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In the twisted paradox that is gossip, the fact that Nagi doesn’t have a reputation becomes his reputation itself.
Even among his peers he is the loner, that one person sitting at the back of the class, the guy you really don’t want to be paired up with for a project.
Generally, it is agreed on—as in, those are the words that stick best to the blank canvas that is Nagi Seishirou—that he is a loner and a sloth. In the mouths of meaner people, this list goes on: Nagi’s carefree to the point of being indifferent to everything, withdrawn, and unintelligent.
That last point isn’t entirely true. Nagi is Mikage Reo’s genius, after all, so he can’t be entirely stupid. As for the rest…
Mikage Reo is different. Different because he fits in, of course.
People like Reo. His reputation is unmatched. Sure, his status as a tech baron and businessman’s son massively factors into the popularity he enjoys, but with his perfect grades and easy smiles, he has secured himself a space in the school’s heart regardless. Everyone knows the Mikage son, and half of the population has at least a slight crush on him. The other half is lying.
Where people have to dance around Nagi’s blunt corners, Reo opens up easily. His word is the law, which makes his sudden infatuation with Nagi of all people that more strange. He could have picked anyone, anyone else, but for reasons unknown he chooses Nagi.
The prince of the school and a boy as prickly as a cactus.
Their personas clash deliciously.
———————
Nagi’s laziness would be a running joke if anyone cared to talk.
The sun is burning down onto the football field, where the other players are scurrying around removing cones and cleaning up the field after training. The complete absence of wind makes their voices carry clearly over the field as they are discussing plans for the weekend, relationship trouble, and this or that assignment, but it does also make the humid air that more pressing.
Nagi’s breath comes in raspy huffs. His chest slowly rises, then falls; up, then down again, aching. Like something is poking his lungs.
As Nagi is laying there, sprawled out on his back on the field, his fingertips brush over the grass. It’s warm, and kind of tickles him, and Nagi finds he doesn’t mind the sensation. It’s much more enjoyable than the bright glare of the sun that stings even through closed eyelids, and the unpleasant dampness of his shirt.
In an attempt to escape the sun, Nagi’s eyes are pressed close with a force that wrinkles his entire face. One steady breath after the other, the tingling in his legs evaporates, and with it the threat of an upcoming cramp. His lungs still burn.
This training session was horrible, Nagi decides. Not only did they do drills for way too long, coach also decided to make the team run unnecessary laps and perform exercises Nagi is sure could kill even a professional player.
Now, the entire team is more or less dead on their feet, the reason why Nagi has collapsed on the ground in the first place. Not that he usually doesn’t do exactly the same. Today, it just so happens he has a good reason to.
Suddenly, a shadow shifts in front of his face. Nagi sighs at the relief it brings, like cool water running down his face. He automatically relaxes, wrinkles smoothing out and mouth opening to let out a sigh.
Reo laughs at the sight.
“Treasure, come on! We’re almost the last ones left on the field,” his cheery voice calls out. Nagi’s eyes are still pressed shut. With one ear, he listens to the sharp sound of Reo clicking his tongue before that gets replaced by the crunch of shoes on dry grass. It really is hot today.
The shadow, Reo, suddenly disappears, and Nagi makes a dissatisfied noise that teeters on a groan as his face is assaulted by sunlight once more. Reo only laughs at that, brief but bright, and the frown on his forehead smoothens as fast as it had appeared when he realizes Reo hadn’t gone much further than one or two steps.
“You’re going to melt if you stay out any longer,” Reo comments. Nagi can’t bring himself to shrug or give any signs of life for that matter, but Reo isn’t deterred. After more crunching and huffing and tutting, Nagi suddenly feels a warm hand brush past his cheek.
His eyes fly open to search for Reo’s face. Digging his hands under Nagi’s shoulders, Reo takes on a wider stance as he lifts Nagi up in the air without warning. He bites back a yelp and clings to Reo’s arms as he is forced into an upright position.
“There we go!”
Reo pats Nagi’s head, obviously pleased with himself. Nagi blinks, once, twice, before his knees buckle and he’s rapidly drawn back to the ground to resume the exact position he’d been in before.
“Oh come on.”
Nagi squints up at Reo. He’s not quite frustrated yet—it takes a lot to frustrate Mikage Reo. Still, his expression could, with some creativity, be described as exasperated. Reo is likely as tired as Nagi is, actually, judging by the way his shirt clings to his back and his movements are uncharacteristically slow.
Nagi pats the ground besides him. A silent invitation.
Reo’s eyes flicker to the changing rooms and back to the grass. After what Nagi assumes to be a fight of interest (he wouldn’t know, he’s already back to dreaming and completely unfamiliar to the thoughts currently running through his friend’s head) he hears Reo plop down by his side and turns his head towards him.
