Chapter Text
Nagi had found out, just a few hours ago, that Reo wasn’t a virgin.
The two of them were close, yet everyday Nagi discovered there was something he didn’t know, something Reo hadn’t told him. Reo talked a lot, about himself or otherwise, but not about the really important things. Important to Nagi, anyway. Though Nagi wasn’t quite sure what he considered “important,” Reo’s sex life, apparently, was.
He couldn’t stop thinking about it.
-
He couldn’t even recall the rest of their conversation, the conversation where Reo told him. He was mostly tuned out, head in Reo’s lap, Reo’s hand in his hair. Reo was ranting about something, about school, about his parents, about girls, and suddenly- about sex.
“And it’s not like I’m a virgin- I’ve had sex before, I’ve been on dates, I even had a serious girlfriend at one point! Well, for like a week, but I took that week seriously! And-“ his ranting continued, and the topic shifted too quickly for Nagi to ask him to slow down. To say that again.
It’s not like I’m a virgin.
I’ve had sex before.
Nagi was suddenly very, very aware of the hand combing through his hair, and an act that was meant to be relaxing had him very, very tense - mentally, not physically. Nagi was good at controlling his physical reactions, that was literally his whole thing, so Reo didn’t notice, and didn’t stop talking.
Where else had Reo’s hands been? What, who had he touched with them? Who had touched him? What did they touch? His hands? Where else?
Nagi’s ear was pressed to Reo’s thigh, soft and firm and familiar through the leg of his school uniform, and Reo’s hand was pressed into his hair, absentmindedly, rhythmically stoking it. They were on the roof, where the two of them normally ate lunch, because it was quiet and secluded and private.
Did Reo seek out privacy with other people? Nagi had always perceived Reo’s other friendships as absolutely, completely public. Every one of them was always on display: conversations in front of the school, in full classrooms, mid-game on the soccer field, before a cheering crowd or a giggling group of girls. People were always watching, and Reo acted accordingly. Nagi was always the exception, the one relationship that existed not only publicly, but privately as well.
Though that apparently wasn’t true. Reo had other private relationships.
An image appeared, unbidden, in Nagi’s mind, of Reo with- a girl, probably, in a quiet, secluded, private area, like the school rooftop during lunch, touching in a way Nagi never imagined Reo touching anyone. A girl’s head exactly where Nagi’s was, between Reo’s thighs, his hands in her hair, the soft melody of his voice in her ear. But the touch was different than it was with Nagi. It was different, because Reo didn’t touch him like that. Reo touched her like that, though, and she touched him too.
Or maybe it was a boy. It didn’t matter either way, probably. Nagi wasn’t going to ask.
Reo was talking about the stock market when he tuned back in, which was remarkably unsexy, and Nagi did everything he could to focus on that instead of the heat growing in his gut. He wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad heat, if he was burning with jealousy or arousal or something else, but it was a pain all the same. Nagi didn’t like thinking, but he also didn’t like feeling when he didn’t know what to do with those feelings.
So he forced himself to shut down all of his complicated thoughts and feelings and weird visions of a faceless girl between Reo’s legs and focused on the current state of the economy instead.
-
That conversation ended several hours ago, though. Practice had ended too, and Reo had dropped Nagi off at his apartment. So now he was at home, by himself.
Reo was distracting in a lot of ways, always talking about something, doing something, feeling something. And Nagi was always along for the ride, having less and less opportunity to space out as Reo filled up more and more space in his life. Reo kept him both on and off his toes: he took care of him physically, like he was supporting him as he stepped into the shallow end of a pool; but emotionally, it’s like Reo had hurled him into the deep end, Nagi looking up at Reo looking down at him as the water blurred his figure and Nagi could no longer see, could no longer breathe, could no longer think, thoughts swirling and muddling together with the ebb and flow of Reo’s whims.
But his physical and emotional relationships with Reo, always in separate, neat, tidy boxes, were getting mixed and muddled together now, which brought a heap of new problems. Touch was always easy with Reo. Reo ruffled his hair or threw an arm around his shoulders daily, he gave Nagi piggyback rides and hauled himself onto Nagi’s back in turn whenever he was celebrating a goal.
Reo touched him, a lot, and Nagi never had to think about it, never had to feel a certain way about it.
I’ve had sex before.
What did Reo’s touches mean?
What did they mean to Reo, and what did they mean to Nagi?
A more logical and typically more dominant part of Nagi said they probably mean nothing, because Reo is a naturally physically affectionate person and you’re his friend. You’re the one making it weird. Don’t make it weird.
