Chapter Text
Karasu glanced out the window, watching a familiar black Audi roll into his driveway. He checked his pockets to make sure he had everything he needed before walking out the door.
The car window rolled down, and Otoya grinned at him, “Morning, night owl.”
Karasu chuckled, getting into the passenger seat beside his best friend. The sky was dark, but it was technically morning. Two in the morning.
“This seat is so far back,” Karasu remarked. “You have anyone in here?”
“No one I know the name of,” Otoya chuckled, backing the car out of the driveway and onto the street.
The break from Blue Lock had started only two weeks ago, but it felt like years. It had been presented as a test by Ego to see whether players would dare to quit after tasting the luxury of home life again, but Karasu was half-sure it was some sort of requirement.
It was certainly a big change, but Karasu didn’t mind. He spent much of the day training and nights either playing video games or hanging out with Otoya.
Otoya had picked up a habit of partying, sleeping around, bringing home random girls he barely knew.
Karasu didn’t care. Not really.
Karasu didn't care what Otoya did with his nights. Or who he did them with. They were friends—best friends, even—and friends didn't get weird about shit like that.
Except Karasu had checked his phone three times last night, waiting for Otoya's text. Had been awake at 1:47 when it finally came. Had felt something uncomfortable twist in his chest when he'd seen the lipstick smudge on Otoya's collar two days ago.
Not jealousy. Definitely not that.
Just... awareness. Of the space Otoya took up in his passenger seat. The casual way he stretched, shirt riding up to show a sliver of stomach. The fact that he'd driven across town at 2 AM because Karasu had said he was bored.
"You good?" Otoya glanced over, catching him staring again.
"Yeah," Karasu said, too quickly. "Just tired."
Otoya's smirk said he didn't believe that for a second.
They drove down the street, buying snacks at a nearby convenience store and going back to Otoya’s place, an unspoken routine they’d gotten used to by now.
"Nice hickey," Karasu said, eyes on the road ahead.
Otoya's laugh was low, almost smug. "Jealous?"
"Of what? Your shit taste in perfume?" The girl's scent still clung to the leather—something too sweet, artificial.
"You're thinking about it, though." Otoya's hand left the gear shift, fingers drumming against Karasu's headrest. Close enough that Karasu could feel the vibration against his skull. "That's cute."
Karasu turned to shoot him a look, but Otoya was watching the road, that infuriating smirk playing at his lips. The streetlights sliding across his face made the white streak in his hair look almost silver.
"Eyes on the road, dude," Otoya said, without looking at him.
Karasu hadn't realized he was staring.
And they spent the night flirting with and teasing each other. Casually, like none of it mattered. Karasu felt like Otoya thought it did, though. Maybe he did, too.
Otoya pulled into his driveway and killed the engine, but neither of them moved to get out. The sudden silence was loud.
"You could've just come over," Karasu said. "Didn't have to pick me up."
"Yeah, but then I wouldn't get to see you all sleepy and disheveled." Otoya's eyes flicked to Karasu's hair, probably a mess. "It's a good look on you."
There it was again—that edge to his voice that could've been teasing or could've been something else entirely. Karasu never could tell. Wasn't sure he wanted to.
"You're an idiot," Karasu said, but he was already smiling.
"Yeah." Otoya's grin softened into something almost genuine. He looked as if he was about to say something ridiculous, but instead let out a breath.
The words hung in the air between them, heavier than they should've been.
The green stripe in Otoya’s hair shimmered in the dim light of the manhole that was Karasu’s basement. Dark purple LED lights lined the walls, and posters climbed up towards the ceiling.
Otoya and Karasu sat curled up on a black beanbag in the corner, playing some video game in which Karasu just kept winning.
“This is bullshit, you’re cheating!” Otoya exclaimed, laughing with his head tilted up towards the ceiling. The angle doused him in purple light, making Karasu feel a bit warm inside.
“I’d never stoop so low. You just suck at this.” Karasu shrugged, throwing Otoya a lazy smirk that made the boy’s grip on his controller tighten.
“Tch. I thought we had a bond, and you treat me like this?” Otoya placed a hand over his heart, gasping dramatically, earning a nudge from Karasu.
“Don’t overdo it,” Karasu chuckled.
Otoya shifted, trying to get a better angle on the screen, and his knee pressed against Karasu's thigh.
"One more round," Otoya said, already queuing up the next match. "I'm gonna destroy you this time."
"Sure ya are." Karasu's attention wasn't entirely on the game anymore. He was too aware of the warmth radiating from Otoya's side, the way their shoulders kept brushing with every movement.
Otoya died within thirty seconds.
"Fuck!" He threw his head back against the beanbag, which made him slide down slightly—closer. His arm was fully pressed against Karasu's now.
"You're distracted," Karasu observed, trying to keep his voice steady.
"Yeah?" Otoya turned his head, and suddenly they were close enough that Karasu could count his eyelashes. "By what?"
Karasu's mouth went dry. The purple LED light cast shadows across Otoya's face, made his eyes look darker. Made this feel like something that was happening outside of normal time.
"The game," Karasu said, but it sounded like a lie even to him.
Otoya's grin was sharp. "Right. The game."
They played two more rounds before Otoya finally won one, celebrating with an obnoxious victory dance that involved elbowing Karasu in the ribs.
"Asshole," Karasu muttered, but he was laughing.
Eventually, they abandoned the controllers, the game menu music looping in the background. Otoya sprawled across the beanbag like he owned it, legs stretched out, one arm behind his head. Karasu stayed where he was, close enough that he could feel the rise and fall of Otoya's breathing.
"Your basement's depressing as hell," Otoya said, but there was no bite to it. He'd said the same thing a dozen times before.
"And yet ya keep coming back."
"Yeah, well." Otoya's voice had gone quieter. "Better than my place."
That was new. Otoya never talked about his home life—not really. Karasu knew the basics: too-big house, parents who were never there, the kind of loneliness that money couldn't fix.
"You can crash here if you want," Karasu offered, trying to sound casual about it. "I’ve got a spare futon somewhere."
Otoya turned his head to look at him, expression unreadable. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Karasu's phone buzzed. He ignored it.
It buzzed again. Then twice more in rapid succession.
"You gonna get that?" Otoya asked, not looking away from the screen.
Karasu sighed and checked. Group chat. Probably Hiori asking about training tomorrow, or Yukimiya sending memes at unholy hours.
Three messages from his mom.
> Are you still awake? > There's leftover curry if you're hungry > Is Otoya-kun with you? Tell him he's welcome to stay for breakfast
"What's up?" Otoya had paused the game, watching him.
"My mom says you can stay for breakfast."
Otoya's expression shifted—something soft, almost vulnerable, before he covered it with a grin. "Your mom loves me more than you do."
"That's a low bar," Karasu shot back, but his chest felt tight.
"Is it though?" Otoya's voice had dropped, playful edge fading into something more serious.
Karasu didn't know how to answer that. Wasn't sure what Otoya was really asking.
The silence stretched.
"So," Otoya said finally, picking his controller back up. "Breakfast mean you're stuck with me all night?"
"Looks like it."
"Good." Otoya unpaused the game, but Karasu caught the small smile on his face. Real, not performative.
Karasu was so fucked.