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“I hate you.”
It’s easy to hate Reo Mikage. Charismatic, arrogant, self-centered, prideful, and with daddy’s money, he could have anything he wanted in the world. Yet, despite all his beautiful qualities, no one seems to notice him like you do.
You notice how he ties his hair up differently on Tuesdays, the little tuft of purple hair sitting much higher than normal. You notice how he speeds through his work in class, unable to tell if he’s a proficient worker or if he’s Einstein. He watches soccer highlights of Cristiano Ronaldo when he’s finished, and your eyes dart to his notebook where he frantically writes down everything he watches. During lunch, on Fridays only, he walks over to the garbage and dumps dried sweet potatoes out of a small metal container, then frantically leaves the cafeteria to go wash his hands. 7th period every day, he reads the whole time instead of paying attention, as if 12pm was his designated reading time. You notice how he always lingers behind Nagi, following the white-haired boy around like a lost puppy. However, Nagi never seemed to mind, though you can’t tell if he doesn’t care or if he’s too lazy to care.
If anyone found out how much you noticed about Reo Mikage, you would be considered a stalker…or worse – in love with him. It’s quite the opposite; you hate Reo. You detest his existence; the fact that he’s able to breathe at all makes your skin boil with rage. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. But keeping Reo close would make bile come up your throat, so you choose to keep close tabs on him instead. To fully loathe someone as much as you do, knowing every detail about them is a must.
Because it makes life SO much better when things start to go wrong for them! When Reo walks into class with little dark crescents under his eyes and his purple ponytail drooping low, you know exactly why! Portugal lost to Brazil, and Ronaldo missed the game-winning penalty shot! A mad cow disease has broken out, so beef is hard to come by, which means Reo can’t have his favorite food! Not to mention the Mikage Corporation’s stocks have gone down, so they’re now in the .2 percent of the richest families in the world! Fuck, life is good! Hating is so much fun!
But for being Reo Mikage’s self-proclaimed ‘Number 1 Hater’, there was one trait you seemed to miss.
Reo Mikage recently took up swimming at night. Which wouldn’t be a problem if you didn’t also swim at night.
It was the best time to clear your mind. Why overthink in your stuffy, crowded room when you can overthink in the cool water of a pool? To glide through the water, with each stroke, one thought vanishes from your mind. Tight one-piece cinching your waist, cap and goggles sitting surprisingly snug on your head, no one else at the pool to disrupt your late-night activities.
That’s how it has been for the past two weeks, until someone jumps into the lane next to you. The unfamiliar splash causes your head to lift out of the water, not used to any other sounds to interrupt your thoughts. Holding onto the wall, you watch this annoyance swim. A long, pale, lean torso —the optimal build for a good swimmer.
But his form is atrocious! It hurts your eyes to witness. His arms slap against the water like deformed propellers, his legs have a powerful kick, but his body doesn’t seem to go anywhere. And that’s just for freestyle! His body barely stays afloat when he tries to do backstroke, he can’t glide when he attempts breaststroke, and when he swims butterfly, you’re thankful there’s no lifeguards around because they would have mistaken him for a drowning child!
You’re so busy watching him, you forget you’re supposed to be swimming too. Quickly diving under the water, your feet push off the wall; your body coiled tight as you kick up and down to propel yourself forward. Butterfly requires not only strong shoulders and a strong kick, but perfect timing as well. Your arms come out of the water, but your legs should still power your body, each motion complementing the other so your body cuts through the water like a sharp knife. Arms, kick, kick. Arms, kick, kick. Arms, kick, kick. You repeat the words in your mind as you swim 50, 100, 150, 200 meters, body moving in perfect motion. Your arms push the water behind you as your legs help to fling your body forward.
Hands slam against the tiled walls as you finish. Chest heaving up and down, heavy breaths escaping as you slowly take off your goggles. What was two and a half minutes felt like an eternity. You’re honestly surprised you’re even breathing right now. If you weren’t in the water, you’re pretty sure your legs would be wobbly like jello. Your fingers pull at the nose-piece of your goggles as you flip them over to dump out the excess water that managed to seep in.
A 200-meter butterfly doesn’t seem like much to someone who hasn’t swum before, but it’s a tiresome stroke to do for longer than 50 meters. Any swimmer should know that once a hard set has been done, all you want to do is catch your breath and cling to the edge of the pool for dear life, even if those jagged stones prick your skin.
So why is Reo breaking this unbroken rule? Can’t he see you’re tired and don’t want to converse? Does he know who you are? He probably doesn’t, I mean, it’s hard to recognize anyone in such an unflattering swim cap. You look more like an egg than an actual person.
“How did you get your stroke so good?” He asks softly. His purple eyes seem to sparkle in amazement, like he saw Katie Ledecky swim for him. “You just flew through the water with barely any resistance. How are your arms and legs so in sync?”
He’s exactly how you expected him to be, a buzzing mosquito in your ear you just wish you could crush with your fist. This is how he treats Nagi whenever you very discreetly watch their soccer practices. He worships the ground Nagi walks on, always asking him questions on how to improve his game or if they can practice some play together. You never thought he would act this way towards you, of all people. Does he even know your name? As much as you resent him, it’d be nice to do it anonymously.
