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Reo wants to say the match went well.
Reo wants to be happy. Reo feels like crying.
But, above all else, Reo Mikage wants to be numb.
Isagi was, admittedly, out of it during the match. Kaiser and Ness (at least, that’s what Reo believes to be their names) were stronger than ever, and the team was already demoralised from their loss against France.
Reo was trying, he was trying so hard to keep everything together and do his absolute best to win.
But, alas, like always, it wasn’t enough.
He isn’t enough. He’ll never be.
Rin was compromised, Isagi’s head wasn’t in the game, all the others were too panicked to receive a pass.
Reo considered asking Ego to switch in Shidou, or Barou. Hell, even Kunigami would be worth considering. He’s pretty deadpan now, not showing much emotion.
Reo misses the old Kunigami. He was earnest.
He lost himself to football, abandoned himself to become the best player.
Isn’t that what Reo is doing too?
Reo doesn’t remember the last time he’s felt like himself.
That makes him a hypocrite in this regard. Makes you really question Ego’s methods.
Because the star pupil, Isagi, is failing to measure up. And, everyone else has had parts of them stripped away for the sake of their success.
Was any of it worth it?
Was this mental prison really the answer?
Reo questions himself more often than not, these days. Doubt, insecurity, skepticism, have become more familiar than his prior silliness.
And Reo thought he was an overthinker before.
A sigh escaped his lips as everyone huddled around Ego, trying to come up with a new strategy.
It’s 2-0, for Germany.
“Switch in Shidou.” Reo suggested, and he was ignored. “Or Barou, as the right wing. We need someone more aggressive to bounce off of Rin.”
Typical.
Ego doesn’t want to change his line-up at all, probably taking it as a personal offense.
And then, his world stopped in his axis.
“Switch me in.” An all too familiar voice calls out, arrogant, self assured, calm.
Nagi.
Reo couldn’t believe his ears, or his eyes, in the moment. It’s all a massive blur, but, somehow, after a screaming match or two, Nagi’s subbed in, and he annihilates Germany.
He’s greedy now, stealing the ball whenever Reo made a move, whenever he tried to pass to someone else.
Reo thinks he’s going dizzy from the stress and weight of his emotions.
And, at its apex, the fracture point of his sanity, was Nagi Seishirou.
He didn’t stay long after the match, wordlessly getting in Buratsuta’s car, away from him once more.
Yes, Reo wants to cry. Reo wants to call out after Nagi, ask him everything, give him a hug to soothe his lifeless eyes.
But, none of that is feasible, not with the way they left off, not with how Reo blocked Nagi, a fact he was coming to immensely regret.
He didn’t know how much it would hurt just seeing Nagi again, his heart pounding in his chest and his eyes unfocusing.
Correction, Reo did know how bad it would hurt. That’s why he blocked Nagi in the first place, to save himself and Nagi the suffering.
Reo wishes he was numb, as he sits quietly in the bus on the ride back to the hotel.
x
“You’re getting rooms in pairs.” Anri-San informs them, because Ego is too busy sulking after the match, in the hotel lobby. “With the other players as well.”
Reo has half a mind to pay attention. He just hopes it’s someone quiet like Rin or Kunigami, or someone understanding like Chigiri or Kurona.
He sees Isagi standing away from the crowd, eyes weary, Bachira at his side, looking at him with barely concealed concern as he tries to make conversation.
Reo feels compelled to go talk to Isagi too, make sure his head is in the game, give him a pep-talk or two to ensure he’s playing at his best. Reo knows he’s under a lot of pressure, and he knows how suffocating that feels.
Right now, though, he leaves Isagi and Bachira to themselves, not wanting to intrude, a strange feeling coiling in his chest as he looks at them trying to comfort each other.
It’s familiar. The look in their eyes.
Reo knows that Bachira’s company will mean more to him than Reo’s.
“Reo?” Anri-San calls. “Did you hear me?”
“Eh?” Reo mumbles. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”
“You and Nagi are in room 314.” She says, and Reo nods. “No issues, right?”
“Right.” Reo says on instinct, before the words are actually processed.
And then, the slow crawl of realisation hits, and reality knocks some sense into him.
He can’t share a room with Nagi.
He’s going to have to share with Nagi.
The same Nagi he’s been trying to force himself not to think about. The same Nagi who he hasn’t spoken to since that fateful day.
The same Nagi who’s life he’s ruined.
