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A memory: driving his father’s latest car around one of Mikage Corporation’s race tracks, shrugging and laughing as his father scolded him for driving too fast. It wasn’t that big of a deal — his shitty old man wasn’t so shitty back then. His father had been light, half-hearted about it, clapping Reo’s shoulder and murmuring just don’t tell your mother.
Racing was one of the many, many things that Reo eventually got bored of, but not before the time that he did drive too fast, nearly hitting a wall during a sharp turn. His father hadn’t been there, thankfully — but Ba-ya had been, and that talk hadn’t been as light-hearted.
Standing on a field that suddenly seems too green, Mikage Reo remembers the sensations of his chest tightening, of bile rising in his throat as he slammed on the brakes, fourteen and foolish. Sixteen and wretched, he’s reliving them — palms clammy in the trap of his gloves, stomach twisting and threatening to upturn — but this time, there’s no brakes. Nothing to stop the inevitable crash. Time feels like it should freeze, just like Reo’s gaze, stuck on the twenty-fourth ranking broadcasted on the screen.
24. Nagi. ¥ 24,000,000.
24. Nagi. ¥ 24,000,000.
24. Nagi —
— Nagi — Nagi — !!!
Fuck, he has to move. All he has to do is turn to Nagi, a shadow right in his periphery. He has to say something. He can’t just stand here — who fucking cares if his knees are about to buckle, if he’s about to vomit onto the grass?
Nagi had needed him and he —
I feel scared of losing you, Reo.
Reo has already seen their dream crumble once, but this — this is so much worse. His lips are dry; his body is sinking into invisible quicksand. It had all happened so fast that there’s no way it could be real, but the screen doesn’t change.
He has to talk to Nagi.
Hadn’t he just been running after him, calling his name? Hadn’t he reached him at the game’s end, taken his hand and clung to him desperately, shouting reassurances that they both needed to believe?
Nagi shifts, and Reo snaps to attention. Nagi had seemed almost lifeless, frozen before the screen just like Reo had been, but now, his head is bowed, as if his neck has been snapped. His eyes are covered by his sweatdamp white hair — and there’s still sweat dripping from his chin, but is that — is he —?
Reo throws himself in Nagi’s arms before he can think. They topple onto the ground, and the impact releases the sob that’s been building in Reo’s chest.
“Nagi,” he cries, clinging to his shirt, “Nagi.”
Underneath him, Nagi is lifeless again. He doesn’t put his arms around Reo, doesn’t look at him.
“I won’t let them take you away from me,” Reo says frantically, pulling back to hold Nagi’s face, turn it towards him. “Nagi, look at me. Listen. You’re not going anywhere. We’ll figure this out, we’re going to be together, okay? Okay, treasure?”
“Reo,” Nagi says, lips barely moving. His round cheeks spill around the tight grip of Reo’s fingers like misshapen clay. “I’m… sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about.” Anger moves in Reo’s core like tectonic plates, ready to invoke a disaster. He doesn’t know who he’s angry at yet — their sponsors, Ego, himself? — but he knows that soon, he’ll break. Before he does, he has to make sure that Nagi understands that Reo isn’t angry at him. “Nothing, you hear me?”
(If he can help it, he never wants to be angry at Nagi again. Never fucking again.)
“Reo…” Nagi repeats, soft and stubborn, insistent and defeated, “I’m sorry.”
“No,” Reo begs. God, he really is going to be sick, but he knows that it can’t even compare to what Nagi must be feeling. He doesn’t know what to do with this maelstrom of emotions, threatening to drag him under. “Stop. Nagi, don’t make me say please, okay—”
“I really… want to be with you,” Nagi whispers, and he moves, finally, reaching up to cup Reo’s face, thumbs swiping slowly over tear tracks. “I really tried, Reo.”
I know you did, baby. I know.
“You said,” Reo says, hiccups —
that you were scared —
— “that you’ll always be with me.”
“You don’t need me, Reo. You’ll be okay,” Nagi says, and God, he’s trying to smile. Reo clutches Nagi’s hands and stifles his sobs, biting his lip until his teeth cut through. He hasn’t seen Nagi smile in so damn long — not since their first kiss, back in their past life at Hakuho, up on the rooftop —
(Had Reo cursed him, when he had wanted Nagi to need him?)
