players far away from him encourage one another as some run forward.

forward, to a place y/n can no longer reach.

“so what is it that you want to do, l/n-kun?”

y/n averts his eyes downwards, his fists curled up in his lap. the surgery scars on his knee are hidden by his uniform trousers, but y/n has run his fingers through them enough to know exactly where they rest, stitching his skin and sealing what once was his pride.

he flutters his eyelids close. “...i wanted to play soccer.”

—ADDITIONAL TIME !

“y/n?! why is your face all fucked up?!” hyouma jogs over the approaching teen, taking the blazer of his gakuran off. “also, you're soaking wet!”

he catches up to y/n, and the latter lets out a sneeze. “that one cat was in the rain. it just didn't move even though there was nothing to shelter it.”

is he sure he's not the sopping-wet cat instead? hyouma clicks his tongue, covering y/n with his blazer. it barely fits because y/n is tall as fuck and had to modify his own blazer or else it'll be too short. and hyouma's already above average height, goddamn it.

“there's scratches all over your face,” hyouma mutters, holding his face. y/n lets out a small noise of protest when he swipes a finger under his eye. “there's even one under your eye, what the hell did you try to pull on that freaking cat?!”

he pinches—more like pulls because y/n thinks they're going to tear off—y/n’s cheeks until y/n lets out another sneeze.

“now you got germs all over me,” hyouma says, and readies his hands to pull away again.

but before he can torture y/n anymore, y/n pulls away and takes a step back as he tugs at the blazer over his shoulders. “you're hurting me. i’m going to tell coach.”

“as if a star player like me would be afraid of him. he should cower before me instead,” hyouma huffs, crossing his arms. he doesn't step near as y/n shakes his head like a cat would shake the water off its body.

“so, the cat?”

y/n, whose hair is still not at all dry, blinks. “the cat. i dropped my umbrella to try and pick it up. i was successful and sheltered it under the school grounds again.”

“you make it sound like you didn't almost get killed by the damn animal.”

“i said i tried to pick it up.”

“sounds just like you. well, whatever,” hyouma says, turning his heel. “let's get going to the infirmary, it should be open at this hour.”

y/n runs up to him. “what about practice?”

hyouma glances at him for a moment. “we'll survive one day without it. now, get moving.”

an indescribable smile flashes across y/n’s face.

“only you can say that.”

—✮

Chapter Text

A MATCH. one with hyouma in it this time. one that y/n focuses on hyouma for once.

how do you describe the feeling, of when the person you introduced your passion to is now better at it than you? it feels a bit more prickly for y/n. not the kind of tickle he gets when his feet step into a field under the sunset—y/n can’t do that anymore—it’s like something is gnawing and pointing at him and it sticks around for a while even after he’s acknowledged it. 

then another feeling comes but it just feels as if it’s envy disguised as glad. considering hyouma has opportunities y/n can no longer receive, perhaps it’s a bit more fair for y/n to admit these unsightly sentiments.

possibly a little bit more with a tinge of bitterness as he doesn’t ever feel this way towards anyone else, even seishirou and reo.

does he? 

☆

in the same vast field, lit by floodlights instead of the sun. though the grass may be as artificial as the lighting, its quality bears no effect on y/n’s nonexistent nostalgia. but the grass must be grounding for the players. at least that’s how y/n guesses it must feel, as meguru once led him around in a similar nature. 

even then, y/n can dance and frolic around the field as much as he wants, but he will never share the same adrenaline as meguru would right now.

it’s strange, he was so sure the reason for his presence is to cheer his new friend on, yet why has a lingering attachment come to resurface? whether or not it’s towards a person or an experience, y/n won’t bother to notice.

it's akin to a wave on a beach’s shore. it tries to reach you as if it's got a heart of its own. it returns to the unknown depths of origin, whether or not its intentions have been conveyed. whether or not it has reached only the tips of your skin. 

thing is: y/n doesn’t have the same heart. metaphorically, of course. you wouldn’t consider the mass of a star as its core, would you? yet actual stars might consider the masses they orbit in a galaxy as their core. as much as they’re gravitationally bound. 