Reo can’t say anything, not without interrupting Anri-San as she’s speaking to the other players. Reo has publicly embarrassed himself enough over Nagi.
His breathing becomes shallow, as the implications of sharing a room with Nagi start settling in.
Though, there is one thought that consumes the others.
Before, Reo wouldn’t have thought twice about such an arrangement. Hell, even in the time after the second selection, there would be some part of Reo looking forward to it, no matter how small.
But, all Reo feels at this moment is dread, fear.
Guilt, guilt over how badly things ended, over how much Nagi must hate him, over how the future would turn out.
When did that happen?
When did Reo and Nagi become this?
They were never meant to be, that’s the only explanation.
Of course Nagi’s back. Reo had no doubt. Reo knew he would be the most amazing player in the world.
“Reo?” Chigiri asks beside him. “You okay? You’re spacing out a lot.”
Reo shakes his head, breathing deeply to calm himself down, trying to dispel the concerns of his teammate.
Reo can’t go falling apart at the seams, not when he has a team to hold together.
“I’m heading up.” Reo says, trying his best to appear unaffected. “Buratsuta’s car isn’t here yet, so I’ll enjoy the short moments of peace first.”
x
There’s only one bed.
Sure, the JFU wants to be cheap, but surely, it couldn’t be this bad.
Except it was, and Reo was stuck in a hotel room with the newly re-appointed Nagi Seishirou, after their game with Germany.
His hands clench around the key-card, a disbelieving huff escaping past his lips.
There’s a singular couch at the far end near the window, and a big bed in the centre of the room with two nightstands at each side, with a wardrobe opposite and a bathroom.
At least there was a private bathroom that was actually covered. Reo was familiar with most hotels having sheer panels for the bathroom.
With yet another sigh, Reo forces himself to step inside and close the door behind him, tossing his bag on the couch and pulling out a button down shirt with some shorts.
He might as well shower before Nagi comes in.
With a small bag of his toiletries obtained, and a towel, Reo headed into the bathroom.
It was sterile, basic and white, like most hotel bathrooms tended to be, with a shower instead of a bathtub.
Reo has complicated feelings about white. His parents preferred it for a sleek, professional look. It was symbolic of his life as the bored Mikage Heir.
Reo himself was partial to bright colors, and bold patterns. But, if someone asked him his favorite colour, white would still be his answer.
Why? Because he couldn’t choose between colours, and white light was the presence of all colours.
Alas, like always, Nagi Seishirou complicated things. The meaning of white changed. Because, for once, Reo’s favourite colour actually became white, as he’d run his fingers through messy white strands and purchase white hair ties to remind him of his treasure and their promise.
As Reo stands under the high pressure of warm water, scrubbing at his skin, he wonders if he still thinks that’s true.
He wonders if he’ll ever be able to look at white and not think of Nagi.
His hands scrub roughly against his skin, trying to rub off the feeling of discomfort.
It doesn’t help. The water hitting against his skin doesn’t help. His eyes going blurry doesn’t help.
He doesn’t know if it’s tears or simple water obscuring his vision.
All he knows is that it’s quiet, as washes himself. No sound except one or two broken hiccups and falling water.
He goes through the motions of drying himself off, when he hears movement from outside the door.
Nagi.
He contemplates locking the bathroom door, before deciding against it, hastily dressing himself and taking a few breaths to steel his resolve.
His hands feel heavy as he goes to open the bathroom door, his lip quivering before he schools himself into frigidness.
The door opens, and there sits Nagi Seishirou on the bed, his eyes distant and his expression blank.
His lips are pressed together into a thin line, not his signature ‘OxO’ face, as he stares listlessly at the door behind Reo, avoiding his eyes, intentionally or not.
This stoicism is different from his old one, Reo notes with a bitter feeling clawing at his throat.
Nagi does not acknowledge him at all, and Reo carefully shifts to the side to grant Nagi access to the bathroom.
Nagi walks swiftly past, not sparing Reo a single glance.
Why would he? Reo doesn’t deserve it.
Their hands don’t graze, but Reo wishes they did. Anything to get them out of this tense silence.
Even during the second selection, there was no complete stonewalling on Nagi’s end. Reo remembers the feeling of the genius’ eyes flittering to him, even though he was unable to decipher what it meant.
Stop it. Reo tries to clip the thread of memory before it escalates.
He notices Nagi’s clothes lying messily on the bed, as the guy showers. It seems he’s still lazy.