Reo is picking at blades of grass absent-mindedly, gaze shifted away from Nagi and towards the open field behind them. Although Nagi can only see half of his face, he doesn’t miss the way Reo’s mouth is scrunched up at the corner and the rigidness in his bones.
“Reo seems exhausted.”
His tongue is dry, his face is hot, and his voice doesn’t sound even. Speaking is a hassle, so Nagi doesn’t know why he does.
Reo looks up at his words, shifting in his seat to attack another patch of grass closer to Nagi’s head.
“Ah, just harsh training today. There’s nothing to worry about, treasure.”
“Hm.”
“Do you want to go inside? It really isn’t healthy staying out in the sun like this. You could get a sunburn.”
Nagi’s head rolls over the grass so he’s properly looking in Reo’s direction. A sunburn just sounds like another reason to be pampered by Reo. He imagines Reo applying lotion to his cheeks, leaning in close to reach every inch of Nagi’s face, fingers trailing over his sensitive skin—
Nagi shivers. His brain must be seriously fried by now, which can’t be good for his gaming skills. And, not less important, Reo is now offering to carry him, which makes a mean way of convincing him.
When Nagi nods, Reo sprinkles the torn grass blades on the ground and stands up. Reaching out his hands, Nagi allows Reo to pick him up, immediately nestling his face in his favourite spot by Reo’s collarbone.
Reo walks the familiar route to the changing rooms—empty, by now, miraculously—and a little later to Ba-ya, who is waiting for them by the front entrance. All the while, Nagi lets himself be swayed by the up and down of Reo’s steps. Their bodies together are warm, and this heat burns deeper than the sun had.
———————
Nagi yawns, pencil still in hand. It’s a cheap wooden thing, so cheap in fact that the worry of catching a splinter wouldn’t be misplaced. Despite this, he lowers the graphite tip onto his paper, drawing lazy waves in the upper right corner. He is perhaps pressing down too hard to see what would happen, eager for a change in this monotony.
He can’t even get his phone out to play some game with his teacher’s eyes scanning the classroom, so Nagi has to resign to his fate. Boredom, he finds, is only fun when he can choose it.
His seat neighbour on the right is as unproductive as Nagi, it seems, as she’s twirling her pen in between her fingers and loudly shifting in her seat for the nth time.
The girl pauses mid action, suddenly, as if struck by an idea. After a quick glance ahead, she repositions herself, encroaching into Nagi’s personal space.
To get a look at Nagi’s test.
Nagi frowns. He doesn’t have anything against cheating per se—after all, he and Reo have been sharing homework for the better half of a year at this point. He does have a problem with his neighbour, however.
She’s one of the girls more open about their infatuation with Mikage Reo. Always wearing her hair with a clip because he’d once commented on it, shooting cloying smiles across the room, even sighing wistfully whenever he happens to be in the same room. Although Nagi doesn’t know why he detests her so much for it, he still places both hands over his paper to cover up the kanji.
The girl sniffs. She demonstratively turns her paper over in what sounds like an attack and twirls her pen around. Nagi feels her eyes on him as they prick at his back. He draws another little wave and a cactus next to it.
Just then, their mathematics teacher barks for the students to stop writing, and Nagi turns his own test around. He hides a yawn behind his hand, drowsily looking around at the new chaos. On all sides, chairs screech and excited blabbering emerges as the bell announces the end of their class.
Nagi lazily takes a grab for his bag, languidly pushes his chair back and slowly moves towards his teacher’s desk. He gives no response at the questions thrown about, doesn’t care to listen. There’s no need to talk about something as banal as his results when he has caught sight of someone standing by the door.
As he puts his head in the doorway, a ray of sunshine hits Reo. The purple of his hair is washed into a pink crown as it shines, gleaming whiter than the brightest angel. Nagi’s fingers twitch by his side as he imagines reaching out to touch it for a second before he catches himself.
Without noticing, his steps have quickened, and he stands by Reo’s side in no time.
“Nagi!”
Reo pats his arm as a head of white hair is unceremoniously dumped on his shoulder. “How’d your test go?”
Nagi means to simply give him a hum in response, but then someone clears their throat directly next to his ear and Reo flinches, pulling Nagi with him.
His fellow students continue to filter through the doorway now that it isn’t being blocked by Nagi’s massive figure, and more than one gives him a nasty look he doesn’t catch.
Nagi is too preoccupied with Reo, inhaling deeply as tightens his arms around Reo’s waist.
“Uh, Reo?” another voice says. Nagi can’t help his frown as he clings tighter to Reo, who is awkwardly trying to bend his torso in a way that allows him to talk to his friend over Nagi’s head.