A less definable and typically less dominant part of Nagi said Reo isn’t a virgin, Reo has had sex with someone, someone that isn’t you. He doesn’t touch you like that. Why doesn’t he touch you like that? Do you want him to touch you like that?
Both parts of himself were right, because Nagi was pretty smart and more often than not he was right about things. But now, as occurred less often, yet more and more the more time he spent with Reo, Nagi didn’t know what to do.
He did want Reo to touch him like that, whatever that meant. He wanted to find a quiet, secluded, private area, where he could push Reo against a wall, slide a leg between his, and dig fingers into his waist, his hips, his thighs, his neck. He wanted to leave bruises with his hands, his mouth, blooming purple on the white of Reo’s skin. And he wanted Reo to like it, wanted Reo’s hands in his hair, around his shoulders, digging and pulling as his voice in Nagi’s ear pants and whines and says “good boy, keep going.”
And oh, now he was hard. Which was troublesome.
Nagi rarely masturbated, if ever. It required a certain level of energy and passion that he didn’t really have. Well, he used to not have.
Sex wasn’t something Nagi ever really thought about, ever cared about, so he didn’t care to touch his dick. He only ever got hard for random, unsexy reasons, like the way he slept or the temperature of a shower. And it went away on its own, so he could ignore it. Getting horny was like getting hungry or tired: he could do something to fix it, or he could let the feeling be until it fixed itself. Maybe not the healthiest lifestyle, but certainly the easiest.
But things were so, so different with Reo. Reo, who made him eat, made him exercise, made him feel things he didn’t think he could. Nagi felt like a different person around Reo, yet exactly the same. He was allowed to be lazier than ever before, yet forced to play soccer after school nearly every day. Everything he did and felt for Reo was paradoxical and weird and confusing and he was still hard and he couldn’t think about these things right now.
Nagi was a creature of instinct. The complicated stuff was Reo’s job. He didn’t have to understand, even if he suddenly really, really wanted to. Before Reo, Nagi never wanted for anything. He ate only when he had to, went to school because he had to, and never masturbated because he didn’t have to.
But now he wanted to.
His room was dark, as the sun had set and the lights were off. He didn’t need to see, anyway. He didn’t really want to. Jacking off was weird, and he didn’t want to watch himself do it. He pulled his sweats and boxers down, kicked them off, laid back in bed and reached for his cock.
Was there a technique to this? Was there practice involved, or was it all natural talent?
Reo would know. Reo knew all sorts of things that Nagi didn’t, and would always answer any questions he asked, no matter how stupid or weird or personal they were. Reo was good at everything, not just soccer, and he was always desperate to please, to make Nagi’s life easier. And Nagi wondered if piggyback rides were as far as that desire went, or if Reo would give him a handjob if he asked.
Nagi pretended the hand on his cock was Reo’s, not his own. Which was probably a weird thing to do, but he found he didn’t care that much. Nagi had always been unconventional, and Reo barging into his life hadn’t changed that. It was probably the only thing that hadn’t changed. And his mind was too cloudy, too hot and swirly for remorse.
Reo’s hands were slightly smaller than his, and had a certain softness that came with years of rich boy skin care. Nagi pretended that Reo was there, in his bed, with his head pressed to Nagi’s thigh as he laid between his legs, hot breath on Nagi’s skin, his eyes and hands and practice and talent and desire all on Nagi’s cock.
He’d talk alot, even then, in the quiet privacy of Nagi’s room, with his hand on Nagi’s dick.
“Is that good?”
“Do you like that?”
“Shhh, I’ll take care of you.”
“My treasure.”
“My good boy.”
Nagi nodded at the imaginary voice, the hand on his dick moving faster, the other clutching at his sheets. Yes, it’s good, I love it, keep taking care of me.
I’m your treasure, I’m your good boy, please.
Nagi probably wouldn’t say any of that. He preferred to let Reo fill the silence. Reo’s voice was nicer to listen to, anyway. As Nagi got closer to the edge, he wished he could really hear Reo’s voice instead of his own labored breathing and shaking, shivering whines. Reo didn’t even have to touch Nagi to make him feel good, his praise was enough. Reo always made him feel good, no matter what he did. Nagi wanted to make Reo feel good, too.
But beyond scoring goals, Nagi had no idea how to do that. But whoever Reo was having sex with probably did. They probably made him happier than Nagi ever could, and that’s why Reo let them touch him. Why he didn’t let Nagi.
