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When Bunny Iglesias woke up today, he didn't think about Itoshi Sae.
Why would he? After all, they hadn't shared anything more than fake pleasantries over the pitch in over a year, only played against each other a handful of times a season, and the pink haired midfielder was approximately three hours and fifteen minutes away by train - give or take half an hour depending on traffic.
(Bunny would remember - he was the one who usually made the trip. Sae liked things on his terms, his turf, and Bunny liked Sae.)
These days there really wasn't much of Sae left to think about.
It’s illogical. He’s illogical. Bunny values the things that are right in front of him - a good meal, a comfy pillow - tangible wants and desires brought to fruition. Sae is a concept found in memories and dusty trinkets hidden in the crevices of his room, and Bunny doesn't deal in those sorts of things anymore.
And so he doesn't think about him much at all.
Most people probably don’t believe him on the rare occasion it comes up, but it’s true. Or, becomes more true every time he says it which, to Bunny, is practically the same thing.
Remembering is just a bad habit, and Bunny Iglesias also considered himself a man of habit. Breaking said habits was, admittedly, challenging, but he’s reached the point now where his hand has stopped reaching for the other side of the bed in the morning, or for his phone, just to send a picture from his day or an incoherent string of emojis just to tease. He’s long ago stopped anticipating a response.
Instinct isn't thought. Or desire.
But it’s hard because Bunny likes his habits, even the bad ones, and you’re supposed to replace a bad addiction with a good one (or, in this case, slightly less bad) and so finding himself sitting at the same café he’s been frequenting weekly for the past year isn't uncommon.
It’s not because he used to come here with a certain other player after their morning jog either. They just have really good pastries.
Today, the waiter is even kind enough to clear off the table at Bunny’s favorite spot when he eventually wanders in, tucked outside under the shade of a fig tree and perfect for people-watching.
Ordering doesn't require thought either.
It arrives at his table - something hot, something that burns the roof of his mouth and down his throat.
There’s other food too - looks like the waiter brought water, fruit, condiments, and Bunny takes it as his sign to indulge, to clear his plate until his mind is just as empty.
Food is easy. Food is a necessity, and Bunny deeply envies the things in life that one can’t live without. No matter what, he still has to eat. Maybe it’s that routine that allows his thoughts to clear (what’s the harm in another band-aid solution anyways?), and Bunny decides today he will be content. Today, he’ll focus on the feeling of sand beneath his feet, the wind rustling his hair. Nothing else.
It nearly works. Bunny likes to observe, and this really is the ideal spot for it. Cute dogs, padding by their owners side as they walk. Kids playing in the fountains and parents dragging them out. A city with a pulse - one he can fade into easily.
So effective, in fact, that he makes it halfway through his meal by the time he thinks of Itoshi Sae again - but today, it seems to be because Itoshi Sae is right in front of him. Not in a metaphorical way or anything - right now, actually, and not three hours away, which is definitely weird.
All one hundred and eighty centimeters of him, hand on his hip and lips pursed as his gaze scans the hectic Barcelonian streets. Right in front of the couple Bunny has been absentmindedly watching as they consulted a map, arms looped around each other and gazes soft.
It feels vaguely like seeing a ghost.
Bunny considers a lot of other plausible ideas for the sight - a quarter-life psychotic break, heatstroke - but by the time his mind jumps to more realistic things like hallucinations, Sae is staring at him. Not like he’s trying to read the chalkboard sign behind his head or street sign over in the corner.
No. Just him.
So Bunny raises a brow and, against every instinct in his mind and his better judgement, smiles at this apparition of his ex-boyfriend. And waves.
He is entirely unsure what prompts the impulse. Maybe muscle memory, or some ridiculous part of his heart he hadn’t yet squashed under his heel, or maybe the psychotic break he was thinking about earlier, but regardless - he waves. And Sae turns.
For a moment too long, Bunny convinces himself he’s walking somewhere else. The coffee shop behind him, maybe. Then he glides onto the patio like he’d meant to come here all along, and Bunny blinks. Without any prompting, Sae slides out the chair across from Bunny and sits.
“Just tea,” He sighs at the waiter following behind, like this is just him popping over for a quick chat instead of the first words he’s spoken outside of an arena in Bunny’s vicinity in over a year. He doesn’t even give a faux glance to the menu beneath his palms.