Yes, Reo cannot help his popularity—it comes naturally with his position, and his good looks, and his well-meaning character (though Nagi, when his emotions get the better of him as he stares down one of Reo’s countless friends, assumes most people are lured in by the aforementioned money rather than Reo’s personality. Nagi would pity them for their shallowness if it didn’t mean he got to keep Reo—the true Reo—all for himself. Perhaps that thought is selfish).
Nagi’s eyes drift over the owner of that voice. The boy looks boring enough, though his face strikes a faint spark of recognition. Right, that’s the guy that sometimes walks with Reo when he collects Nagi after his class. He hasn’t bothered learning his name.
„What?” Reo asks. „Oh, you can go ahead to the cafeteria, I don’t mind. Thanks for coming with, though.”
Reo’s pointy chin digs into Nagi’s scalp, which leads him to assume he’s smiling. His friend doesn’t say anything in return, with his squeaking sneakers as proof he’s gone. Nagi is glad he is.
“Nagi?”
Reo’s voice is softer now, quieter. It makes Nagi shiver and want to press further into the curve of his neck, like an animal searching for shelter. The words are spoken directly against his ear, or so it feels like.
He likes the syllables of his name best when they’re formed in Reo’s mouth. They roll of his tongue easily, but not without scratching his perfect teeth. Wrapped in Reo’s voice, Nagi is synonymous with treasure, with fondness that threatens to spill out of the cup those two syllables form.
“Hm?”
“Would you like to—"
“Mikage Reo!”
Reo’s head snaps up, away from Nagi’s face. Nagi, already missing the warmth of their proximity, perks up as well, even if way slower and probably less graceful as well.
There she is. Clip in hair and ink under her fingernails. Nagi’s right-hand seat neighbour.
The one with the crush.
“Uhm—hello,” Reo says. Although he’s still holding onto Nagi, the gesture is crooked. He’s holding Nagi loosely like he is unsure whether to let his arms fall away, like he’s trying to suppress the urge of jumping away.
Nagi makes the decision for him. Now that they’re not hugging anymore (which is a pity) he takes his chance to wrap one arm around Reo’s waist, pressing their sides together. His stare is lethal, or maybe it would have been if the girl were to spare him as much as a glance.
“Ito-san, is it? From biology?” Reo asks politely. Nagi can’t see his full face, only one side, but that’s enough to inform him of the awkwardly stretched smile on Reo’s lips. It’s incredible how far Reo has come and how many friends he has considering how easily discernible his fake smiles are.
The girl practically beams as Reo mentions her name. Her poor hair clip is holding on with all its strength as she nods and squeals, “Right! I—could we talk?”
Now her eyes flicker to Nagi, and he makes sure to press Reo even closer. Reo makes a strangled noise at that, but doesn’t try to break free from Nagi’s grip.
The girl wavers, but she’s still undeterred. “Just the two of us, I mean? It’s private.”
At that last word, her eyes crinkle at the corner, but her mouth pulls into a grimace, like she can’t decide this private secret is something good or something deeply embarrassing.
“I’m sorry,” responds Reo, at which Nagi wrinkles his nose. Don’t feel sorry. “Would it be alright to have my friend stay? We’re about to go to practice and sadly don’t have much time.”
He sends her a charming smile, and Nagi knocks his temple against Reo’s. This conversation is getting boring. He wouldn’t have minded escaping it—but then he would have to leave Reo behind with this girl, and there’s really nothing he would like less. So, he tries not to look too threatening and blinks a few times in rapid succession. When Reo does it, it’s ‘fluttering his eyelashes’, but apparently the girl doesn’t find it as adorable on him as on Reo, as her eyebrows tick upwards.
“Well,” she begins, “I was meaning to ask if… you would be willing to tutor me.”
She looks at Nagi again, at his hand on Reo’s hip, and forces the corners of her mouth higher. “In Mathematics, I mean. Everyone knows you’re very intelligent, and it would be a great help.”
Her eyelashes flutter almost as fast as Nagi’s heartbeat. Reo is frozen, so Nagi taps his hip with one finger. He flinches and, broken out of his trance, scratches the base of his neck.
“Oh, you must be mistaken,” he answers, attempting another simpering smile, “Math is Nagi-kun’s forte, not mine. I do have many friends that would be happy to help you, though. Maybe ask Kobayashi-san for help. I can give you his number if you’d like.”
She frowns. “But—"
Nagi has enough. “Come on, Reo,” he whines, tugging at his shirt with the hand that is not already holding him. The shirt rides up, just the tiniest bit, and his fingertips brush Reo’s pale skin. The touch is gone before he’s even properly registered it, so he mourns silently and grabs onto the flushing Reo’s wrist and starts walking. Reo quickly bows his head at the girl before he is being dragged down the hall.
