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He wakes up in the middle of the night, and knows exactly one thing: it is too fucking hot.
Sae Itoshi rips himself out of his blankets, all too aware of the sweat on his body; the uncomfortable way his shirt clings to his skin.
His dorm-complimentary clock sits on his nightstand, its red led lights starkly numbering out a 3:07.
He forces himself out of the bed, shoving his feet into a pair of waiting slippers. He staggers as he walks, a combination of yesterday’s practice and overall exhaustion wearing him down.
He runs his hand through his bangs- fights back the urge to grimace at the feeling of dampness- and shuffles out of his room.
Re Al’s training dormitories are not as luxurious as one would expect— not for the Youth Team, at least. There’s only a singular communal bathroom on the first floor, which he stumbles into with a curse on the tip of his tongue.
Sae leans over the bathroom sink, bile in the back of his throat. He’s starving. But his body fat percentage was too high the last time they checked it, and he cannot risk being another step out of line. So he ignores his empty stomach and splashes ice cold water over his face instead.
When he looks in the mirror, he’s not sure if he recognizes himself. His bangs are pushed upward, wet and messy. The water drips down his face, catching on his lashes. There are bags underneath his eyes, and a hollowness in his irises. He looks older than 15.
He turns around and walks out of the bathroom.
He pads back up the stairs, and— keeps going up. He passes the floor of his room, a blankness in his mind. He stops at the door to the roof. It’s a little stupid. He’s almost certain it’s locked at night.
But his hand still reaches for the handle, and the handle still turns in his grasp.
The night air is moderately cooler than the indoors. Sae lets out a sigh of relief, closing his eyes and letting the soft breeze hit his face. He might make it through this camp after all, if the roof is this pleasant-
“¿No vas a saludar?” a voice asks, dry.
His eyes fly open, the hair on the back of his neck rising. He feels half the muscles on his back tense, his soreness flaring up again.
A scarred face stares at him, scarlet eyes filled with mild amusement, his upper body leaning on the roof’s railing.
Oh. Not one of them.
One of his fellow rejects, with too-little ball time. The tall one with the strange scars and the strange name—
“Iglesias,” He hears himself say.
Bunny Iglesias grins, his light hair flopping. One of the outdoor lights casts shadows on his face. “Bunny’s fine. Sae, right? No Spanish.”
Sae frowns. “Itoshi.” His name sounds wrong on Bunny’s tongue, with the incorrect syllables and the infuriatingly non-accented English.
And his Spanish is just fine, his brain snarks. Good enough to understand, if maybe not to talk. Good enough to understand every word they say about him.
But the other boy only looks more delighted. “Right. The last name thing. That’s fun.”
He gestures behind him, to Madrid’s skyline. “Here for the view?”
Sae considers saying no. He could simply turn around and leave, pad straight down the stairs and pretend they’d never had this conversation. Go back to sleep like he already should have.
Pretend they hadn’t seen each other. Attend practice the next day. Be the last two to get chosen. Fight with every breath for a chance at the ball, get pushed around by people his age yet bigger, collapse in his bed every night with barely enough in his stomach, stare at the ceiling, and question-
“Asshole,” he mumbles, but strides forward to the railing anyways.
Bunny hums. He turns back to the nighttime sky, crossing his bare arms on the metal. Sae can’t help but eye the lines of his scars. The skin stands out, pale and raised where the rest of him isn’t. He wonders what sort of life you’d have to lead to be so violently marked at barely 16 years of age.
He thinks of Rin, with his constant bruises and bandaged cuts and bloody noses. He frowns.
Down in the city below, some man whoops, voice loud enough to carry. The nightlife’s lights glimmer. A cool wind blows into his face, and Bunny Iglesias brings a lighter to a skinny cigarette.
“What the hell?” Sae hisses, jerking himself away.
Bunny raises an eyebrow. The flame licks the air inches below the cigarette’s tip. “I don’t have one for you.”
An almost full box sticks slightly out of his pockets.