Oh.
Getting off didn’t seem very appealing anymore. He felt kind of gross.
So Nagi tucked his dick, still achingly hard, back in his boxers, turned on his side and went to bed.
Thinking was a pain. Definitely not worth it.
-
So he tried not to think about it. Tried not to think about Reo’s hands, his mouth, his tongue and teeth and the back of his throat.
But now that Nagi was aware that Reo wasn’t a virgin, he was noticing things. Things that he wanted to think about.
How he’d untie his hair mid-match, shake out the sweat and move to tie it back up, a lone droplet making its way down the nape of his neck. The fancy cologne he wore, how he looked unbuttoning his school uniform, bending over to tie his shoes, getting on his knees to tie Nagi’s shoes.
Don’t think about it.
Nagi was a person who acted on instinct, and that’s what Reo liked about him. Reo liked that Nagi had no inhibitions, he did what he liked and didn’t do what he didn’t. It didn’t matter. Consequences didn’t exist with Reo around. Reo wanted Nagi to live however he pleased, as long as he’d still show up to practice and score goals. Sometimes, Nagi felt like a child, like Reo was his overly indulgent mother. He wasn’t sure if he liked that feeling.
But now, Nagi wasn’t sure if what he wanted to do would be okay with Reo. He wasn’t telling Nagi not to make a move, but Nagi couldn’t, because for once this was important and if he screwed up there would be consequences.
But Nagi had never had a friend before, so he didn’t know what counted as “screwing up.” Reo had told him to do what he wanted, to be himself, but Reo had no idea what Nagi wanted, what kind of person he was.
Nagi wasn’t quite sure either, actually, but figuring it out would be a lot of work. The complicated stuff was Reo’s job.
What if he did give into the urges he was trying so desperately to bury? Stalk up to Reo on the pitch, in front of everyone, grab him by the hips from behind and lap at the back of his neck like a dog, smelling and tasting his sweat.
That would be a weird thing to do. Reo would definitely be mad at him if he did something like that during a game. But what if it wasn’t in public? What if he took Reo somewhere private, somewhere quiet and secluded where no one could see them and Reo had no image to uphold. Would Reo be mad at him then? Would he be uncomfortable? Would he let Nagi do it, even if he hated it? Was soccer important enough for Reo to let Nagi devour him?
Hm.
Bottling things up was unhealthy, right? That’s what Reo would probably say. Reo would want him to speak his mind, tell his partner how he really felt. But no matter how hard Reo tried to make Nagi better, at soccer or at life, there were some habits he just couldn’t quit. He still stuck to jelly drinks in the morning, because he refused to get up early enough to have breakfast with Reo. Reo could show up at Nagi’s place as early as he liked, call him or knock on his door a million times, but Nagi would stay stubborn until the end.
So he wasn’t going to do anything with all of these new thoughts and feelings. His relationship with Reo would stay the same, because change was troublesome. And Nagi would do his best to not get hard in the locker room while Reo was changing, or on the way to school while Reo sipped on his fancy non-alcoholic sparkling wine, or whenever Reo touched him. Whenever Reo did anything, really.
He didn’t want to be weird. This new, constant barrage of inappropriate thoughts was weird enough.
A slow, easy life, where he didn’t ruin the one good thing he has because he couldn’t keep it in his pants. That’s what he wanted.
Though he’d probably try jacking off again. Nagi was a quick learner, so it would probably work better if he did it a second time. Maybe then the thoughts would be easier to ignore.
-
Nagi was thinking again. It was a new, unfortunate pattern. Apparently, what Reo brought to Nagi’s life wasn’t all good.
Being with Reo wasn’t a pain, but Nagi found that watching Reo interact with people that weren’t him was exhausting. Because it was confusing. Nagi couldn’t pick up on the social cues and nuances that other people could, but he knew Reo (or so he liked to think), and he knew the way he acted with their teammates and classmates wasn’t real. He spoke like he was networking, not socializing. There was thought put into every word, every gesture.
Reo would carefully consider the level of affection he showed others to control how they felt about him, to control how they would act around him.
Yeah, control. Reo liked control. Everything he did was to gain more of it. He played soccer for control, control over his own life, and even during matches with 21 other players on the field, he was somehow still in complete, total control. He manipulated the field like every player was a piece on a chessboard, His every move calculated and impossible for his opponent to counter.