Despite not clarifying exactly what tea he’s looking for, the waiter has the good sense to leave without any followup.
Sae knew the menu anyways.
“You could have had some of mine, y’know.” Bunny says, voice coming out scratchier than he would have liked. “If you were thirsty.”
“Absolutely not.”
It’s so casual. Everything about Sae normally is, but Bunny hasn't felt that unbothered air directed his way in a while.
So Bunny smiles - because how else are you supposed to respond - picking up the drink in question and taking a sip just to be petty. It gives him a minute to breathe, to compute the fact that this is something that is actually happening and not one of those dreams (nightmares?) he thought he’d gotten over.
This version of Sae makes him feel ungrounded. Any version that appears without warning probably would. Pulse jumps beneath his skin. Sae drums his fingers impatiently on the menu.
And, well, Bunny can only let this relationship feel lopsided for so long and so he tosses a comment over like one might a particularly large bomb. “You forgot to order.”
Those neatly-filed nails pause their tapping.
"Oh," He says, like the thought had just come to him - which is unusual in itself enough to let Bunny know it hasn't. Itoshi Sae does not say anything out loud that he hasn't vetted a million times over in his mind. "I didn't notice. Not hungry."
"Ah." Bunny responds equally as bland, teasing words dying on his lips though his smile remains. Agreement, even the fake kind, feels like giving Sae too much of an edge in this conversation and so he doesn't.
He moves what’s left of his meal half-heartedly around the plate.
It’s not worth asking the motive. A quick escape, a bad habit brought back between them - it’s all the same, isn't it? All things Bunny doesn't deserve to know any longer.
The mystery tea in question appears without comment. Sae doesn't even glance at it before bringing it to his lips, pointedly looking away.
Bunny is not unused to Sae's preferred method of misdirection - tense silence, waiting for someone to crack or apologize or leave entirely - that it takes little effort to lean back on his heels and wait, despite everything. He's had years to develop an immunity to it. Doing so again after a while is fine. It's just like riding a bike, waiting out Sae’s pride.
Time also doesn't seem to have worn away Itoshi Sae’s features, either. They’re still just as sharp as when Bunny first catalogued them, halfway across the field at some soccer camp he’d scraped his way through as a kid, all bruised knees and heaving lungs.
Here, the late afternoon sun hits Sae’s lashes just like they’d caught Bunny’s attention back then, casting pretty shadows over sun-freckled cheeks (those are new, he used to be so vigilant about sunscreen), soft and sharp and pretty, and Bunny feels certain he could watch them all day and feel something that could almost be contentment.
The midfielder’s sleeves are rolled up now, too, showing the lithe, toned muscle normally hidden behind layers of linen and cotton. Bunny can’t spot any new moles or scars, anything that makes those arms any different from the ones that used to loop around his shoulders on winter nights for warmth.
Tracing his gaze further down, he can imagine beyond where table cuts off his vision. Toned legs, crossed at the ankle and tucked into a sharp pair of slacks. A wallet shoved into his pocket - maybe he still uses the one Bunny gave him? Sae is practical, after all, and it’s quality leather –
"I'm busy. Supposed to be on vacation." Sae says eventually, evenly, voice clipped, and the staring really must be bothering him if he decides the lesser of two evils is talking about his fucking personal life.
The striker’s musings pause. That was quick. He’d anticipated waiting Sae out for the better half of an hour.
"So I've heard." Bunny agrees pleasantly. Not like he was curious or anything, but people talk. "And yet here you are."
If he was a guessing man, Bunny would have bet half his life savings on Sae’s ‘vacation’ taking place where everything else in his life does - on the field, running drills until his body started going numb and his mind turned to mush. Barcelona wouldn’t have even cracked the top hundred spots. Doesn't look like much of a vacation, either.
Coming out and asking if that means anything feels like something he definitely doesn’t have the right to.
So he gives something in between. "Isn't it nice?"
A hum greets him in response, some soft filler noise that buzzes pleasantly in Bunny’s ears.
"The vacation? Not particularly." The younger makes a barely-there grimace, like the tea he’s holding onto like a lifeline is far too hot for human consumption. A callused hand waves half-heartedly to the city streets beyond his companion’s shoulder. "The location is fine."
"Just fine? I'd say it's the best in the world."