“That’s not- Why- How do you have that?” Sae spits out, the words falling over themselves. “Do you want to get kicked out?”
Bunny stares at him with something resembling hilarity, bringing the flame up. It catches on the cigarette, filling the space with the unpleasant scent of tobacco. Sae grimaces.
“They’d have to catch me first,” Bunny says, eventually. “Hasn’t happened yet.”
“So you come up here just to smoke?”
He shrugs. Smoke trails from his lips and dissipates into the air. Sae watches it fade away. “Sometimes. Sometimes I just stand around. Sometimes I stand on the railing and wonder if the fall would kill me fast enough to not hurt.”
Sae thinks his English is failing him. What he thinks Bunny said doesn’t match the light tone of his voice. At the same time, he knows he is fluent. He has been fluent, and it is only them who mock his ability. So he refuses to ask the other boy to repeat himself, and instead wrinkles his nose.
“It’s shit for your lungs.”
Bunny grins at that. Sae doesn’t think it reaches his eyes. “My lungs are not the most important thing about me,” he laughs. “Not that it matters, does it? Not with our combined 5 minutes on the field.”
The words sting.
“Don’t you fucking hate that?” Sae blurts, voice rising. His hands twitch at his sides. He runs one of them through his bangs. “I know I’m better than half our fucking team, I just need to get to the ball. There’s no way you like sitting out either. Your jumps are— we shouldn’t be benched. I didn’t come here to sit out.”
He should regret saying this, he thinks. But Bunny’s eyes study his face without any iota of mockery, and Sae has never been one to regret his actions.
“Your hair looks better like that.”
Sae blinks. Instinctively, his hands fly to the top of his head, where his usually-flat bangs are spiking up, still damp with water. He vaguely considers brushing them down into their normal position, but the idea of feeling his hair brush over his forehead is making him sick.
“What.” he settles on. His hand trails back down.
Bunny’s head tilts. He twirls the cigarette in his fingers. “Makes you look older, almost. Less… amateurish.”
Sae feels his face contort. “You sound like a fucking creep.”
“I’m your age, actually.”
“A year up.”
Bunny does not respond. He takes a long drag off of the cigarette, blowing the smoke too close to him.
Eventually, when the silence thickens towards discomfort, he speaks.
“So what did you come here for?”
Sae glares at him. If he is being honest with himself, he is finding it difficult to keep up with Bunny’s constant switching of topics, and his incomprehensible expressions.
Bunny rolls his eyes. “You said you didn’t come here to sit out. So why are you all the way out here in Spain, Sae?”
“It’s Itoshi,” he says, instinctively.
And I came here to be the best striker in the world, his mind finishes for him. But it’s been getting harder to say that part out loud. He thinks of shared popsicles and the weight of a country’s dreams and wonders, for a moment.
“Okay, Itoshi,” Bunny replies drily, oblivious to the turmoil inside his head. “Why are you here?”
Sae’s jaw clenches. “To prove that I’m better than assholes like you.” He gets out.
The words sound ingenuine to his own ears. The look on the other boy’s face tells him it sounds just as bad from the outside, as well. Still, Bunny does not call him out on his bullshit. He presses the butt of his cigarette onto the railing, fully putting out the remnants of flame. He drops it over the roof.
Sae frowns, mouth opening. “You-”
“So how are you proving this?” Bunny interrupts. His eyes drag down Sae’s body, cruel. “Cause to me,” he pauses, clearly amused. "And everyone else, you don’t seem like much.”
Sae’s nose flares. “Who are you to talk?” he says back. “They might think I’m weak, but at least I know I’m not. You just stand there and let them walk all over you. As long as I stay here, I know I’ll get a chance. What are you doing?”
“This isn’t about me, is it?” Bunny says, voice much more even. The shadows over his face dance. “This place does nothing for me. Why would I bother? I’m out of here when I feel like it.”
“That’s- it’s insane to leave Madrid. It’s the best club in the world.”
“You’d be surprised.”
