Chapter Text
I won’t be in the car tomorrow, but Baya will come and pick you up for school.
Nagi swipes impatiently at the text notification from Reo, but the damage is already done. With the message banner covering his upper screen, another player gets the best of his momentary distraction.
GAME OVER!
Nagi exits the game with a sigh. It’s almost 2:00am, and he should be getting to sleep.
He opens Line and regards Reo’s message. Sometimes, Reo’s parents force him to attend big business galas that Nagi doesn’t really understand, but that he knows involve a lot of shaking hands and discussing markets and smiling, smiling, smiling. Nagi fights exhaustion just thinking about it
He can’t quite remember if Reo mentioned having an event tonight, but he knows that if the socializing goes late enough, Reo will often skip their first period class under the guise of being sick. With his family name and perfect grades, no one ever asks questions.
The first time Reo skipped school and sent Baya ahead anyway to pick Nagi up, he’d been more than a little surprised. Unlike Nagi’s own parents, being physically absent never stops Reo from taking care of him.
It’s a nice feeling.
Nagi rolls over in his bed and reacts to Reo’s text with a thumbs up. To his surprise, a typing bubble pops up as he plugs his phone in to charge. It disappears for a few seconds before reappearing, disappearing, reappearing again.
Accident? Nagi watches Reo’s indecision for a while before the bubble disappears for the final time. He considers sending a “?” to sate his curiosity, but the idea of continuing the conversation and explaining that he’d witnessed Reo’s hesitation is too much work. Plus, he’s beginning to feel sleepy.
Probably thinking of nagging me, he tells himself, letting his phone drop to his mattress. It only takes another minute before he’s drifting off to sleep.
✧ * . ✧ * .
Reo is the subject of first period’s gossip, but this isn’t anything particularly new. Nagi has long grown accustomed to hearing Reo’s name in snatches of his classmate’s conversations. Intervening is far too much of a hassle when they never say anything bad — Reo is a hard person to dislike, and a Mikage is a dangerous person to start trouble with.
Seated comfortably in the back of his class, warmed by the weak winter sunlight filtering through the window, Nagi dozes peacefully through most of the morning. During their first break, however, an insistent tap on his shoulder forces him to raise his head from his desk.
Reo?
No, not Reo. Rather, some girls are standing expectantly around Nagi’s desk. This is new. When’s the last time he talked to a girl that wasn’t Baya?
The one that tapped his shoulder — Nagi vaguely recognizes her as one of Reo’s flings from before soccer became his sole obsession — is the first to speak. “So, is it true?”
Nagi stares at her blankly.
“You know, that woman that dropped Reo off for school today.” The girl’s smile is knowing, and a few of her friends giggle and hide their mouths behind their hands.
As much as people like to equate Nagi’s laziness with obliviousness, he’s actually quite quick on the uptake. He just never cares enough to get involved.
This, though, is an implication he finds he can’t ignore.
“What woman?”
“You don’t know? You guys are, like, inseparable these days.” The word choice warms Nagi’s chest as the girl presses on. “She was gorgeous and super mature-looking. I guess he always said he prefers older women.”
“I mean, he can probably pull whoever he wants,” one of her friends chimes in. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s a celebrity or something.”
Nagi’s warm feelings dissipate.
The girls continue to theorize as he pulls out his phone to text Reo.
r u at school yet
He wants to type more, another question or a request to meet up or… something. Actually, why didn’t he ask about the woman in the first place? His uncertainty makes short work of his motivation to continue communicating. When he looks up from his phone, he’s surprised to see the girls have yet to leave his desk.
Figuring they just need a clear answer, he tells them, “I don’t know who dropped him off. I haven’t even seen him yet.”
He looks back down at his unread message, wondering why Reo hasn’t responded. He usually replies to Nagi instantly, especially on the rare occasions Nagi reaches out first. He knows from the girls that Reo is at school by now, and though they aren’t in the same class they all have breaks at the same time.
“Hm.” The girl puts her hands behind her back, looking thoughtful. “Well, I guess you aren’t really the type to care about that stuff, right?”
She’s right. Nagi frowns regardless.
The girl begins to turn away, but stops to give Nagi one last glance. “Good luck on your game this weekend, by the way. I heard you guys are really good. We’ll be rooting for you!”