“What was that?” Reo hisses as soon as they’re out of earshot. “You can’t just drag me away like that when I’m in the middle of a conversation!”
Nagi hums. “Reo was taking too long.”
Reo sighs, eyes fixed on the ground. “I know you’re not fond of small talk but at least try to let me finish next time before dragging me away, treasure.”
Any remorse Nagi may have had is washed away by the nickname. As soon as he is certain Reo’s not seriously upset with him, he can breathe easier, ducking his head as they walk along the hallways. Everything in him aches to let Reo’s wrist go and properly interlock their fingers, but he has to concentrate on walking.
“Anyway, I hope she doesn’t feel too bad I rejected her,” Reo continues, more to himself. “But I really don’t want to tutor another person when my schedule is already full enough. We need enough time for football, right, Nagi? Or was I being unreasonable?”
Nagi only tilts his head. Of course Reo wasn’t. In his opinion, the less people Reo—and by extension Nagi—had to hang out with, the better. Less people to share Reo with.
When he mutters as much—spoken into the fabric of Reo’s uniform, and without that last part—his best friend laughs and pats the back of his head.
“You’re really not a people person,” he says. In his words, with that softness reserved only for Nagi, he finds he doesn’t mind.
———————
“Nagi!”
Reo’s yelp carries over the pitch, and Nagi turns around like he’d been electrocuted. His eyes, already expecting one of Reo’s passes, zero in on the ball coming his way.
Two players are following it, extending their legs and barely brushing the ball as they huff and holler. Reo’s pass, however, is powerful and unwavering in its direction and force as it bounces directly towards Nagi in blatant demand.
Nagi suppresses a sigh but dashes forward to trap the football under his shoe. A quick swivel and the ball is sent off towards the goal, where it crashes into the upper right corner of the net.
Half of the field erupts in half-hearted celebration, whereas the other exchanges annoyed looks. It’s five-nil, and Nagi has scored four of those goals. It fits the usual way their games go, even the non-practice ones.
By now, his team has developed to forgo the claps on the back and loud roars usually associated with scoring a goal. Nagi taking away everyone’s workload by winning the game has come to be the norm. No need to celebrate him for that, the maxim says, and all teammates follow it to the dot. All except one, that is.
Reo is out of breath when he arrives next to Nagi. He gives him a good-natured slap on the back, leaning forward to breathe into their shared space. “Good job my treasure,” he wheezes, sending Nagi a quick smile.
Nagi doesn’t respond verbally, but he does duck his chin in a half-nod and slouches down next to Reo until they’re almost at eye level—which is impressive given Nagi is a full head taller than him.
And, really, the close proximity doesn’t do him any good. Reo’s face is closer to him than it normally is, which also means Nagi can see the little blemishes of his skin and the oil glittering on his cheekbones. Reo’s expression is open, and Nagi has a front-row seat to observe the small changes that occur when Reo also realises what little space there is in between them. His gaze zips around swiftly, and his mouth twitches. Nagi wants to touch those lips.
“Can we continue?”
One of their defenders is staring at Nagi and Reo like they’ve sprouted two extra arms. Reo jerks back as if on instinct, distancing himself from Nagi as he laughs awkwardly at the rest of their team.
“Of course, of course,” he tries to appease them, hands raised. Reo returns to his position too-far away from Nagi and falls into his usual stance, ready to continue playing.
Nagi rolls his eyes, but cracks his shoulder and resumes his position, nonetheless. The guy next to him—the one that had shouted, earlier—shoots him a strange look.
“Dude, is there something weird going on with you and captain?” he asks.
Nagi pauses.
He’s not stupid enough to miss the way he says weird, how he spits venom with his words. The look in his eyes.
He stays silent. For lack of an answer or the furious wish that the guy would stop bothering him, he doesn’t know, but it’s important to note that it doesn’t work.
“You two are always acting weird,” the boy continues, instead. “I’ve got no clue what Reo sees in you except maybe your ability to score, but it’s freaking me out how he always has you clinging to him,” he states as coach is raising his whistle to his lips. He eyes Nagi. “I mean, it would weird me out if someone behaved that way around me.”
The corner of Nagi’s mouth twitches. What does Reo see in him?
The whistle goes off, and he is rescued from the countless awful question his teammate and his brain throw his way.
The game ends eight-one, with Reo scoring one goal and Nagi six.
———————
It doesn’t help Reo’s reputation.
Their friendship is, in its entire essence, weird. Nagi isn’t completely clueless. He has good grades. He’s Mikage Reo’s genius. The only reason he noticed this late is because, frankly, he’s got more interesting things to worry about than other people’s opinions.