He behaved with practiced kindness around peers to control his image, his reputation, his connections. He was born destined to pull the strings of the world around him, heir to the Mikage Corporation, dazzlingly handsome and disarmingly charismatic.
Though from where Nagi sat, always watching Reo’s performances, he thought Reo could do with a break from control.
Because whilst everyone else sat crowded and enamored in front of the stage, Nagi sat (equally enamored) behind it. Behind the curtain, where sometimes Reo would go home with Nagi to his messy one bedroom apartment, lay down in his unmade bed, and stare at nothing for hours. Nagi would lay down with him, and Reo would turn to throw an arm across his stomach and put his head on Nagi’s chest, and later Nagi would realize that maybe listening to another person’s heartbeat had been relaxing for Reo. Maybe Nagi was helping, even if he wasn’t doing anything. Maybe Reo wanted - relied on - more than his soccer skills.
Or maybe Reo was still in control, even then, and Nagi wasn’t behind the curtain like he thought he was. Maybe Reo got all sweet and soft and vulnerable around him because he knew Nagi wouldn’t be able to leave if he acted like that, knew he would keep scoring goals if Reo would keep sleeping in his bed.
No, Reo wasn’t that kind of person. Probably. But Reo liked control so much.
To really control your life, you have to keep track of all its moving pieces, remembering which gears did what, which buttons to press and which people you were supposed to act which way with. Nagi couldn’t possibly understand what that level of awareness was like, but he tried to imagine it anyway. It would definitely be exhausting. Reo was probably exhausted.
And because everything was about sex for him now, Nagi wondered if Reo acted the same way during the act: desperate for control.
Whoever it was that he’d done it with, how did they act? Did Reo like it? Did he let them set the pace, or did he guide them through it - telling them exactly what he liked, what he wanted them to do? Was Reo worried about being in charge, in control, even then? Would he bite down on his hand or his lip or his partner’s shoulder to prevent any embarrassing noises? To maintain his image, his reputation, even at his most vulnerable?
Nagi didn’t know. And that was frustrating. But selfishly, he hoped Reo hadn’t liked it. He hoped it was disappointing, something he regretted, something he would never do again unless it was with a partner who could really give him what he needed. Someone like Nagi. His real partner.
Reo always made Nagi feel good. Nagi wanted Reo to feel good, too. He wanted to see Reo drop his guard, give up his control, break his painstakingly, perfectly crafted persona.
And Nagi wondered what he could do for Reo that the nameless, faceless girl his brain had conjured up couldn’t also do. Because he was selfish. Because Nagi wanted to be the only person that could make Reo feel good.
Reo liked to lay on his chest and listen to his heartbeat. If he was stressed enough and had enough free time he would ask to go to Nagi’s place after school and Nagi would say yes. Then when they arrived, neither would say another word. It seemed like they didn’t need to. Reo took what he wanted, and Nagi let him. Reo told him to score goals, so Nagi scored goals. Reo asked to come over after school, and Nagi would always say yes, you can come over.
Maybe Nagi really was just another member of the audience. Maybe there was no one backstage, behind the curtain. Maybe Reo was still in control, even with Nagi. Even if he didn’t want to be, even if he didn’t realize it.
So really, that’s why Nagi couldn’t make a move. Because that was Reo’s job.
(Or maybe that’s why he had to make a move, because that wasn’t a job Reo wanted, not with Nagi. He wanted Nagi to pull his head to his chest, to his heart, not wait for Reo to do it himself. He wanted Nagi to want to score goals, to want Reo in his apartment, in his bed. He wanted Nagi to do something, anything, because how else was he supposed to know how Nagi felt? He couldn’t know.
He had no idea.)
-
If there was anything that could force a person to give up control, it was Blue Lock. Their fight during Second Selection was proof of it. Their current losing streak was proof of it.
Nagi took initiative for the first time, basically ever, by joining Isagi’s team. Reo’s control was slipping. He did it again against Bastard München, against Isagi. Nagi asked for Reo back, to play soccer together again, and Reo had said okay. Because he was weak. Completely powerless before Nagi’s ever changing emotions.
Reo was well aware he had never held any power over Nagi Seishiro. Nagi only followed his whims because it was convenient, it wasn’t a pain. But it was nice being able to pretend, wasn’t it?
Nagi stole all of Reo’s control like it didn’t matter, like he didn’t care how hard Reo worked every single day just to keep it. And crazily, insanely enough, Reo used to be okay with that. Because he trusted Nagi not to do something stupid with it. He trusted Nagi with those tiny, fragile feelings he was supposed to keep locked away. He slept in Nagi’s bed, with his head on Nagi’s chest, and he wasn’t scared.