Her friends echo her well wishes. Nagi is used to the praise by now, and responds with an automatic, “Thank you.” He considers for a moment before adding, somewhat reluctantly, “I’ll be sure to let Reo know, too.”
The girl’s smile widens, and Nagi sighs inwardly at the confirmation. It isn’t that Nagi cares about the constant stream of girls vying for Reo’s attention, he just isn’t a fan of how often they outright ignore Nagi’s presence in the process. It can’t be helped with how Reo is always glued to Nagi’s side, but it means Nagi has to suffer silently through the price of the Mikage heir’s popularity.
“Please do,” the girl says, before their teacher begins calling for them to return to their seats.
What a pain.
Nagi takes out his notebook, props it up like a screen, and tries to forget about everything he’s just learned by going back to sleep.
✧ * . ✧ * .
where r u
reo?
Something is wrong. Not only has Reo failed to come to Nagi’s classroom to pick him up for lunch, he has also ignored Nagi’s texts. These two things have never once happened in the entirety of their six-month friendship.
On any other day, Nagi would have taken the opportunity to slack off somewhere quiet, gaming or napping without Reo’s hovering insistence that he use the break to “Eat properly, for once.”
But after listening to the gossip all morning about Reo and the mysterious woman who drove him to school, he wants to see Reo for himself. To do what, exactly, he doesn’t quite know. They never really talk about relationships; Reo may have brought it up a few times in the early stages of their friendship — jokes about the type of girl someone like Nagi would have a crush on, or how he can set Nagi up with anyone he wanted — but he was quick to pick up on Nagi’s disinterest. After that, Reo became adamant on them remaining single to avoid distractions during their season.
If the rumors are true, that sentiment has been nothing but lies. It’s making Nagi feel a bit… messed up. Messed up? Definitely not neutral, which is a first. Unflappable neutrality is his default state.
He stands outside his classroom and fidgets with his phone as he contemplates his options. He can try asking around to see if anyone knows Reo’s whereabouts, but he doesn't know who’s in his class. He can try calling him, but Nagi hates phone calls and avoids them like the plague. For the first time in a long time, he considers trying anyway — if only to give his restless hands something to do.
He has his finger hovering over the call button when he hears Reo’s name in a passing conversation.
“…looked super dazed, right? I’ve never seen Reo that tired before.”
“Didn’t some baddie drop him off this morning? Damn, lucky guy.“
“You think?”
“Oh, definitely. I bet they were up all night —“
“Hey.”
The two boys jump at Nagi’s voice, having completely missed him while he was standing slouched against the wall. Now, Nagi approaches them at his full height, and he feels the smallest twinge of satisfaction when one takes a hesitant step back.
Huh? Why am I…?
Nagi falters, and whatever tension had been built fades as quickly as it came.
He brings a hand to the back of his neck. “Have you guys seen Reo anywhere?”
The boys exchange a look before one of them points down the hall. “Think I saw him heading towards the library.”
Nagi dips his head awkwardly in thanks as he moves past them, wondering at the haziness in his chest. What is up with him today? His hands itch for his phone, craving the mindless focus that comes with playing his games.
He shakes his head and continues to walk. Though the boys mentioned the library, Nagi realizes Reo was probably heading towards the emergency exit stairs located just past it. He should have figured it out sooner — the two of them have spent hours on the rooftop the stairs lead to, sprawled against the sun-warmed concrete as Reo chats away about soccer or the stock market and Nagi listens (sometimes) or games (most times) or naps (also most times).
The door leading to the roof is meant to be inaccessible to students during the schoolday, but when Nagi jimmies the handle just right and pushes at a very certain angle, it swings open with ease. He’s met with a blast of frigid air as he steps outside, and he thinks woefully of the nice coat Reo gifted him that’s currently sitting snug back in his locker.
Against the blinding white paint of the cement and the cloudless midday sky, Reo is easy to spot. He’s right above him, sitting atop the structure Nagi just walked out of — the very one Nagi had been lounging on when Reo tracked him down the first day after their stairwell encounter.
With a mild sense of deja vu, he calls out to him.
“Hey, Reo.”
Reo tilts his head towards Nagi’s voice. There are dark circles under his eyes, and his skin looks sickly in contrast to the thin black turtleneck he has on under his uniform. And his expression —
He looks like he’s in pain.
Everything in Nagi goes quiet.
But then the expression vanishes, replaced by a smile so steady Nagi wonders, for a moment, if he’d imagined it.