He doesn’t shut. Up. It makes you wonder how Nagi puts up with him all the time.
“You should teach me how to swim. I need to get better at it; it’s great conditioning for soccer, and if I get better at one, the other will improve. I want you to teach me the technique so I can improve.”
Your gaze alone should give Reo his answer, harshly staring into those purple puppy dog eyes he’s giving you. It would’ve worked on anyone else but you; if anything, it makes you want to teach him less. Curtly, you shake your head with a frown.
“No. You’re beyond help.” You respond as you pull yourself out of the pool, finger hooking under your swim cap to let your hair fall down and rest along your back.
Not much else needs to be said since your answer is a hard no, and while that appalled expression is still on his face, you take your exit. Tucking your goggles and cap under the strap of your bathing suit, you put your flip flops on and march towards the locker room.
No is a word Reo doesn’t hear often, so for this girl to effortlessly say it to his face? That was a shocker. Does she even know who he is? He could’ve paid her in numbers that would make that pretty little head of hers spin, but where’s the fun in that? This is a challenge now. Reo didn’t get what he wanted, and he didn’t like that. Reo Mikage always gets what he wants, so if this girl doesn’t want to help him, that’s fine. The best things come when you wait, so if he has to start swimming every other day instead of once a week, to persuade her, that’s what he’ll do.
His eyes lock onto her as she walks away, unable to stop himself from watching how her hips sway side to side. He knows he’s just a boy, and he may prefer a good pair of boobs, but a nice ass has to be appreciated. He can’t help but stare. How was it fair for someone to look that good in just a one-piece? How could one piece of clothing complement someone’s curves like that?
Reo knows he wants to see her again; he has to get better after all. But other than the fact that he enjoys the sight of her walking away from him, he doesn’t know much else. Yet, he recognizes that voice from somewhere…
“How’s swimming been?” Nagi asks, not bothering to pick his head up from his phone.
Reo winces, poking a piece of beef with a chopstick. He glances off to the side, “Not…as expected. I honestly thought my skills from soccer would transfer over into the pool, but I feel like I have no control over my body. I know I’m strong, but I feel like my strength doesn’t translate because my technique isn’t the strongest.”
“I feel you, man,” Kunigami interrupts. His mouth is full of steak as he talks, not bothering to chew his food and instead choosing to continue talking. “I work out every muscle at the gym, but the one muscle that never gets worked out is my brain…”
“Bro…that’s so deep. That touched my soul, man.” Bachira whispers, eyes in genuine awe at Kunigami’s realization.
Bachira and Kunigami continue their own conversation on the side, talking through mouthfuls of food about how they could work out their ‘brain muscles’. Reo questions if they even have a brain.
“Well, if you’re bad at swimming, why don’t you just practice more?”
“You say that like it’s the easiest thing in the world,” Reo groans, taking out his ponytail to run his hand through his hair, “the problem is practice. It’s like if you shoot with laces the whole time and no one tells you that using the inside of your foot is what you need to do. If I go to the pool and practice now, I’ll just be improving bad techniques. I need someone to teach me the right way to swim.”
“You could just…pay someone to do that.”
Reo shakes his head. “Nah, too easy, too boring. If I wanted to, I could. There was this girl yesterday who I want to teach. You should’ve seen it, Nagi, it was like she breathed in the water. It looked so natural for her, like swimming wasn’t a challenge.”
“Okay, so what’s the problem here? I don’t get it.”
“The problem is that she said no when I asked her to teach me.”
Nagi lifts his head up, grey eyes looking at Reo with a lifeless stare. “Then ask someone else.” He states bluntly.
“Ugh, no, I don’t want to,” Reo pouts, “it’s exactly how I felt when I told you to play soccer with me for the first time.”
Nagi just shrugs, not wanting to entertain this conversation for much longer, leaving Reo to grovel alone.
He knew he recognized her voice from somewhere, though he didn’t know the next time he’d hear it wouldn’t be at the pool.
It was at school when he was reading. 7th period is the time Reo sets aside for reading; he doesn’t need to pay attention during College English, and besides, wouldn’t the teacher be thrilled he chose to indulge in literature? He already knows how to speak English, a necessity for the next owner of the Mikage Corporation, and he can write as well, so there is no need to learn the difference between proper and improper clauses.
So when his mind should be focused on the lives of Russian aristocrats trying to survive during the Napoleonic Wars, turning each page of War and Peace a bit slower than normal, he instead finds himself looking up at the sea of people in this class.
His eyes narrow in on you, answering the question the teacher posed about some meaningless philosophical situation that would never happen in reality. Your answer fascinates him, but what’s more intriguing is how level your voice is. It doesn’t waver, it doesn’t fold, you're certain in your answer that if someone wanted to rebut you, you would be prepared to defend your choice. That certainty in your voice, he remembers that. It’s the same as the girl who told him no at the pool. She told him that ‘no’ with that same certainty, that clear-cut answer that stunned him into silence.
