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In the fading light of day, he feels he can see things more clearly. Their dream, his goals, Nagi’s face.
Nagi lounges characteristically lazily, hands and head back, in the club room. Bathed in the afternoon’s changing light, sat beside Reo on the desk he’s still intent to work on. He had wanted to go home, but Reo – never one to become complacent – had been intent to stay and watch the footage of their next opponents previous matches, his phone leant against Nagi’s water bottle and a notepad in front of him.
Their offence was tight but their defence would be no match for Hakuho’s star duo. He thought Nagi might’ve fallen asleep – he’s pretty sure his partner could fall asleep anywhere given the chance – until he lazily swung his head to look at Reo.
“Reo.” Nagi always spoke his name with a particular kind of pulling affection, something that demanded his attention. He turns his head, already pausing the footage on his phone as he smiled at his partner.
“Yes, my treasure?”
“It’s too hot.”
“Do you want me to close the window?”
Nagi’s head turned to the right, his eyes boring into the glass with a particular kind of disdain.
“That’ll make it worse,” he whined, pulling his head back again, as though meeting Reo’s eyes again was simply too much of a hassle.
“Then take off your jacket.”
He gestured with the pen he was still holding, the cap that was moments ago pressed into his lip nudging Nagi’s covered arm.
Nagi sighed, as though his whole body was made weary at the thought, but he unzipped the practice jacket he wore and shook it off his arms. It pooled behind him and so he shoved it sideways off the table and towards his feet, leaning back on his arms and closing his eyes again.
Not ten seconds after Reo went back to his task, Nagi groaned again.
“Still too hot.”
He kicked off his shoes in protest, then his socks followed, before he laid back on the table, his arms spread and his right hand now laying directly in front of Reo’s phone.
“I’m still working, treasure.”
Nagi gave another groan, longer and higher – as though personally offended – but did withdraw his hand to his chest.
For another twenty seconds. Before he stretched it out again, somehow further than before, his eyes still closed.
“Too hot, Reo.”
Reo laughed, pausing the footage again and moving his phone away from Nagi’s water bottle to rest it against his wrist. Nagi hummed, but made no other response, leaving his hand pliant and - Reo couldn’t deny - warm against his phone.
They fall into a period of relative quiet for a while, except for Nagi’s breathing, the noise of the match and the occasional stroke of Reo’s pen.
When the second half of the match begins to wind down, Nagi – in an uncharacteristically bold and fast movement – turns his entire body to Reo, dislodging his phone and breaking his concentration.
“Reo.”
Reo turns, reaching to run a warm hand through Nagi’s hair.
“Open the door?”
“Sure, Nagi.”
He stands, removing his hand from Nagi’s hair in the process and watching as Nagi turns his head. Pillowing his head against his shoulder, despite how he complained of the warmth of his chest earlier.
He props the door open with his gear bag and a few spare boxes of cleats, unbuttoning his blazer and laying it beside him when he sits back down. Taking a deep hit of tepid air into his lungs, leaning back. Nagi was right, it had been too hot.
“That’s better.”
He turns his head to find Nagi, eyes wide open and staring at him, looking more awake than before.
“You’re right. The door was a good call.”
He smiles, picking up his pen again and finding his phone, now rolled over into extra time and player interviews. At some point, assumably in the last three minutes of the match, the other team had tied it up from a 3-1 lead. Hm, he thought, as he noted it down, they expend all their energy in the first half and then assume their lead is steady. Opening?
Even if they were unlikely to need it, it was always a good idea to have an ace in your pocket.
“Reo.”
He smiles but doesn’t turn to Nagi this time. With only a few minutes left in the match, he could be finished soon, and then he and Nagi could finally go home. Back to the land of air conditioning and ice cream. He’s sure his treasure would like that. Maybe he’d even buy him something to tide him over on the bike ride, something he couldn’t easily spill and that didn’t require much effort to eat.
“If you’re still uncomfortable, take off your shirt.”
He hears Nagi sit up, and assumes that had been the problem, scrawling down a few more notes about the end of the match and the sluggish nature of the players. He had seen Nagi perform better in the morning and that was saying something.
“Reo.”
He almost laughs, endeared by Nagi’s impatience – in moments like these, he could picture them as kids. Nagi impatiently gripping the swings as he waited for Reo to push him, wanting all of the joy and none of the hard work.
(He would do it, of course. He’d have more fun watching Nagi have fun than he would swinging.)
“I’m almost done. It’s the last minute.”
This time, Nagi does not settle into silence.
“Reo.”
For the first time, he noticed that Nagi hadn’t laid back down, but was instead sitting beside him. He had an insistent edge to his voice that hadn’t been there before and, in turning to find the source of it, noticed Nagi’s hands – by his hips, braced on the table – and then his shoulders –slightly tenser than before and surprisingly still covered by his shirt – and finally, his face. It was open, as it tended to be, but there was something else to his expression. He was almost brazen, wearing this newfound conviction like it was his treasure.
“Sorry, Nagi, are you –”
“We’re gonna win, Reo.”
Reo was so dumbfounded, he almost forgot to speak entirely.
Nagi picked up his slack and reminded him that – despite how they often appeared – their relationship was truly equal.
“I won’t let us lose.”
Sitting there, slack jawed, Reo watched as Nagi watched him. Or rather, seemed to watch his mouth and the way it opened and closed around sentiments he couldn’t put into words.
“We’re gonna win tomorrow. And every day after.”
Nagi watched him for a few more moments, and then stood, packing his jacket and shoes into his open locker. Not as precisely as Reo might’ve but definitely a step in the right direction.
“Nagi.”
Reo finally managed to speak, and watched as the other boy turned around, slow but different to how he had been, scratching behind his ear idly.
“Yes, Reo?”
Reo smiled more firmly, standing and packing his phone into his pocket – the unfinished footage officially unimportant now.
“Thank you.”
Nagi let his hand fall, looking at Reo with careful affection. Reo held out his water bottle as he picked up Nagi’s gear bag, shouldering it and draping his blazer over the top.
“You’re welcome, Reo.”
Reo handed Nagi the sandals he’d intentionally left by the desk, taken out of his own bag before they sat down. Nagi hated to walk around barefoot – he said that washing was such a hassle, and his feet were so important now, he ought to have some protection.
Reo was pretty sure that was just a ploy Nagi had used to get a pair of Reo’s expensive sandals in his size, but it had worked.
“Let’s go home.”
Nagi nodded, and for a moment after he put on his shoes and looked back at him, in the setting sun, Reo almost thought he was smiling.