(are we, too? in reference to a wave and from a perspective of a star;

but i thank the stars that i'm human. if i were to be beneath the galaxy as the vast ocean, i would've pulled you in until you've reached a limit i never had. but it's also strange, how, in the end, you've come to that conclusion without me being anything less of my nature.)

the obnoxious whistle of the monitor sounds reverberates through the field, indicating an additional time is added. y/n is reminded of how loud the players’ voices can be. their ears must be far used to it if they don’t cringe at each other’s shouting, when y/n is on the sidelines concerned for their lungs and ears.

maybe he's not as used to it. but then again, he's lost the familiarity of many things.

he pulls his gaze from the game and towards meguru, though his eyes are already faltering somewhere when he notices a certain redhead in his peripheral vision. it’s as if he can’t help it.

hyouma’s hair sticks to his forehead and neck, and y/n considers throwing the magenta hair clip in his direction. 

but a mere clip wouldn't be able to hold his long hair back. if y/n was a younger, more irrational version of himself, he would instead consider jumping in and holding his hair back with his two, bare hands.

it's a good thing he's seventeen instead of nine. growing up has its benefits of becoming wiser, depending on the person. it's a wonder how he's nobody his nine year old self has wished to be. he can be another nine or seventeen years older, he can yearn and covet all he wants. nothing will change the fact that—

‘i wanted to be the best with you.’

his ambition is mere wishful thinking. it echoes back to him when hyouma catches up to the ball and kicks it, all at a speed far faster than he did during the sports festival when they were nine. and it all takes him back as to why he became fascinated with soccer.

(it's not another person or a certain experience, it’s you. it's always been you.)

☆

but even then, as hyouma’s back turns against him and he celebrates overcoming his fear, nothing is holding him back any longer. not any y/n could hope to be of himself despite wishing his eyes would flicker at him again. 

‘i guess this is it.’

y/n thinks, watching hyouma push past the limits y/n has almost caged in him if they were to stay together—watching him embrace the talent y/n has taken notice of him for, which has then gone passed into cherishing hyouma himself even when the object of value is now long forgotten.

‘you’re finally moving forward, hyouma.’

a smile tugs on y/n’s lips, his eyes smiling along as they glisten with pride. 

there should no longer be a reason for him to hold onto hyouma. but letting go would feel like he’s sacrificing a treasure that’s already diminished. both in value and possibility. 

truth be told, it makes no difference in what decision y/n makes, because in the end, hyouma would still be moving forward with or without him. there’s no use in hoping for something y/n doesn’t deserve.

y/n is the presumed untalented then injured player who hasn’t yet given up on soccer up, while hyouma, the person he longs to be in the position of and to be along aside of, is still shining as bright as he did on the evening y/n declared he was someone to be treasured.

as relieve is evident in how hyouma grins, there’s the compelling thought at the back of y/n’s head that proclaims: 

‘i should start moving forward too.’

and to pronounce that is to be letting him go.

☆✮☆

y/n quietly hisses in pain.

“it hurts, ego-san,” he says flatly, rubbing the spot on his head where jinpachi bonked him. 

jinpachi sighs as he retracts his arm, and then he glares down at y/n. it’s surprising how the federation willingly accommodates jinpachi enough to make the office ceilings suit his height. “you know you could've just ignored anri-chan, right?”

“i believe that would’ve been impolite. she’s older than me, it’s bad manners for me to ignore an older person’s request.”

“like i’m not any older than the both of you.” jinpachi remarks, “i know you’re not one with filial piety. you could've just not agreed with her.”

y/n darts his gaze past jinpachi. the dull white door stares back at him. maybe one of them needs to leave, and it’s not going to be y/n. “...perhaps that should've been the case.”

“and…” an irk mark jinpachi has been suppressing pops in his head. he turns and points at his own living space. “why the hell did these guys follow you in?!”

“woah,” rep exclaims, “i never knew there were so many kinds of instant food!” he rummages through the cabinets, too distracted by jinpachi’s peasantly way of living to defend y/n. “you even still have the receipts— around fifty thousand yen for allll this?! that’s like my allowance every week back then!”