He can’t keep his eyes off of you. How did he not recognize you sooner? Then again, you look a lot different right now in your uniform. While that swimsuit did your body justice as the tight material clung tightly to each curve, the uniforms at school make everyone look average. But even then, Reo is still fascinated with your beauty. Eyes that look so warm and welcoming, yet so cold and distant at the same time. Lips that could tell him anything, and he would follow that command to the ends of the world. Hair that frames your face right so your features can really shine. How did he not notice someone like you sooner? He’s enamoured by you: beauty, brains, and a talented athlete who can swim?
Forget his book, Russian aristocrats are long dead! He needs to focus on the present moment, he should go ask you to teach him to swim, the period is almost over, he’ll miss his chance! Then, once you say yes, he can improve his swimming skills, which will improve his conditioning, which will make him run faster, then he and Nagi can become the best in the world and win the World Cup.
But Reo stops himself. Because as much as he could go over to you and ask (beg) you to help him, he doesn’t know anything about you. And you already told him no before, what’s the difference this time? If you’ve had a class with him the whole time, you were bound to recognize who he was, so why did you say no? Did you not like him?
No, of course not! That can’t possibly be the answer! You probably just didn’t know him, so you didn’t see a reason to help him. That’s fair. Reo doesn’t know you either. If someone he didn’t know asked him for help, he’d be a little skeptical at first, too.
So until he can devote his time to improving his swimming, he devotes it to learning about you.
You can learn a lot in a week by observing someone. In between sets during his morning lifts, he stalks your Instagram, learning your favorite music and artists that seem to always be featured in your posts. There isn’t much he can go off of on social media. You keep your life neat. So he starts to subtly look for you in the halls. When Kunigami and Chigiri talk about their morning runs, Reo tries his best to eavesdrop on their conversations when he just so happens to pass them in the hallway. He learns you swim most nights at 8 and that every day after you complain about not stretching enough. Maybe he could offer to pay for you to get a massage, would that be a good deal for you to teach him how to swim?
During lunch, he finds himself so focused on what you’re doing, he accidentally eats a dried sweet potato. While he’s disgusted that the nasty flavor had to enter his mouth and he’s pissed he forgot to throw those out today, he did learn that you enjoy some weird fermented drink called kombucha. You claim it’s good for your gut to one of your friends, saying it’s good to have throughout the day, and after a good swim, you drink cold coconut water from your fridge.
He overhears a conversation you have with the kid behind you during your shared class. You seem to glow, talking about how cliché it is for some girl to receive roses in a show you're watching, but at the same time, how much you love roses and wish blue roses could grow naturally. You then complain about how the pool hasn’t been empty this week, so sharing lanes with inadequate swimmers has been slowing you down. Reo reasons that the reason you said no is because you think he’s inadequate. But he wants to improve. Why can’t you see that and help him?
He learns that when you’re annoyed, the corner of your eyes crinkles. When you’re happy, your eyes sparkle, and that usually happens when someone talks about swimming. You seem to always have something in your mouth: a pencil, gum, or a pen cap. And when you’re nervous, you bite your nails, but he only notices that when your class is writing a timed essay. But despite seeming nervous, you wrote much more than he did, words covering 2 pages, yet you still seem like you have more to say.
He thinks he knows enough about you that you would say yes if he asked again.
He walks out of the locker room with a newfound sense of confidence, striding over to where you're swimming, standing tall and proud over your lane.
“ He really is like a mosquito. Actually, he’s much worse; he’s a tick .”
Reo Mikage is a parasitic tick that won’t leave you alone. You’ve noticed another thing about him recently, another reason for you to hate that purple-haired boy – he thinks he’s discreet. He thinks he’s subtle, that he’s sneaky, and no one would notice what he’s doing, but you do.
You notice how he suddenly stops reading during 7th period, his head is out of his book, and he is now paying attention, paying attention to you. He changed his usual routine, coincidentally walking the same way or passing by much more than usual. He also doesn’t seem to know how Instagram works. You get notified when he accidentally likes one of your old posts. Even better, you can see him start to view your stories more than usual (usual being never).
What’s more, you notice how he smells different. You’re not a weirdo or anything! You don’t go around sniffing him like you stop to smell the flowers, ew. No, what you notice is that whenever he walks into a room, the smell of his strong, musky, rosy cologne seems to have weakened. He starts to smell more like chlorine. At least you guys have something in common now, whoop-dee-fucking-do.
Maybe if you said yes to helping him a week ago, he would’ve left you alone by now. Maybe he wouldn’t be standing right in front of your lane, a prideful smirk on his face as his tall shadow is cast over you.
You pull up your goggles, knuckle holding the ledge of the pool a little tighter.
“Can I help you?” You ask, putting in little effort to hide your annoyance.
“Yes, you can actually!” He replies. “I’m sure you already know this, but I’m Reo Mikage, we share 7th-”
“7th period College English Language, yes, I know this already. What do you want from me?” You interrupt.
His confidence seems to falter just for a second, the side of his wide smile twitching. Reo regains his composure quickly. “I want you to teach me how to swim.” He answers. “You said no last time, but I’ll be completely honest right now, I really need your help. I’m an amateur swimmer, I don’t really know what I’m doing, but I try my best. I need someone to help me improve because I know swimming is good conditioning for a sport like soccer. I can run, but running is boring, so I wanted to try swimming. But I suck, I suck really bad. So I’m here humbly asking you to help me get better.”
