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jamal tells himself to stop.
he tells himself this at least once a day, maybe more, but especially in moments like this — when flo walks into the room, laughing at something, his head tilted just right, his eyes catching the light in a way that makes jamal’s breath get stuck somewhere between his ribs.
there are people everywhere. teammates, coaches, staff. voices mix together in the busy dining hall, laughter and chatter filling every corner, but it all dulls the moment flo looks up.
jamal should look away.
he doesn’t.
flo’s eyes find his without hesitation, and jamal wonders, for the hundredth time, if he’s imagining it. if he’s imagining the way flo holds his gaze just a second too long, the way something flickers in those hazel depths before he looks away.
their eyes meet like this all the time. in crowded rooms, across training pitches, in hallways when neither of them says a word. it’s nothing. it should be nothing.
but it doesn’t feel like nothing.
jamal forces himself to focus on his plate, pushing food around with his fork, pretending like his heart isn’t still racing. pretending like he isn’t already aware of where flo sits down, three seats away, just barely within his line of sight.
it’s always like this.
jamal watches, but only when he knows no one else will notice. flo is laughing again, talking to one of the other guys, and jamal wonders — how does he do it? how does he make everything look so easy? like he’s never had a single thought about any of this, about jamal, about whatever the hell their eyes have been saying to each other for months now.
“you’re staring,” kai mutters next to him, not even looking up from his phone.
jamal startles, straightening up. “am not.”
kai snorts. “yeah, okay.”
jamal glares at his plate, ears burning, but he still doesn’t look up. not until he feels it again — that pull.
when he does, flo is already looking at him.
jamal’s fingers tighten around his fork.
they do this too often.
flo holds his gaze, unreadable, the conversation around him forgotten. it lasts only a second, maybe two, but it’s enough. enough for jamal to feel like his skin is too tight, like his thoughts are running in circles, like he’s on the edge of something and he doesn’t even know what.
then flo looks away.
just like he always does.
just like nothing ever happened.
jamal exhales sharply, pushing his plate away. he suddenly doesn’t feel hungry anymore.
maybe he really is imagining it. maybe flo doesn’t see what he sees, doesn’t feel what he feels.
their eyes had the most devious affair. meeting in secret in a room full of people.
but then why does it feel like every time they lock eyes, they’re the only two people in the room?
jamal should let it go. should stop searching for meaning in every glance, every moment, every fleeting second when flo’s eyes catch his and something — something — passes between them.
but it’s hard when flo keeps doing it.
when they leave the dining hall, flo walks ahead with the others, but before he disappears down the hall, he glances back.
it’s brief. effortless. a simple flick of his gaze over his shoulder — just for a second, just for jamal.
it sends something sharp through jamal’s chest. something he hates admitting feels a little like hope.
《♡》
that night, in the hotel lounge, it happens again.
they’re spread across the couches, half the team lounging, some watching highlights from other games, some just killing time before bed. flo is next to leroy, head tipped back against the cushions, laughing at something. jamal isn’t even looking at him — he’s trying, really trying, to focus on his phone — but somehow he knows the exact second flo looks at him.
it’s like his body just knows when flo’s attention is on him.
jamal risks a glance up.
their eyes meet.
flo doesn’t look away.
his expression doesn’t change, doesn’t give anything away, but his gaze stays steady, holding jamal’s like a secret. like a silent conversation neither of them are willing to start out loud.
jamal feels his heartbeat in his throat.
someone says something, flo’s name, and the moment shatters. flo shifts his attention, responding easily, laughing again, like nothing happened.
jamal exhales slowly. presses his phone to his thigh and stares at the screen without seeing anything.
this is torture.
he doesn’t know what it means. doesn’t know if it even means anything at all. maybe flo just looks at people like that. maybe jamal is reading too much into it.
maybe, maybe, maybe.
but god, it doesn’t feel like nothing.
later, when they head to their rooms, jamal lingers in the hallway.
he doesn’t know why.
flo’s door is a few rooms down, and jamal tells himself he’s just standing here because he needs to answer a text. that’s all. not because he’s waiting. not because he wants something he doesn’t even know how to name.
but then flo walks past.
he doesn’t stop. doesn’t say anything. but just before he reaches his door, his fingers brush against jamal’s wrist, the lightest touch, a split-second connection, so brief that jamal could almost convince himself it didn’t happen.
almost.
flo doesn’t look back as he disappears into his room.
jamal stands there, pulse hammering, staring at the empty hallway.
this isn’t nothing. it can’t be.
but if it’s something — why won’t flo say it?
