Chapter Text
Nagi Seishiro's apartment smelled like stale air and instant ramen. The curtains were half-drawn, letting in thin strips of Kanagawa afternoon light that cut across the floor like loading bars. Blue Lock was currently paused because some human rights organisation had thrown a fit about "psychological torture" and "illegal child imprisonment," so Ego had been forced to begrudgingly give everyone a mandatory break instead of keeping them locked in his soccer prison forever.
Nagi thought it was the best thing that had ever happened to him. And now, he was sprawled on the couch in the same black hoodie he'd worn for three days, controller loose in his hands. The TV cast a blue glow over his face. He wasn't really playing anymore — just moving his character in lazy circles while his party slaughtered the enemies on autopilot.
The door clicked open without a knock. Only one person did that.
“Nagi,” Reo called, voice bright but edged with something tighter. He stepped inside carrying a paper bag that probably cost more than Nagi's monthly groceries. “I brought those limited-edition mochi things you like, the ones from that place in Ginza. And also 6 bottles of lemon tea.”
Nagi hummed. “Thanks.”
Reo set the bag on the coffee table, then paused, looking around. Takeout containers. Empty soda bottles. The faint smell of unwashed laundry. His purple eyes flicked back to Nagi, scanning him the way he used to scan opposing defenders.
“I have to leave tomorrow,” Reo said, trying to sound casual (and failing). “Family stuff. Heir training or whatever. Dad's dragging me to Monaco for some big investor gala and meetings. Apparently, the Mikage Group is expanding into yacht charters for billionaires or something ridiculous.”
Nagi blinked slowly. “Monaco. Sounds annoying. What's Monaco?”
Reo blinked back. “I- you dont know what Monaco is?"
"...No."
"The Principality of Monaco is a sovereign city-state in Europe."
"Sounds like a hassle."
"You think everything is a hassle."
"Exactly."
Reo let out a short laugh, "Okay, well, anyways, it's going to be a week, maybe ten days max. Lots of boring dinners, smiling for cameras, pretending I care about stock prices.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I tried to get out of it, but... You know how my parents are.”
Nagi nodded. “Okay.”
A beat of silence stretched between them. Reo hovered near the couch like he was waiting for something more. When nothing came, he sat down on the armrest, close enough that his knee brushed Nagi's shoulder. Nagi's gaze shifted to Reo.
“Are you sure you'll be fine?” Reo asked. His voice dropped, softer now. “I know things have been... quiet since, well, everything. You've been practising less. Eating less. I noticed.”
Nagi tilted his head back, looking up at Reo with half-lidded eyes. Reo's expression was tight, too tight. That familiar mix of worry and something almost desperate. Like, if Nagi said the wrong thing, Reo might cancel the entire trip and chain himself and Nagi to the apartment instead.
“I'm always fine,” Nagi said. The words came out flat, automatic. They felt heavy on his tongue.
Reo searched his face for a long moment. His hand twitched like he wanted to reach out and ruffle Nagi's hair or grab his wrist, something to anchor himself. Reo had always been like that with him. Possessive in a way that went deeper than partnership but not quite love. Nagi was the one constant in Reo's perfectly controlled world. The one thing that felt like his.
“You can text me anytime,” Reo insisted. “Even if it's three in the morning there. I don't care about the time difference. And if you need anything — food, clothes, a new controller — just charge it to my card. Don't even think about it.”
Nagi gave a small nod. “Mhm.”
Reo stayed another hour. He talked about the upcoming matches, about how they were going to become the best in the world together, about how they should do a match when he got back. Nagi made the right noises at the right times, at least he hopes. Eventually, Reo stood up, lingering by the door.
“Take care of yourself, okay?” Reo said, almost pleading. “I mean it, Nagi.”
“Yeah, bye bye, Reo.”
The door shut with a soft click. The apartment felt bigger without him. Quieter almost. Nagi stared at the ceiling for a while. His thumbs moved automatically over the controller again, but the game felt distant, like he was watching someone else play. 'Reo is going to Monaco. Rich people stuff. Yachts. Fancy dinners.' The thought drifted through his head and disappeared. It didn't spark anything. No annoyance. No relief. Just... nothing. This wasn't new, of course; Nagi didn't feel a lot of things that he was supposed to.
He should probably eat something or shower. The mochi Reo brought was still sitting on the table, but opening the bag felt like too much work. His stomach had been weird lately anyway — either too empty or too full, never just right.
Nagi's eyes flicked back to the screen. His character died again. He didn't bother restarting the match. Before he knew it, time slipped. The sky outside turned dark. The only light came from the flickering TV. His thoughts moved slow and thick, like swimming through syrup.
'Everything is fine,' he told himself. 'It always ends up fine.'
His eyelids grew heavy. The controller slipped from his fingers onto the couch. He meant to get up, at least drag himself to the bed or wash his face. But the couch was comfortable enough and moving felt impossible.
He forgot about the shower.
Nagi Seishiro fell asleep in the same hoodie, the same unwashed hair and the faint scent of Reo's expensive cologne still lingering near the door.