Well, this is a shocker to say the least. It feels out of character for Reo to admit he’s bad at something, but it’s in character for him to admit that he wants improvement, that he wants to get better at something he’s not the best at. If you didn’t hate the guy, you would be able to admit it’s admirable that he’s asking for help. Hell, if it were anyone else asking you to help them with swimming, you would say yes without hesitation. But it had to be him, didn’t it?
A long sigh leaves your lips as you stare up at him. “Well, as honored as I am that you came to me to ask for help, I’m glad to say my answer is gonna be the sa-”
He cuts you off. “I’ll give you a massage.”
There’s a very uncomfortable silence shared between you two.
“I’m sorry…what?”
Reo freezes, hand going to scratch his neck, a nervous tick you noticed from meticulously studying the dunce. “Wait, that’s not what I meant! God, that came out so weird…” He mutters to himself. “What I meant to say is, I heard you complaining one day that your legs were sore from swimming. I go to this massage place every other night, and they break the lactic acids that build up from working out, so you're not as sore the next day. I know the owner, so I can let you go for free if you agree to help me.”
Well, that is an enticing offer. You don’t know if you should be concerned that he was eavesdropping on your conversation, or if you should question why he remembered you complaining about that. Then again, if this was his grand master plan to get you to agree to helping him, maybe it was necessary for him to remember.
But that is a good offer. Your thighs have been tense these last few days, and a good massage would make you feel better. Not to mention, this is Reo Mikage offering you to go somewhere he recommended, meaning that this has to be a high-quality place. And it would be free? You wouldn’t have to pay out of pocket and could enjoy a first-class experience. But that comes with the last-class experience of having to help him, of all people.
You pretend to ponder over your answer, enjoying how, with each second, his confidence seems to weaken. Then just when it seems like you’re about to say no, you give him a curt nod.
“Fine, I’ll help-”
You don’t even get to finish your sentence, he’s already jumped into the pool, in your lane, causing a big splash. You have a lot to teach him about swim etiquette, it seems. When his head bobs up from the water, you send him a sharp glare.
“First off, when you get in the pool, you don’t jump in like you want to drain the whole place, you do a sleek jump in like you're just a pin that was dropped into the water, so you don’t disturb the other people around you. And on top of that, usually you only share lanes if the person already in the lane has agreed to share with you.”
Reo simply shrugs, saying that your agreeing to help him is equivalent to your agreeing to share your lane with him. You don’t have enough energy to deal with his shenanigans, so you don’t bother answering. You pull yourself up from the water, sitting on the tiled ledge of the pool.
“Okay, let’s start with something easy. Swim a 50 freestyle so I can see what I’m working with. If your freestyle isn’t good, there’s no point in working on specialized strokes like butterfly.”
His brows furrow as he looks up at you, slowly pushing his goggles onto his face. “50 freestyle, got it…how much is a 50?”
You wish you could just push your foot on his head and let him drown. You bite your lip, a restraint so you don’t end up cursing him out. “A 50 means 50 meters. I’m guessing you don’t know what that means either, so it’s just swimming there and back. A 100-meter swim would be going there and back twice.”
Reo nods his head, comprehending what you're saying. There’s not a lot of kind things you can say as you watch him; his arms move like wooden boards slapping against the water, he picks his head up when he needs to breath rather than turning it to the side, his strokes don’t move him forward because he’s not pushing the water behind him he’s just hitting it.
But what you will say is that he has a strong kick, it’s really the only reason he’s able to make it there and back, because his arms were as useful as a knife in a gun fight. He did have a good streamline too, he kept his body straight and tight, and with his kick, he was able to get almost halfway down the lane. His dive wasn’t so bad either; he launched himself off the block and didn’t belly flop. Instead, he cut right through the water.
There’s potential; he has raw strength that can make him a sufficient swimmer, but he just needs technique to help him utilize this strength. When he gets back to the wall, he’s already out of breath. You crouch down in front of him, locking eyes with his wide, purple eyes.
“I don’t know how to put it kindly, so I’ll just be blunt; you’re right, you suck. Your dive, streamline, and flip turns don’t need to be improved upon; your legs are so strong that they cover up most mistakes an amateur would make. You keep your body tight and straight so you’re able to cut through the water. Your flip turn needs to be quicker, think of it like you’re launching your body forward, and your touch on the wall should be quick; just because you slam your legs on the wall fast doesn’t mean your release will be fast.”
“Got it, but can you tell me what I’m doing wrong? I’m guessing it’s got to do with my arms since all the compliments you have given me are related to my legs and kicking.”
“You’re right, your arms are useless to you right now with how you’re swimming. When you use your arms, while they are moving fast, they’re just slapping against the water. For now, I’d advise you to slow your strokes down and focus on making sure your arms are pulling the water back behind you. Judging from your physique, you have strong arms, but with your technique, you’re not utilizing your strength. Your arms pull the water back, and your legs will help to push your body forward.”
