Work Text:
[ 7:38 ] — September 2024, Home
The sound of the door closing gently resonates dryly in the hallway. No sound, no meowing, np incessant noise of electricity running. He wipes his shoes on the rug before untying the laces, putting them aside neatly.
‘Ego isn’t up yet ? What should I do ?’
Noel Noa, 37 years old, just came back from his morning run. The morning dew left residue on his hair, now humid with a couple droplets at the end of his hair strands. He looks around and figures his husband will probably not set a foot out of their bed before 10 in the morning which leaves him with plenty of time to shower, eat a snack and prepare his sleeping beauty’s breakfast.
And so, he does. He tries his best to stay silent as he walks up the stairs and through the corridor. The bedroom is located deep into the mansion, far away from all the noise. Despite anyone’s biggest effort to be louder than a plane, nothing can reach past the walls and disturb Jinpachi’s sleep.
Growing up in the slums of France, you’d think Noel Noa would have a humble abode despite the money he earned all throughout his life. You can bet on something else. Ever since he finally got to get Jinpachi to live with him after the U-20 World Cup match, his life has no other synonym but luxury. The Japanese cleverly got him to spend his money both on useful and very much useless things. It’s to “make him more comfortable making a good use of your shit load of money”, he said. Noa doesn’t really care either way, he eats healthy meals, the mansion is always clean, the garden’s grass is at the right height, the flowers always bloom at the right time and Ego is happy. That’s all that matters.
He’s done it once, not a second time. He won’t take his man for granted again. Not like he has any opportunity left now that it’s been almost two decades that they haven’t been playing together. There’s nothing left to destroy, they’re just two empty shells with memories and blood running through their veins. Same colour, different thickness that once blended with the other. Incompatible, the thickest ruined the smoothest, making a mess out of it.
Right hand on the door knob, he twists and pushes, then puts one foot after the other. Another door presents itself before him, semi-transparent, the outdoor light filtered by an opaque layer. This time, he slides it to his left, his foot now stepping on white, cold floor tiles. He gets out of the bathroom after 20 minutes, water drops rolling down his nape only to end up absorbed by the towel around his neck.
Next destination, the kitchen. He goes there, empty minded as he almost forgets why he wanted to go there in the first place. ‘Oh right, I wanted to eat a snack.’ He thinks in the back of his mind. ‘Do I still want to, though ?’ He starts questioning the reliability of his brain. ‘No.’ He is certain of this answer. Well then, let’s just skip to the main mission of the morning : Making breakfast for his lover.
‘I don’t think I’ll ever get used to calling him my lover. Hopefully I will one day.’ Hopefully I don’t . He doesn’t eat much and Noa doesn’t really know what he eats when he’s not around to take care of him. He only knows that Ego thinks it’s a hassle, he’d rather have somebody else do all the things unrelated to football. Just like Anri did back in Blue Lock. The Japanese never voiced it out loud, but he was grateful for her services knowing she could have chosen not to do it. But now that she’s stayed behind at the JFU to keep the legacy of Blue Lock going, there’s not much she can do. Good for her.
Noa tries to look for simple ingredients and light food to make for Ego. He knows that if he eats too much, too greasy or too heavy food in the morning, he’ll be grumpy all day or maybe even all week because it would have ruined his meal routine. Yes, the same routine made out of strictly cup noodles and sometimes rice. Everyday for dinner, he forces Ego to eat what he makes or at least he tries. The magic only works when it looks like junk food or basically when it doesn’t taste like plain protein.
He also managed, somehow, to get him to work out at the gym on the ground floor before relaxing in the hot springs. With Ego’s fast metabolism and Noa’s home cooked meals that only tasted better after each recipe, the Japanese slowly got back a healthy layer of fat and defined muscle lines. Nothing more because Ego didn’t want to and because there was no point in doing any more than necessary.
Eggs. Furikake. Rice. A thump sound pops each time he moves something from the cabinet to the kitchen island.
He pours a cup of rice into the rice cooker, cleans the white grains a few times and adds a cup and a half of water before putting it back into the machine. He turns it on and shifts to the induction plate, switching it to the lowest heat. One pan, some oil and he cracks two eggs into it before sprinkling it with salt and a dash of soy sauce before covering it with a glass lid. It takes time to make food worthy of Ego’s palate. Actually it only takes up to 2,5 minutes for the boiling water, 3 more for the noodles to cook and 30 seconds to add the spices but he’s going to ignore that.
Meanwhile, he’ll take care of the green grapes. The latter being stored in the vegetables section of the fridge, each fruit is cold to the touch and the skin is unpleasant to eat.
‘I’ll just remove the skin on each one of them. He won’t mind right ? What if he likes the crunch ? But what if he doesn’t and the texture irritates him ?...’ His train of thoughts doesn’t stop until a ray of light hits a grape, pulling him back on earth..