“I don’t care if I don’t need you.” Reo figures that he should try to smile too, and his mouth quivers into an approximation of one. “I want you. Only you. And Mikage Reo—”
“Always gets what he wants.” Nagi brushes a stray lock of Reo’s bangs back. “Yeah, boss. I know.”
Nagi’s feint of a smile is gone; his expression is unreadable as his dark gaze scans over Reo’s face. Reo doesn’t think he can look at him anymore, and so he folds into Nagi’s chest, squeezes his eyes shut, and tries to breathe. Everything that he’s learned about acceptance and evolution is far from the forefront of his mind; there’s only the sluggish thump thump thump of Nagi’s heartbeat.
After a pause that stretches on like infinity, Nagi’s arms slowly wrap around him.
(Reo inhales to the sound of Nagi’s heart, and exhales his name. Over and over again, until he can wake up from this nightmare.)
It’s Chigiri who gets them off the field. He crouches down beside them, shakes Reo’s shoulder — and by extension, Nagi’s arm.
“Hey,” Chigiri says, “Wake up. Or do you two really wanna stay out here?”
When Nagi opens his eyes, the world is pink and red. Chigiri’s long hair hangs over them like a curtain, shutting off everything else.
Tell me it was just a dream, Nagi wants to say, but from the look on Chigiri’s face, there’s no way that it was.
(The screen, bright and damning, flashes in his mind’s eye. This must be what sleeping in a graveyard feels like.)
“Were you seriously asleep?” Chigiri seems surprised, but for as long as Nagi can remember, his body just decides whenever it needs to shut down.
And god, had it needed to.
His vision is starting to blur. He wants to close his eyes again, but Chigri is still talking, extending a hand. He thinks that Chigiri’s expression is softening, but he’s not sure.
“Need help getting up?”
Nagi shakes his head, holding onto Reo a little tighter. His partner has yet to move, but by the sound of his stuttering breathing, he’s probably awake. It’s been a while since they’ve laid together like this, and right now, Reo’s weight is his anchor.
And then Reo rolls off of him, taking Chigiri’s hand. Reo’s bangs are hanging in front of his eyes, but Nagi can see how his teeth are cutting into his quivering lip. It’s reddish-pink, not as stark as the color of sunset, but that’s where Nagi’s mind wants to go, anyway.
(He wants to be anywhere but here. No, wait, he still wants to be with Reo. Can’t they both go back…?)
(No, that’s not right. He wants to be here, right by Reo’s side in the only place that can take them to their dreams.)
“C’mon, Nagi.” Reo reaches back for Nagi; Nagi takes his hand, but doesn’t move. He can’t. Not yet.
Carry me, he wants to say. But is he allowed to?
(Reo doesn’t offer to carry him, but he keeps holding Nagi’s hand as he leads him off the field.)
Nagi feels mechanical as he follows Reo to the baths. His feet are so sore; his chest is so tight. It’s hard to breathe.
He really had tried. He really does want to be with Reo, more than anything in the world. Fierce, ugly panic seizes his heart all over again, and he stumbles, bumping into Reo’s shoulder.
Are the lights flickering? Pale flashes turn out to be his own fluttering eyelashes, blinking back a stinging pain beneath his eyelids.
“Nagi?” Reo turns, puts a steadying hand on Nagi’s hip. His other hand tips Nagi’s chin up. There’s something on his face, hot and wet.
He wants to go back. It’s too late. He wants to go back.
“Oh, baby,” Reo murmurs. He leans up, wrapping his arms around Nagi tightly. “It’s gonna be okay, Nagi. Let’s take a bath, get you something to eat, and then we’re going to figure this out. I promise.”
Another new feeling — he doesn’t know how to trust Reo right now. Bathing and eating feel far too ordinary to comprehend right now, and figuring it out just seems impossible. He's always admired Reo's resolve, believed in it, but right now, it just doesn't ring true. But he nods along anyway, and stumbles along into the bathroom with Reo, trying to breathe even if it’s shallow. A small mercy is that the room is empty, but somehow, Nagi still feels like thousands of eyes — disappointed, glaring — are upon him.