You hope he doesn’t notice you ogling at his muscular arms, subtly watching how his bicep flexes each time he grips onto the wall of the pool. You’re disdain for him is big, but fuck, those biceps are bigger and you wish you could just bite down on them and-
No. Wrong person to be thirsting over. There are plenty of better options, like Kunigami. Dammit, why didn’t Kunigami ask you for help? That would’ve been a great sight for you! Instead, you're stuck with this lanky purple grape, who just so happens to have VERY nice biceps. So what? Nice biceps aren’t equivalent to being a nice person; he’s just an annoyance who's visually pleasing, and you just so happen to be helping him out since you’ll get to go to a high-class massage place.
Reo nods his head quickly. “So it’s like doing a pull-up kinda. You want to use your arms to pull yourself up and then quickly release them so your arms can be extended for the next one.”
You pause for a moment. He seemed to have quickly picked up on what you were saying to him, even putting it into an analogy he could understand himself. He’s quick and able to understand and comprehend any situation in front of him. Maybe he really is smart, and he actually can finish his classwork quickly.
“You seem to get it now. Try another 50 with that in mind.”
You don’t even finish your sentence, and he’s already off. He took your advice to heart, though; his strokes are slower but more refined. His arms aren’t slapping and splashing against the water, but rather helping him to move faster than he did before. There are still things he can improve upon, but his receptiveness towards your advice is shocking. He either is serious about improving himself, or he respects your opinion enough to immediately listen to your advice. You secretly hope it’s the ladder. If this is how he’s going to act, maybe helping him out won’t be so bad.
He’s back at the wall faster than last time, a purple mess of hair popping out of the water with a wide smile.
“How’d I do? Did that look better?”
He seems eager for praise, giving you this look with his wide, big eyes that just begs you to tell him he did a good job. You could get used to that sight.
“It’s an improvement to say the least. But you also need to work on your breathing; you’re out of breath just from doing a simple 50. You need to breathe by tilting your head to the side, not picking your head out of the water. It's slowing you down. Here it’s hard to explain, let me just show you.”
So you jump in the pool and demonstrate, leading to you and Reo swimming together for the rest of the night.
“Maybe I don’t hate you.”
It’s getting hard to hate Reo Mikage. He’s charismatic, which makes it hard for you now to be annoyed with him for long. He may be arrogant and prideful, but it’s because he’s confident in himself. When he swims with you, he’s a different person. He’s humble and receptive; he wants you to tell him what he’s doing wrong because he has a desperate drive to get better. And he is a trust-fund baby, but he doesn’t flex it as much as you thought he would.
You start to notice more about him, more good qualities.
You notice how he always looks at you when you talk, always staring intently at you like the words you say to him need to be worshipped by him. You notice how considerate he is; always offering you rides for your late night swims and to school, how he always plays your favorite music around you, and how he bought you two brand new swimsuits and boasts about how they’re ‘the best of the best’, adding something about how the material is made for best swimmers. You take note of how he starts coming to practice with his hair down and pleads for you to tie his hair up.
And you notice how he slowly talks to you more, even though it’s not just the two of you. He’ll come talk to you during your shared classes together, or he’ll start walking with you to classes. When you pass him in the hallway, he’ll go out of his way to say hi to you, even ditching his friends sometimes to walk with you to your next class.
It makes you wonder if your hatred for him is as strong as you initially thought. Not only do you realize your hatred is very one-sided, but that there are layers to Reo. Once you really get to know him, you understand why he acts the way he does, and not everything stems from sheer arrogance.
All these thoughts flood your head as you feel the masseuse push her fingers into your thighs. The place Reo recommended to you was a first-class experience. They soak your feet while massaging your neck, shoulders, and back first. Then they lay you in a recliner chair, putting an eye massager on your head and letting your body relax as the masseuse presses her thumbs into your muscles, running harsh circles up and down your lower body that soothes away any aches you’ve been feeling. They also use this gel that cools your body down before massaging you with scorching hot stones, the contrast temperature is not only surprisingly calming, but also soothing.
You’re glad you get to experience this for free, shuddering at the thought of how much this would cost out of pocket. Not only is it good for your muscles, but it’s also good for relieving your stress. It’s the only time in the day when you feel like everything just stops. You don’t have to rush to be anywhere or talk to anyone; it’s just you and your thoughts.
But lately it’s been you, your thoughts, and Reo? He’s been plaguing your mind much too often for comfort, appearing when you least expect it, late at night or whenever your body is relaxed. Reo, Reo, Reo, his name is on repeat in your mind, invading your every thought.
It’s infuriating how he lives in your mind, plaguing any rational thought.
Like right now. Reo asked you to help him with his butterfly, saying he feels like his arms don’t feel like they’re pulling water back. When your mind should be focused on telling him his pull is stopping halfway, causing his arms to drag through the water rather than pull back water, you’re more focused on how his shoulders, chiseled like granite, as his muscles ripple with each stroke. The sight makes your cheeks redden, wishing your skin could feel the cool bliss of the pool water.
Reo’s hand taps your leg, snapping you out of your daze. He’s looking up at you with those wide purple eyes, asking you what you thought of his technique. He speaks softly, in a gentle tone that’s just begging for your praise.
Your answer is delayed, replaying what little you remember of his swimming and trying to avoid accidentally admitting you were shamelessly staring at his shoulders.