History is one of the few classes Nagi and Reo share. Even then, there is a giant rift separating the two, one made of three rows of desks and at least ten people standing around Reo, grovelling at his feet and turning up their bellies to talk to him.
Nagi is left to stare wistfully across the classroom as Reo chats with his friends before class, all waving gestures and intelligent remarks. A sting of green envy ambushes him when one of his friends lean in too close, bending over his desk and laughing in his face.
It’s clear that stranger doesn’t appreciate the privilege to bask in Reo’s presence enough for Nagi’s liking. He accidentally breaks the tip of his pencil.
His sulking (as it is sulking, there’s no reason not to admit it) doesn’t stop through the entirety of the lesson. The students are witing down important dates and personas (except for Nagi, who is playing on his phone under his desk) when the bell rings, releasing them into freedom.
Already a crowd has formed around Reo’s desk. Nagi doesn’t hurry with packing up his stuff and slowly pushes his pencil case off his desk and into his bag. He knows how this goes, and so he’s learned to wait. Once he’s finished, however, Reo is still talking. It looks like he didn’t even get a chance to stand up from his seat yet, though he’s definitely trying to.
“And that’s why we’re—"
“—desperately need advice—"
“Actually, do you want to join us?”
Reo’s fingers drum on the desktop. Every few seconds, he glances from the faces of his friends to the clock on the wall, then down at his hands, before the triangle closes when he looks back up.
“That sounds very interesting, Ito-chan. Thank you for the invite, but I really need to get going,” Reo laughs. Nagi’s face scrunches up at the sound. Like a bastardisation of his usual joy, thrown like a scrap of meat at the dogs’ feet.
When Reo finally stands, the chatter just gets louder as if their voices alone could make him stay. Backpack slung over his shoulder, Reo is standing awkwardly in the middle of the group that has formed around him. His brow twitches as he catches sight of Nagi over the heads of students blocking his way.
“Nagi-kun!” he exclaims, shoving his way past two girls who squawk indignantly. “Thank you for waiting.” Reo grabs his arm, and Nagi tilts his head. Strange. Reo’s hands are warm, and the sensation tingles, which he doesn’t mind in the least.
“We have to go now,” announces Reo, pulling Nagi forward. “Football practice, you know how it is.”
‘Football, as if.’
Nagi’s head cracks around. At least five pairs of eyes are on him, or rather on him and Reo, and not many of them are friendly. Is that girl rolling her eyes at him?
‘With him again?’, whispered by a dude sneering directly at Nagi, his friend nodding in agreement and crossing his arms in front of his chest.
Reo’s face is slowly turning red, but he keeps going. His followers—sorry, friends—throw a handful of goodbyes his way, and he only calms when they’re out of the building entirely and marching towards the changing rooms.
Nagi watches Reo visibly deflate as his shoes hit the grass of the field, and a deep breath escapes his lips. Noticing his stare, Reo sighs, finally letting go of Nagi’s arm. He hadn’t realised he was still holding him.
“I hate this sometimes,” Reo confesses. He’s staring straight ahead, unwilling to look at Nagi. “Why can’t they just leave me alone? I mean, if they say they’re my friends, they should be able to remember I have hobbies other than being spoken at by six people at once, right?”
Nagi opens his mouth, then closes it again. Would it be smarter to not engage and let Reo burn off the steam?
“And don’t get me started on those fucking comments about us.” Reo kicks a chunk of dirt halfway across the pitch. Impressive.
“Nagi, you have to stand up for yourself. You’re my friend, and if they don’t see that—"
Nagi yawns. “I don’t mind comments.” He doesn’t. As long as they’re about him.
“Doesn’t matter! It’s about principle,” Reo argues. His pretty face is pinched into a frown, and slowly, Nagi realised that simply not engaging won’t help Reo calm down.
“You don’t say things like that about my—about any of my friends and still believe I’d give you a chance.”
“Reo seems very bothered by this.”
“Well, I am!”
Nagi knocks the back of their hands together. He waits until Reo’s head snaps up and he finally looks at him before continuing. “Worrying about what others say is too much of a hassle. If they say anything about me, I don’t care.”
“But I do. I care.”
God, how Nagi’s heart threatens to burst.
They’re almost at the changing rooms when he comes up with a reply that doesn’t sound completely stupid.
“Nothing anyone says about us matters, though, right? We are going to win the world cup together. None of the comments matter.”
Reo doesn’t answer anything to that, but he does wear a small smile for the remainder of practice.
———————
For some reason, Nagi is only now realizing why Reo is this popular.