(He doesn’t want to find purple in that angry sea.)
“C’mon,” Reo says softly, taking his hand. “Time to undress.”
Nagi blinks, confused, as Reo starts peeling back his glove. As soon as he realizes what’s happening, though, his fingers curl into fists, and he jerks his arm back.
“Nagi?”
“Not… not yet,” Nagi manages. Reo gave him these gloves, back when he had believed in him, and he isn’t… he isn’t ready to give them back just yet.
How is he the same Nagi Seishiro that Reo had found? The same Nagi Seishiro who had introduced himself to Japan with a legendary goal? Wasn’t Blue Lock supposed to change him for the better, so why…?
He probably doesn’t deserve to wear his uniform, but he doesn’t want to take it off, either. If he takes it off, he really can’t go back.
“Baby,” Reo says softly. Reo hasn’t called him baby in forever. The look on his face, too, makes Nagi feel ten times worse as he stands there, fists clenched and shaking. He knows he shouldn’t make Reo sad, but… he can’t muster up any more courage.
(He’s still scared.)
“I’ll shower first, and come back for you,” Reo suggests, as if silence isn’t hanging heavy between them. “Sound good?”
If Reo speaks, what can Nagi do but nod along? He keeps staring at his gloves, running a finger over the fabric, as Reo undresses. He hears his clothes hit the ground, hears the shower turn on.
Maybe he can go to sleep here. Maybe this time, when he wakes up, the clock will have turned itself back.
(Ahh, Reo’s really rubbed off on him… Nagi should’ve known better than to think that a slacker like him could dream.)
Nagi’s in shock.
The practical side of Reo understands that Nagi probably needs time. Probably needs space. Another side of Reo feels like this kind of situation necessitates violence, a spill of blood that he can sacrifice at Nagi’s altar. None of those sides win at the sight of Nagi’s hunched shoulders or worried mouth, though. Reo just can’t leave him alone like this, and so he tries to keep himself soft, small. Sweet.
He’s still Nagi’s Reo, isn’t he? It isn’t the end yet, and they had promised to stay together until then, so can’t he… can’t he stay beside him for just a little longer?
What had Nagi meant when he had said that he was scared of losing Reo? It’s Reo who had lost him, clawed his way up to be with him again. It’s Nagi who’s a genius, a treasure, one of God’s chosen ones, so how could this have happened?
Why can’t anyone see what Reo sees?
He knows, of course, that they’re missing something. Nagi’s ego struggles to hold its shape, and he hasn’t scored in a single one of their games. No, they’ve lost every single one of them, and even if Reo had been able to fight back his own despair and get fired up, he’s not sure what to do now.
(He knows that they can’t give up, but how do they move forward from here?)
It’s one thing to hold his own. It’s another to hold onto Nagi, and feel like they’re about to fall off the ledge of something indescribable. He doesn’t think what his parents have taught him about life — entwined with prestige, legacy, and wealth — will help him here. What Ba-ya taught him remains — how to be held, how to be carried, how to breathe — but Nagi is catatonic, and Reo doesn’t know how to find his way in.
Still, that doesn’t stop him from carrying Nagi to the shower, and then to the bath. Reo stays close, filling the silence with a low, quiet song, stroking Nagi’s hair and massaging his body until he feels him relax. If he puts Nagi to sleep, that’s fine. Anything that could soften the pain in his eyes is fine.
Nagi does sleep while they soak in the baths, slumped against Reo’s shoulder, and it’s only when Reo carries him to the locker room, dresses him, and begins to dry his hair that he stirs, speaks up.
“Reo,” Nagi rasps softly. “Why… are you okay with still spoiling me?”
“I recall someone said that he wanted to be spoiled for the rest of his life, didn’t he?” Reo clicks off the hairdryer, peers at Nagi’s expression in the mirror. At the sight of downcast eyes and twisted lips, Reo circles around to sit hurriedly in Nagi’s lap, taking his face into his hands.
Wide, dark eyes blink at him in surprise. “Reo?”
“My Nagi.” Fuck, he’s about to cry again. “My treasure, don’t you trust me?”
He knows it’s not that simple — and fuck, he worries it’s how they got them here in the first place — but he really can’t bear this. He can’t accept it — refuses to — especially not with the way it’s breaking Nagi down before his very eyes.