This doesn't garner a response. Sae seems subdued. It feels off. He should be saying something about how he’s spent far too much time in Barcelona before this, and certain people have soured it. He should say Bunny is stupid, or incompetent, or - what did he like to say when they got closer, when he was trying to be an asshole but clearly meant it like an affectionate nickname, like one might say baby or honey? Bunny can’t remember. This bothers him more than it should.
"Great beaches." Bunny offers again with a strained smile, because Itoshi Sae loves beaches, and Bunny Iglesias used to love Sae, and it feels right. Maybe the reminder of the softer parts of Sae will make him mean again.
Or louder. Or garner some kind of reaction at all. Anything.
"I'm aware."
Naturally.
Bunny wasn’t sure what he’d expected. He always was the one who had to drag the harder conversations out. Sae was unnaturally stubborn and illogical when it came to things like this. Realizing he missed it, even the shitty parts like this, feels like a punch to the gut.
But he hasn't stormed off in a huff yet (Sae wouldn't call it anything remotely close to that, but Bunny can tell when it happens, and it happens a lot), so the taller man decides he might as well push. Such opportunities as this don’t come by often, after all, and the impulse buzzes under his skin.
Silently, like trying not to scare away a puffed-up alley cat, Bunny nudges his fruit cup over - a passive offer with his middle and ring finger. Ceramic makes a small screech against wrought iron metal, barely-there over the hectic sounds of a bustling city.
Sae looks up at Bunny like he wants him dead.
Bunny kind of wants that too.
"So. What exactly do you enjoy about beaches?" Bunny asks instead of doing so, just to derail. He never used to. Ask, that is. It felt like something that should remain unsaid back then. Now he has no such qualms.
Sharp blue eyes turn back to him now. Having Sae’s undivided attention both the ideal and worst outcome of such a question at the same time. Bunny smiles and lets his head rest on his palm.
"What kind of ridiculous question is that.” Sae begins, nose crinkled.
Bunny gives a noncommittal shrug of his shoulders, picking through strawberries and grapes, hunting for something he’s not sure he wants yet. He’ll know when he finds it.
“Is this your idea of small talk on a shitty first date?" Sae asks – yes, asks now instead of his usual monotone response, voice still level but shoulders rising to his ears and oh, Bunny realizes, he's a little mad now. Fair enough.
"Would you like it to be?" Bunny prompts, and, ah - okay, maybe too far. Bad habit.
Sae rises from his seat - not quick, nothing to outwardly show he’s bothered by the jest at all. Like it just makes sense to leave, like logic still runs his heart despite everything.
“This is a waste of my time.” Sae says, because of course that’s what set him off. “Did you wave me over here just to -”
"I'm just curious." Bunny responds as neutrally as possible, and then immediately tosses Sae a scrap of emotional vulnerability in an attempt at damage control. "I like learning about you."
Bunny is not entirely sure how to say that he can’t really live without it. That he hasn’t felt much of anything in a good long while, but when Sae gives him those stupid little crumbs about himself, things no one on this side of the world knows, Bunny feels something trying to come back to life in his chest.
It might be something totally monstrous, something far worse than cold shoulders and slammed doors and blocked numbers, but it might be something nicer. Softer than they both deserve the second time around. At least, it might be enough to get his heart beating again. Love that exists on the other side of hate, or maybe blended into it a bit - that feels like it would be enough.
Bunny can't consider himself a good player if he doesn't take every opportunity handed to him and run with it, and they're both nothing shy of the best.
“Don't try to talk me in circles.” Sae says firmly, a warning that he’s spotted Bunny’s sharp smile far too early. Sometimes Bunny missed being treated without expectation for anything more than his smile. Knowing Sae still remembered, still expected -
“Beaches are calm.” The younger says, clearly trying to come off as benevolent in his answer. He sits down with a barely-there sigh, like this whole thing is somehow him doing Bunny a favor. “Good for jogging.”
Shock from actually getting a straight answer makes the striker blink, wide and unabashedly curious at this new development.
“I - hm.” Thin, trimmed nails tap out a beat on the table again, and Bunny nearly kicks the underside of it with how quickly he sits up from his slouch at the motion. “It’s practical. It makes sense that I would like them. I used to live near the beach. Back home.”