He has stumbled over his popularity in the past. Boys who joined the football team for the sole reason of playing with Reo (and quickly left once they’d realized he took this sport very seriously), girls whose cheers and waves could be seen in the rearview mirror of his limousine until they were around the corner, teachers who assumed he would do good in their class based on word of mouth alone (of course, Reo proved himself with his incredible intelligence—but the bias was irrefutably there).
Some days, Nagi wonders if he himself is any different from the people he dislikes. He, too, was drawn in by Reo’s charm, and at the end of the day, he isn’t any better or more important than any of the other students begging for his attention, no matter how colourful Reo makes his world.
Now, whenever he looks at Reo, his mind tries to analyse every single thought he has about him. When they’re seated in the cafeteria, with Reo switching tables each day to allow all his friends equal time with him, Nagi stays behind and wistfully watches from a corner, like he always does.
Some days, like this one.
Nagi plays with the bottle cap of his lemon tea Reo had gifted him just before lunch. He rarely has any appetite at school, but after that one time he almost passed out at football (which in retrospect was both embarrassing and incredibly worth it, since when he had woken up Nagi had seen Reo’s eyes up close for the first time), Reo never fails to pack him something he’s sure Nagi enjoys. Like lemon tea.
Across the cafeteria, Reo is eating his own food, surrounded by a massive group of people all chatting and laughing.
Once, Reo had offered to take Nagi with him on his trip from table to table, but Nagi had been particularly tired that day and refused, opting to instead take a nap in the corner. Now, he’s not sure whether to regret that decision.
But Reo is smiling and laughing when he’s around those people, and none of them are acting the way Nagi does.
Nagi searches Reo’s face for any sign of insincerity as he breaks out into laughter. He finds nothing.
When Reo turns away to cover his grin, their eyes meet. Nagi stares, unblinking, until Reo’s grin shifts into something softer. He smiles, and his friends curiously follow his gaze until they find Nagi. The change from shared joy to utter confusion is clear even with that giant distance, and Nagi averts his gaze to stare at the empty table in front of him. He chooses to believe the sour taste on his tongue is from the tea.
Now they’re probably talking to Reo about him, saying the same things Nagi has had to listen to since elementary. Or perhaps they’re not mentioning him at all, and Reo has already forgotten the look they just shared.
Nagi really, really wants to say he doesn’t know which option is worse, but in his heart, he couldn’t take Reo tossing him away like that.
He looks up, and his eyes immediately search for Reo again. It’s sort of pathetic, he thinks, until he does find him. Reo is already looking at him, head tilted in that adorable way he does when he is thinking, but his accompanying thinking-frown creases the second he sees Nagi looking back at him.
He mouths something Nagi doesn’t understand.
He hopes it’s ‘I love you’.
He knows it’s not.
———————
The day Reo completely takes over his heart is just a normal Wednesday. The air is as thick as the day before, and school is as tedious and loud and the day after. Reo, however, starts the day by surprising Nagi with coffee he’d apparently made at home, his own recipe. He places the cup on Nagi’s desk first thing in the morning, before any of their teachers have entered the classroom, and beams down at him like a second sun.
“I added lemon,” Reo proudly explains after he’d watched Nagi take his first tentative sip and grunt a ‘thanks’. “It’s—you know, I know you love lemon tea, and lemon cake, and Ba-ya sometimes makes her coffee with fruit puree, and—it doesn’t really matter, really,” he stops himself, turning away to cough. “Do you… like it?”
Nagi blinks. “I wouldn’t be drinking it if I didn’t.” He takes another sip, careful to maintain eye contact with Reo all the while. Reo rubs his neck in a rare show of embarrassment.
A curious feeling burns up in Nagi’s stomach. He likes Reo with that added colour on his cheeks, and he sort of wants to see him embarrassed more often. Or any emotion that he wears like this.
In an experiment, he leans forward on his desk, reaching for one of Reo’s hands. Lazily, like he is only in search for a fidget toy, he takes his slim fingers and trails his fingertips closer and closer towards his wrist. “Reo did a very good job. I’m always thankful for Reo,” he hums, exploring the feel of Reo’s fingernails and his bumpy knuckles.
“What? I—thank you, treasure, I… er.”
Nagi hides his grin behind the rim of the coffee cup. The lemon is sort of bitter, and he isn’t even the biggest coffee lover, but for this moment he’d drink liquid mud, too. While Reo stutters about, he silently looks up at him, at his red face and purple hair and white teeth.
If there wasn’t half of their class around, Nagi would—he doesn’t know what he’d do, but there’s this urge to reach out, this need so deep in his chest that it practically aches. Reo stoically averts his eyes, but his finger’s twitch under Nagi’s touch, and another winning smile threatens to break through. Since when has Nagi been this brash?