“It seems fine, you’re just stopping your arms before you finish your stroke. Your shoulders stop you from fully pulling all the water back, and the delay in that stroke causes your arms to drag, which slows you down.”
He slowly nods his head, but instead of usually swimming another lap and taking your advice, he clings to the edge of the pool. He still is staring up at you, purple eyes plagued with confusion and brows furrowed. You want to tell him to get moving, to launch off the wall and get practicing. He wanted your help because he wanted improvement, and you gave him advice on how to improve himself; so why is he still here idly staring up at you?
He blinks a few times before tightly gripping the tiled edge and pulling himself up out of the pool. His actions shock you, taking a step back and watching his tall frame emerge from the pool. Water drips down his pale skin and sculpted muscles, letting out a low groan as he stretches his toned arms over his head.
“You’re done for the day?” You ask slowly, raising a brow.
“Yeah, I didn’t feel like swimming much today.”
His answer is out of character; Reo is usually possessed by a strong determination to learn and improve himself. Yet, you don’t choose to question it. If he wants to end practice earlier than usual, you won’t fight it. After all, it’s hard to focus when your mind is twisting any thought you have into something impure. Staring at Reo, your eyes roam up and down his body, settling on the space between his thighs where-
You bite your tongue, hoping that the quick jolt of pain will stop your mind from imagining what’s under those wet, tight, black swim shorts.
There’s a growing silence between the two of you; there’s been an unspoken bond between you both that hasn’t been acknowledged. You just continue what you’ve been doing this past month, sharing intense, silent stares that scream you both long for something more. Even if it’s for just a brief moment, the tension between you two is thick. Reo takes a step forward, you take a step back. Water droplets fall onto the tiled floor each time he moves closer to you, but your body retracts away from him as your feet carry you away from him. Your body faces Reo, which keeps you from noticing how you’ve backed yourself into a wall.
Unable to move away from him, your back is forced against the wall as Reo approaches you. He looms over you, muscles in his arm bulging as it rests behind you. His eyes stare down at you. Yet despite his intense stare, no words are exchanged between the two of you. It’s silent, the only sounds are the drip-drop of water cascading down Reo’s body, uneven breaths that escape your lips, and the sound of a loud heartbeat thumping against a chest in anticipation. You can’t tell if it’s the sound of your heartbeat or his.
You can’t help but stare up at him; you can’t look anywhere else. Okay, you could, but you don’t want to. You want to look at Reo, you want his attention on you, just like he is right now. You want those purple eyes looking down at you with that dazed stare, not able to tell what strong emotion causes his pupils to dilate, but wanting to see more. You want, no, you need more from him. You need to feel his wet skin on yours, pushing your body against the wall as his hands roam up and down your sides. This feeling came out of nowhere; you're unable to pinpoint where or when these thoughts polluted your mind. But you don’t discourage them; you want to embrace them, to make them a reality.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
His voice cuts through the heightened tension between you two like a knife. It’s sultry, raspy, and unusually low. You’ve never heard him speak like this before, but it makes your thighs rub together in anticipation.
“What am I doing, Reo?” You whisper, tilting your head to the side.
He lets out a groan, eyes squeezing shut as he hangs his head low. Purple strands of hair hang over his forehead that’s fallen onto your shoulder. You can feel his hot breath on your skin, contrasting the cool feeling of the water on his face.
“You know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you?”
You open your mouth to answer him, but you're silenced when his hand clasps over your lips, leaving you only able to look up dumbfounded at him.
“Don’t play coy with me now, you can’t look at me like that. You can’t parade around in the tight, little swimsuit, eye-fucking me and expecting nothing to come of it. I’ve felt your gaze on me all this time, watching you shamelessly trace over every muscle on my body. If you wanted to touch them all, you had to do was ask me, but I like a woman who knows exactly what she wants.”
He picks his head up from your shoulder, resting it on your forehead as his eyes bore into yours with unrivaled intensity. You can’t look away now, scared to move even an inch with his unwavering gaze solely focused on you. His confidence intimidates you; you're not used to this domineering attitude being directed at you. You are not completely unaware of this side of him, hearing in the halls that his cockiness is on full display when whatever he wants is just in reach, but that’s usually in the context of soccer – not when he has someone pinned against the wall.
“When I remove my hand, you tell me what you want. You use your words to tell me what to do, and I will do it. If you tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about, we can drop this and pretend it never happened. Fuck, I won’t talk to you ever again if that’s what you want.” His voice drops an octave, leaning in closer so his breath ghosts the shell of your ear. “But if you tell me you want this, I’ll give you anything you ask me and then some. I’d do anything you’d ask of me, say the word and it’s yours, baby.”
Reo lifts his hand off your mouth, giving you the freedom to tell him whatever your heart desires. If this were a month ago, you’d scowl at him and tell him to keep his filthy hands off of your body, cursing him out as you’d scream for him to not even breathe the same air as you. But something has shifted between the two of you. When you would once push him away, you now find yourself wanting to pull him closer, to feel his lips on yours as his body is flushed against yours. When did those feelings of hatred evolve into something more? When did that hate transform into this unrecognizable feeling that makes you want to be around him? When did the lines between hate and tolerance blend into a hypnotic pull that clouds all your senses? What spell did Reo Mikage put on you that doused the raging fire of hatred you held in your heart for him?
