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The sun, sitting low in the sky, painted the field with soft hues of light and warmth. The picnic blanket under them was speckled with crumbs, emptied containers, and a few blades of grass stubbornly sticking to Bachira’s shorts despite his repeated attempts to brush them off.
“Man, I’m gonna melt,” Bachira complained, collapsing backward with all the drama of someone dying a beautiful death. “Rin-rin, save me. Quick, gimme a kiss before I pass away from heatstroke.”
“You’re not dying.” Rin didn’t even glance up from the bento box resting in his lap. His chopsticks moved with quiet precision, each bite deliberate, calm, and completely unaffected by Bachira’s theatrics.
“Not yet!” Bachira shot upright, eyes gleaming. “But I will if I don’t get a kiss soon.”
Rin sighed. It was a long-suffering sound, one that said he had endured many things in life — rival strikers, high-stakes matches, intense training — but nothing as exhausting as Bachira Meguru on a lazy afternoon.
“You’ve been saying that for the past hour,” he muttered.
“That’s because you keep refusing!” Bachira leaned forward, grinning so wide it looked like sunshine in motion. “Come onnn, just one little kiss. Right here—” he tapped his cheek, leaning dangerously close “—for your favorite teammate.”
“You’re impossible,” Rin said, though his tone lacked its usual sharp edge.
Bachira gasped. “Wait. Was that almost a smile? Are you smiling, Rin? Oh, I’ve won!”
“You’ve lost your mind,” Rin said, but the smallest twitch betrayed the corner of his mouth.
Bachira laughed, tipping his head back toward the sky. “Same thing!”
The breeze rolled gently through the field, soft and lazy. Somewhere, a bird sang a few aimless notes, as if to join the rhythm of their quiet afternoon. Rin pretended to ignore him, but Bachira caught the faint pink creeping up his ears.
“Rin~,” Bachira sang, voice lilting, playful. “If you don’t kiss me, I’m gonna cry. Big, ugly tears.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I would! I’ll cry so hard you’ll have to comfort me. Maybe even—” Bachira wiggled his eyebrows “—hug me.”
Rin set down his chopsticks. “You’re insufferable.”
“Then why’d you agree to come have a picnic with me?” Bachira shot back, eyes sparkling.
Rin’s reply was quiet. “You wouldn’t stop asking.”
Bachira’s grin widened. “And yet here you are. Sitting with me. In the sun. Eating food I made.”
Rin frowned lightly. “You didn’t make this.”
“Okay, fine,” Bachira said with a laugh, “I helped. I opened the soy sauce packets.”
He reached into the box, plucked up a piece of tamagoyaki with his chopsticks, and held it out toward Rin. “Say ‘ahhh~’”
Rin blinked. “What.”
“Come on, just one bite! It’s teamwork!”
“I can feed myself.”
Bachira leaned closer, eyes bright. “Yeah, but it’s funnier this way.”
Rin gave him a long, flat stare — then sighed in surrender. Bachira’s grin practically doubled as Rin finally leaned forward, taking the bite with quiet resignation.
“Well?” Bachira asked, eager.
“…It’s fine.”
“Fine?” Bachira gasped. “That was my best soy sauce application ever!”
Rin ignored him, but the faint curve of his mouth betrayed him again.
Bachira laughed and held out another bite — only for Rin to catch his wrist, steal the chopsticks, and turn the tables. “Your turn.”
Bachira blinked, then lit up. “Wait, seriously?!”
“Don’t make me regret it.”
Bachira exaggeratedly opened his mouth. “Aaaahhh—”
“Stop being loud,” Rin muttered, shoving the bite in his mouth before he could continue. Bachira chewed dramatically, eyes closed, humming.
“Delicious,” he declared, mouth still full. “Tastes like love.”
Rin looked away, ears faintly red. “Tastes like rice.”
“Same thing!” Bachira said brightly, grinning so wide Rin had to cover his face with his hand.
Rin sighed again — the kind that sounded annoyed but somehow soft.
Rin frowned slightly, glancing at him. “Why didn’t you invite Isagi instead?”
Bachira blinked, then grinned. “Because he’s sick!!” he said brightly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “And I couldn’t just eat all this food alone, so I brought my favorite plan B.”
Rin huffed. “Plan B?”
Bachira leaned closer with a mischievous smile. “You’re my best plan B ever, Rinny.”
Rin looked away. “You’re impossible.”
Bachira just laughed.
“Maybe,” Bachira said, plopping back down onto the blanket. “But it’s a nice thing to imagine.”
A calm quiet settled in, feeling more like a shared breath than just the lack of noise. Rin relaxed, while Bachira, unusually quiet, refrained from his usual chatter. He lay still, eyes partly closed, taking in the gentle rustling of the grass and Rin’s soft breathing nearby.
He was about to break the quiet with something stupid — another teasing comment, maybe — when something warm pecked his cheek.
Soft. Barely there. Gone before his brain could process it.
Bachira’s eyes snapped open.
Rin was still sitting beside him, facing slightly away, his face completely and utterly red.
“…Wait,” Bachira said, voice small with disbelief. “Did you just—?”
“You talk too much,” Rin muttered.
Bachira blinked once, then twice, and then a grin split his face so fast it almost hurt. “OH MY— you did!! You kissed me!!”
“It was just on the cheek,” Rin said quickly, his voice stiff, his ears scarlet.
“Still counts!” Bachira crowed, leaning forward so close Rin had to shove him back with a hand. “You like me!”
“I said shut up.”
“Can’t! My heart’s too loud right now, Rin-chan~!”
Rin groaned, but it wasn’t quite the sound of annoyance. It was something closer to defeat.
Bachira was glowing — literally beaming — the kind of joy that came from being both surprised and delighted at once. He pressed his fingers to his cheek dramatically. “My first kiss of the day, and it’s from Rin Itoshi… How will I ever recover?”
“Stop exaggerating,” Rin muttered.
Bachira tilted his head, eyes half-lidded and mischievous. “Then do it again.”
“No.”
“Please? Just here, on the cheek? For luck?”
“No.”
“Pleasepleasepleaseplease—”
“Bachira.” Rin’s voice cut through the air, quiet but firm, and Bachira immediately fell silent.
Rin turned away, but his voice was softer when he spoke again. “You’re ridiculous.”
Bachira smiled, something warm blooming in his chest. “You like me anyway.”
Rin didn’t respond, but the flush that deepened along his neck said enough.
When they finally packed up the picnic, Rin handed Bachira the blanket, their fingers brushing just slightly. It wasn’t a big moment. It didn’t have to be.
Bachira grinned to himself as they started walking back toward the field’s edge.
Maybe he wouldn’t need to ask again tomorrow.
Maybe Rin would do it first.