“isn't the point of blue lock to follow your ego or whatever?” seishirou asks—y/n supposes it’s his way of taking his side—after swallowing a slice of orange he stole from jinpachi’s table, which he’s sitting by. “not like i would know.”

“you brats,” jinpachi says. “where are your manners?”

“manners again…,” y/n mutters. jinpachi catches it and glares at him a bit more intensely this time.

“oh gosh, there's more at the back! it just never ends, huh?” reo laughs, unaware of jinpachi’s steadily growing wrath. “hey, we should try everything here one day! like a mukbang or something.”

“sure, reo. that sounds fun. yes, reo. anything you say.” seishirou replies, aware that for one, reo isn't paying attention and will forget the things he's mentioned tomorrow or in three minutes. and two, jinpachi is on the verge of exploding in anger. he peels open another orange, anyway. 

jinpachi inhales for a second, holds for another second, and exhales after. y/n almost thought he didn't hear him grumbling, “let’s see how carefree you'll act after the match with team z.”

“anyways,” jinpachi starts. that breathing exercise seems to be amazing for his health. “what’s your evaluation?”

y/n thinks about his response. for one second only. “chigiri-san runs very fast,” he says.

the terrifying glint in jinpachi’s eyes returned.

“i was trying to joke a little.” y/n sweat drops. “well, let’s see…”

“no, no. forget it. just write me a report later.” jinpachi sighs, he’s acting as if he’s going to bother reading it anyway. “you ever thought of anything else?”

y/n tilts his head. “pardon? what do you mean?”

jinpachi stares at him, as though he's calculating the thoughts in y/n’s head. “well? just, anything?”

y/n drops his head, unable to understand what vagueness jinpachi is trying to grasp on. he’s unsure if he's afraid of a similar disappointment from anri yesterday or something else. perhaps, it's the shame from himself that arrives after. 

jinpachi shakes his head, as if he never expected anything anyway. “listen. sometimes, the ego is wired with your logic and emotions. when truly, it should come from your own desires first. without the consideration of others, something that only you do because it benefits you.”

‘what nonsense is ego-san saying….’

“look, you might’ve noticed, but i never read the reports you and anri-chan give me.” y/n nods almost immediately. “okay, little shit. anyways, the reason is because one,” jinpachi raises a finger, “i’m always watching anyway, and two, ” he raises another, “there’s something you need to realise about yourself and what you want to do.”

tilting his head, y/n questions, “i’m already hired as your assistant so what else is there—“

“yup, that’s it,” jinpachi cuts in as he snaps his fingers. “that’s the mindset that’s boxing you in here.” 

jinpachi adds, “you’re not like the players, l/n-kun. you’re not here to become the best in soccer like them. while all these players are achieving, you’re not growing at all. tell me, what’s one accomplishment you’ve made since you got here?”

“that’s my business, ego-san. as much as you are my superior, please know your boundaries. i don’t need to be someone amazing for me to consider myself as accomplished.” y/n refutes, glaring at him. this rare sight doesn’t intimidate jinpachi, though.

“but i was the one who chose you.” jinpachi responds as he stares at him, bored. “similar to other players, i see potential in you too. and i’ve offered to take you in here because i know you have the ability to perform beyond.”

y/n eases himself, sighing. “please don’t start this topic so disrespectfully next time.” 

“yeah, yeah.” jinpachi waves him off. “i have high expectations of you, of course since i personally recruited you myself, so don’t go ahead and let yourself be. i’ve told others before as well but once you put the concept of ego in practice, then you'll grasp it without needing another definition.”

“...alright.” y/n nods as he stares, expressionless, at jinpachi. 

“remember this.” jinpachi moves past him, patting his shoulder. “the concept of ego is narrowed. it's as easy as only thinking for your own satisfaction. your self-importance.” he grins. “after that, consider yourself to be accomplished.”

“alright,” y/n repeats, pursing his lips. this conversation has just gone in one ear and out the other for him, but he guesses it’s just a matter of time. “you remind me of my homeroom teacher from middle school.”