Somehow, Sae feels like he is missing something. Somehow, he thinks he should have been able to find it in the last ten minutes. He swallows, and turns back to the skyline.
Bunny sighs, clearly sensing that he is done replying. His fingers inch down, back towards the pack of cigarettes. “Here’s some advice, Sae. You need to stop caring.”
Sae scowls. “I don’t need your advice.”
Bunny scoffs. He fiddles with his lighter. “I think you do. How long have you been here? Two years? Three? And you’re still fighting tooth and nail every single day. Clearly, you’re not doing something right.”
Sae stares at the cigarette in Bunny’s hands. He cannot bring himself to respond.
“So stop caring about what they’re doing to you. Stop thinking you’re better than them. Play the game, and pass. You’re not good enough for the ego you have. Maybe you were in Japan. You aren’t here.”
“Give me the fucking cig,” he says.
Bunny stares at him. Sae thinks he has finally managed to surprise him, this time. He stretches his hand out. With a strange amount of care, Bunny places the white stick between his fingers.
“I don’t like wasting these on people who don’t know how to use them,” he says snidely, watching Sae lift the cigarette to his mouth. “Do it right.”
Immediately, half out of spite and half out of pure idiocy, Sae takes a too-large drag from the cigarette. Bitterness floods his mouth, noxious enough to make him regret every choice he’s made tonight. His fingers tighten on the metal railing as he bends forward, coughing.
Next to him, Bunny goes silent.
“This is not worth the money,” Sae hisses, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. He rolls the cigarette between his fingers, too proud to give it back.
From next to him, Bunny again does not respond. His eyes rake over Sae’s face, intense enough to make him hesitate. Shadows hang on his face. His pupils dilate when they reach Sae’s lips; the smallest bit of spit still hanging at their corner.
Sae swallows, throat suddenly dry. “Iglesias.”
Bunny blinks. The focus disappears from his expression. “Sae.”
“Are you- good?”
Bunny’s brow furrows. Just as quickly, it smooths itself out. “Better than you.”
He doesn’t push it. He lifts his cigarette back up to his mouth and takes a more careful, shorter drag.
Besides him, Bunny lights his second.
You’re fucking up your lung capacity, Sae considers saying. You’re gonna get on a pitch in 7 years and find yourself out of breath by halftime, and then your legs won’t be able to save you.
He doesn’t say this, and instead puffs out another cloud of smoke of his own.
“You’re good at it,” Bunny says. “Better than I was, the first time.”
Sae grimaces. He’s not good at many things, outside of football. He doesn’t want to add underage smoking to the list.
“I’m never doing this again,” he mutters, flicking ash away. “Waste of time.”
Bunny huffs out a quiet chuckle. “You asked for it.”
Sae turns his head to glare at Bunny.
Red eyes are already staring at him. His words die in his throat.
“Wanna make it more fun?” Bunny asks, carelessly brandishing his cigarette at him.
“What.” Sae manages to respond, extremely intelligently.
With an indescribable expression on his face, Bunny takes one purposeful step forward. The distance between them shrinks.
“Cool trick I learned,” Bunny sneers, his voice lowering. “It’ll make it less of a waste of time.”
Sae watches, almost transfixed, as the boy in front of him fully closes the gap between their bodies.
Bunny slowly brings the cigarette to his mouth. Sae’s gaze catches on his lips. He swallows.
Very purposely, leisurely, Bunny sucks in a long drag of smoke. The muscles in his scarred neck visibly flex.
As Sae watches, he opens his mouth, and-
Blows a cloud of pungent smoke straight into Sae’s face.
Immediately, Sae recoils. The nastiest of Japanese curses on his tongue, he turns his attention to Bunny, fuming-
And before Sae can react, Bunny crashes his lips into Sae’s.
Forgotten, the cigarette in Sae’s fingers falls, straight down the side of the building.
He tastes of nothing but tobacco. His teeth clack against Sae’s, their contact unrefined and messy. Instinctively, Sae’s hand shoots up, against Bunny’s chest. He pushes.
They separate.