《♡》
jamal barely sleeps.
he lies there, staring at the ceiling, replaying every glance, every fleeting touch, every moment where it feels like flo is trying to tell him something without ever actually saying it.
he wants to believe it. wants to believe that flo feels the same way, that all these stolen looks and silent conversations mean something. but then he thinks about how flo always pulls away first, always leaves jamal alone with a head full of unanswered questions.
《♡》
the next morning at training, it’s worse.
flo is all sharp movements and easy confidence, playing like the world bends to his feet. jamal tries to focus, but it’s hard when flo is right there — when he can feel the weight of his presence like a gravitational pull.
and then, during a short break, flo wanders over.
“you good?” he asks, tossing jamal his water bottle instead of getting his own.
jamal catches it without thinking. “yeah. why?”
flo shrugs, but there’s something in his eyes, something knowing. “you just seem... distracted.”
jamal huffs a quiet laugh, unscrewing the bottle. “funny. i could say the same about you.”
flo’s lips twitch, but he doesn’t respond.
their eyes meet again, and this time, it lasts longer than it should.
flo’s gaze flickers — down to jamal’s mouth, then back up. jamal swears his heart stops. he wants to say something, anything, but his throat feels tight, words trapped beneath the weight of whatever is hanging between them.
then someone calls flo’s name.
just like that, the moment slips away.
flo steps back, a small smirk ghosting his lips, and then he’s gone, jogging back to the others like nothing happened.
jamal stays frozen in place, water bottle still in his hands, pulse unsteady.
he needs to stop.
he needs to let it go.
but then flo glances over his shoulder again — just for a second, just for jamal — and he knows, deep down, that he won’t.
《♡》
jamal can’t take it anymore.
he’s spent months convincing himself that he’s imagining things. that flo’s glances don’t mean anything, that the way he holds jamal’s gaze across crowded rooms is just his normal way of looking at people. that the fleeting touches, the secret little smirks, the way he sometimes gets too close for no reason — it’s all just flo being flo.
but today, on the training pitch, jamal decides he’s going to test it.
just once. just to see.
so he starts small. subtle. when they do passing drills, he lets his fingers graze flo’s wrist when he hands the ball over. nothing obvious, just enough to see if flo notices.
he does.
flo’s eyes flick down for half a second before he looks back up, but he doesn’t pull away. doesn’t say anything.
interesting.
《♡》
jamal keeps going.
when they take a break, he stands closer than usual, close enough that their arms brush when they shift. flo stays still, doesn’t move away, but his fingers curl slightly against his thigh, like he’s resisting the urge to do something.
and then, when they get back to scrimmaging, jamal gets bold.
he dribbles past flo, flicking the ball through his legs, grinning as he sprints away. “too slow,” he taunts, glancing over his shoulder.
he expects flo to chase him. to shove him, to laugh, to do something.
what he doesn’t expect is for flo to grab his waist from behind and yank him back, their bodies colliding as flo knocks him off balance.
jamal stumbles, but flo holds on just long enough to steady him, hands warm against his sides. then, just as quickly, he lets go.
“you were saying?” flo murmurs, stepping past him, smirking as if nothing just happened.
jamal stares after him, heart slamming against his ribs.
《♡》
later, in the locker room, jamal keeps going.
he walks past flo’s bench, deliberately close, brushing against his shoulder as he reaches for his bag. “sorry,” he says casually, watching for flo’s reaction.
flo doesn’t flinch. doesn’t move away.
instead, he looks up, meeting jamal’s gaze like he’s waiting for something.
and that’s when jamal realizes—
flo knows exactly what he’s doing.
jamal’s stomach flips. so he wasn’t imagining it.
but why? why play this game? why do all of this if flo doesn’t actually want him?
jamal decides to push one last time.
he leans down, just a little, lowering his voice. “you always let people stand this close to you?”
flo tilts his head, pretending to think. “depends on the person.”
jamal raises an eyebrow. “and me?”
flo smirks, and then, without answering, he stands up, their faces barely an inch apart.
jamal doesn’t move. neither does flo.
their eyes meet — just like before, just like always.
jamal swears he sees it then. sees the thing he’s been trying to convince himself isn’t there.
but before he can do anything, say anything, flo’s smirk deepens and he walks away.
jamal exhales sharply.
okay.
so this is how it’s going to be.