This can’t be just about soccer. Not that soccer is just anything — it’s everything — but as he had washed Nagi’s hair — as he had washed the sporadic, frustrated tears that dripped out from beneath Nagi’s closed eyes — Reo had realized just how much time they’ve wasted.
At first, it hadn’t felt necessary to define their relationship beyond partners. A few stolen kisses here and there hadn’t disrupted their flow. No, it seemed like it had made their chemistry on the field even better, so how could it be that bad? He had realized how naive he had been when they had first separated, but even once they teamed back up, Reo hadn’t brought it up. He had always been the one to initiate their affection, and his wounded pride, still licking its tail in comfort, had assumed that it was just one more thing that Reo had pushed on Nagi.
But now, it seems to be the only thing that Reo can give Nagi. It’s their only remaining constant: Reo loves Nagi, and Nagi…
Reo thinks that Nagi just might love him too.
Reo’s washed and dried his hair plenty of times since they got back together after their match against Isagi, but today, everything about it feels heightened in the worst way. Nagi’s skin is crawling, cold even underneath the hot air of the hairdryer.
They had been together at the top of the world; now he’s the only one at the bottom. Yet Reo is still here , tenderly smoothing his curls into place, eyes curving alongside with his smile.
How can he still look at Nagi like that? How can he stand to be near him? Is this just pity? Is this how Reo thinks he wants to be comforted? Doesn’t he know it’s more cruel to do this right before he leaves him? He’ll already remember Reo fondly no matter what. He’ll remember him forever.
He’s so strong that it’s dazzling, blinding, and Nagi wishes that he didn’t have to lose him.
But he doesn’t see how he can stay beside him, either. He doesn’t see how Reo can get them out of this, and even if he does, will Nagi be able to evolve?
Or is this as far as he can go?
My treasure, don’t you trust me?
He hadn’t been able to respond when Reo had asked him, not even with his partner in his lap and gazing at him with those gorgeous eyes. Reo had simply smiled, patted his cheek, and gone back to drying his hair as if nothing had ever happened. It’s Nagi who’s failed Reo, and yet Reo is taking this all in stride, while Nagi can’t help but act like a child throwing a tantrum.
He does trust Reo. It’s why he passed to him in that final, crucial moment. There isn’t anyone else that he would put his life in the hands of.
How can he trust himself to find a new fire? If he hasn’t found it after all this time, if Reo’s plan hadn’t awakened it… is it gone?
Fuck, it’s gone, isn’t it? He’s a fucking fraud who stumbled into a stroke of luck, but it’s all run out now. He’s not a genius like Reo thought he was, and he definitely can’t be his partner like this. Reo doesn’t need a failed egoist like him. Reo only fell for his supposed talent — without it, what’s left for him to treasure?
There’s nothing . Fucking nothing.
Something is stinging at his eyes again.
Nagi’s hands curl into fists. They’re shaking, he thinks distantly, but he feels too dizzy to tell. Maybe it’s the heat of the bath, and now the dryer? Maybe it’s too close to his nape… but he doesn’t feel hot. He feels cold, still, everywhere except for his eyes.
“Nagi?”
The dryer clicks off, but there’s still some loud sound ringing in his ears. It’s only when Reo drops back into his lap, frantically taking his face in his hands, that Nagi realizes it’s the sound of heavy, shallow breathing.
“Nagi?” Reo repeats.
It’s his breathing.
His chest is tight just like it had been when they were playing. His vision is blurring over again; if he could see himself, his eyes would be bloodshot. The game is already over, so why does he feel worse? So much heavier, his body wrested from his control —
I’m scared, Nagi thinks. I’m scared of losing Reo, but haven’t I — haven’t I already lost him?
Whatever’s happening right now must be an angel’s final mercy. Reo’s guiding his lost soul to its resting place: back to an ordinary, boring life. No more soccer. No more lessons on living and loving. No more purple. No more smiles or sunsets or bike rides. No more hugs, headpats, or kisses.
He had spent so long not wanting to live, and now that he’s finally started, it’s over? How fucking unfair is that? He wants so, so badly to be angry at someone, anyone, but the only one he can be angry at is himself.