Reo, out of habit more than anything, folds the clothes into a neat pile, placing them on the corner of the bed, and moving his bag to the nightstand.
Is this a weird boundary to cross? Is it strange for Reo to still fold his clothes?
These questions aren’t very helpful, so they are discarded.
Reo moves his own bag to the wardrobe from the couch, and grabs a sheet from the closet.
Nagi can have the bed, Reo thinks.
Reo props up one of the cushions on the couch, and lays down.
It’s not comfortable in any sense, but it’s not as bad as Reo was expecting. And, the sheet does a decent job of keeping him warm.
He considers getting his jacket from his bag, but his legs feel like jelly, so he stays put.
With the sounds of Nagi taking a shower, Reo covers himself up the best he can, and tries to fall asleep on the couch.
x
Reo is an abysmally restless sleeper.
Tossing and turning throughout the night, especially if he feels uncomfortable.
This doesn’t bode well for sleeping on the couch, since he’s at risk of falling off.
However, that’s not what happens when Reo turns around half lucid. He doesn’t even feel his hand droop down the side.
No, he feels a soft surface.
As he starts becoming more aware, he realizes that his head is lying on a soft pillow, not the cushion he fell asleep on.
He blinks, more and more perplexed by the minute. His eyes take a while to get used to the darkness as he shifts, lifting himself up.
His hands meet white sheets and a mattress, and he has to lift covers off of himself, so Reo can confirm that he’s somehow on the bed.
The clock on the nightstand displays that it’s currently 3:00 a.m..
A confused hum escapes Reo, as he looks around.
The next thing he notices is that his shirt, previously haphazardly buttoned, was buttoned properly, lying flat on his body.
Nagi.
This has to be the work of Nagi, no matter how perplexing it may be.
Did Nagi lift him up off of the couch and tuck him in bed?
Reo glances at the couch, and finds it deserted except for the sheets Reo was using as a blanket.
Why would he do that?
Nagi isn’t even in bed with Reo. Where is he?
Reo moves up, hoping to go find him and convince him to sleep, before catching sight of white fluffy hair on the floor.
Huh.
Reo crawls to the end of the bed, and he finds Nagi curled up on the floor, in a black hoodie and sweatpants set, and no blanket.
Reo thinks he can notice the slightest bit of shivering as well.
What?
Why would Nagi— He looks a little like a dog that sleeps out in the cold.
A soft huff escapes Reo at that thought, a small moment of amusement, before he realises how horribly selfish this is.
“Nagi?” Reo calls out, feeling terrible about sleeping in the bed while Nagi was shivering.
The slow rise and fall of Nagi’s chest stutters, and though Nagi doesn’t respond, that’s all the proof Reo needs to conclude he’s awake.
“Nagi?” Reo calls out again, and he notices the small way Nagi goes stiff. “I know you’re listening. Come sleep in bed.”
This elicits no response, and the AC of the room really starts getting to Reo.
However, Nagi must be even worse off than Reo, and Reo can not, in good faith, leave Nagi like that.
“Nagi, at least sleep on the couch.” Reo says, and it sounds pitiful even to his own ears. “Take the sheets, please. You must be cold.”
Would Reo care this much if it were someone else?
Why did Reo still care? Why did Nagi still care?
He cared enough to make sure to put Reo to sleep.
Nagi turns his head, pointedly ignoring Reo.
Reo considers carrying Nagi to bed, like how Nagi did to him, but the idea is shot down. For one, Reo wasn’t conscious, making it easier, and he was on an elevated surface.
Forcing Nagi seemed impossible.
“Nagi,” Reo all but pleads. “Nagi, please.”
It’s embarrassing. But Reo is mostly out of options.
He hears more than he sees Nagi suck in a sharp breath. But he makes no other moves.
With a sigh, Reo picks himself off of the bed, heading back to the couch.
Only, a hand closes around his wrist, stopping him, with Reo jerking from the cold, almost freezing touch.
“Go back to bed.” Nagi mumbles, through gritted teeth, his voice fractured and raspy, still lying down.
“Are you going to?” Reo asks, soft in a way he hasn’t used since the last time he and Nagi had a positive interaction.
Nagi doesn’t respond, and Reo tries to pull his hand away.
The hand around his wrist tightens, and a sigh of defeat makes its way from Nagi.
“Fine.” He mumbles, sitting up, and Reo shudders a little from the chill of the room.
