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If you had asked either of these two a year ago where they each thought they would be now, nothing like this would have ever crossed their minds. The waves of change that have turned the worlds of Nagi Seishiro and Mikage Reo upside down are as unpredictable now as they have been since they began rippling outward from the day they first met. But somehow, their old lives have since become unthinkable, lost to the gravitation they have found in this—in soccer, in them— that determines their new direction.
Reo lies on one of the strange, pentagonal beds they’ve all been issued as part of the Manshine City living quarters. It’s been a busy morning between personalized workouts and theory-crafting strategy sessions, but they’re given plenty of breaks as part of the training regimen, and he takes full advantage of the opportunity to rest. He’s happy he decided to come to England, but Prince can be a handful even on the best of days.
Nagi is sitting up beside him playing something on his phone, and the sound effects are the only noise filling the room. Every once in a while, he nudges Reo with his foot to let him know he isn’t ignoring him. Even so, it is a comfortable quiet; Reo finds himself floating in it.
It’s just the two of them in the room right now. Some ten minutes ago, Chigiri realized what was happening and left wordlessly, though he had fixed Reo with a stern glare on the way out that said: You owe me one. Reo appreciated it regardless. Over the past months, he and the redhead have gotten rather close, both as teammates and as someone they could lean on in the many, many difficult moments Blue Lock mercilessly dishes out to its players. After all the late nights and puffy eyes, Reo can say with certainty—a friend like Chigiri is hard to come by.
Though I’ve been lucky twice, he thinks, turning to his treasure, still beeping away at whatever new gambling addiction he’s developed this week. Reo already knows it’s going to be his credit card taking the brunt of the damage, but it will make Nagi happy, so really it’s a fair deal.
Nagi looks up from his game to find Reo already looking over at him, head resting across his ankles. With his hair down like this, he lacks the composed appearance he tries to keep up around everybody else, and the subtle disarray is positively beautiful on him. He stretches slightly, smiling, and Nagi feels the familiar ache that has made its home deep in his sternum; the one he’s never figured out how to put into words just right, but that he knows he’d die without. So, when all else fails, he says the next best thing instead.
“Reo, kiss me.”
Neither one hides from the gaze of the other, though Reo still blushes the color of a sunset at Nagi’s directness despite the fact that he’s well-accustomed to it at this point; Nagi has always been one to demand the world, and Reo has wanted to give it to him since the moment they met.
It was all so simple with him. How had they managed to make it so complicated for so long?
“You’re spoiled,” Reo finally chides, without heat—it’s true, but he doesn’t care, especially not when he’s the reason for it. He climbs over and adjusts his position, ending up sitting on his knees, one either side of Nagi’s legs.
Nagi just blinks up at him, awed, because how can someone be this amazing and pretty and want him all at the same time?
“I love you,” Nagi answers. He can’t help it.
“Nagi…”
“I love—”
Reo cuts him off there; he’s heard enough. It manages to be everything he’s ever wanted and more than he thought possible to dream. Nagi lifts his hands to his waist and kisses him back, and Reo understands that he will compare everything else for the rest of his life to this feeling, and nearly all of it will fall short.
Somehow, there is always a distance between them when they start to kiss. It’s subconscious, but after everything, they both crave the reassurance that comes with being drawn closer; of a thousand tiny pulls, each one a silent confirmation: I want to be with you. The gap disappears piece by piece, and with every millimeter they fall for each other a little bit more.
Reo likes to think he knows what he’s doing by now. He has looked up a total of twenty-seven bad articles and three good ones about how to kiss in order to evoke a number of reactions from your partner, ranging from ‘liking you better’ to ‘dying on the spot.’ Some of these outcomes are preferable to others. Still, Reo’s an expert at learning new tricks and adapting them into his repertoire. He wants to be the best at this because that’s what Nagi always wants him to be.
Nagi has absolutely no idea what he’s doing. But Reo seems to like it, and nothing else really matters to him right now.
As Reo slides his hands from Nagi’s face to the back of his head, the latter makes a small hum of contentment, and it is enough to send Reo’s heart sputtering. Nagi simply melts at the touch, drinking in something vital from every point of contact like a plant drinks in sunlight. And so, Reo kisses him and kisses him until the word loses all meaning and the two of them are the only thing left in the world.
When they do finally, slowly break apart, they stay in each other’s space, just breathing, for a time that is perhaps a few seconds or maybe several hours. Nagi presses a soft kiss into the crook of Reo’s neck. Then another. And another. Reo’s arms are still wound around his shoulders, and his fingers are lazily playing with his hair. Ah, Nagi thinks idly, so this is what heaven feels like. However, eternity doesn’t last so long here on earth, and the hassles of everyday life begin to gradually creep their way back in.
“We have to go practice,” Reo whispers into the spell they’ve created around themselves. He feels more than he hears Nagi huff in response, and he realizes all over again how badly he must have it when that registers in his brain as a convincing counter-argument.
He sits back and crosses his arms before the monster can finish setting his trap. He knows he’ll stay if he delays it any longer. “Come on, Nagi. No pouting.”
Nagi pouts anyway. It doesn’t work, but it does make Reo giggle. Close enough.
Reo plants one final kiss on the tip of his nose before getting up, and Nagi hastily reaches for his wrist in a last-ditch attempt to stop him from leaving. Reo smiles down at the gesture before using it to pull the slowpoke to his feet. He stumbles, using his prodigious reflexes to gracefully land slumped right back onto Reo, earning another round of laughter.
“You told me you were excited for this scrimmage,” Reo reminds him. “We’re gonna test out those new plays we came up with against the rest of the team and see what Chris thinks.” This, finally, gets Nagi to consider. Playing soccer with Reo was, at the end of the day, what he loved doing most at Blue Lock, even if it meant no kisses. He’d endure it.
“Okay,” he says, and means it. Reo (unfortunately) fixes his hair, tying it up before walking over to the door that leads beyond—to Blue Lock, to the Neo Egoist League, to whatever other force that thinks it can stand in their way—and gesturing for Nagi to follow him out into the world. He will. He always does.