“oh, please. i could never be a member of the education system. the school would close down the moment i’m a teacher.”

y/n nods in agreement, pondering. “that sounds realistic.”

“don’t laugh at that. that’s rude.” jinpachi pats his head, and then stares at his own hand as if it moved on its own. “anyways, i’m not gonna nap in a room full of noisy high schoolers. tell anri-chan i’m in the storage room if she ever looks for me. if.” jinpachi concludes, shifting his foot towards the door.

‘this all sounds so complicated… and there’s also how he said i was personally recruited…’ y/n thinks. he then blocks jinpachi from the door. “ego-san, if you don’t mind me asking… why did you recruit me, out of all people? i’m sure the project would do fine without an assistant. you don’t need me, so… why?”

jinpachi is silent for a moment. boring his gaze in his musing. he rubs his nape and shakes his head. “you’re right. what am i doing here, making a barely legal child do my chores and play ball with his friends.” 

he sighs and glances at y/n, continuing. “but you know, l/n-kun, remember again that you’re chosen. there’s not a lot of teens who're trying to move on from soccer and whose parents i’ve already known beforehand.”

“so i happened to be convenient,” y/n summarises. ‘so he did a background check on me too. this is the first time i’ve heard about my parents from him.’

jinpachi shrugs. “if you want to put it that way, then sure. though i’d say it’s a coincidence, like how you happen to meet the little buddies you play around with now.” he points his chin to reo and seishirou inside, y/n follows his gaze.

y/n doesn’t wholly agree. his meeting with them was more of an accident. some might say it’s fate, but really, y/n is unsure of what makes them so sure anything was predetermined when it’s our choices that led us here. had jinpachi not come crashing into his grandparents’ home, y/n would’ve been left behind in kohaku.

“also,” jinpachi adds, y/n turns back to him. “your family’s loaded and your parents have a lot of connections… including lawyers. i probably might need them when some of these parents sue me. the old men in the union are so cheap when it comes to the fundings.”

“doing a background check on a minor is going to sound concerning in front of the authorities, ego-san.”

“it’s not as if you’re willing to face them to report me. you’d take them to court yourself before they could sue me, anyway.” jinpachi responds. without waiting for a reply, he leaves.

“why does he exaggerate and dramatize everything? i have no reason to be in such a position with my parents…,” y/n mumbles, sighing as he watches him shut the door.

on the short-legged table placed in jinpachi’s office, seishirou sits in a daze as he’s been watching them. the orange from before is almost long gone. he pops another slice into his mouth, too attentive by the scene to ravish in the sweet yet sour taste. it doesn’t even register to him when reo flails around the exploding cup of uncooked instant noodles near him.

‘huh...’

☆✮☆

either seishirou is nosy or the late day fatigue is getting onto him. but what was up with that? is it the whole soccer thing that’s bothering y/n? how he got his job? someone— that redhead from the cafeteria?

seishirou doesn’t have to hold onto this curiosity, he’s never been the type to care. but then that turns up the possibility that y/n is a separate case. whatever, that's out of the question.

“i wonder when we can see l/n again! he’s getting busier these days,” reo starts, washing his hands. he’s careful as to not get his bracelet wet by the running faucet. 

next to him, seishirou shrugs as he fiddles with his longer fringes. “as long as he’s not busy with that annoying guy from the other day, i don’t mind.”

just as seishirou says that, the door bursts open—“goodness! who could be annoying n/n?!”— and reveals a worried meguru. one glimpse of that comically shocked look on his face, and seishirou knows he’s not serious. at least seishirou and reo are not the only ones stuck with him this time, seeing as to how he’s brought people with him.

“oh, we didn’t know there’d still be people here at this hour.” rensuke greets the two of them by the line of sinks. seishirou throws a glance at him as a response. the ginger then disappears into the stalls.

“i’m more shocked someone dared to bother n/n!” meguru exclaims, making his way to the sink next to seishirou before aggressively washing his hands. he supposes it’s a threat. 

“ugh…,” reo grumbles, eyeing meguru from the large mirror in front of them. he turns off the faucet and wrings his hands dry. 