Nagi sucks in a shuddering, tearful breath. Stangely, a memory rises up with the motion, dredged up from the bottom of the sea by this sudden tsunami of emotion. When Nagi was four years old, his parents took him down to the beach. It’s one of the few outings he can remember, and it’s only because of this — it had been too hot, so his parents had allowed him to stay asleep underneath the umbrella. Mama had been stroking his hair, but when he had woken up, the sky was dark with swollen rain clouds, and his parents weren’t there anymore.
Mama’s purse was gone, but not the basket full of juice and sandwiches. Nagi hadn’t even sat up, thinking that he must be dreaming. No, he had shrank into himself and his bunny-patterned blanket, and waited, waited, waited.
It’s how his parents found him an endless amount of minutes later. Papa had picked him up, and said something like, oh, Sei-chan’s awake! It’s time to go home, little rabbit, it’s about to rain! He hadn’t noticed Nagi’s pout, not even when he had tucked him into the backseat of the car.
(Reo calls him puppy, sometimes. Not rabbit.)
Nagi knows they couldn’t have been gone long, but he remembers being so convinced that Mama and Papa were never coming back. Maybe it had been a bad dream, overwritten by later memories where they were gone, for longer and longer. Work trips, family emergencies, retirement, travel. He doesn’t really keep track anymore.
They told him not to die before them. They had him later in life, and Nagi’s always had the sense that he didn’t properly fit in between them. But they wished him well when he set out for Hakuho, believed in his ability to be independent, to make something of himself.
(At Reo’s excited urging, he had sent them the video of his super goal; had they watched this match, too?)
(Ah, hasn’t he just died?)
“Nagi!”
Reo’s face swims back into muddled focus. The sensation of Reo’s fingers pressing against his nape slowly registers, too. Reo looks stricken, beads of sweat sliding down his skin. Nagi’s eyes try to trace each one; he wants to let himself be mesmerized as usual, to get lost in the entirety of Mikage Reo.
If only he could see —
“Can you breathe, Nagi?”
Yes, Nagi wants to say, but no, he can’t. A ragged wheeze escapes him instead, and before he realizes it, he’s sobbing into Reo’s chest.
It’s… a weird feeling. He hasn’t cried for as long as he can remember — not since he was a baby, probably. He does remember how he had roared with victory when he and Reo had scored against Isagi; this sound isn’t quite unlike that, born from some unknown place at his core and just as loud, but it hurts. It hurts.
“Reo,” he finally chokes out, because even if he can’t stop himself from falling apart, he still needs Reo to know. “I’m sorry.”
“I told you to stop saying that!” Fuck, Reo’s crying too. What kind of knight makes his king cry?
What kind of knight fails?
But our dream, Nagi wants to tell him. Our promise.
Maybe Reo can still read his mind, because he says, “I don’t care about anything but you right now, Nagi. Just you.”
Perhaps Nagi should be disgusted with how easily he clings to those words, but can a dying man be faulted for grappling at a lifeline?
I love you, Nagi thinks, and prays that Reo knows it. I love you. Just you. Only you. Always you.
Right before he goes, maybe he’ll tell Reo. Of all the things that he regrets… he doesn’t know if he wants this to be one of them.
Reo doesn’t think he’ll ever forget how it felt to hold Nagi Seishiro as he cried.
It was more like a howl, Reo thinks. Desperate and guttural like a wounded animal.
(Like how Reo himself had cried when Nagi had left him. Wanting nothing more than to just die and be put out of his misery.)
Now that Nagi’s tired himself out, he’s silent again, possibly asleep against Reo’s back. At the very least, his breathing has evened out. His pale face had been flushed completely red, his eyelashes damp and dark from sticking together. Reo can feel them now, half-dry, against his nape, as he slowly walks to their room, feeling like each step takes them further and further into the unknown.
Nagi’s doubt is painfully infectious. Reo feels the heaviness of it even as he resolutely keeps his eyes forward. Nagi’s hands are laced loosely in the middle of Reo’s chest, just to the side of where Reo’s heart pitter-patters like rain against a windowpane — can he feel it? How Reo wavers?
