Archive of Our Own

   "Ba-ya, I think I have a crush on someone."

   Reo's staring out at the blurring lampposts whipping past them on the street, his cheek pressed against the window. Ba-ya observes him through the mirror before she responds. "I'm happy for you."

   "You've already met him," he says.

   Ba-ya knows. There's only one person Reo holds any closer than arms length—that white-haired boy who joins them on the ride to school every Wednesday and Friday morning. Reo's visibly obsessed and the other boy is generally indifferent, but Ba-ya catches him watching Reo's reflection in the window sometimes and it makes her smile. "I'm glad you and Nagi are getting along."

   "I sure hope we are," Reo sighs. He gazes wistfully at the city that passes them through the glass—young love, Ba-ya thinks—and then he leans into the front row to face her, not quite smiling, but looking at her with eyes alight with rare glee. "Do you think he likes me too?"

   "I wouldn't be surprised."

   Ba-ya's rewarded with a glint of teeth as Reo laughs. They drive on in silence until they reach Nagi's house, and Reo's out through the door before Ba-ya even comes to a full stop. Ba-ya steers the vehicle and waits by the side of the road, close enough to watch Reo bouncing around by Nagi's front door, ringing the doorbell repeatedly with one jittery hand until Nagi appears.

   They're back in less than a minute. Nagi tumbles into the backseat without a word, looking sleepy, swept up in Reo's relentless storm. Ba-ya thinks that she's never seen Reo look so alive.

   "Off to school!" Reo announces as he throws himself into the car after Nagi. "Aren't you excited, Nagi?"

   Nagi mumbles incoherently as Reo pulls him upright. Ba-ya eases her foot onto the gas pedal; by the time she's rounding the corner, Nagi's dozing off and Reo's holding him in the curve of one arm, swaying into the turn of the car with an easy smile on his face.

   They kiss about two weeks later. Ba-ya figures that Nagi probably didn't think she'd notice, but he leans over just as the car is pulling away from the school and presses his lips to Reo's cheek.

   "Nagi," Reo hisses, scandalized, breathless from football practice. "Not now, okay?"

   "What?" Nagi says.

   "Not now."

   Ba-ya looks up and finds Reo's eyes in the rear-view mirror. "Don't worry about me," she says. "Just pretend I'm not here."

   Reo's face goes red. Nagi, unbothered, crawls his way over to crush Reo with his weight. "See, she doesn't care," he says.

   Reo wrestles Nagi back onto his side of the car and says, "Put your seat belt on."

   They tussle noisily the rest of the way. Nagi eventually gives up and lets Reo buckle him in, already halfway to snoring. Reo retreats to his seat and sits quietly, legs crossed firmly as he alternates between staring at Nagi and his own hands, clasped in his lap. Ba-ya lets the silence grow—it's uncomfortable, but Reo doesn't seem like he wants to talk, and she doesn't want to be the one to break it.

   Nagi is the first to leave the car when they reach Reo's house. It's not his choice, really; Reo shoves him out with their schoolbags and keys to the front door and says, "Wait for me in my room," and Nagi sighs, but he's too smitten to complain, so he lumbers his way inside and leaves the two of them alone.

   "Are you unhappy with him?" Ba-ya asks.

   "Not at all," Reo insists. Ba-ya can tell that it's true. "I just wish he wouldn't do stuff like that."

   "Like what?"

   "Just...anything in front of other people."

   "Why not?"

   There's a lengthy pause, then a quiet shuffle from behind. Ba-ya turns around and finds Reo leaning forward, reaching for her. "Please don't tell my parents," he says, his fingers painful and desperate on her shoulder.

   "If that's what you want, I won't."

   "Thank you," Reo says softly. He drops his gaze, gentle for a few moments, and then he slides toward the door. "Well, I should catch up to him."

   "Have fun, Reo."

   Reo hurries out through the door, stumbling as he finds his balance, before he takes off running for the door. Just as he reaches it, Nagi reappears in the opening, drowsy as he takes Reo into his arms. Ba-ya can't hear the words they exchange, but whatever they are, they're sweet enough to make Reo laugh and Nagi smile.

   The car ride to Blue Lock is starkly quiet. Nagi's silent but not sleepy. Instead, he's staring at Reo and Reo's stiffly uncomfortable, kicking his feet against the door.

   "Don't worry, Reo," Nagi says. He's clearly awkward—Ba-ya wonders if it's the first time he's had to comfort Reo like this. "Blue Lock isn't such a big deal, anyway. It's just some sports camp."