“cute bracelet!” meguru comments, pointing at reo’s wrist a little too excitedly that water splashes on reo. almost at his wrist if it weren’t for reo hiding it behind him right away. reo only glares at him in response.

“my bad, it just looked so adorable.” meguru pouts, which seishirou is guessing is his way of looking sorry. how did someone like y/n become friends with a creature like this? they must be separated as soon as possible.

reo might’ve thought the same, because he looks like he wants to punch meguru. he’s probably going to put himself on timeout before he actually does that. “i’m going to the toilet real quick.”

“okay! be careful! don’t wanna dirty your bracelet, right~?” meguru singsongs, and he just never stops washing his hands. 

“damn, it’s so noisy here…,” someone mutters. and it’s the guy seishirou supposes must be familiar with y/n, judging by the scene in the cafeteria that time. he’s wearing a headband. is this one of the reasons why y/n kept glancing at him? peculiar.

seishirou turns to him. “you—“

“chigirin! you saw n/n at the match today?” meguru’s voice overlaps his own, cutting him off.

“just go wash your hands, bachira,” hyouma remarks, turning on the water to wash his hands suspiciously on the furthest basin from seishirou and reo. he doesn’t show the visceral reaction meguru would’ve hoped for, so seishirou guesses he’s immune to y/n now. which means they were close enough for that to happen. that’s… not ideal. it just feels like it isn’t.

“so you know him,” seishirou declares, leaning his head to gauge hyouma’s reactions. he’s aware that they must’ve known each other, but it actually being confirmed changes almost everything that he’s not going to address. “how’d you know him? are you close to him?”

“ask him yourself, aren’t you close enough to be sitting next to him?” hyouma responds, washing his hands. speaking of washing hands, reo is almost done wringing his hands dry. that’s going to give seishirou less time to analyse, so he turns on the faucet again and lets his hands stay there. unmoving. 

“you saw that. why would you remember that? are you bothered by it?” seishirou fires back. he stares at hyouma through the mirror, ignoring the meguru in between them in his peripheral vision. he’s wringing his hands dry but it’s in a pace so slow that seishirou believes it’s to eavesdrop on them.

but to his dismay, hyouma disregards him. to be exact, he’s cleansing his face with his eyes closed. 

“don’t ignore me,” seishirou says.

meguru giggles. “you’re wasting your time, nagicchi! chigirin won’t share anything about y/n, but i bet he has baby pictures of y/n since they’re childhood friends.”

“y/n’s baby pictures? like, from when he was a kid too?” now this is valuable information. seishirou has no need to be speculating about hyouma now.

“yup! yup! i’m gonna ask him for them when we hang out again, hehe.” meguru articulates his laugh. he’s bragging. seishirou doesn’t care. moreover, why are they hanging out again? that schedule can be filled with y/n spending time with him and reo instead. 

but y/n’s pictures… as a baby and child… he must’ve had brighter eyes and a more softer look. he must’ve been so popular because he was so cute. but wait, if he was popular, then other kids must’ve confessed to him. that’s not good. hopefully, he rejected them all. a child should only play and not consider marriage. but to determine if any of these nightmares are real, seishirou must confirm the root of the cause.

“i want to see his childhood pictures,” seishirou declares. when he turns towards meguru and hyouma, meguru is already gone. while hyouma is stepping out the door with rensuke. 

“oh, bachira already went ahead. we’re going out first, see you.” rensuke bids farewell, nodding at him. hyouma leaves without a word.

dumbstruck, seishirou only sees them off.

the door to a stall opens and reo appears. “oh, you’re still washing your hands?”

“my baby pictures…,” seishirou mumbles, deflating.

“what? just hurry and finish washing your hands.” 

☆✮☆

‘nagi-san and mikage-san are back in their room now.’

the door shuts with a click. entering the almost deserted room, y/n sits on the edge of his tidied bed. 

in case they miss their bedtime, it wasn’t hard to convince reo to leave as reo’s never been fussy (sort of, y/n just had to ask and see him off.) seishirou leaving without a complaint and walking off was unforeseen (usually, y/n would have to… actually, he might be the less needy one. is it likely it’s not unpredictable instead?)