How curious, Bunny muses, watching Sae’s hands. This is the second time he’s done it. Itoshi Sae doesn’t have nervous habits - or didn’t, in recent memory. If Bunny were a kinder person, he would let that blatantly charged statement slide.
But if Sae was offering it, it meant he wanted Bunny to do something with it and so he does, fighting the same overwhelming urge to stand and leave that had wracked the midfielder earlier.
“Oh, me too.” He comments, leaning over to pluck a blueberry from the previously untouched bowl and drop it down on his own plate. “‘Bout an hour away.”
Sae knows this already.
But Sae has also spoken more in the past ten minutes then he did in the entire last month of their not-relationship combined and so Bunny isn't entirely sure what to make of it. All he knows is that it makes him feel alive. That he wants to feel it again.
Hand-eye coordination isn’t his strongest suit, but surely some of his conditioning on every other muscle of his body must carry over because he feels fairly confident in the shot. His finger presses against the berry and lets it glide across the table, a small arc he follows with a tilt of his head. It rolls a few times around the rim before landing half-heartedly near the center of Sae’s empty plate.
Bunny watches Sae trace its trajectory with his eyes, looping slow and unwavering.
“They’re too sandy here.” Sae says, giving nothing away. “Your beaches are shit.”
“Oh come on. You liked the beach back at my place.” Bunny teases - just a little, because he can’t let Sae think he’s changed all that much either.
Besides, how could he forget? If he were to lose all his memories tomorrow, he feels sure he would still catch glimpses of it in his mind, embedded in his chest. Salt air and something Bunny could swear was a smile, a hand wrapped in his. Yea, Sae really used to like the beach.
“It was fine.”
“Well, I’m sure you could find something you like around here, even if you’re too grumpy to see the ocean.” Bunny watches Sae pick up the fruit. He rolls it around in his palm. Bunny continues. “You’re preferential to bookshops, right?”
The midfielders eyes stay trained on the sliver of beach to their right.
“I haven’t seen the one in the next town over.” Sae murmurs, completely ignoring Bunny’s comment, as he is wont to do. His jaw is clenched like dispensing this information is a few steps above painful. “Heard it was rockier. Better. That’s where I was going.”
It’s clearly meant to be some biting comment, some ‘you don’t know me as well as you think you do’ that seems to bring him pleasure every time the barb digs into soft flesh. Bunny latches onto it like a lifeboat.
“I see.”
Bunny traces the comment in his mind for a minute while Sae pecks at his food. Then he watches as, to his genuine surprise, Sae brings it resolutely to his mouth.
“Have you missed your bus?”
Bunny watches with some strange feeling in his chest as he watches Sae swallow.
“I’ll get there eventually.” Sae shrugs.
So that’s a yes.
Callused hands dig around the rest of the cup half-heartedly. Bunny watches Sae look for one without too much juice on it. Picky.
Luckily, Bunny isn't. No, Bunny will take any opportunity presented to him without thought.
“Right. Do you need a guide?”
He watches Sae consider this, pausing. It’s cheating, just a little, to appeal to his objective nature, but Bunny has never had a problem with that, not if it gets him results. Even posing it like a question, head tilted - like he’s curious what Sae’s response might be.
Sae speaks, clipped. “I don't need one.”
Reading through the lines is so easy.
“‘Course you don't.” Bunny says, now appealing to his equally prideful glare with a wave of his hand. “But it couldn't hurt.”
It could. It really, really could and by Sae’s expression as the words fall from the strikers lips, they both know it well.
Bunny also knows Sae. “So you’ll allow me to help, yes?”
He smiles, knowing that as long as Sae is standing right in front of him, he’s already answered.
“If it’ll get you off my back about it.” Agreeing would actually do the exact opposite of that, but Bunny tactfully decides against mentioning it. “As a strictly one-time thing.”
“It will,” Bunny lies. The back-and-forth feels comfortable. He can’t remember the last time he’s breathed so easily. “But the day is young. Let’s not waste it before you miss all the sights, hm?”
He grins, standing with a flourish and extending his hand to the cross-armed man in front of him.
Sae doesn't take it, not exactly, but he does stand. He gestures for Bunny to start walking, like he’s pushing him along. Like he’ll follow.
And, as he pushes away from his seat with a smile, handful of bills shoved onto the table haphazardly, Bunny wonders just how long it’ll take after today to stop thinking of Itoshi Sae again.