“We’re home, Nagi,” Reo whispers as he nudges them through the door. It’s a habit that he’s picked up from their Hakuho days, after Nagi began to ask when can we go home? no matter where they were. On the field, at an away game, on a shopping trip. Reo liked to think that home was wherever they could be together, but Blue Lock proved itself to be too hellish for that kind of naive comfort.
“There we go,” Reo murmurs, lowering Nagi onto his bed. The sheets are still rumpled from this morning — god, that had been an entire lifetime ago.
Just as he tucks the blankets around Nagi, a pale hand shoots out and grabs his sleeve.
“Did you think I was gonna leave, treasure?” Reo asks. Wide, dark eyes just gaze at him unblinkingly. Unreadable.
“I’m getting in on the other side,” Reo soothes. Nagi throws the blanket off to pull Reo on top of him and into his embrace, unwilling to wait any longer or let him go any further.
A rustle — a yelp — a slow, gradual settling.
Nagi pulls the blankets over them, transporting them into their own shadowy world, away from everything else. Even in the dark, Reo can make out his partner’s features. As Nagi cuddles close, hiding in the crook of his neck, he can easily imagine that pout that the other boy must be wearing. Reo brushes a kiss against white hair; Nagi looks up, and after an endless moment of hesitation, Reo kisses him again: soft and square on the mouth, gentle and light.
Nagi’s hands slide up to cup his face, drawing him back in. It’s been so long since they’ve kissed, but in this inverse world beneath the blankets, it doesn’t matter. They fit together as if they were never apart, small sighs and whimpers of relief escaping as their lips meet over and over again, saying everything that their words can’t. Reo can feel Nagi shaking, his calloused fingers unable to keep their grip on purple strands of hair, and it makes him think of the time when he would’ve given anything for Nagi to kiss him rough, kiss him hard, and make him forget just how much things hurt .
He wonders if that’s what Nagi would want, but before he can find out, Nagi pulls back. A pause; one last, lingering kiss to Reo’s upper lip, and then: “...Reo.”
“Yeah?”
“If I’m not… your treasure anymore, what am I?”
“You are ,” Reo insists, drawing back as if he’s been stung, and he’s about to say don’t be stupid when Nagi purses his lips, gaze flickering downwards. Ah, so that isn’t what he had wanted to hear?
“You’re Nagi,” Reo says helplessly, and then, because he can’t stop himself, “You’re still my treasure, but you’re not just mine, Nagi Seishiro.”
Ugh, this is probably the kind of conversation that they should see each other for. Reo resurfaces, and drags Nagi out with him. Reo sits up against the wall, and Nagi lays in his lap, curled up against him like a cat. Nagi takes his time mulling over Reo’s response, lightly nudging against Reo’s torso here and there.
“What’s on your mind?” Reo finally prods, strokes Nagi’s hair.
“...What exactly is Nagi Seishiro?”
“Is this a philosophy pop quiz?” Reo cracks a smile, aiming for levity. Nagi doesn’t mirror it, even if he finally does look up. Just for a flash.
“Reo’s the one who’s told me I’m a genius and a treasure… and a good boy. And your partner.”
Blue Lock is a place that promises to erase your existence in the soccer world if you fail. It challenges you to evolve, constantly redefining yourself. In the grand scheme of things, soccer — and their partnership — is relatively new for both of them, and yet, it’s already hard to imagine life without it.
What Nagi is asking can only be this: without soccer, am I still a genius? Am I still a treasure?
“You’re still all of those things,” Reo says softly. “And more. You know that, you pain in the ass gamer prince.”
“I like being yours,” Nagi says, just as softly. “I want to be yours.”
“Congrats, genius, you already are. Aren’t you listening to me?” Reo raises his eyebrows, tries to smile again. “Nagi, I told you, I always get what I want. We’ll figure this out — I won’t let this be the end of us.”
“So we can still be selfish?” Nagi whispers.
(Is that hope in his eyes? Please, God, let that be hope.)
“Of course, we’re supposed to be egoists, aren’t we?” Reo teases. He finds Nagi’s hand, entwines their fingers and squeezes them tight. “I meant it. I’ll do anything to become the world’s best with you, Nagi.”
“... And to be the world’s best with you,” Nagi echoes, “what should I do?”