‘now that i think about it…’ he glances at his king-sized bed. and somehow only one pillow. ‘this bed is similar to the one i have at home.’

he wipes a crease in the covers. ‘though i had pretty curtains around mine that father embroidered the laces in for me,’ y/n ponders. ‘i should go to the store and find something similar.’

as y/n makes up his mind, he feels a buzz in his pocket. picking it up, he stares back at the stainless, somehow scratchless screen. it reflects his disinterested face at him. the oxidising transparent case only shows an empty white back of a phone.

he turns it on, wincing at the blue light radiating. he remembers telling himself ought to get used to the brightness if he wants to talk to reo and seishirou more. trying to get used to the brightness, he blinks a few times, his phone almost an arm's length from him. 

as he brings his device closer, the notifications begin to take notice. 

—

messages (4872)

teieri anri-san just now
where did he go 

ego jinpachi-san 3 hours ago
where the hell are you? the match is about to…

father 23 hours ago
y/n, have you received the money from the tra…

mother 1 day ago
is the amount not enough? you can ask for more…

class rep-san 2 days ago
morning, l/n! here are the new notes for the day…

nagi-san 1 week ago
i'm going to eat my phone if@ yuo domt r3spkf…

mikage-san 1 week ago
l/n!!! where are you!! nagi’s annoying since…

REO’S SECOND NU… 1 week ago
(click here to see more.)

—

call (164)

12 missed calls from (xx) xxx-xxx-xx
1 missed call from (xx) xxx-xxx-xx
1 missed call from grandmother
3 missed calls from mother
18 missed calls from father
35 missed calls from mikage-san
102 missed calls from nagi-san

—

…shit. he completely forgot.

he chooses to momentarily ignore the other notifications and tap on anri’s recent message.

—

teieri anri-san

xx/xx/xxxx

hello, y/n! i hope you’re not too 

nervous about tomorrow. if it feels 

too much, then you can just run to the 

backstage where i’ll be. good luck!

thank you

xx/xx/xxxx

tell this to those friends of yours 

that they can visit you if you’re in 

ego-san’s office anytime

i didn’t know that would be allowed

thank you

of course! just don’t tell him

else he won’t let you 

so is it okay or not?

teieri-san?

xx/xx/xxxx

good morning, let’s work hard 

today too!

(sticker of a star with eyes punching the air)

? yes

thank you

today

where did he go

l/n y/n is typing…

storage room

unsure which one

was he tired

i’m assuming he was

ughhh he’s gonna be so far

thanks l/n-kun, you’re lovely 

as always 

it’s no problem, anri-san

teieri anri-san hearts a message.

— 

as y/n goes back to the main screen and skims through the mount of messages he has received. 

—

messages (4871)

teieri anri-san
teieri anri-san hearts a message.
just now

ego jinpachi-san (3)
where the hell are you? the match is about to start omfg i’m gonna ask for a raise and give you none
3 hours ago

father (2)
y/n, have you received the money from the transfer? respond as soon as you see this.
23 hours ago

mother (1)
is the amount not enough? you can ask for more. mom and dad miss you.
1 day ago

class rep-san (4)
morning, l/n. here are the new notes for the day! let me know if some of the images are unclear ^^
2 days ago

nagi-san (4018)
i'm going to eat my phone if@ yuo domt r3spkf plsplsplspslplsssssss i’/) gib u big kiHug kiiller hug pleaaaaase if u want more thags cool 2
2 weeks ago

mikage-san (26)
l/n!!! where are you!! nagi’s annoying since you're not here ugh!!!! and who will i hold hands with now T_T you and nagi are different
2 weeks ago

REO’S SECOND NUMBER FAV THIS L/N (818)
i might really really miss you.
2 weeks ago

—

not yet tapping on any contact to reply to, he questions the numbers beside seishirou and reo’s names. why are there so many messages from them anyway? he presses on his parents’ messages first. 

he then exits and presses his mother's contact. he settles with: no need. i’m eating well. i hope you and father are too. thank you. 

deciding that’s enough screen time for the day, y/n is just about to shut his phone when it vibrates. his screen is replaced with a call from his grandmother and he accepts it without a second thought. 

bringing the phone to his ear, y/n’s glee is already hidden by his inexpressiveness. “hello? grandmother?” 