But as Reo unfortunately discovered, Nagi’s effortless grace on the field did not translate to the intricacies of human relationships.
Reo wanted Nagi to like soccer, he wanted Nagi to make more friends, he wanted Nagi to take initiative, this is what he wanted. He was happy.
But no, that wasn’t right. Because Nagi didn’t seem to like soccer anymore. Nagi didn’t seem to care that they were losing, or that Reo’s dream was slipping through his fingers.
Against Bastard München, Reo felt amazing. Even if they had lost, he got to feel perfectly in sync with his partner again, got to effortlessly control the field like he used to, he had gotten infinitely closer to his dream.
But Nagi seemed to have… given up. Seemed to not care about being the best in the world anymore, now that he’d beaten Isagi Yoichi. That was all he’d really wanted, apparently.
Reo could hardly think about the implications of that beyond the fact it meant Nagi didn’t care about their dream, Nagi didn’t care about him. Nagi didn’t care. Nagi probably never cared. And for Reo, who cared more than he could put into words - that was really, really scary.
So with their match against FC Barcha in a few days, Reo was freaking out. He was scared. Just a little bit. But he had it under control.
He had it under control. He had a logical, well thought out plan for the match and his stupid feelings would not get in the way. Nagi wouldn’t get in the way.
Reo had everything under control.
-
Nagi did not have things under control.
Living in Blue Lock made privacy incredibly hard to come by, and although those who knew Nagi would often call him impulsive or shameless, he was absolutely not going to jack off in a room with 10 other people present. Especially while he and Reo were sharing a bed.
Their time on Team V was probably the worst of it, as they were always together, sleeping in the same bed, bathing at the same time. It was hard (pun intended).
And back on Team V, Nagi still didn’t care about soccer. So until he got his phone back, that meant he had absolutely no entertainment. With nothing to distract him, Nagi’s mind would wander often, and go places he desperately didn’t want it to go. He was horny all the time.
It was shockingly easy to hide from Reo, though, because despite his incredible observational abilities, Reo had a pretty bad case of tunnel vision. Case in point: his soccer obsession. He was way too focused on progressing through Blue Lock to notice Nagi’s inner turmoil, even if it sometimes became outer turmoil.
Sometimes, when the two slept in the same bed because Nagi couldn’t be bothered to score enough goals for another one, Reo would toss and turn until he was laying directly on top of Nagi. While Nagi slept like a rock, Reo slept incredibly light, like he was constantly alert, even while unconscious. And he moved around a lot too, like he could never get comfortable.
So his limbs would tangle with Nagi’s, their bodies pressed completely together, and it would be so hot, because both the blanket and Reo were on top of him and Reo was breathing in his ear and shifting his hips and-
Yeah. Nagi didn’t get a lot of sleep during First Selection. Except for during practice, of course, when he napped in the goal while Reo was distracted to make up for lost time.
He had problems sleeping in Second Selection, too, but for completely different reasons. He and Reo were fighting, which was a first, and it had Nagi’s emotions all out of wack. He’d stay up late, long past when the rest of his teammates had gone to sleep, and would stare at the ceiling and try to figure out what was up with Reo. Reo, who was mad at him, and accused him of forgetting their promise, and was, notably, on a different team, sleeping in a different room.
So Nagi, like usual, kept thinking about Reo, but his thoughts were not of the sexy variety. They couldn’t be, when he was so preoccupied with soccer and Isagi and being the best player he could possibly be. For their dream.
It was also easier to control those urges when he wasn’t around Reo 24/7. While Reo sleeping on top of him made his brain go haywire, Barou yelling at him about dirty socks over the sound of Chigiri’s hair dryer didn’t exactly get him in the mood.
But now he and Reo were together again. They were on the same team, sharing the same room, and Reo wasn’t mad at him anymore. Probably.
So they were touching each other again. And perhaps he had been going through Reo withdrawals, because now that they were on good terms again, his Not Safe for Blue Lock fantasies were cropping up at an alarming rate. Like, more often than when they were on Team V. Their separation seemed to have left him with a lot of pent-up feelings. All sorts of weird feelings.
When Reo was sitting behind him, using his fingers to brush through Nagi’s hair, Nagi found himself hoping he would suddenly pull, pull Nagi’s head back by the grip he had in his hair, use his free hand to grab at the sides of Nagi’s jaw, force his mouth open and spit in it.