His voice is so, so small. Childlike. It breaks Reo’s fucking heart.
What should he do?
Keep trying to find your ego and evolve doesn’t feel like a satisfying answer. Nagi has been trying; they need a new plan of attack. Reo just isn’t sure what yet.
“For now,” Reo says, pauses. Swallows, licks dry lips. “For now, I think I need to show you that you don’t need to be scared of losing me. And I think you need to believe me.”
His words hang in the air between them, but then suddenly, miraculously, the corner of Nagi’s mouth lifts into a small smile.
“Ahh, Reo really won’t take no for an answer.”
“When have I ever?” Reo laughs, bright and relieved. He pulls Nagi up, unable to stop himself, and hugs him tightly, nuzzling against his face. “You know me best, Nagi!”
“Yeah,” Nagi exhales lowly. Reo’s just about to kiss him when Nagi continues, voice getting quieter and quieter with each word.
“But if I couldn’t play soccer anymore,” Nagi says. “Then what would I be?” A pause. “To Reo.”
(His name — Reo — is spoken so reverently, in a hushed whisper.)
(So this is the heart of things, huh?)
Reo, admittedly, is struck speechless. His lips part and his eyes widen, and for a moment, they’re both frozen, stuck in each other’s gaze. Plummeting down from his momentary high, Reo’s brain erupts in a storm of why does that matter? and didn’t we just agree to be together? but as he inhales and exhales in the face of his partner’s fear, he finds his answer, lying quietly beneath it all.
“Whatever you want to be.”
Nagi’s brow furrows, and Reo presses his thumb against it, smooths it out. “I’m done pushing my feelings onto you, Nagi. Whatever you want to be is okay with me, as long you want it.”
He’s already resolved to have the power to stand on his own if he has to. Nothing will stop him from wanting to stand with Nagi, to achieve their dream together , but that’s not what Nagi’s asking.
Nagi’s eyes shutter closed as he leans into Reo’s touch; Reo’s fingers flex, splay out to cup his cheek. Reo runs his thumb over Nagi’s cheekbone, stops at his white fringe of hair.
“Please push your feelings onto me,” Nagi murmurs hoarsely. “Please.”
Give me a new fire, Reo.
(Please fill up this emptiness inside of me, Reo.)
“If you tell me what you really want, puppy,” Reo says slowly, “I’ll give it to you.”
Just what exactly is his treasure asking for? Does he even know himself?
(His own doubt whispers, and what will I be to you, Nagi, if there’s something that I can’t give you?
If I can’t give you this?)
“Mm, Reo’s using a lot of petnames today…”
“That okay?” Reo cards his hand through Nagi’s curls. Perhaps he’s being too indulgent… but it’s all that he can think to do in this kind of situation. Does Nagi feel loved, or is Reo overwatering him again?
(Is Reo really ruining him?)
“Yeah, boss. It’s okay.” Nagi’s mouth brushes against Reo’s wrist. “… can you call me… can Reo call me rabbit next?”
“Rabbit?” It fits him, now that Reo thinks about it. His bunny-shaped teeth, his big, dark eyes. The way he wrinkles his nose when he’s annoyed, the way that he puffs out his round cheeks. “Sure, Nagi. My cute little rabbit.”
“Mm… thanks.”
“What else do you want, baby?” Reo has a feeling that they’ve moved away from what Nagi had said, and what Reo had answered. Maybe it’s for the better — maybe it’s not something that either of them are prepared for right now. After all, they have yet to make a new plan, or figure out the answers for their uncertain future… the things that come with time are the worst, but Reo won’t let Nagi endure it alone. That much he’s certain of.
“Can Reo kiss me again?” Nagi asks. “... I don’t want to talk anymore, sorry, Reo...”
“Just one last thing first… promise me this,” Reo says, a bittersweet echo of Nagi’s own words said so, so long ago. “Stay with me, Nagi. Even if it feels like the end… I don’t want us to stop here.”
“... Yeah, Reo. I promise.”
“Then let’s seal the deal with a kiss, hm?” Reo teases, the taste of his words heavy on his tongue, but at the sight of Nagi’s eyes, shining like starlight before they slip closed, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he can still have hope — hope that maybe they can still meet each other beyond this dream.