“y/n-kun!” came his grandfather's voice instead. “finally! oh, goodness. we almost forgot we could reach out to you through phones.”

“grandfather,” y/n calls out in surprise. “i thought grandmother would be the one speaking.”

“she’s coming! wait—“ shuffling can be heard from the other end. and then, a muffled voice similar to his grandmother resounds: “oh, y/n-kun. it's your grandmother. how's your friend's place? itching to come home yet?”

“grandmother!” y/n quietly exclaims. “ego-san has been very accommodating, but i would be lying if i said i didn't miss you two.”

“then hurry up and come home. your grandfather's stocked the fridge enough to cook up a feast when you get back.”

“it has been quite a while. having dinner at home would be wonderful.” y/n says, smiling softly. he then glances around at the dimly lit room. still too empty to be called his own. no room will fit into the criteria of a home unless he has someone waiting for him there. “i don’t think i’m able to yet. there’s not enough i’ve done.”

“what do you mean? just you being here is enough,” she huffs. 

“is someone bothering you there, y/n-kun?! who is it? i’ll hire a hitman!” his grandfather pipes in. he can hear his grandmother replying, in a whisper, “you watch too many movies!”

y/n’s smile widens. “thank you, grandmother, grandfather. but everything is alright on my end.”

“come home if you're really grateful!” his grandmother urges. he hears muffled repeated agreements from his grandfather. 

“i will, one day,” y/n promises.

his grandfather snatches the phone from his grandmother's hands. y/n knows this as it's evident from their small arguing match, though it’s never serious, before settling on putting the device down in front of them at the table. y/n’s never one to interrupt a dispute within his family.

“bring home a friend while you're at it, too!” his grandfather says. “actually, the more the merrier.”

blinking, y/n presses his phone closer to his ear. “a… friend?”

“yes! a friend! except for that guy who came to pick you up since we already met him.”

“...ego-san?”

“right, right. that one! he was so nice and polite! my grandson is much nicer and polite, but he was a good kid, too.” 

‘...ego-san from a distant universe?’

“well, uh! i know nicer kids than him. except, they're my actual friends.” y/n breathes out. “other than mikage-san and nagi-san, of course. they're great people too! but i think i’ve spoken about them enough times now…,” he rambles, mumbling the final sentence.

“oooh! one of them was your boyfriend, right?”

“i hope he's treating you well,” his grandmother pipes in.

“oh, he’s not. none of them are. and please don't, grandfather, grandmother. the last time i told them about you two, mikage-san nearly choked.”

“that one must be the boyfriend, then.” his grandmother muses.

“disagree!” his grandfather argues. “the other one must be keeping his cool because he's already expecting to hear about his future in-laws!”

“my grandson doesn't owe anyone a meeting with his grandparents. the one i mention i must’ve been shocked because he believes y/n-kun is enough as he is, therefore he’s the one!”

“i wasn't saying y/n-kun owes anyone anything! it just means that the other one has begun envisioning a future with y/n, that would mean he’s much more serious about him.”

“if he was really serious about our grandson, he wouldn’t demand anything from him.”

“actually, it’s because he’s serious about him that he expects things like meeting his in-laws.”

“y/n-kun hasn’t even said if he was okay with that!”

“that’s why the expectations will start that conversation!” his grandfather shoots back, exasperated. “we’ll just see who y/n-kun brings home.”

y/n replies, just as exasperated as he could muster, “please calm down. i don't have any plans on settling down just yet.”

his grandmother sighs. “i’d still prefer that mikage child. he was nice, always complimenting your cooking whenever y/n-kun brought your lunches.” 

“i always see that the… the other one never left a single crumb when i packed an extra lunch for him,” his grandfather confesses. “he’s kind too.”

humming, y/n’s grandmother starts again. “doesn’t that just mean your food was good?” 

“or he knows that i’m his in-law.”

“now….”