《♡》
jamal doesn’t stop.
now that he knows — now that he’s sure — he doesn’t hold back anymore.
it starts small, like before. light touches, standing too close, making sure flo notices him the way he’s always noticed flo. but then it shifts, turns into something else, something heavier.
something neither of them tries to name.
it’s late when it happens again.
the team is in a hotel lobby, killing time before bed, some of them playing cards, some just scrolling on their phones. flo is across the room, stretched out on one of the couches, lazily watching the others.
jamal sits on the armrest next to him. doesn’t even ask, doesn’t even think — just does.
flo looks up at him, amused. “comfortable?”
jamal smirks. “very.”
flo huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head, but he doesn’t tell jamal to move.
so jamal stays.
the others keep talking, but jamal barely listens. he can feel the warmth of flo’s body next to him, close enough that if he shifted just slightly, their legs would press together.
and maybe jamal should hold back. maybe he should leave it alone, be patient, wait for flo to be the one to make the next move.
but he doesn’t want to wait anymore. slowly, carefully, he shifts his hand, letting his pinky brush against flo’s.
he expects flo to pull away. but he doesn’t.
instead, flo glances at him — quick, unreadable — before letting their fingers stay there, barely touching.
jamal feels his breath catch in his throat. he should say something. should joke about it, turn it into something light, something easy.
but then flo’s pinky hooks around his.
jamal stills.
his heart is beating too fast, his head suddenly light, and he wonders— is flo doing this on purpose? does he even realize what he’s doing to him?
the others are still talking. no one notices. but jamal feels it.
and when flo slowly untangles their fingers just a minute later, standing up like nothing happened, jamal knows he’s in trouble.
it only gets worse.
《♡》
in training, flo lingers closer. in hallways, their arms brush. during team dinners, they always find themselves sitting next to each other, knees touching under the table.
jamal doesn’t ask. doesn’t push.
but neither of them stops.
one night, it’s just the two of them.
they’re in jamal’s room, a movie playing on his laptop, the glow of the screen the only thing lighting up the space. flo is lying next to him on the bed, arms crossed behind his head, legs stretched out.
jamal watches him more than the movie.
his heart feels too big in his chest, his body too warm, and all he can think about is how easy this feels. how natural. like they’ve always existed like this, close enough to touch but never quite doing it.
he doesn’t realize he’s staring until flo turns his head, catching his gaze. jamal doesn’t look away. neither does flo.
the room is quiet.
and jamal thinks maybe this is it. maybe this is the moment he finally says something, does something.
but then flo shifts, just slightly, until their shoulders press together, and jamal forgets how to breathe.
flo doesn’t move away. doesn’t say anything.
just stays close.
jamal exhales, long and slow, and lets himself close his eyes.
if this is all he gets, he’ll take it.
《♡》
jamal is losing his mind.
it’s not even subtle anymore.
maybe it never was. maybe he just didn’t want to admit that flo had been inching closer for months now, leaving fingerprints on jamal’s skin without even touching him, setting him on fire with a glance, with the way he looks at him like he’s waiting for jamal to do something about it.
but now, it’s not just glances. it’s not just their legs pressed together under tables or their pinkies hooking together when no one is looking. it’s more.
it’s flo catching him by the waist when jamal stumbles in training, holding him too long before letting go. it’s flo’s hand finding the back of jamal’s neck when he walks past, fingers sliding up into his hair just briefly, just enough to make jamal’s breath hitch. it’s the way flo pulls him into corners, into hallways, out of sight, just to stand there, just to be close.
and jamal lets him.
he always lets him.
he wants to let him.
《♡》
one night, after a late team dinner, jamal finds himself pressed up against the wall of an empty hallway, flo in front of him, too close.
they’d been walking back to their rooms, side by side, not talking about anything important, but then flo had suddenly stopped, grabbed jamal’s wrist, and pulled him into the nearest empty space.
jamal doesn’t even get the chance to ask why before flo is there, standing between his legs, looking at him like he knows exactly what he’s doing.
jamal’s breath stutters.
flo doesn’t touch him. doesn’t need to. he just stands there, close enough that jamal can feel the heat radiating off him, close enough that if either of them moved — if jamal moved — there’d be no space left at all.
jamal swallows.