The room falls quiet as Reo tries to settle into bed again, his nerves restless like they were on fire, trying to keep enough distance between Nagi and him to avoid whatever it is between them.
They fall wordlessly into position, Reo occupying the right side, near the blinds, while Nagi lays on the left.
It was a simple thing the two of them had developed from prior experience. Reo preferred the window, and Nagi preferred the shade.
Reo remembers joking that he and Nagi had good bed-chemistry, and both he and Nagi had laughed, light and airy as if it were yet another proof of their compatibility, as if they were made to be partners to the core.
It was the same now, yet it was also starkly different, as both Nagi and Reo stayed firmly on their sides, the boundaries rigid instead of blurred, the asinine skin-to-skin touch abandoned.
This bed is different from all the others they had shared. Before, any and every bed they had shared was too small to accommodate two tall and built athletes, and their legs would tangle into a mess of limbs, where you couldn’t tell where one began and the other ended.
Reo mourns that touch, as he notes how this bed was finally big enough to fit both of them.
He lies on his back, wide awake, staring at the ceiling, as Nagi turns away from him, sleeping on his side.
He should feel warm, not freezing, in this bed. His mind races with no thoughts, buzzing but empty, only the ever present feeling of a panic held back only by a sorry, thin metal sheet excuse of a door in a zombie apocalypse.
All Reo can do is feel, his misery quiet but strong, his eyes stinging even though the tears refuse to form—he refuses to cry— his breaths shallow but controlled.
Nagi seems like he’s asleep next to him, and Reo resolves to quietly make his escape to the couch, (or gym, either works) so that he can be productive instead of catastrophising aimlessly in bed. But, his steady moving of the sheets are easily intercepted.
“If you get up,” Nagi mumbles, stern, cold in a way that he’s never been to Reo outside of that one isolated instance in second selection. “I’m leaving too.”
Nagi doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t have to, because the threat is clear enough. Reo’s never known Nagi to be loud, anyway.
Even his cruelty is quiet, and perhaps his hatred is too.
(Reo remembers the first taste of direct dislike he hears from Nagi clear as day. “You’re a pain, Reo.” He had said, and things back then weren’t even as bad as they are now.)
It makes Reo upset. And, raised as a Mikage, immature as one can be, impulsive and all-too passionate, his emotions spanning from a zero to a hundred, he fuels his sorrow into rage.
“Just sleep, Nagi.” Reo responds, with more force than is necessary.
“Don’t order me around.” Nagi mumbles, he says, quiet. “And, take your own advice.”
Reo sighs, settling himself back down, trying not to be too hurt by the indifference, and, for a moment, he lets himself miss his Nagi. The person, who was sweet and kind, who was soft and thoughtful with Reo, who liked seals and lazing around.
Not just what he represented, but the guy himself, who made Reo melt without trying.
Not the guy lying across from him, a stranger in all meanings of the word, the Nagi that Reo once knew buried under indifference.
“Do you want the AC off?” Reo asks, his voice heavy, almost chocked, the feeling of dry sobs stuck in his throat.
Considering how cold it was, Nagi would probably say yes or not respond, and Reo would take the opportunity to book it out of the room under the excuse he had crafted, and practice until he couldn’t think, until the sinking feeling in his heart became bearable.
God, Reo was fragile, and pathetic.
“No.” Nagi says, though he doesn’t turn back. “Don’t leave.”
Reo huffs, almost offended by the words, how Nagi demands from Reo without even turning to face him.
He doesn’t have any right to be offended, considering his own transgressions towards the boy.
A sharp sense of nausea hits Reo, as the guilt quickly catches up.
Here he is, tormenting the boy he swore to leave alone.
Here he is, giving Nagi even more reason to hate him.
He’s the reason they’re like this. He’s the reason behind the ruin of Nagi’s happiness and personality and potential.
And, he’s the person feeling hurt?
Shame on you, Mikage Reo.
‘I’m sorry.’ The words form in his head without permission, not wanting to make Nagi any more upset than he already has, but they don’t escape past his lips.
Apologies have never been Reo’s strong suit.
Not that he deserves to be forgiven.
Reo, because he hates himself to the point it’s genuinely concerning, turns his face to look at Nagi, studying his appearance, for the first time since Nagi was locked off.
The boy is built, virtue of being an athlete of high calibre, but his muscle mass is lacking, as if he’d taken a break from training.
He probably stopped playing for a while.
Reo hates himself more as he stares at the obvious signs of overuse on his body.