As always, any moment between the two of them that doesn’t take place in some secluded place, this one, too, has to be interrupted. Two of Reo’s friends have entered the classroom and are shouting greetings and ‘good morning’s at him, waving wildly. Reo bows his head at them and doesn’t comment as they’re making their way to him.
They say hi, greet him with high, excited voices and refuse to spare Nagi a glance. He tunes out their conversation, trying to balance his chin on the coffee cup as he stares outside.
Reo’s hand is still under his, and slowly but steadily, Nagi feels that he’s getting more comfortable. Whereas initially, Reo had frozen up and simply let Nagi do his thing, he now responds to his fleeting touches—slightly, of course, and silently, but the action is there.
When Nagi tries to properly hold his hand, Reo is quick to pinch the soft skin between his index and his thumb, and he looks away as Nagi pouts. He is alright with Nagi holding the tips of his fingers, however, as proven by the faint pinkish specks on his cheeks as he laughs with his friends.
It’s only when their teacher enters the room that his friends separate and flock off to their own desk. Nagi doesn’t want to let go yet, and he lingers just a second too long; enough for one of their gazes to fall down to their almost-interlocked fingers.
Like he’s preparing for a fight, Reo raises his chin in silent challenge. Nagi’s brain isn’t fast enough to keep up with the rapid exchange between Reo and his friends, but he certainly tries. There’s raised brows, a quick flicker of gazes, and Reo’s mouth pressed thinner than paper. Reo doesn’t let go of his hand, though.
Nagi catches a look of vague realization in the eyes of Reo’s friends, a nod. Reo’s stance changes, from defensive to his normal straight posture.
In the blink of an eye, all of it is over. Nagi looks up at Reo, asking himself whether to question… that. Before he can, Reo pats his head and takes a step back.
“See you after class, treasure,” he simply says, striding to his own seat. Nagi just sighs, but he doesn’t bring the topic back up even after class.
What he does notice is the ease with which Reo carries himself around his friends now. Nagi can’t believe he ever thought the old Reo was bright, if this is him when he’s truly himself. The sight cannot be described, but Nagi feels pink all over seeing Reo’s eyes and grins and glee.
———————
Days later, when they successfully avoid the traps and trials of the busy hallways crawling with Reo’s followers and reach the rooftop, the rooftop is empty of any other delinquent students, meaning they get to spend the break up here. Reo cheers upon the discovery: empty grey asphalt, exposed pipes, and an air vent that whirs loudly. Heaven.
He sighs contentedly as he sinks to the floor. Nagi’s quick to follow, slouching against Reo as they rest their backs against the hard wall. It had been difficult to tear Reo away from his friends, but eventually Reo had convinced them that he would join them in the cafeteria another day, leaving with Nagi instead.
Nagi prefers the rooftop over the cafeteria.
Actually, there are few things he doesn’t prefer over the cafeteria. There have been times where he’s chosen to eat his bento in the hallway (dangerous, because he’d have to dodge teachers patrolling around the building) or in a locked classroom (aka that one time his teacher forgot he was there and closed the door). And now he sometimes gets a table, mostly on the days Reo sits with him, though those are becoming more and more frequent.
Sure, for Reo, he could endure one more busy break, but up here they are away from the fuss and the noise. Also, he gets Reo all to himself.
Mouth full of food, Reo points his index at Nagi and raises both brows, breaking him out of his thoughts.
“You never told me how you did, by the way. On that test a while back.”
Nagi mutters something under his breath and around two bites of rice. Reo snorts. He seems brighter, in a way, these last few days. Like a weight was lifted off his chest, or something.
“I caught none of that,” teases Reo. “Try again?”
Nagi swallows. “Did well. As always,” he adds, a spark of—not quite pride, but the dull knock of confidence birthed by routine. Nagi always does well, so he doesn’t worry about his tests much.
Reo, who knows him long enough to have congratulated him on countless good marks, ruffles his hair good-naturedly.
“That’s my treasure!” he cheers. His teeth shine in a brilliant grin, and Nagi’s heart stops.
He’s gushed—to himself—about Reo’s smiles before. Well, gushing isn’t the right word for it, not really. What Nagi does is quieter, more reserved, brought on by muddy feelings.
When he tries to decipher what he feels when Reo looks at him, it’s like he’s trying to pick a colour from a paint palette previously used by a five-year-old. All the colours are swirled together in the middle, and none of them match the fresh, labelled paste that comes out of the tubes. Nagi may feel some yellow joy or green stomach-ache or purple-pink something, but putting a name to the feeling is difficult.
This smile, however—this makes it easy.
First of all, he feels pride. Reo is proud of him. Reo thinks Nagi is intelligent. It sparks something in him, a feeling that wouldn’t fully wake for months to come, but the beginning is already there. Nagi always wants to do good for Reo.