“what are you doing?” he asks, voice rough.
flo tilts his head slightly, like he’s thinking about it. like he doesn’t already know before he leans in and lets his soft lips trail over jamal's pulsepoint on his neck.
jamal exhales, trying to keep his voice steady. “flo...”
flo’s gaze drops to jamal’s mouth for just a second before flicking back up. "tell me to stop."
jamal feels his stomach flip.
he doesn't tell flo to stop.
he can't.
he should push him away. should walk past him, shake his head, pretend like this isn’t happening, like flo isn’t messing with him.
but then flo reaches up, slow, deliberate, and drags his fingertips over jamal’s ribs, tracing over the fabric of his shirt like he wants to know what’s underneath.
jamal sucks in a sharp breath.
he can’t think, can’t breathe.
flo’s hand stays there, light but there, fingertips pressing in just enough to make jamal shiver.
jamal doesn’t move. doesn’t push him away.
because this thing between them, this pull, this heat — feels inevitable.
《♡》
later, in jamal’s room, it finally happens.
they’re sitting on the bed, side by side, the only light coming from the lamp on the nightstand.
flo’s arm is stretched along the back of the headboard, his fingertips grazing jamal’s shoulder.
jamal notices.
he always notices.
but tonight, he’s tired of pretending he doesn’t.
so he turns his head, looking flo straight in the eye.
“what is this?” he asks quietly.
flo doesn’t look away.
jamal waits, heart hammering, desperate for something, anything.
flo exhales slowly. then, after a beat, he says, “i just want to be close to you.”
jamal’s throat tightens.
flo shifts, just slightly, fingers curling around the side of jamal’s neck, thumb brushing over the hinge of his jaw. “i don’t want to be careful,” he murmurs. “i don’t want to play it safe.”
jamal can’t breathe.
flo’s gaze is steady, unblinking. “i want to be where you are...”
jamal swallows, pulse racing. “then be close to me.”
flo’s lips twitch into something small, something soft, something real.
then he leans in.
flo moves slowly. deliberately. like he’s giving jamal time to pull away, to stop this before it goes too far.
but jamal doesn’t move. he won’t.
his breath catches as flo leans in and he swears time stretches impossibly thin between them. he can feel the warmth of flo’s breath against his lips, the faintest brush of skin against skin as flo hesitates, just for a second, just long enough for jamal to feel his entire body tighten with anticipation.
then flo closes the distance.
the first touch is barely there — soft, tentative, a quiet question.
jamal’s eyes flutter shut, his whole body locking up for just a moment before something in him breaks.
he exhales sharply, a shaky, desperate sound, and before he can even think about stopping himself, he moves.
his hands reach for flo’s waist, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, closer.
flo makes a low sound in his throat, like he wasn’t expecting jamal to take. like he thought jamal would let him lead, let him go slow, let him play it safe.
but jamal can’t. not when this is happening, not when flo is right here, pressing into him like he’s wanted this just as badly, just as desperately.
jamal tilts his head, deepening the kiss, pushing into it, testing, learning. flo’s lips are warm, soft, real, and jamal feels something shatter inside him, something he didn’t even know he was holding back.
flo exhales against his mouth, one of his hands sliding up jamal’s arm, then to his jaw, tilting his face slightly, guiding him, grounding him. his fingers are careful but firm, his thumb brushing over jamal’s cheekbone in slow, soothing circles, like he’s trying to memorize him.
jamal feels dizzy.
his entire body is buzzing, his pulse hammering in his ears, and it’s all because of flo, because of the way he kisses him — unhurried but certain, like this is exactly where he wants to be.
jamal feels it in every touch, in every slow, deliberate press of flo’s lips against his own, in the way flo exhales shakily when jamal’s fingers slip under the hem of his shirt, brushing against the bare skin of his waist.
flo shivers, just barely, but jamal feels it.
and then flo presses in harder, his hand sliding from jamal’s jaw into his hair, gripping just enough to make jamal gasp.
flo swallows the sound, deepening the kiss and jamal feels like he’s falling.
he tugs flo even closer, his other hand sliding up flo’s back, his fingers pressing into muscle, feeling the way flo moves, the way his body reacts, the way his breath stutters when jamal kisses him harder.
it’s intoxicating. overwhelming.
jamal can’t get enough.
and flo isn’t stopping him. isn’t pulling away. isn’t pretending this isn’t everything.
they kiss like they have all the time in the world, slow and deep and real, like neither of them wants to let go, like they’ve been waiting for this for far too long.
jamal’s chest aches.
not with hesitation. not with uncertainty.
with relief.
because now he knows. flo wants this. wants him.
and jamal is never letting go because they both want to be close to each other.