This brings him to his main concern. Why was Nagi playing?
Why was he pushing himself?
Did he find a passion for football after all? His way of playing had drastically improved, his presence on the field unmatched.
This was both, the Nagi he had discovered, and the Nagi he couldn’t recognise.
Correction. Reo always knew that Nagi was amazing, that he was capable of being the best in the world.
It’s humbling to know that he accomplished it all on his own, without Reo.
It’s good. It’s good that Nagi doesn’t need him.
It shouldn’t hurt Reo. It’s selfish, unhealthy, for Reo to want Nagi to need him.
Just, does it also mean that Nagi doesn’t want him?
It’s what Reo deserves.
Reo doesn’t deserve to play beside Nagi.
Because he can lie here and say in his head that he always believed in Nagi, that he knew that Nagi would succeed—no matter how true that was—it didn’t change how Reo wasn’t there for him when he needed him most, blocking him.
If you had asked Reo yesterday, he would’ve firmly defended himself, insisting that he had no regrets.
And yet, today, all Reo feels is shame.
He’s so horrible.
His throat catches on a sob, and the sound jerks him out of his reverie.
This is when he notices the silent tears falling from his lashes, leaving wet streaks.
And the dam breaks.
Reo tries to be quiet, he really does.
But, he doesn’t stop himself from crying.
It’s what he deserves.
He’s pathetic, horrible. He’s awful.
He faces away from Nagi, his breath stuttering.
He doesn’t expect Nagi to instantly roll over, his pupils blown wide, like he’s seen a ghost.
Embarrassment paints over Reo’s senses, the humiliating feeling of being watched so closely by Nagi overriding his hollow sorrow.
Reo instantly rolls on to his side, burying his face in his hand, trying to stop the tears from flowing down his face.
“Reo?” Nagi asks, his voice cracking, shaken—for what reason, Reo doesn’t know—by the sight.
Why?
Why does Nagi care? Why did Nagi tuck him into bed? Why is he so—
Kind?
Reo staunchly refuses to answer him, his eyes darting over the room, trying to look for something, anything, else to latch onto.
“You’re crying.” Nagi says, disbelieving, almost frightened. “I—”
“Thanks for announcing it.” Reo mumbles, sarcastic, digging himself further into his hole.
“It’s because of me.” Nagi says, and his voice sounds pained, along with a strangled breath. “You’re crying again. Because of me.”
Reo doesn’t know how to respond. He didn’t think Nagi would care in the first place. Someone like Reo doesn’t deserve his sympathy.
A hand extends, and just as easily pulls away before it can make contact with the skin of Reo’s collarbone, almost as if it were burned.
Reo’s breath evens out on its own, as Reo tries to ignore Nagi’s stare boring into his back.
“Reo.” Nagi calls out again, more firm than earlier. “I don’t understand.”
Reo almost laughs at that, because what is there to understand?
“Why are you crying over a lame loser like me?” Nagi asks, and, for the first time, Reo hears pained sadness in his tone. “Please don’t cry, Reo.”
“You’re not lame.” Reo instantly defends, incredulous at the accusation. “Who told you that?”
“I’m so,” Nagi cuts his sentence off, voice going heavy with emotion. “I can’t—”
“Breathe.” Reo grits out, not faring much better. “Better yet, forget about this and sleep. You need the rest.”
“No.” Nagi simply states. “No, Reo—”
Reo’s eyes burn a little, hot droplets pooling at his water line as he tries to keep them from spilling over so that he can speak.
“Sleep, Nagi.” Reo says stiffly. Don’t waste your breath on me, he thinks.
He feels the subtle shaking behind him, feels Nagi clench his fist and drive it into the mattress.
It takes everything in him not to turn around and comfort Nagi, to check if he’s okay.
It’s better this way, Reo tries to tell himself. It’s better for Nagi not to have Reo in his life.
But, he hears a foreign sobbing that isn’t his, and all thought leaves his brain as turns to face Nagi.
He’s crying too, Reo notes through blurry eyes.
Why is he so affected, Reo wonders. Why is Nagi crying?
Reo’s hand instantly reaches out to Nagi’s clenched hand, trying to ease the tensed muscles.
“I’m so—” Nagi says, frowning through his tears, almost angry. “God, I can’t do anything right when it comes to you.”
“Nagi,” Reo scrambles to say, letting their fingers tangle to offer comfort, ignoring his own fear. “Hey, treasure, what’s wrong?”