Which was. Okay. Woah.
Sometimes, when they were both in the bathhouse, Reo would sit down beside the water and test the temperature with one foot, his thighs pressed tightly together. And Nagi, already in the bath, wanted to swim up to him and grab him by his calves, force his legs wide open, as far as they would go, and slide in between them. Press his chest to Reo’s, hot and soaking wet. Make him whimper and try to close his legs because the position was embarrassing, only for his thighs to be pressed hard into Nagi’s sides, unable to shut.
They shared a room, but not a bed - the beds were all the same quality, so they didn’t have an excuse to share anymore. They also had two roommates.
Nagi’s fantasies were often very simple. At night, while Reo slept not-so-soundly across the room, Nagi imagined Reo getting up, walking over to Nagi’s bed and climbing in with a whisper of “I can’t sleep without you.” If he wasn’t feeling pent-up (rare), that’s where it ended. He dreamt of literally sleeping with Reo, like they used to, limbs tangled and bodies pressed together.
Other times though, he thought of Reo climbing on top of him, leaning down and pressing their lips together and grinding against Nagi’s already raging hard on.
Would Reo like his dick? Nagi wasn’t an expert, but it seemed pretty big- he was very physically gifted, after all. Would Reo feel it through their clothes, would he beg Nagi to take it out? Would he want it inside him? His mouth, his ass, anywhere Nagi could fit?
Nagi wanted Reo to sit on it, spread himself open, knees on either side of Nagi’s hips, hands on Nagi’s chest for stability, his breathing and his thighs shaking. He’d look down at Nagi, all gorgeous and perfect and he’d say, “Be a good boy and stay quiet, alright? You don’t want to wake anyone up.”
Reo wasn’t a virgin, but had anyone ever been inside of him? He mentioned having a girlfriend, was that who he had sex with? Did he stick his dick in her? Did he enjoy it? Is that what he liked?
He didn’t really like the idea of Reo having sex with someone else in any way, but he hated the idea of Reo having sex with someone else and liking it.
Nagi hoped it was awful. He hoped the girl had laid there and done nothing while Reo put his fingers, his cock inside her. He hoped Reo’s eyes were closed the entire time, wishing he was with someone else, doing something else.
Nagi wouldn’t lay there obediently like that. Nagi would grab Reo by the hips, pull him up and drop him down, forcing him to take the whole thing until Reo was the one who needed to stay quiet, else he’d wake their roommates.
Nagi would flip them over, would hold him down by the back of his neck, force his face into a pillow and pound into him, nail his prostate with every thrust, Reo’s entire body being pushed back and forth as he clawed at the sheets for any kind of purchase.
Nagi would be a good partner. He was a good partner, he could make Reo feel good, do exactly what Reo wanted, what he needed.
Though Nagi, of course, had no evidence that this was what Reo wanted at all. Maybe Reo did like girls who let him do all the work, let him control their speed, their volume, their every movement. Maybe the idea of getting fucked into the mattress by his best friend was actually disturbing and gross, and he’d be horrified if Nagi ever offered to do it.
So Nagi wouldn’t offer to do it.
(He might offer to do it.
His desire was becoming a hindrance to his soccer, and that was a massive issue. They couldn’t win the World Cup if Nagi kept fantasizing about fucking Reo mid match instead of scoring goals. Reo shutting him down might help put those thoughts to bed. If he had confirmation that Reo wouldn’t like it, Nagi probably wouldn’t like it anymore either.)
-
Sometimes, Reo refused to wear the translators they’d all been provided. When Chigiri had asked about it (Nagi did not), Reo said that it was easier to focus without them. Apparently, It was easier to differentiate between his teammates and opponents when they were speaking different languages, and that helped with his overall awareness on the field. He was already fluent in English, and nearly fluent in every other language you’d need to know in the Neo Egoist League, so it never led to any problems. On the field, he could communicate and understand everyone just fine. He also “liked the challenge,” apparently, and wanted to continue his study of foreign language even while trapped inside Blue Lock. He considered the whole ordeal a “learning opportunity.”
Reo ended this explanation with a self-satisfied smile, leaning back and crossing his arms, while Chigiri rolled his eyes and muttered something about “tryhards.”