“Nagi. Were you looking for me?” Reo’s eyebrows are raised, and Nagi is finding it a little difficult to breathe.
Of course, he wants to say, but that revelation is so novel to Nagi himself that he says, instead, “You weren’t answering your phone.”
“Oh.“ Reo rummages through his coat pocket, looking strangely stiff in the cold weather. “Oh,” he says again. He shows his phone’s black screen to Nagi, thumb pressing repeatedly on the power button. “I didn’t realize it died. Sorry about that.”
Nagi moves around the side of the structure, climbing up the ladder to sit himself down next to Reo. There’s a sports drink next to him, one Nagi recognizes as his go-to hangover cure. Reo usually sticks to non-alcoholic beverages at business functions, but he’s admitted to Nagi that sometimes things get so boring he accepts the alcoholic ones the servers offer him anyway.
Up close, Reo looks even worse.
“Aren’t you cold?” Nagi asks. It isn’t what he wants to ask; he doesn’t know what he wants at all, actually, which is making the whole interaction a pain. He’s still finding it a little hard to breathe.
“Aren’t you?” Reo gives Nagi a once over. “What happened to the nice jacket I gave you?”
Explaining that, upon figuring out where Reo was, Nagi had booked it (at least, as much as a lazy slacker like Nagi can ever “book it”) towards the roof without a second thought, is a lot. Too much. So, Nagi shrugs. “Forgot it.”
Reo shoves Nagi playfully. “What am I going to do with you? I leave you alone for one morning and you risk hypothermia.”
The move is familiar, and Nagi leans into Reo’s touch, chasing the warmth of his hand in the brisk air. There’s something on the wind that smells different from Reo’s usual designer cologne, or even his expensive laundry detergent. It’s more… sweet? Almost sickeningly so, rosy and heady like —
Nagi catches Reo’s arm and pulls him close in one quick movement, bringing his nose to Reo’s neck. Nagi’s stomach drops in the same time it takes for Reo to flinch away from him, wrenching his arm free and scooching himself away.
Why does Reo smell like women's perfume?
“What the hell, Nagi?”
Why is Reo trembling?
“Warn a guy next time.”
Why do my insides feel like acid?
Nagi only says, “You smell like a girl.”
Reo’s eyes widen. He sniffs at his shoulder and grimaces. “Damn.”
“You didn’t know?”
“I thought I…” Reo looks at his lap, hands laced tightly together. He’d joked to Nagi, once, that his mother used to slap his hands if he fidgeted. It’s a while before he says, “I don’t know. Yesterday was a bit… I’m still a bit out of it, right now.”
Nagi can't remember the last time he saw Reo struggle with words. Watching the always confident heir hesitate like this is making him itchy, making his thoughts spin in useless, tiring circles.
He decides he doesn’t want to think about anything. Preferably ever again. He clears his throat and asks, “Did you eat lunch?”
Reo blinks at the sudden change in topic, letting out a small breath before glancing at the sports drink by his feet. “Not sure if I can stomach it, to be honest.”
“You’re not gonna eat?”
Reo raises an eyebrow at Nagi.
“But we have practice today.”
At that, Reo bursts into laughter.
Ah. There he is. That’s better.
“Since when do you care about nutrition, let alone fueling for practice?” Reo grins, shifting towards Nagi with a glint in his eyes. “Don’t tell me, are you finally starting to take soccer seriously?”
Nagi scrunches his nose. “No, but since you’re always the one nagging me about it, it’s weird you won’t take your own advice.”
Still chuckling to himself, Reo says, “I guess you’re right. I’ll try to find something plain to eat before practice.” He points an accusative finger towards Nagi. “And since you understand it enough to nag back, you should make sure to eat, too.”
Nagi pulls a protein bar from his pocket, a relatively big upgrade from his jelly packets. “Lunch.”
Reo opens his mouth, clearly disapproving, before closing it with a sigh. “Better than nothing, I guess.”
The pair lapse into silence. Though Nagi has never been the one to continue their conversations, he doesn't want the interaction to end. His restlessness hasn’t yet eased. He still wants, needs — something.
He shivers, burrowing his hands into his pockets. “Can we…” Talk? Close this distance? “Go back inside? I’m cold.”
You don’t seem like you’re okay.
Reo is quiet for a long time.
Please tell me what’s wrong.
“Whatever you want, Nagi.”