“You—” Nagi lets out, gripping Reo so tight to the point Reo can a feel a dull ache in his joints. “Why— I thought that, you blocked me, that you were fine.”
There it was.
“I’m sorry.” Reo whispers, sobs breaking up the words. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I left you when you needed me.”
“No,” Nagi mumbles, breathing heavily in between words, trying to get them out in one go. “You did the right thing. I was being pathetic, a creep, and without that—”
Nagi exhales softly.
“I would’ve never found my ego.” He utters, and Reo’s heart breaks into two.
There it is.
“I guess you’ve never needed me.” Reo says through bitter laughter, and he must sound hysterical with the crying and chuckles combined.
“No.” Nagi says. “But you’ve never needed me either. And, when you blocked me, when we were playing against Barcha, that’s when it sunk in.”
“Don’t say that.” Reo retorts, hurt by the accusation.
Because it wasn’t true.
Reo needs Nagi by his side. That was his dream, to win the World Cup with Nagi.
Well, correction.
“I wanted you.” Reo confesses, no matter how much his being rejects speaking the words out into existence. “And, I was selfish. I forced you to do what I wanted. You’re better without me.”
“Is that really what you think?” Nagi asks, discontent, incredulous. “That’s not— You’re the one who’s better off without me, and that hurts. I thought you moved on, and I selfishly wanted to keep you with me, like a child.”
“You are a child.” Reo says, letting his other hand cradle Nagi’s face, wiping away the tears.
“So are you.” Nagi argues. “I— if I can’t have you, I’ll just chase football.”
“Is that why you’re playing?” Reo asks, as Nagi nuzzles himself into his palm.
“It makes me feel alive.” Nagi explains. “Like a god. Like I’m on top of the world, like I can control everything.”
God complex, huh? Reo supposes there’s no stronger ego than that.
“Maybe, if I was god,” Nagi mumbles. “I could have you. I’m like a god, and you'd be my angel, and we’d win the World Cup.”
“I don’t think that’s how it works.” Reo says through wet chuckles. “I really wish it was.”
Reo’s spent so long dreaming, and everyday since Nagi had been eliminated, it felt as though he was ripped from the skies and brought back down to earth, to reality.
Alas, dreams are enticing, even now.
“I’m no angel.” Reo admits. “I’m—”
Awful, horrible, the worst person to be in your life, evil in all meanings of the word, selfish, ugly, controlling—
“You are.” Nagi insists, almost offended at the idea that Reo wasn’t. “You’re Reo. You’re the light of my life, even if you hurt me.”
“How could you like someone who hurts you?” Reo asks, broken words, and pure confusion.
“Why do you still like me, then?” Nagi simply fires back, and Reo wants to protest that it’s different.
But, the words die in his throat, as Nagi leans forward, pressing soft kisses to his face, to the tears still spilling, and rests his head on his shoulder.
They haven’t been this close in so long.
“I’m sorry, Reo.” Nagi mumbles. “I’m sorry that I’m still selfish.”
Reo’s heartbeat quickens, the pulse hammering in his ears.
“You’re amazing.” Nagi says. “And, I’ll become the number one striker, I’ll chase after victory.”
“I have no doubt you will.” Reo reassures, half because he knows it’s true, and half because he doesn’t know what else to say.
“I told you to be the best on your own.” Nagi says, the words sour. “Are you still going to?”
“I—” Reo cuts himself off at the word, before taking a sharp inhale. “Yes. I’m Mikage Reo—”
“And you get everything you want.” Nagi finishes.
In a sudden flash of boldness, a light in all the darkness of his misery, Reo declares something new.
“And, I want the World Cup,” Reo states. “As well as the number one striker in the world.”
Nagi’s grip on him tightens.
“I’ll meet you there.”
“Don’t—” Reo doesn’t know what to say after that. Don’t leave. Don’t forget. Remember me. Win with me.
Choose me.
Because, I will always try to choose you.
“One day,” Nagi mumbles. “We’ll make it through this. And, I’ll have you.”
“And, I’ll have you.” Reo echoes.
One day.
Reo can wait.
“For now,” Nagi asks, terrified. “Please, let me hold you.”
Reo doesn’t respond, hugging him back, letting Nagi into his embrace.
They lie on the bed.
Half asleep, half awake. But, they lie together, tangled up.
Eventually, they fall asleep, and they are at peace, if only for one night.