But Nagi, although he never questioned it out loud, didn’t think everything Reo said was completely true. Because sometimes, when the two of them were eating lunch, sitting quietly at a table they had to themselves, Reo would, without any forewarning, rip the earbuds out of his ears, fast enough to probably hurt, and slam them down on the table, slightly shaking their trays. He’d stare at them like they ruined his life, and Nagi would look too to figure out what the problem was, but would only see a pair of normal earbuds. Normal, minus the name Mikage emblazoned on the back of each in big, bold lettering.
Reo was obsessed with winning the World Cup through his own efforts, so maybe translator earbuds were too much outside interference. Maybe the idea of accepting any kind of help from his father, no matter how inconsequential, was upsetting. It seemed like the only person allowed to help him was Nagi, which was weird, because what made Nagi so special? His trapping ability? That didn’t seem right.
But since he was the only one allowed to do so, Nagi tried to help. When Reo would rip his translators out in a seemingly random burst of anger, Nagi would calmly and quietly take out his own translators, set them down, point to one of the foreign players at a nearby table and ask, “What’s that guy saying?”
And Reo would smile, in the kind of tired, kind of relieved way he did sometimes, and he’d give Nagi lessons on all the different languages they could hear around the cafeteria.
When Nagi asked questions, Reo answered them, because he liked to be helpful. And through these efforts, he’d forget all about his dad and his company and all of the expectations placed upon him and would instead entertain himself with Nagi's awful pronunciation.
Reo was trying to be helpful, but Nagi was too. Even if Reo didn’t realize it. Even if he thought Nagi was completely clueless about everything happening around him.
No, Nagi was helping, in his own clumsy, tactless way. Because he didn’t like when Reo was upset. He’d do whatever he could to make Reo happy, even if Reo was none the wiser.
That was okay. Nagi didn’t expect gratitude. He was only doing what Reo had done for him, every day since the moment they met. Helping.
He wanted to help.
-
In the England stratum, days prior to matches were dedicated to individual training. That is to say, players had all day to do whatever they wanted. According to Prince, it was to avoid any exhaustion or soreness before a game. It gave many players a much-needed break. Training with Prince was intense, to say the least, and most Blue Lockers weren’t used to such high-level work outs on such a regular basis, Nagi included.
So, the day before their game against FC Barcha, Nagi spent all of his time alone in their dorm. Hiiragi was in the cafeteria, probably harassing other players into listening to his psychotic ramblings (Nagi was biased), Chigiri had run off to another stratum, probably going to harass Kunigami, and Reo was off doing… something. He’d been gone since Nagi woke up.
Unlike most everyone else, Reo was used to training 24/7. Nagi had witnessed his unwavering dedication first hand before they’d entered Blue Lock. Reo didn’t take breaks. It probably wasn’t healthy, but Reo wouldn’t listen if Nagi told him that. (Because really, who was Nagi to talk about healthy habits?) So, while Reo was off training by himself, Nagi stayed in their dorm. He wasn’t really… up to working out, and especially not with Reo. He wouldn’t be able to focus, or actually get anything done. (Well, unless they were working out in other ways.)
And Reo seemed… stressed, lately. Probably about their falling rankings. So he probably wanted to be left alone, to blow off some steam before the match. Nagi would probably be a hindrance.
Though, as Nagi passed the time lazing in bed, only getting up to eat, it began to get late. Both Hiiragi and Chigiri had returned to their shared dorm, freshly showered and ready for bed, yet Reo was nowhere to be found.
Nagi checked the time.
9:03 pm. Oh, it's pretty late. Reo should be back already. Is he still training?
Reo wasn’t the type to lose track of time, but Nagi decided he would go check on him anyway, just in case something was wrong. He didn’t feel comfortable going to bed without Reo in the room, anyway, especially the night before such an important match. Which sounded kind of weird and clingy, but whatever.
So Nagi got up, left the room, and began searching the facility for Reo.
After asking several other players, checking the cafeteria, baths and locker rooms, Nagi found Reo alone on one of the practice fields.
He was still in his Blue Lock body suit, soaked through with sweat, his skin glowing red and his ponytail a mess. He had clearly been training for a while. (He was so gorgeous.)
From where he stood in the doorway, Nagi could see balls scattered across the field. Reo, with a running start, went to kick one, launching it from the halfway line and into the net with a beautiful arc. But notably, not as beautiful as usual. Reo was clearly exhausted, and his form was suffering.
“Reo.”
Mid-kick, Reo stopped and turned around to see who had called for him. His eyes widened in surprise. He was breathing hard and fast, chest moving up and down rapidly. He definitely needed to take a break.