You whisper 3 words, 3 words that should’ve expressed the true feelings in your heart, 3 words that should’ve given Reo the message you’ve wanted to send since you first laid eyes on him.
“I hate you.”
But those words don’t leave your lips.
“I want you.”
And his lips are on yours in an instant. Big hands slide down to your waist, pulling your body against his cold one. His skin wets your bathing suit, the two of you enveloped in lust and chlorinated water. He kisses you desperately, as if he doesn’t put his all into this moment, you’ll disappear and he’ll only be left with the ghostly touch of your lips on his. One hand grabs your hair, and he deepens the kiss. His fingers dig into the fat of your hips, sliding down so he can grope your ass that he’s been shamelessly staring at for weeks. Reo deliberately rolls his hips against yours, eliciting a small gasp from your throat. He wishes he could have that sound forever on repeat in his mind, and he wants to hear more of those pretty sounds.
He grinds against you frantically, the thick and heavy press from his swim trunks provides a sinfully sweet amount of friction between the two of you, rubbing right against the thin material of your swimsuit and right on the seams. His hips roll against yours roughly, as if the friction alone could satisfy the growing need in his body.
Reo pulls away from your lips, attaching himself to the side of your neck. His mouth drags up and down your throat, sucking and leaving behind dark, hot kisses in his wake. You push your hips against his, trying to find some sort of friction to relieve yourself.
“Tell me what you need, baby.” He pants as his teeth sink down into your throat, licking and sucking the skin tenderly.
“I need more, Reo.” You whine, arms wrapping around his neck as you pull in closer, your breasts pushing up against his chest.
Reo doesn’t waste a second, his hand grasping your wrist and pulling you away from the pool. You almost slip on the tiled floor, trying to grab onto Reo so you don’t fall. He slams the door of the locker room behind you both, fingers feverishly fumbling with the lock before his hands are back on your waist.
He asks if he can pull the straps of your bathing suit down, and you frantically nod your head. His thumbs latch under the straps, rolling them down your shoulders and halfway down your torso. His eyes stare at your bare breasts for a moment, admiring the view, before his hands grab them. Reo’s grip is tight as he kneads them with his hands, enjoying how your face contorts in pleasure at this touch. He whispers how beautiful you are, fingers pinching your nipples. A sharp gasp escapes your lips, and Reo lets out a raspy laugh.
“You’re adorable. I could get used to hearing this all day.”
He leans down, lips wrapping around your nipple as he sucks. His hand plays with your other breast, pinching and twisting as he draws out more sweet moans from you. Reo kisses down your chest, trailing down your torso as he gets down on your knees. Big hands rest on the side of your waist, fingers digging into the fat of your ass as his cheeks rest against your thighs. He toys with the bottom of your swimsuit, staring up at you with those big eyes, giving you the same pleading look he gives you when he wants you to praise his improvement.
“Go ahead.” You murmur, wishing you had known earlier that you were going to be getting laid, so you could’ve prepared yourself better.
Reo eagerly nods, pointer finger curling around the material and pulling it to the side. He places a soft kiss on the inside of your thigh before diving in. A choked moan leaves your mouth as he flattens his tongue to draw one long swipe, trying to savor the taste. He pulls back to use two fingers to stretch you open.
“Fuck, that’s a pretty pussy.” He whispers, a soft whine escaping his lips. “Been waiting to get a taste.”
He’s eager to have his lips between your thighs, going back to licking either side of the folds in an attempt to please you. And fuck, it's working, your head is thrown back in pleasure as your fingers tangle themselves in those purple locks of his. Whimpers and moans fall from your lips, growing louder each second as Reo latches onto your clit, giving it a nice, harsh suck.
“F-Fuck…Reo…” You moan, tightening your grip on his hair, “Shit, don’t stop…feels so good.”
He groans in response, his tongue starting to thrust into you as he laps up everything you give him greedily. His calloused palms pull your thighs apart as he desperately tries to reach deeper. He swirls his tongue in messy shapes, nose bumping against your clit every few seconds. You glance down at him, noticing the growing tent in his pants. For a brief moment, you feel his hips start to roll against your leg, but it’s interrupted when Reo’s tongue starts to speed up. His thrusts are faster, he sucks harder, his nose is pressed right up against your clit now, and his nails leave little crescents in your thighs.
He can feel you dripping down his chin, your plush thighs against his cheeks, that tangy taste on his tongue that makes him crave more. It’s messy, but Reo couldn't care less. Your pleasure is his pleasure, and with how wet you are for him, how tight you pull at his hair, combined with how you whisper his name, he can tell you're enjoying this.
Your moans and whimpers are music to your ears, begging him not to stop, whining about how close you are. He just hums in response, sliding two fingers into your warm heat, relishing in the nasty squelch as he harshly thrusts his fingers upwards. Your hips shift, and he feels you start to grind against his lips and tongue as Reo sucking the pleasure out of you.