Sae barely sucks in a breath, every muscle in his throat working. “You-”
“What,” Bunny interrupts, taking a single step backward. “Not into boys? Got some cute girlfriend waiting at home for you to come back?”
His eyes are wild, a light in them that’s been missing the entire night. His lips are a bitten red. His chest is heaving. He throws his own cigarette off to the side.
Sae stiffens, jaw clenching— and he closes the gap between them, hands pulling Bunny’s head back down to meet his. As if expecting it, Bunny returns the kiss immediately, confident where Sae is not.
He thinks this is how the worst of nicotine addictions start: on a dark night, with a decision not quite justifiable.
The railing is a hard pressure against his lower back as Bunny continues to push. He wraps one hand around the back of his neck, a force in the grip that makes him dizzy.
Sae fights for a footing, but Bunny is overwhelming in every sense. He tilts his head into Sae’s, relentless.
This is his first kiss. It’s worse than he imagined it would be.
Bunny lifts his head, their mouths barely separating. Both of their breaths are jagged. Sae’s head rushes in a way that is not entirely from the tobacco still in his lungs.
“You’re new to this,” Bunny murmurs. His voice is intoxicatingly low.
“Shut the fuck up.”
Sae shoves them back together, ignoring the way the other boy snickers. His teeth catch on Sae’s bottom lip— a sting of sharp pain. He hisses, which only makes Bunny let out another huff of laughter.
He digs his hands into white hair, twisting his fingers in a way he hopes hurts. Bunny just groans into his mouth, sounding very much unpained. Like clockwork, his grip on Sae’s nape tightens, enough to make Sae gasp.
Still, he never breaks their contact. He chases after something, desperate to feel any emotion other than defeat; to make Bunny Iglesias react.
He lowers one of his hands, trailing down the back of his neck, finding the textured skin of an old scar. With purpose, he rakes his nails over its lines.
“Bitch,” Bunny growls.
He bites down again on Sae’s lip, hard, and Sae recoils. Immediately, Bunny follows him. His mouth is incessant, and his hand is climbing up his nape to grip onto his hair, and his other hand is digging into his side-
A strangled noise leaks from Sae’s mouth, slightly humiliating. He can feel Bunny grin.
It only makes him kiss harder.
Eventually, it ends. They break apart for air, and do not join back.
Bunny falls back, still beaming. His hair is perfectly tousled, and his eyes are bright. He runs his tongue over his lips. On the contrary, Sae feels entirely wrong. His cheeks are warm with blood, and his breath is shaky.
Somehow, he finds his voice first.
“I’ll pass to you.”
Bunny blinks. “What—” he laughs, cutting himself off. “Really? All that, and you’re still thinking about fucking football?”
Sae’s eyes narrow. “What else are we here for?”
Incredulity fills the spaces in Bunny’s expression. The gleam in his eyes fades, leaving his usual dead-eyed stare. Sae cannot bring himself to wonder if he’s said something wrong. He thinks that if he does, he will lose sight of himself forever.
Thankfully, Bunny shrugs. “Okay. You’ll pass to me. Where does that leave you? A midfielder?” He drags the last word out, cruelty lingering in each syllable.
Sae fights back the flinch. “Of course not,” he spits out. “I would never.”
One white-blond eyebrow rises. “You think so?”
I don’t know, Sae does not say. Things haven’t worked out like I thought they would, and apparently you are the only one here who can see that, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel about that, Sae does not say.
Instead, he rolls his shoulders back, and straightens his spine.
It is still not enough to meet Bunny’s height.
“I’ll pass to you,” he says, keeping his voice steady. “And I will prove that we are better than them. And after they can see that— then I’ll be able to shoot my own goals.”
Bunny’s head cocks to the side. The movement is completely predatory.
He does not reply.
Sae Itoshi swallows down all of his doubts, and pushes past him. His shoes are quiet on the cement of the rooftop. The door handle is cold in his grasp, and a cigarette butt is still sitting in his pocket.
Madrid is still too warm.