“Nagi? What are you doing here? What time is it? Shouldn’t you be asleep? We’re playing Barcha tommorow, you know?” That was a lot of questions very quickly. Nagi decided to answer none of them.
Nagi spoke, slowly and gently, “Reo, you’ve been practicing all day. Let’s go to bed.”
Sometimes, Reo looked a bit like a spooked animal, and it made Nagi nervous about saying the wrong thing. Scaring him away.
Reo huffed dismissively and went to kick another ball. This shot was even lower quality than the last.
As the ball entered the goal nonetheless, Reo, still with his back to Nagi, said, “Go to bed, Nagi. I’ll be done in a bit.” Then, he went to shoot again.
Reo was definitely stressed. And he was overexerting himself, which wasn’t exactly a good way to deal with stress. He’d be too tired to play his best tomorrow. Didn’t Reo understand that? Didn’t Reo want to win? Why was he hurting his own chances?
How was Nagi supposed to help?
“Reo.”
Reo, after another mediocre shot, stopped and turned around, facing Nagi. He looked tired, and annoyed.
“What, Nagi? Do you need something?” His voice was layered with frustration. Suddenly, Nagi was kind of mad that Reo was taking out his emotions on both himself and his partner. Very immature. (Once again, Nagi really wasn’t one to talk.)
“You’re gonna hurt yourself. Let’s take a bath and go to bed. So we can win tomorrow. Okay?” Nagi was trying so hard to say the right thing, but with every word that came out of his mouth, Reo just looked angrier.
“Fuck, Nagi, you suddenly care? Why now? Why’d you have to start caring now?”
What?
“What?”
Reo was biting his lower lip, hard, and his hands were balled into fists by his sides. “I said, why do you suddenly care? You obviously didn’t before, so why pretend you do now? Seriously, just fuck off, I can’t deal with you right now.”
Reo was visibly seething, shoulders shaking and voice full of vitriol, but he made no move to get any closer or continue yelling. (Though he hadn’t really yelled in the first place. By Reo standards, he was actually speaking pretty quietly, especially considering Nagi was on the opposite side of the field. It was just that the violent way in which he spoke made Nagi feel like he was being yelled at, which was upsetting. Nagi didn’t like being yelled at.) When Reo was done, the room was quiet, save for the sound of his harsh breathing. Then, the sounds of cleats on turf and a soccer ball being kicked started up again. Without another word, Reo continued practicing. He kicked the ball harder than before, like he was mad at it. He seemed to have assumed Nagi wasn’t going to respond, and he was right. So he kept kicking.
Nagi stood there, still in the doorway, silently confused.
What?
Reo was mad at him, obviously, but why? Nagi thought they were done fighting, he thought, he thought they were finally okay.
Nagi made no move to leave, but he also made no move to respond. He stood there for several more minutes, watching Reo kick ball after ball.
Likely noting a complete lack of sound or movement behind himself, Reo eventually turned around to give Nagi a withering stare.
Only, Nagi must’ve had some terrible expression on his face, because Reo’s glare quickly fell into something softer, almost concerned, like the fight had drained out of his body immediately upon looking at Nagi.
What kind of expression was he making, standing silently in that doorway, to make Reo react in such a way? Did he look guilty? Confused? Upset? Nagi felt all of those things, but rarely did his face reflect his emotions.
Reo’s mad, but he’s not yelling at you anymore. He’s not yelling, so you can talk to him. Say something. Fix whatever is happening between you two. Fix it.
“Um. Do you-“ Fix it.
Fix it, Fix it, Fix it.
Reo raised an eyebrow, and upon receiving no further response, sighed, obviously exasperated. Nagi felt like a child again. “What, Nagi. If you want to say something, just say it.”
Reo’s hands were on his hips, legs slightly spread, shoulder-width distance between he feet. Thighs apart. His thighs were thick. The body suit wrapped them perfectly. How much of his flesh could Nagi grab in one hand? The suit hugged his waist too. It was tiny. Could Nagi’s hands envelop it completely? Grip it with his fingers, squeeze hard enough to bruise? There was a lone droplet of sweat making its way down the side of Reo’s neck. Nagi wanted to taste it.
Fix it.
Distractions. Distracting Reo was good. Reo wouldn’t be angry if he was thinking about something else. Nagi could help. Nagi could fix it.
“Well?” Reo stared at him expectantly.
“Do you. Do you like guys?”
Reo’s face immediately morphed from one of impatience to one of complete shock and confusion. He was, for lack of a better term, completely flabbergasted.
Good enough.