He feels your clit twitch on his tongue and can hear the broken moan of his name, before he feels you writhing against him. Reo hungrily laps up the sweet, tangy taste of your release, desperately not letting anything go to waste. He licks his lips with a smile, getting up from his knees to stand tall in front of you. His chin and lips drip with slick, shining in the dimly lit locker room.
One hand pulls the bottom of your bathing suit to the side, while Reo’s other hand fumbles with his swim shorts, desperately pulling them down to his knees, letting his cock spring free. Pearly beads of precum form at the tip. It stands thick, flushed, and heavy against his toned abs.
Reo lets out a choked moan, lining himself up with your entrance and smearing the tip of his cock with your cum, his spit, and covering you both in the mess you’ve made.
“Might be too late to ask, but you’re sure you want this right?” Reo asks softly, looking up into your eyes for any sign of doubt, that you don’t want this as much as he does.
You can’t help but laugh, a small smile forming on your lips at his sincere question. “It never hurts to ask twice, right?” You giggle, arms wrapping around his neck as you look up into those clouded purple irises. “I want you, Reo. I want you so badly, I can’t wait anymore, please.”
Who is he to ignore you when you talk like that to him, telling him exactly what you need? He doesn’t resist your desperate pleas, sinking his cock deep into your tight pussy with one thrust. He lets out a low groan at the sensation of your walls squeezing tight around him.
“Fuuuck, so tight…it’s like you're sucking me in.” He hisses as both hands grab your waist.
Reo doesn’t stay still for long; he pistons his hips up into you, slamming so hard into you the metal lockers behind you rattle with each movement. Your back arches, moaning his name each time his big cock drags along your walls and splits you open. Eyes squeezed closed in pleasure, nails scratching down Reo’s back as you try to grab onto anything to support yourself.
“S-Shit, Reo! You’re so rough!” You whimper, biting down on your lip to try to suppress your loud moans. Anyone could walk into the locker room from the other doors, stumbling in upon the two of you fucking like rabbits in heat.
He grunts in response, a smug grin forming on his face. “Don’t see a p-problem with it, do you?” He asks breathlessly. “You seem to be enjoying yourself, gushing all over my cock and moaning like no one else can hear you. Pussy gripping me so tight like she wants me to fuck her harder.”
Reo pounds into you, hands reaching your thighs as he makes sure they’re wide open. He hits all the right places inside of you. He fucked you hard, hips snapping up against your ass, lips against your neck. He whispers sweet nothings against your skin, teeth sinking into your skin as he brushes right up against your clit.
Reo Mikage makes you a mess; trembling under him, drooling all over his cock as he pounds you against the cold metal lockers, swimsuit still half on as your breasts bounce with each harsh thrust. His name is the only coherent thought that escapes your lips, relentless thrusts not stopping anytime soon as you feel your thighs start to buckle underneath you.
He feels you tighten around him and thrusts faster, harder, hearing you whine in his ear how close you are to coming, how that coil in your stomach is unbelievably tight, and you want to cum all over his cock.
“You wanna cum?” He rasps, “Do it, milk me dry, baby. Wanna ruin this pussy so badly, please.”
His name is chanted like a broken prayer; you came hard around him, sobbing his name, and your clenched fists were tight. White heat flashes your vision. You pull Reo close to your body, chests pressed against each other as you cling to him for support. He lets out a low, guttural moan as his hips jerk and cock twitch before his cum spills into your spent pussy. He stays buried inside of you, pulsing as he rides out the last few seconds of his orgasm.
Both of you stand still for a moment, breaths mingling together as your sweaty bodies stick together. Reo glances up at you, enamoured by your beauty and how your whole being just seemed to glow. He wished he could freeze this moment in his mind forever, never forgetting how it feels to be so deep inside of you and how beautiful you looked right now.
But all good things have to come to an end, Reo realizes he should probably pull out, so you can clean yourself. He pulled out slowly, watching his cum slowly drip out and down your inner thighs. Neither of you was expecting your legs to give out from under you, Reo’s hands on your back to hold you up. He lets out a small laugh, hoping you’ll laugh with him and break some of the awkward tension that’s starting to form.
“You okay?” He questions, voice barely above a whisper.
You give Reo a small smile as you nod, “I’m fine, just a little sore, that’s all.”
He winces and glances off to the side, cheeks dusted red. “That’s…probably my fault. Sorry, I just got ahead of myself. It just felt so good, but I probably should’ve been concerned about how you would-”
He stops talking when he hears you laugh. It’s light, airy, and the sound snaps him out of his rambling. You look so beautiful, the prettiest girl Reo has ever seen. Head thrown back in laughter, eyes squinted shut, and a wide smile on your lips that’s complemented with a sweet laugh.
“You don’t have to apologize, Reo. It’s fine, really.”
It’s contagious, he finds himself starting to laugh too. And he once again wishes he could freeze time, so he could forever remember this moment in his mind, not even risking the chance this memory could be forgotten.
He thought the best feeling in the world was scoring in soccer, winning with his friends, or playing with Nagi. You thought the best feeling in the world was when Reo didn’t succeed, or being able to feel the cool water of the pool splash against your skin after a stressful day.
But maybe the best feeling in the world is laughing, smiling, and sharing a part of yourself with someone else.
Maybe you don’t hate Reo Mikage.