   "It's more than that," Reo insists. His words are strained, and Nagi's brows furrow as he hears them. "Our future depends on this."

   Nagi unbuckles his seat belt and shoves his way into Reo's seat, pressing him against the window. It looks painful, but Reo turns anyway, accommodating Nagi's body easily against his own. "It doesn't matter," Nagi says softly. "We'll always be together."

   "I know," Reo whispers. "But I want to win. I want it so badly."

   Nagi kisses Reo. Ba-ya doesn't look, but she can tell by the sudden quiet that swells from the backseat—a single perfect bubble that pops with Nagi's next words. "Believe in us. We can do it."

   "We're going to be the best," Reo says, slow and hushed.

   "We are the best."

   Reo sighs, and he says, "We are."

   Nagi whines as Reo nudges him back to his seat, but he obeys anyway and sinks back into the cushions. "I'll miss being at home," he complains. "I won't be able to sleep in or play games or eat whatever I want."

   "Don't worry!" Reo replies. Ba-ya peeks at him in the mirror, relieved to see him considerably more relaxed. "I'm sure we'll have plenty of free time. It's not like they're going to take our phones away or anything, you know."

   Nagi tips his head in Reo's direction, eyes wide and pleading. "But your cooking is always best, Reo."

   Ba-ya would laugh if she wasn't so inclined to save Reo's dignity. Reo, as usual, flushes at Nagi's blatant praise. "You've got to raise your standards," he blusters. "I just started learning. It can't be that great."

   "You're amazing at everything you do," Nagi says reverently.

   Luckily for Reo, Ba-ya brings the car to a stop right then. "We're here," she announces.

   "I'll see you soon, Ba-ya," Reo says. He leans forward to smile at Ba-ya, bright and sunny as he places his hand over hers. "Thank you for everything."

   Ba-ya turns to him. "Please take care of yourself," she says quietly. "You can always come back home."

   "I'd prefer not to," Reo replies. There's not a hint of ire in his voice, just quiet resignation. "But I'll always be counting on you, Ba-ya."

   "Of course."

   Reo takes Nagi's hand. Nagi gazes up at him, quick to follow as Reo opens the door and steps outside. "We're going to win," Nagi says, lacing Reo's fingers tightly with his own.

   "If it's me and you," Reo says, "I know we will."

   When Ba-ya comes to pick Reo up from Blue Lock, he's alone.

   "I watched the game," Ba-ya says when Reo slips inside—into the passenger seat, not the backseat, and she has to hide her unease immediately. "It was excellent. You played very well."

   "Thanks, Ba-ya," Reo says. He shuts the door. "Let's go. Nagi's not coming."

   "Did he get a ride home already?" Ba-ya asks.

   "Yes," Reo says. Ba-ya looks past him; Nagi's standing in the distance, a distant drop of white in a sea of color, staring at them. "Ba-ya, just go, okay?"

   Ba-ya obeys. Reo slumps into his seat as they speed down the road, hugging his bag to his chest. There's something fragile about him now, all sharp edges and brittle surfaces, and Ba-ya's almost scared to even touch him.

   She's been around long enough to witness all of Reo's moods—his tantrums, his tirades, his quiet turmoil—but there's never been anything quite as purely sorrowful as this. There's none of his usual indignant fire. It's the first time Ba-ya has seen him so utterly defeated.

   "When would you like to return Choki?" Ba-ya asks. She watches Reo twitch out of the corner of her eye. "I can do it without you, if that's what you would prefer."

   "We're going back after a couple of weeks anyway, so you'll have to keep taking care of him," Reo mutters. "Nagi can come and get Choki if he really wants to."

   "Should I prepare for his arrival, then?"

   Reo slouches lower. They go two blocks before he says, "Don't expect him to visit."

   "Okay."

   Reo turns onto his side, toward Ba-ya. "Did you really think I played well?" he asks.

   "During the U-20 game?"

   "Yeah."

   "I do. You've improved a lot since you joined the program. You should be proud of yourself."

   Reo shifts closer. "What about Nagi?" he presses. "How much better did he get?"

   "He improved as well, of course," Ba-ya says.

   "But who improved more?"

   "You've grown differently."

   "Answer me," Reo says, unforgivingly sharp.

   "Does it matter that much?"

   "It does."