Then, green. His stomach flutters and mouth runs dry. This is one of the smiles that make Reo’s entire face glow, and Nagi’s body has a visceral reaction to it. Green is hard to push down and ignore, and red is even more difficult, as blood rushes into his face and heats up his brain.
Nagi also feels purple and pink. Pink, like Reo’s cheeks, and purple, like his eyes and hair and laugh. This is the most difficult out of any of his feelings, and also the one he exclusively associates with Reo. Nagi can’t help but study his face as Reo’s eyes sparkle at him, nose crinkled up and pointy.
“You’re staring,” Reo points out, still smiling. Nagi, in his unchallenged intelligence, just nods.
His smile dims. “What, do I have something on my face? Treasure, you’d tell me before the rest of the school laughs at me, right?”
Reo elbows him and Nagi (pathetic as he is) leans into the shove and against his arm. In one more or less smooth motion, he drapes himself over Reo, their heads on top of each other and sides connected. Nagi can smell the shampoo Reo uses as his hair tickles his cheek.
“Reo looks good,” hums Nagi. “He always does.”
For some reason, Reo shivers, and it runs through both their bodies. The sensation is oddly pleasant.
Reo clears his throat. “Thanks.”
Nagi’s heart swells as he rests against Reo. Maybe his pride feels so good because Nagi doesn’t necessarily view himself of a person worth of it. Not in a depressing way—although it might have been, once—just based on the realistic knowledge that Nagi never had any real aspirations before even meeting Reo.
Perhaps Reo made him the genius Reo loudly proclaims he is, but then again, Reo also makes Nagi feel so stupid. Muddled colours and that.
The sun is burning down on them not unlike when they’re on the field together. Nagi looks back at countless hours of running around and shooting goals, celebrating, riding home together, spending time in between classes. Nagi stares at Reo and sees the sun, a star so massive and bright he can’t help but be drawn in.
Ah, Nagi figures. The purple—that’s love.
The revelation doesn’t leave him as shocked as one would think. Nagi simply tells himself: if what he’s been feeling was truly love all along then love is easy, and familiar, and easily and familiar things aren’t a hassle at all.
As soon as he realizes, Nagi looks up, until their faces are so close their breath is shared and Reo’s eyes are unblinking as he looks at him. Does he love him? Does he love him too?
Nagi chews on the inside of his cheek. Pregnant silence has laid over the two of them, wrapping their bodies into a protective bubble. He’s about to draw back, about to break their proximity, until suddenly Reo says what has been bouncing around Nagi’s skull for the last months of his life.
“Nagi… I hope you know how much I appreciate you. You’re my treasure.”
Nagi’s genius brain fills in the gap. Appreciate, love, all the same. He suddenly sits up straight to cup Reo’s face, asks himself if he’s really about to, and catches the way Reo’s startled eyes dart down towards his mouth. Nagi closes the gap between those words and them.
As soon as their lips meet, Nagi’s whole world tilts. This isn’t the firework or explosion of colour Reo’s favourite soaps love to talk about. Reo’s mouth is a mouth, not a drug lab.
What is life-changing however is the slight gasp Reo lets out as Nagi kisses him. For a second, they’re both frozen: Nagi because he’s experiencing too much at once and Reo because—hopefully for the same reason, really. Then, Reo grabs Nagi by the collar and reels him in closer.
Oh, fuck, Nagi thinks before his first kiss turns into his second and third and fourth as Reo presses countless small smiles against the corners of his mouth.
His face feels very, very hot. So hot in fact that when Reo draws back, he stares at Nagi’s red cheeks before breaking out into a laugh, brushing away the hair from his forehead.
“God, you’re so red, Nagi,” he snickers, before coming to an abrupt stop. His hands jump back from Nagi’s collar like he’d burned them, hovering in the air uselessly. “You, uh, you did want—I didn’t misread—"
“No,” Nagi hurries to say. “I love you.”
Reo turns beetroot red, which should mean that Nagi has done something right. “Ah,” he squeals, unable to look him in the eye. Nagi tilts his head before capturing his lips once more.
A reassured Reo makes a happy Reo, he notes as Reo breathes a soft sound of contentment against his lips. His scalp tingles pleasantly as Reo’s hand cards through his hair, and all Nagi feels and hears and smells is just Reo.
Those people who called him antisocial and a weirdo and stupid are currently sitting in the cafeteria down below, while Nagi is kissing Reo on the rooftop. Where their reputation matters to no one.
I won, he thinks to himself as Reo’s laughter is ringing in his ears like church bells. The sun is bright, and they are carefree, and Reo’s fingers slide perfectly in between his.