He pulls the drawer and selects the smallest kitchen knife as well as a whetstone. He angles the knife to 20° and, under running water, he sharpens the blade. Plucking one grape off of its branch, he starts peeling off its green skin in thin layers. ‘This is pretty easy,’ his fingertips rotate the fruit simultaneously, making the task easier. ‘But it’s going to take a long time.’
He observes and registers his moves and becomes more efficient, faster and precise after each peel. After 10 minutes, he had already done 9 grapes out of 22. He’ll be done around the same time the rice is done cooking. He places each one onto a 10 diameter wooden bowl. ‘Jinpachi is probably not going to eat all of that. I’d rather see him eat as much as he wants too. He needs to stay healthy.’ When he’s done, he walks over to the sink and washes the knife. Noa sees, in his peripheral vision, the steam coming out of the rice cooker and it hits him.
‘What time is it ?’ He looks at the huge clock hung up on the wall. The mechanism itself and the functional part isn’t that big, the frame is just monumental with an interplay of solid and voids, light and shadow.
[ 8:51 ]
‘I only have to prepare his coffee and then the rice will be ready.’ His stares slide to the pan, ‘and the eggs are cooked, the inside should still be a bit runny or at least soft.
Coffee Beans. Coffee bean grinder. Coffee machine. Liquid coffee dripping into the cup. No additional sugar. He places the cup on its assigned plate along with two squares of 70% dark chocolate with raspberry chunks.
CLACK!! The rice is done cooking. ‘Right on time’.
Everything has been perfectly calculated,... or not.
‘Should I go wake up Jin and make him come down ? Perhaps he’ll take too much time and the food will get cold ? Then I shall bring it in the bedroom. But what if I enter at the wrong moment, when he doesn’t want me there yet ?’. Next to him, the food behaves on the tray. If they had eyes, all of them would be directly at the white man who can’t seem to set his mind when it came to his man. If they had a mouth, they would tell him to hurry the fuck up and make up his mind because they’re shivering in the cold.
Pulling the bamboo tray against him, he covers the warm food with an inox food bell and leaves the kitchen. Up stairs, he turns left, walks deep into the corridor and after passing 3 different doors, a ritual before entering the chambers, he arrives in front a black wall. Double door actually, but only them know that. ‘There is nothing better than feeling the serenity and intimacy of stepping into your personal space.’ Jinpachi once said.
Ah- talking about him. The sleeping beauty is still deeply asleep on the bed. The light piercing through the red transparent curtains reflects on the silk bed sheets and the sun rays start heating up Jinpachi’s face. Noa can only get a glimpse of his naked back, yet his heart beats as if it’s the first time all over again. He can depicts the tiny movements as the man breathes in and out. Unconsciously, he starts picking up the same slow pace. Just like a reflex, he steps forwards, with a mechanical-like movement, hoping to reach his lover without waking him up with parasite noises.
When he’s finally at the foot of the bed, he figures he has completed his mission seeing how Jinpachi still hasn’t woken up from his slumber. ‘I wonder what he’s dreaming about.’ Deep down, he knows what he wants him to dream about, but he can’t voice that thought out loud. Not yet.
He slides the food tray onto the mattress, walks to the other side of the bed and sits on the floor. He takes a few seconds to admire his sleeping face, the lashes and its shadows, the parted lips and the messy hair he let grow, ever since he launched the Blue Lock project, that now falls down right below the middle of his spine.
He takes a hair strand between his finger and twists it. The tiny gesture resonated in Ego's scalp, the man feeling it in his sleep. He lets out a groan and shifts positions on the mattress. As he ends up on his back, his eyelids flutter and when he finally gains consciousness, he tries to see without glasses. He fails, of course. Which is why, as a devoted husband, Noa slides them onto his nose, behind his ears and suddenly, Ego sees colours. He smells colours. ‘Warmth, spices, food ?’ His first thoughts are short and sober. He turns his head to his left and notices the bamboo tray with a white cup, ‘Coffee ?’, a food bell and a bowl of… greens ?
Turning his head to his right, his gaze crosses another. ‘Ah, the culprit’.
“Noa.”
‘Still not my first name eh ?’ Noa doesn’t mind it at all, there are other occasions he gets to be called by his first name.
“Morning. Were you having a nice dream ?
- I did not have a dream.
- You could’ve at least lied, and said you dreamt about me.” Noa retorts playfully.
“That would be considered a nightmare…” Ego sighs and reaches for the back of Noa’s head, pulling it closer to him. He stabilises himself on his elbow and puts their foreheads together.
They breathe together for what felt like five minutes before Noa pulls Ego to sit him straight : “Eat. By the way, I’ll take you out somewhere this afternoon.
Jinpachi is left speechless, did he forget the date ? Was there a special occasion he missed ? Why all the trouble ? He’ll save these questions for later, the intensity of these golden eyes staring at him being too much to handle. “Are you going to stare at me while I eat ?”
“I have nothing else to do. So I’d rather do that.
- Can’t you share this with me ? I can’t eat all of this.” He’s desperately trying to get Noa to do something, not used to being the only active person in the room. Especially right now when everything feels out of place.