   Ba-ya tightens her grip on the steering wheel. Reo stares at her, his eyes dull and so terrifyingly blank, dragging his fingernails across the coarse fabric on his bag. She waits as long as she dares, until she thinks the tension between them might snap, and then she forces herself to speak. "I think you've both changed in your own ways," she says quietly. "You're not the players you used to be."

   Reo shuts his eyes and rolls over. Neither of them speak for the rest of the drive. When they return home and Ba-ya shakes him awake, his eyes are red.

   Nagi has never contacted Ba-ya before, but she'd saved his number onto her phone when Reo gave it to her. It's lucky she did, because he calls her for the first time late at night with no preamble.

   She answers immediately. Nagi doesn't give her the chance to speak first. "Can you pick me up?" he asks.

   "From where?"

   "I'm by the school gates."

   Ba-ya hesitates. She asks, "Should I bring Reo?"

   "I don't..." Nagi trails off. When he speaks again, his voice is a little unsteadier. "I don't think he'll come."

   Ba-ya agrees, and she hates that she has to. "I'll be there in a few minutes," she tells him, and Nagi murmurs a quiet thanks before he ends the call.

   Nagi's waiting by the road under a streetlight, bundled securely in a large gray jacket. He slips into the back as Ba-ya parks next to him. "Has Reo been practicing football lately?" he asks, buckling himself into his usual seat.

   "He has."

   "Oh," Nagi says. He tucks the fluffy lining of his hood around his face. "I thought he might show up at school to play."

   "He's been using the field we have at home," Ba-ya says.

   Nagi leans forward and plants his cheek lazily against the passenger seat. "Am I allowed to see him?" he asks.

   Ba-ya feels his presence, heavy and insistent on her shoulder, but doesn't turn around as she answers, "You'll have to ask him that yourself."

   Nagi doesn't respond. Eventually, he sits back and says, "Can you drive me to my house?"

   "Of course," Ba-ya says, immediately pulling the car back onto the road.

   "How much does it cost?"

   "You're Reo's friend. Don't worry about it."

   Nagi takes a quick, deep breath and lets it out just as fast. "Not anymore," he murmurs.

   Ba-ya curls her fingers tight around the wheel. If she could, she'd close her eyes. "Nagi, you will always be Reo's," she says softly. "No matter what happens between the two of you."

   "Thank you," Nagi whispers, almost inaudible.

   It's the first time they've spoken without Reo around, Ba-ya realizes. It's the first time she's even seen Nagi without Reo by his side, and it's almost unsettling. Nagi seems just as perturbed as she feels, eyeing the space where Reo usually sits with his hands clasped tightly between his knees. "Do you want Choki?" Ba-ya remembers to ask.

   "It's okay," Nagi says. "It'd be too much trouble for you."

   "I don't mind."

   "If I can't be with Reo right now, then at least Choki will be there."

   Immature, that's what it is. The sentiment is nearly nonsensical. It's naively romantic and innocently infuriating all at the same time, but all Ba-ya can feel is pity. "Do you miss Reo?" she asks.

   Nagi doesn't answer. When Ba-ya stops in front of his house and looks back, he's gazing out at the blackness of the night, completely motionless. "Thank you for the ride," he says placidly, refusing to meet her gaze.

   "You're welcome," she says. Nagi opens the door and hovers there, halfway out of the car, twisting his sleeves between his fingers. "What's wrong?"

   "Is he mad at me?" Nagi asks. After a lengthy pause, he adds, "I don't know what to do."

   Ba-ya stays quiet for too long. Nagi makes to leave, but she speaks up before he can melt into the dark. "What do you really want, Nagi?"

   Nagi lifts his face toward her, but his gaze is fixed somewhere far away. "I want to kiss him again," he says.

   She smiles a little, and she says, "You know what to do, then, right?"

   Reo agrees to practice with Nagi the next day. He's silent the entire way to Nagi's house, and Ba-ya feels the need to tell him, "You don't have to go if you don't want to."

   "I have to," Reo says. "We need to practice for the next stage of Blue Lock."

   He looks so tired that Ba-ya doesn't want to prod any further. They pull up in front of Nagi's house and Reo pulls out his phone to give Nagi a call. "Come outside," he says. "Don't forget to bring a water bottle."

   "Won't you come and get me, Reo?" Nagi asks. His words are tinny and distorted through the phone's speakers. "I don't want to get up."

   Reo goes soft. He's so gentle as he says, "You have to learn how to do things on your own, Nagi."

   A long moment passes, and then Nagi responds. "Fine," he sighs. "But only because you asked me to."

   Not two minutes pass before Nagi's rushing down the driveway, his bag unzipped and bundled haphazardly into his arms. Reo shifts to the other end of the car to open the door for him. "Take your time," he says, exasperated.

   Nagi's eyes are bright as he collapses into his seat and turns his gaze to Reo's. "I thought you would be sitting in the front," he says.

   "I can if you want me to," Reo replies, seeming somewhat bemused.

   Ba-ya starts driving, since Reo seems too stunned by the fact that Nagi's reached over to hold his hand to give her a signal. "Stay here with me," Nagi says, and Ba-ya gets the feeling that he's not just talking about car seats.

   Reo pries his hand carefully from Nagi's grip and tucks it safely into his lap. "I'm looking forward to practice," he says.

   Nagi stares at Reo. He leans in closer and stops just shy of breaching the narrow space between them. "I can't wait to see you play," he says earnestly.

   "Why?" Reo asks. "You were never interested before."

   It's an accusatory question, but Reo speaks with so much gentleness in his voice that it barely comes off as one. Nagi flinches anyway, shoulders hunching defensively, and his words are a little heated when he says, "I've always been watching you, Reo."

   "That's not the same." After a moment, Reo adds, "That's not what I meant."

   "What did you mean, then?"

   "Did you..." Reo trails off, and Nagi tries to grab his hand again, fumbling around with his eyes fixed on Reo's face until he manages to lace their fingers. "You still love me, right?"

   "Why wouldn't I?" Nagi says.

   It's rained recently, and the car's tires whisper as they roll through puddles that span the road. Reo's barely audible as he murmurs, "You left me."

   "I had to," Nagi says. "You know I did."

   "You didn't," Reo insists. His voice cracks. "Why can't we stay together?"

   "We are together," Nagi says. "My feelings about football don't change what I feel for you, Reo. They're not the same."

   Reo presses his free arm to his eyes. He keeps holding Nagi's hand. "You can't just say that," he chokes out, sounding more broken than Ba-ya's ever heard him, but he lets Nagi lean across at the next red light to kiss his tears away anyway.

   "I mean it," Nagi says. "I love you."

   "I love you, too," Reo echoes.

   "We're both going to grow," Nagi tells him, his voice hushed. "We're going to get better. And when we've both done our best, we're going to play together again."

   "That doesn't—doesn't mean anything."

   They stare at each other, trapped in a quiet moment, balanced dangerously on the edge of a precipice. Nagi clears his throat and kisses Reo again, almost helplessly—his voice wavers when he asks, "What should I say, then?"

   Reo says, "I don't know."

   Ba-ya brings the car to a stop. Reo doesn't look at Nagi, but he holds his hand as he leads them out into the misty morning. "Let's just have fun for now," Reo says softly. "Do you want to play together for today?"

   "I always do."

   "Ba-ya, I think I'm really in love with him."

   Reo's smiling, at least. He turns away from the window and faces Ba-ya. "I don't understand him," he concedes. "But he says that he loves me, and I believe him."

   "I believe him, too," Ba-ya says.

   "Do you think that everything will work out, then?"

   Ba-ya waits until the next stoplight until she can turn to Reo and say, "You both have a lot of growing to do."

   Reo sighs. "I guess," he says. "I wish we didn't have to."

   When they turn onto Nagi's street, he's waiting at the curb with his bags at his feet. He stands as soon as he sees the car approaching, and he's glued to the window before Ba-ya comes to a stop, following alongside Reo through the glass with wide eyes. Reo laughs as he rushes to unlock the door, and Nagi squashes Reo with his entire body as he throws himself inside. "I missed you," Nagi complains.

   "I missed you too," Reo says. He heaves Nagi into his seat and buckles him in. "Can't you do anything on your own?"

   "I'm saving my energy for the field," Nagi says, closing his eyes.

   "You're that excited to go back to Blue Lock?"

   "Sort of," Nagi sighs. "It's more like it's something that I have to do. It's not necessary, but I need to do it."

   "Like homework," Reo suggests.

   "Like homework, yeah."

   "I don't get you."

   Nagi tips his head in Reo's direction. "I don't get you, either," he says. "But I still love you."

   "Seriously, you don't make any sense," Reo complains, but his tone is lighter this time. "Ba-ya, let's go."

   "Of course," Ba-ya says.

   The car eases back into motion. Nagi opens his eyes and stares out through the window. Reo watches Nagi, something forlorn in his gaze. Before they reach the end of the street, Reo's leaning over to take Nagi's hand, and Nagi's holding him back.