“oh, wow,” y/n cuts in. having a conversation with two people in another line isn’t supposed to be this difficult, let alone one-sided on a bizarre topic. “it's a wonderful day, grandmother. i hope it’s moderate enough there for the plants to thrive.”

“the sun is beautiful as always,” she agrees.

“my wife is getting tricked by our own grandson!”

y/n’s grandmother shushes him. “it's a nice day out. how about you brew some tea for us instead of spouting nonsense? i’ll keep y/n-kun company.”

his grandfather only sighs, dramatic. “i’ll have to admit defeat… leave it to me! no one brews better tea than me in this household.”

“it's just the two of us here, honey… and off he goes.”

“perhaps grandfather is saying that because he can see some things you can't.”

“i’ll ask if one of them is a chiropractor. that way he won't have to take such long walks towards the clinic.”

y/n smiles, though his grandmother isn’t going to have a chance to see it anymore for a while. “but you'll accompany him anyway. it’s heartwarming to see you caring for each other.” 

“you'll have it too, you’re so lovely, my dearest grandson.” his grandmother says. “whoever it may be, or however unconventional it could be.”

“…i see.” in the room catches stars in its linings, with how dark it has gotten with the lack of brighter lighting. y/n glances towards the window, the moon’s surface rays its shine upon his room. its light spreads as much as it can through the small peek of the glass, and at last, it can only engulf so much, his being left behind as it barely reaches next to his feet. 

he pushes himself up from the bed, smoothening the creases of it. he flicks the light switch on before covering his window with curtains. “i hope my future partner thinks i’m lovely too.”

☆✮☆

—ADDITIONAL TIME! 

“you got your phone back?!” reo asks in unnecessary disbelief. 

y/n nods, holding out his device as if proving himself. “a reward-in-advance of some sorts.”

“a… what? besides that, i also have my phone.” seishirou pulls out his own smartphone and shoves it in front of y/n’s face. “let's play multiplayer.”

while y/n is distracted with seishirou’s screen in his face, reo takes it as an opportunity to grab his phone from his hands. “can i look through it?”

“sure— nagi-san, please don't just turn it on when it's centimetres away from my eyes like that.”

“oops, misclick,” seishirou says, taking his phone back. only for him to move to y/n’s side, swiping on the pages of his home screen. “anyways, you can get married in some rpgs these days.”

“rpgs…?” y/n asks, leaning over seishirou's shoulder to stare. the latter turns his phone a bit towards his direction so he can see better. 

“yeah. so to get married in this one you just need to…” the pair’s conversation sounds like white noise in reo's ears as he flicks his a thumb up on y/n’s lockscreen. how is this man brave enough to not have a password?

the moment he clicks on the messenger app, in a flash, he taps on the search icon so as to not accidentally invade his privacy despite having his permission. after a quick typing from his thumbs, he clicks on the only contact that appears. 

REO’S SECOND NUMBER FAV THIS L/N

‘this probably means he has me as mikage for my first number,’ reo realises. unsure if he's feeling bitter or fond. either way…

—

REO’S SECOND NUMBER FAV THIS L/N

hellooooo

wru

:((((

biking is fun

being w u is more fun tho hehe

imagine how fun it'd be if the 3 of us biked tgt :>

this message has been deleted

this message has been deleted

this message has been deleted

this message has been deleted

this message has been deleted

this message has been deleted

i camt kick soccd ball no mlre save me…

this message has been deleted

this message has been deleted

this message has been deleted

i might really really miss you

—

i might really really miss you

—

this message has been deleted

—

‘i forgot to delete that one! and he didn't even favourite my contact…’ reo grits his teeth in embarrassment. he deletes everything from y/n’s screen in a hurry. curse his past self for sending enough texts to achieve triple digits. 

when he's done, he glances at y/n and seishirou. seeing as to how they're distracted by something from seishirou's phone, he turns back to y/n’s own in his hands. 

he hesitates before renaming his second number and then starring it. ‘y/n’s reo and his second number,’ it reads. ‘this is just so that it’ll catch his eyes and he’ll finally check his messages,’ reo reasons. 

he also stars his first number before deleting the tab.

—✮