“I already ate before going for a run. I made this for you, you don’t have to eat it all, it’s fine.” Now Ego doesn’t have anything to say back.
‘This is awkward…The food is not too bad. There’s flavour, it’s simple and healthy. So like you Noel.’
He eats in silence, only the birds chirping to be heard outside the window. Unfortunately he can’t handle this any longer : “Hey… What’s all of that for ?”
“What do you mean ?”
“The breakfast in bed, you taking me out ? All of that.”
Noa understands, they rarely do that unless it’s a “special occasion” so he doesn’t have a proper excuse. He’ll just go with the truth.
“I had time, you were asleep. I just figured I could do this. You don’t like it ?”
“I appreciate the attention, I just thought I had forgotten an event or something.” Ego admits.
“Nothing like that, promise. I genuinely had time on my hands.”
Ego had finished the rice and eggs. The cup of coffee was half empty, the mousse sticking to the inner walls of the cup. The aroma does not fade and Ego makes sure to enjoy it. ‘A slow morning, nothing to catch up to, nothing to wait for me.’ He bends over to reach for the wooden bowl, still not realising what’s in it. He scrutinises the translucent bead then proceeds to pop it past his lips, wetting them slightly. Silently chewing, he recognizes the flavour : “Grapes ?” He asks, his head perking up.
As he tilted his head up, a few strands of hair fell down his shoulders and chest. Noa can never get over how ethereal he looks when he lets the strands loose instead of tying it up during the day. He frequently feels himself drown in the black sea that are both his hair and these piercing orbs that shine so brightly when they talk about football. Only processing the single word question after seconds, he finds his answer : “Ah— yes.”
Ego has so many remarks he doesn’t even know where to begin. “They’re seedless.”
“Yes, they are.”
“They’re skin-less too.”
Noa hums in response.
“You peeled off the skin of all of the grapes, Noa ?” He says in disbelief.
“I did.” Always in this calm and unbothered tone, “It would’ve been too much for your stomach to digest in the morning.” He explains his rational — totally-not-just-invented — thinking, to justify the act.
“No, yes I can tell. Just… You peeled off the skin of the grapes.” Ego repeats his question under the form of a statement, hoping Noa would take the hint. Of course, the simpleton doesn’t not understand where he comes from.
The blond is still trying to find the problem. Please give him some time.
“Noel. Why would you hand peel-off the skin of each of them ? Why would you peel them at all, digesting them would’ve been fine…”
‘Ah that’s what it was. I don’t even know myself. I just wanted to do it. I know you like not having anything to parasite your food experience, I also know you don’t like it when there are too many different textures. I tried to meet your standards.’ He tries, he really does. He can’t come up with an answer to satisfy Ego. Maybe there’s nothing more to say. Perhaps you don’t need more than a ‘I want to’ justification. The little things in life you enjoy doing for your significant other should be more than enough. And somehow Noa can’t put it into words. Thousands of languages all around the world, both speaking three, including two they can both understand each other in. Yet, there are not enough words to translate the need to please the person you love.
Noa already forgot but while he was peeling these grapes, the sound of the clock was nowhere to be heard, the rice cooker was just as silent, same for the eggs. All he could hear was the crips but moist sound of the skin being torn apart from its body, rendering the fruit defenceless against the world, the dust, the insects. All he thought was how Ego would be eating them, fully enjoying the taste with low effort. He forgot the happiness blooming in his stomach, flower buds opening up with each petal bending away from the pistil; Like the grape skin was drifting away from the endocarp, where the seed should’ve been if only the grapes hadn’t been chemically transformed.
“I don’t really know. I just wanted to do it. Didn’t matter how much time it would’ve taken. I didn’t put much thought into it, don't really want to either.”
Ego’s eyes bore into his. He’s good at handling change, Blue Lock being his biggest challenge. But this ? This takes the trophy. Noel fucking Noa recreating a scene worthy of an old cheesy French romance movie. He thinks it’s funny more than anything but he won’t show it. He picks who he loves, he doesn't bother to pick his enemies, they just come to him. In this life, he chose to love Noa, to love football. He chose to dedicate his time to take care of the things he loves, one way or another as long as it's done in the end.
Romance has never been a huge focus in his life. When they were both teenagers, he got a glimpse of what it could’ve looked like, but the euphoria never happened as the tragedy took over. 12 years later, he’s back with the same asshole who fell for him, lit a fire before leaving him in the leftover dust. There’s nothing to recover in the ashes, the diamond he once was has been picked at too many times, it’s now unrecognisable.
That’s why Ego understands. Noa blindly follows his feelings, because that is what humans who love do. Because they don’t want to lose it, even worse when it already once fell out of their grasp and they couldn’t stand to miss it again. They pursue and take care of what they cherish the most in this world where love in all shapes and forms is the foundation of humanism.
“I see. Here, eat one.” He holds out his hand in front of Noel’s, and with a small smile he adds—
"𝓔𝓷𝓳𝓸𝔂 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓻𝓾𝓲𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓭 𝓵𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓻."