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Morning cracks open and spits out the same ordinary routine. Among the rubble of this monotonous world, Nagi stands out of place. But the people passing by are too blind to notice, their autonomy long since swallowed by the daily loop.
He's out of place. So he ties an anchor around his neck, and lets himself sink. Down into the quiet.
“Whuaah…”
An alarm that could be missed if it was only a volume lower, clean bedsheets scented by sunlight and jasmine fabric softener, faint noises of the world going by idly and waiting for him to join on the loop of plain and ordinary, to ride the train of boredom to his death.
“Mornin’... Choki.”
He woke up from his long dream to reality.
With a prickle to his skin as a greeting, as a reminder that he's alive and flesh and blood, that he needs to wash up and eat, he wills himself up, back to the routine before all of that. Before him.
He doesn't dwell on it too deeply (his brain is riddled with morphine so he doesn't have to think— spare him the hurt), but the school uniform alone makes him feel some sort of bitterness, as if it's a snake digging its fangs into his virulent flesh. Even if he keeps his head empty his thoughts latch on all bits and pieces like a man starving.
School doesn't make it any better, especially not with everyone murmuring about what he has just lost, who he left behind and betrayed. (How dare she ask me about Reo?) The noise and scenery were twisting it all into a living nightmare, “I'm fine… I've given up.” They were all out to get him.
Just leave me be.
Pull on the curtains and find solace there, let the world drop dead as he closes his eyes. Turn the annoying chatter into a lullaby and the sun rays into a warm blanket, so he can just sleep it all away.
It's much easier this way.
To pretend that everything is fine.
That he's fine.
He gets ready just like he used to. Alone. His heavy feet spin the pedals, alone, but his heart remains eerily still. He sneaked his lunch in class just the same, alone. The sun goes up and then down, there's no shadows merged into his.
The stairs look like a curse now, the poor imitation of sunset rides feel like he's someone lost, or someone about to drive off a cliff with a snap of a wrist, with a drift of a thought. His hands are laced in rigor mortis over the handlebars. The game victory screen never appears. A loss after a loss wherever he goes: a child of a misfortune, divine but completely forsaken.
Known streets, known furniture and monotony but it's all so unfamiliar. It's all a big dark theatre with empty seats but he goes on acting. Acting that he is okay, that nothing is wrong, that it's fine. It's fine it's fine it's fine.
Nothing is fine.
He's so miserable.
Like poison ivy, a thing so overwhelming and bitter climbs up his guts, up his esophagus and it morphs into crystal clear regret that drips down his cheeks.
He bites his lip so as not to find out how he sounds when he cries, fingers digging into his arms as he feels himself tremble. He’s overheating, his mind flashing with a million chaotic images like a man on death’s door. His throat closes up, robbing him of breath.
Finally, the string snaps and his heart falls and shatters, pieces he could never reassemble, only those hands could pick it all up, despite the sharp edges, and make it into something soft and alive once again.
Nagi thinks of Reo, and with all the love he was given until now he weeps.
Reality hits hard, finally wide awake to the now bleeding world, the colors are disappearing together with Reo, getting so far out of reach, the only bits remaining are lodged into his heart, tucked in with deep roots. He refuses to let go.
The world seems a bit gentler in the glow of his tears, but it still holds a spear to his vitals and he wraps his arms around himself in a measly imitation of comfort— where has the warmth gone now?
He wasn't doing enough and that fire, that excitement, that world, that treasure, all slipped down like an avalanche, leaving him alone on the mountain buried under the snow with no spring in sight.
Colorless and cold, where the sun doesn't reach.
Because he was too arrogant to think the sun would shine upon him, more brightly than others, just because.
Now he's left under the static of white, no buds and no leaves to reach up, a graveyard of a genius he once was.
All that won't come for him again.
He was so stupid.
It's too late.
It's not fine.
There's no going back.
The way he is now, he will probably never see Reo again. There would be no reason for Reo to find him, not now that he was no longer what he needed for his dream. He was but a corpse of his former glory; people celebrate his past like some perished soldier's and they are right.
He was foolish all along, a child naive and ignorant, believing hopelessly that their fates have been sewn together from that day never to be torn apart. But how could ordinary cotton be attached to expensive silk?
If only he could have those moments back…
If only he could be with Reo again, see his smile, feel his warmth, stand by his side as his partner.
He was… such a disgrace.
His cheeks warm up, a messy whine finally slips past his lips, his voice cracks as his whole body shakes. He was plunged into the cold ocean and there's no hand to pull him out, he has to learn how to swim or just like until now— let himself drown.
I miss it.
I miss Reo.
It will never be like back then.
His life will be a single day on repeat, with nothing in his hands and a hole in his chest, clouds stuffed in his skull. Floating atop of the river stream, just a bit above the others. Never reaching the sky.
All alone. As he has always been (before), as he always will be (he doesn't want that), just existing and not really living, without a need to be a part of anyone's life (he wanted to be everything in Reo's).
Now he stands there; moondust in his lungs and stars in his eyes replaced with ashes of bygone flames. A burned up forest after the rain, there's nothing that can be lit, to shine even a bit of warmth in his dark room.
For how long?
Will I always be like this?
… Until I die?
I don't want that.
For the first time, he takes the first step on his own.
—
It was all because back then he learned fear.
There's something fragile and dangerous in finally having someone you're scared of losing.
Finding out that love always feels a little bit like mourning. The more affection you feel, the heavier the heart gets— swollen with all sorts of feelings, both beautiful and ugly. But it was all love.
Until Reo, he was an empty shell. He never heard those words— I love you— never said them either. He didn't know what he was supposed to do to express it, or how to show he appreciated it. He thought he just wanted to be by Reo's side. But that was a lie. He wanted all of Reo’s for himself. For a lifetime. He wanted those words only from him and no one else. And that wish, that daydream of forever, ruined him. It was the exact moment he lost his brilliance.
Until then he was an unbeatable God— with a single move crushing mountains like they are sand castles. It was a child's play, so naively innocent, no challenge, just fun with someone as equally brilliant.
Reo was the one who magnified his light, pulled him out of the drab road to death and gave him a dream. A future. A partner.
And then curtains pulled over their stage. No more make-believe.
It was an end he couldn't look at without feeling it tear at his bones. Reo's tears drowned out a world that had already cracked, everything spilling with nowhere to go. Nagi stood entirely still for his execution— not out of pride, but out of sheer guilt. He was the one who had disappointed Reo. He was the one who broke their promise, letting himself get swayed and wither, instead of thriving in Reo's warm embrace.
It wasn't a poetic ending, it was empty, a book left unfinished. All the blood pooling around their mutual wounds was never once beautiful, despite what he had naively let himself believe like a helpless romantic. Burn the pages of this story. Let not even the ashes remain.
“To become the world's best with you I'll become anything.”
Oh, Reo. Dazzling, brilliant, my burning sun.
He already became someone who can be the best, as for himself, there was a satisfied beast, content with this much, with only staying by its beloved's side.
He wanted to be the Nagi Reo wanted him to be, the one who can conquer the world, for that he'd do anything. In doing so, he lost himself entirely, failing to notice that he was already a rotten apple; one that should be thrown away before corrupting everything else. He really is such a pain.
Now even if he tries to head forward on his own he wouldn't be able to do so, he carried pieces of Reo in himself, his eyes always seeking him, only seeing him, trusting him. He doesn't trust himself without Reo, because then… he's all alone. And what's the point in a life like that?
Nagi’s world without Reo in it couldn't exist. But seeing that specific shot, taken without a single moment of hesitation, a fire that burned brightly and entirely without him— Nagi immediately knew the truth. Reo can exist without Nagi.
In fact, he might even go further…
So far away that he wouldn't be able to reach him.
The realization alone turns his stomach inside out, like a knife plunged, cold blade twisting and pulling out. He feels like laughing, he should be proud, he is, but he's also so afraid. Mournful.
Will Reo kiss the knife before finishing him off?
Then place him on the altar, a sacrifice to this love.
Maybe that way he could still be a part of Reo and his future. Selfishly he hoped so.
A fake genius he was, somewhere in between worlds, not really fitting anywhere. It was fine at first, because it was the only way he knew how to exist, even if he was never happy, even if he was all alone, if he never knew the taste of paradise he could just surrender himself and live like that— glide over every scenery of life while full of nonchalance. Existing, happening and never quite living.
Foolishly, even arrogantly he was proud of that detached unfitting side of himself, but then Reo breathed life into his lungs, poured love into his heart, and made him move.
Was it all steps towards the end all along?
He refused to believe that.
They existed for each other so how could that be all there is?
He knows even before Reo yells in his defense, that he's been thrown a bucket of cold water and shaken awake from this dream.
That he's saying goodbye to Reo.
This time it's for real. It's cruel how gentle his voice is as he tells Reo to go on his own, as he confesses, as he apologizes.
I'm sorry for not being strong enough, I'm sorry for being a failure, I'm sorry I couldn't be what you wanted me to be, I'm sorry—
“I broke our promise…”
He can't look at him, can't own up to the fact that he's the reason for Reo's tears, the trembling regretful voice.
In some twisted way even now Nagi can't help but admire Reo's beauty. He imagines taking that hand and kissing each finger on it, putting it to his cheek and swearing that he will find a way.
But he knows that inside of his shell is now a mortal.
He has to be satisfied with a light touch when he wants to dig his claws in, tear the strings of fate if they aren't tying them together. Refuse to let go, burrow under Reo's skin so they can be one and go forward, interwoven and inseparable.
“Reo… I was happy.”
It was all something he will never forget, the experiences and sides of himself he never knew. All of that, it was only possible and special because it was with Reo.
“I started to miss you when you weren't around.”
The longing that left him with nothing but Reo on his mind, feasting on his brain like it's a banquet to farewell his sanity.
“Life was just a pain but you gave me light. Everything that happened since I met you… has been the treasure of my life.”
Despite all the people watching Nagi’s eyes reflected Reo alone, they always did. But now he has to let go, maybe forever. Maybe never because his heart is a selfish creature.
Cruel words of how they'd be better if they weren't together spilled, in hopes of turning this into strength for Reo to go on without looking back…
“Goodbye, Reo. Become the world's best on your own.”
Throw him into a bodybag, tie it to a meteorite and let it sink. This love is a coffin, and he nailed it shut.
—
Camping, cooking for himself, looking at the world— it was the first time Nagi had ever done any of it. He wished he could tell Reo. He wanted to explain how beautiful the stars looked when the clouds dissipated, though they were nowhere near as breathtaking as Reo. He wanted to tell him that he could finally make something edible now, even if anything Reo used to feed him would always taste the best. He was learning to survive on his own, but everything was just an inferior imitation without Reo by his side.
Day in and day out, he exists here, but no one notices him anymore. His shine has faded; he has been discarded back into the world of the ordinary. He doesn't know how to climb the wall separating him from Reo, so he just sits at the base of it; observing, persistent. His house is empty again, but Nagi has never felt homesick. Before Reo, he had nowhere to belong anyway. Reo was his home. Reo was the place he missed.
It gets worse at night.
He tries to ignore this chill in his bones, creeping up from under his shirt, clawing at his back to hang on his shoulder and whisper in his ear—
Traitor.
He realizes now that the attention he wanted, the independence he chased for the first time, was nothing but a self-inflicted punishment. A curse to everyone. A curse to him.
Selfishness seeps through his mind, endless murmurs that cannot be muffled, no matter how hard he presses the pillow against his ears. He hopes, he aches like an open wound to not be forgotten, he bleeds in hopes of being forgiven. A hundred unspoken apologies hang on his lips like death.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Reo. Please, don't leave me.
Apologizing has become his mantra. But it all feels entirely for naught, a useless tribute to a past that is already dying, the bitter result of his own talent wilting away.
Even so, he can't give up, he wants and wants: the world where he can stand on top with Reo.
Everything looks entirely helpless today, but holding onto the rope of his ideal future has always been his only strength. After some thinking he takes his phone and searches for the one contact pinned on top.
You can no longer message this account.
The rope snaps.
It happens just like that. There are no dramatic struggles like in the movies, no screamed vows of love— just a morbidly ugly moment where he crashes to the ground all by himself. His ribs crack open. His heart is left to lay flat on the cold concrete, still beating helplessly, struggling to live and hoping to die.
(This time he doesn't think anyone could make him whole again)
Maybe he shouldn't have thought of Reo. If only he had held back at that moment, clamping his mouth shut even as his affection retched out, spilling from his insides for the world to see and judge— so unsightly, clean it up. Maybe then he could have avoided this. Reaching out was just another mistake, an action that left him permanently burned. He will only ever move with hesitation now, branded forever by a newfound fear of the person he loves.
Everything in him breaks at that moment— his blood drains from his veins, his skin blooms and scatters on the ground like petals— the rebirth of a harbinger of death.
Now completed with a mark of solitude.
A sudden stab to his chest with a cold blade would hurt less, it wouldn't make him feel the way he does now—
There are no words to describe it, the shock locks his body in place, eyes glued to the screen like a mouse caught in a trap. All that's left for him now is to die a pitiful death.
Is he supposed to think in a moment like this?
Can't I just disappear? Please.
Surprisingly the cold voice announcing that he's unwelcome there doesn't make him feel any more miserable. It only further solidifies his predicament.
He hit rock bottom with the knowledge that Reo is cutting him off completely.
He only has himself to blame. What was he expecting?
He is nothing but a star that has already met its demise. That last miracle goal with Reo was his supernova, burning blindingly bright, and the aftermath is just a dead light in the sky. An illusion that something long gone is still worth looking at.
He was truly so stupid.
Put a frog in boiling water and it will jump out. Heat the water slowly and it will die. He didn't notice the walls closing in to crush him.
That's right…
How could I come back after saying that to Reo?
This hurt, this shame. How much more disgusting and lame will I get?
What a pathetic crawler he was for going back to relying on Reo again and expecting it would be any different just because something sparked within him.
He really didn't change, even one bit.
Anger hugs his cold body in a cruel comfort, giving him the raw strength to throw a pathetic tantrum. This outburst is nothing but pure self-loathing, disappointment, and regret— nicking and biting at his mind, laughing and pointing fingers to show him exactly how worthless he is.
I understand. But—
How could he be asked to just accept it?
That he's been left behind, that it’s his fault alone for continuing not to change. That his promise with Reo was something foolish. That what made him happiest and finally human was what turned him into something easy to bury. That love was his undoing.
Being a monster wreaking havoc is ugly, but it is so, so liberating. Let the walls and the ground take some of the blame; it’s not like they can complain about being stained with his blood. Violent and burning, it drips down his hands together with the rain, mixing with the ruined hope he held onto, with his unwanted feelings. Has he become nothing or something much worse?
“Hello, genius.”
Huh, who is this?
What is he on about?
Will this man let me see Reo again?
Revenge, life-long property?
That's a load of bullshit.
He can't choose such an unsightly way to climb back to Reo. He refuses to seal a contract with anyone else. He can't betray the ghost of Blue Lock, either. He isn’t an object to be owned; he can only ever willingly belong to Reo.
There he goes again— even though all the bridges to Reo have been cut off.
Reo doesn't want to see him anymore and he has to accept that. He will only hold him back, Reo should go on ahead, become the best on his own. And he will build his own road.
It's laughable how humans make choices without knowing yet— if this where he's heading to will make him bloom again, or will he rot? Whatever it is, it smells all the same. The scent of death.
(It's a labyrinth, an illusion of choice)
He's murky water in the swamp, unmoving with a thousand corpses hidden under the mud and gone dreams hanging off mangroves.
Even if he's been ripped out of Reo's heart, and has been left to die with Reo's name on his lips like a prayer, he's not giving up. Living the life he had before Reo is something he doesn't want, so he will find a way.
He will make a tear in this world and create a new place for him, because it has always been about Reo, and it is how it will now end.
Even if he can never be by his side again he will dream on on his own, the life he had before was nowhere near to satisfy him. Here come the hungry beasts.
In the puddle at his feet he sees a reflection of his drenched self— a ghost haunting and creeping closer.
The world is going to hell and that pristine white is glaring with crimson on its claws but if he touched his face he'd be clean of all the sins.
He will destroy himself here— this is not his death, it was his birth. For stars to be born a nebula must collapse.
Everyone else seems to have their own definition of life and death. Nagi's simply begins and ends with Reo.
—
He doesn't remember how he got back to the battlefield, it's but a blur— whole Side-B events are now irrelevant. What matters is that he's once again here. The newfound determination and understanding that pushed him to accept that offer— he's a phenomenon that will bring death to everyone on the field.
This is a world built from mayhem, where dreams crush to fine dust and make a foundation for those who can discard anything for one thing.
There's murmurs around him— disbelief in those who see him again. A man back from the dead, a blessing or a revenant?
That shock of pure white hair is incomparable to snow or ashes; he looks like a ghost haunting the living.
People throw comments his way. Some even rush to his side, speaking words he doesn't care to process. Because the only one who matters stays frozen still.
When his eyes finally collide with Reo's, the vision is empty. The stars have all died out, leaving nothing but a crushing black hole. Nagi is entirely silent. The hollow aftermath of a war that broke out from within his own chest. The death toll hangs high in the sky: love, happiness, dreams. Yet, he dares to take a twisted, aching pride in the fact that Reo seems far less dazzling now. Without him, Reo’s light has been stolen away, even if he's gained the brutal strength to carry them both.
No.
He won't allow himself to make the same mistake. There is one thing that's certain now: they are locked in a game where neither can survive without destroying the other.
Those past moments, veiled in gold and dipped in molten sugar, are nothing but a decomposing memory. The current reality is bloodied teeth and scuffed knuckles. Nagi knows Reo won't die here; he can't. Reo was made for a stage far too bright, and Nagi refuses to let himself envy the very earth that would wrap his partner's body. Reo has always been glowing with so much passion that it overfilled his own void about the future.
Overhead, rain is falling, but in Nagi's eyes, a fire is licking the green grass. Brutality is beckoning in his bones. He can't stand watching Reo trade words with others. He can't bear seeing those hands touch anyone else.
Reo is mine.
That pass, to someone else. It makes something ugly and murderous crawl out of his skull, how could he? Should he kick that guy?
Reo ruined him this completely so wouldn't that only be fair? Is he really supposed to just accept being Reo's favorite unkept promise?
Nagi traces his own lips, remembering the ones he used to claim over and over, as if he could never get enough. First, it was him kissing Reo, watching him melt into the touch, before Reo grew bolder, rightfully taking what was his, taking bite after bite of Nagi's soul with each hungry kiss. The more he ruminates over these vines climbing his veins and strangling his heart, the more limerence exudes from his gaping wounds.
Alright.
He nods to himself before sprinting out, sabotaging his own teammate to get Reo's pass and to score.
He turns around, ecstatic before he realizes his mistake.
Reo is looking at him wide-eyed. As if Nagi isn't supposed to be here, or anywhere near him. As if simply looking at Nagi inflicts a physical wound.
Stop looking at me like that, you think I shouldn't be here, right?
Stop it, Reo.
The first half ends, and Nagi has never been more thankful. He strides forward through the crowd, lunges, and grabs Reo tightly by the wrist. He drags him off the pitch toward the tunnels, entirely deaf to the shock and protests echoing around them.
“Nagi!”
Oh, now he calls his name?
He applies a gentle, unyielding pressure, guiding Reo back through the heavy door of the stadium bathroom, seeking the dim privacy of the tiled walls away from the lingering eyes in the tunnel.
Nagi is needlessly bitter, needlessly desperate as he hovers over him. He presses Reo into the corner, forcing his back against the concrete wall until there is no escape route left. Only like this does Nagi feel remotely safe, only when Reo cannot physically slip through his fingers again.
“... Nagi? I need to go back,” Reo mutters.
There is no 'we' anymore. The word is nothing but a ripped-up notebook thrown to the wind, its pages scattered.
“Reo, I'm back,” Nagi says.
Reo stares up at him, his voice hardening. "Is that all you have to say?"
Nagi remains completely silent.
"Can I leave now…? Don't talk to me again, unless you have to."
Reo is beautiful like this too— cruel and covered in sharp thorns. Nagi has poked himself against them, and now the poison is making him physically sick to his stomach. (Little does he know it's a shared sickness)
Nagi feels that if he lets go now, he won't catch Reo so easily next time. But all the words he has been nourishing inside himself: the resolution to leave Reo be, mixed with the desperate hope to once again play by his side, collide in his throat. He has always been terrible with words. He grows bold, reaching out with a trembling hand to grip the front of Reo's jersey, using his entire height to pin him to the concrete.
Reo goes entirely stiff in his hold. Nagi can feel the exact moment Reo's resolve cracks, hating how easily Nagi’s mass against his own forces him to drop his defenses, surrendering to the suffocating proximity. Reo stays perfectly still, trapped between Nagi’s chest and the wall, refusing to move a muscle. He forces Nagi to do all the emotional heavy lifting.
"Why are you doing this…?" Reo asks weakly, the words tasting like heavy baggage he has been dragging behind him for years. "You're killing me, Nagi…" Reo’s nails dig into the fabric of Nagi's arms.
The physical pain is nothing compared to the wrenched, breaking expression on Reo's face. It makes Nagi's entire chest burn. There is no universe where Reo isn't thinking of him; Nagi can practically taste the lingering love and sweetness in the air between them. But Reo looks as though he would rather cut his own hand off than voluntarily reach for Nagi ever again.
Love makes beautiful flowers grow in your mind and your lungs: ethereally gorgeous, but they steal your air. They force you to stop thinking, rendering you entirely unable to breathe. Silently, Nagi mouths an apology, his voice weak and entirely gone.
Nagi pushes away the suffocating thought that his football talent was the only thing that had ever truly connected them. His genius was Reo's treasure, not Nagi Seishiro.
"You've changed a lot," Nagi murmurs, his voice hollow.
Reo scoffs, looking away. "You should go take a look at yourself."
Will Reo look at him like this for the rest of their lives? Like he is completely irrelevant? Like he actively hates him? Has their time together truly meant so little?
Driven by a sudden, desperate urge to shatter the freezing distance between them, Nagi clenches his fist and slams it hard against the concrete wall right beside Reo's head. Reo winces away from the sudden containment, as if the mere shadow of Nagi's fist is physically crushing him. He glares up through his purple bangs, his voice dripping with venom.
“You should have left when you had the chance.”
This is a maze where they are fated to regret every single step of the way. Nagi can't help but wonder what it is Reo fears so deeply. Is Reo afraid that Nagi is ruining him? That Nagi will eventually see him the same way he sees himself? It is all just poison poured by their own minds. Yet, despite knowing better, they drink it down like fine wine, getting entirely drunk on paranoia and monsters that were never actually there.
Nagi looks down at him. Reo’s usual coldness doesn't feel like harsh irritation anymore. The anger, the aggression, and the frustration are all pointed inward, directed entirely at himself. It is eating Reo alive. He looks so exhausted.
"I'm hurting you," Nagi says, stepping even closer, narrowing the space between their chests until their uniforms brush. "And I don't even know how to stop. I didn't mean to make you—"
He cuts himself off. How is he supposed to knit these shattered ties back together? How does a human turn back a tide that is actively pulling them under and drowning them?
Reo doesn’t pull away. Instead, he laughs— a short, pretty sound that cuts through the hum of the stadium bathroom like broken glass.
“You don't know how to stop?” Reo’s voice drops, losing its sharp edge and turning into something terrifyingly hollow. He reaches up, his scuffed knuckles catching on the fabric of Nagi’s jersey, pulling him down just enough to force their eyes to lock. “Nagi, you never asked for anything. I just took everything from you. I took your dream, I took your football… I'm the one ruining you and yet it's me who gets mad when you leave me.”
A tear escapes, cutting a clean path on Reo's cheek. It looks like acid. It looks like something that would burn Nagi’s skin if he dared to touch it.
Nagi’s throat feels like it's full of dry sand. He wants to say he never intended to leave. He wants to scream about the automated, digital execution line that broke him: You can no longer message this account. He wants to tell Reo that he spent weeks living like a ghost in a dark room, breathing in ashes, just trying to figure out how to be a person without his sun.
But his cotton mind can't form the sentences. He is a genius on the grass, but a complete infant when it comes to the language of survival.
“You didn't just take, you gave me so much Reo,” Nagi whispers. He leans his weight forward, pressing his forehead against Reo's, letting his chest crush the air out of both of them. If they are going to drown under the unsaid, they might as well do it together. “I just wanted to be enough on my own. So I could be the one carrying you. But I’m just a corpse without you, Reo. Look at me. I’m completely pathetic.”
Reo’s hands shift from pulling Nagi’s jersey to gripping his shoulders, his fingers digging in so hard Nagi can feel the pressure bruising his collarbones. It is the only thing that makes him feel alive. The pain is an anchor grounding him to the concrete floor.
“We’re both pathetic,” Reo breathes out. His eyes are wide, glassy, reflecting the pristine white hair that now looks so stained. “We ruined each other. There’s nothing left to salvage.”
“Then don’t salvage it,” Nagi murmurs. He shifts, his lips blindly brushing Reo’s cheek, catching the salt of his tears, tasting the heavy bitterness of their mutual decay. He breathes the words directly into Reo's skin, desperate and pleading. “Let's be together again.”
It’s an impossible wish.
But this look in Reo's eyes, Nagi thinks he finally recognizes it. He begs whatever gods are listening that this isn't just his foolish innocence blinding him once again. He prays an iron lid won't be clamped shut over his head while he is still desperately holding on. Did Reo want a glimpse inside of his velvet bones?
Love isn't soft, the way those amateur poets write it. Love has jagged teeth that bite deep, leaving wounds that never truly close.
I want you so much it makes me physically sick.
Perhaps the very moment he met Reo, he began morphing into something human-like— not an unfeeling football phenomenon anymore, but something genuinely alive. And just like that, Reo took the heart that had sprouted within his chest and murdered it. Reo was always his maker. They have left each other. They tore at each other's hearts, bit down until their fangs broke the flesh, loving like a rotten dog. Like a monster. Like a beast. Like something entirely unworthy of being loved back. But they do it anyway, so helplessly, drawn toward one another like two planes locked on a head-on collision course.
Love me. Hate me. Crumble by my side. Just don't dare live without me.
“We love each other,” Nagi says.
His voice is firm, cruel, judgmental, and fiercely proud. He knows damn well that Reo cannot refuse him when he speaks like this. Nagi releases his iron grip on Reo's wrists, letting his hands slide up to wrap him in a suffocating embrace. He buries his face into the crook of Reo's neck, whispering softly against his skin, “Didn't you miss me, too?”
He lays himself completely bare, exposing everything in his lovestruck gaze. These memories are indelible, the lingering pain coloring his skin black and blue. He would be a complete fool to think all of this could simply evanesce just because they weren't standing side by side anymore. He is certain that, countless times, he has felt like a divine punishment to Reo. A benevolent curse. A tempting hell. A never-ending nightmare.
Reo is the type of person who can conquer the entire world with a single smile, but at the exact same time, he cannot handle the weight of himself. He needs to be loved by someone who will allow him to be both brilliant and weak. Someone who always looks at him. Someone who never leaves. Was Nagi too delusional to think that Reo's silence screams his name even now? That his love never actually quieted, and Nagi just had to learn how to listen?
Life moves on and you eventually forget the precise sound of a voice, the exact curve of a smile… but you never forget what they made you feel. The sheer joy of being together, the tenderness of staying up until dawn thinking about them, the agonizing reality that your heart has shattered. A part of him will always be waiting for Reo to come back, and an equally big part will know that he's gone for good. Both of those parts will love him regardless.
What is he supposed to do about a person like this?
He has always wanted to be with Reo; he has always loved him. He stayed by his side even when he should have walked away. He kept on leaving and coming back like the shifting tides of the sea, repeatedly leaving Reo to drown, only to pull him out and leave him to dry beneath a harsh sun. Even so, he wants to take the responsibility now.
Reo will always be the most important thing to him. It is a feeling that was born and immortalized the very day they met— a devotion that will last whether they are kept miles apart or left with barely any words between them. Reo will always be someone Nagi cares for with his whole being. Someone he actively wants, chooses, and craves. Maybe Nagi wanted to protect Reo all along, but he can never truly keep him safe from himself.
“Can we really… start again?”
Reo looks up, and his eyes are suddenly so heart-wrenchingly hopeful. At the end of the day, Reo loves Nagi so deeply that he would willingly allow the genius to drag him all the way to the underworld, just as long as he gets to hold his hand on the way down. How could Reo ever go ahead and forget him? Nagi was the one responsible for showing him how beautiful the world looks when you aren't alone, teaching him exactly how much love forces you to feel. It isn't too idiotic to think that Reo will spend his entire life unable to scrape Nagi out of his heart. That whenever he meets someone new, he won't be able to fall for them simply because they aren't him.
“I… I never moved on, even if I was moving forward,” Reo gasps. His fingers fist into the fabric of Nagi's jersey, pulling hard, narrowing the final inch between them. “You told me to go on… on my own. I didn't want to, but I knew I had to. I held onto the desperate hope that you'd come after me.”
Reo’s voice cracks, a hot tear spilling over his lashes. “I didn't stay waiting, exactly… but I was waiting for you to come back for me.”
It is a quiet truth of how love works— you can be desperately longing for someone you haven't seen or heard from in months. Even with obstacles and devastating distance, you either love them forever, or you never truly loved them to begin with. When someone makes you the happiest and the saddest person simultaneously, that is when you know it's real.
Reo cries openly now, and Nagi aches to kiss those tears away, letting the salt linger on his lips. Love is a beautiful, agonizing suffering and Nagi wants every single drop of it— Reo's vibrant laughs, Reo's crushing sadness. All of it was born from his love for him. He wants to be the best he can possibly be for Reo.
“You're all I've ever wanted,” Nagi murmurs. And more. So much more that the feeling overflows, seeping out of his every pore.
There is no vacancy left inside his chest; Reo takes up every spare inch of room. When they are apart, Nagi is nothing but a hollow, stagnant thing. He used to think he didn't possess the capacity to care for anyone at all, but his heart had simply been waiting for Reo this whole time.
And Reo… Reo was waiting for him, too. Waiting for this messenger of destruction who cuts slow and deep while kissing him so tenderly. To Reo, the most vicious and cruel creature in existence will always be Nagi Seishiro. The love inside Reo has grown thick, thorny vines that bind his hands and feet, wrapping tightly around his throat. The handle of the leash is held firmly in Nagi's hands.
Reo shivers against him, a small, wrecked sound catching in the back of his throat. For a second, his grip on Nagi’s shoulders tightens so violently it feels like he wants to fuse their bones together. He shuts his eyes, leaning his entire weight into Nagi’s chest, completely surrendering to the gravity of the person who broke him.
"You're so unfair, Seishiro," Reo whispers, his voice shaking, completely stripped of its armor. "You always do this. You make me crazy, you make me hate myself, and then you say things that make it impossible to breathe without you."
He tilts his head up slightly, his forehead still pressed against Nagi's, his glassy eyes searching the dull, blank expression of his genius. A bitter, incredibly soft smile tugs at the corner of Reo's lips, a look of absolute defeat.
"We're going to destroy each other completely," Reo breathes out, his thumb blindly tracing the line of Nagi’s jaw, leaving a smudge of stadium grime against the pale skin. "But I don't think I care anymore. If you're going to drown, don't you dare leave me behind on the shore."
It is a promise signed in blood and paranoia. They are completely ruined, trapped in a sickness that only the two of them understand.
Overhead, the stadium bell shatters the quiet, its sharp, mechanical chime signaling the end of halftime. The sound cuts through the humid air of the bathroom like a blade, ruthlessly reminding them that their dark theater is a luxury they cannot keep. The pitch is waiting.
The heavy footsteps of their teammates echo from the far end of the concrete tunnel, accompanied by the muffled shout of their teammates calling their names. The illusion is shattering. The curtain is rising again.
Reo tears his gaze away, wiping his face with the back of his arm, leaving a smear of dirt and sweat across his skin. He straightens his posture, pulling those cruel, defensive thorns back into place, forcing himself to look dazzling even as his insides are retching.
“I have a match to win,” Reo says, his voice dropping into that cold, professional mask that leaves Nagi completely out in the freezing static. He steps toward the door, his hand resting on the metal handle as he casts one final glance over his shoulder. “You can… fight for my passes.”
A permission. An invitation.
And that look— Nagi thinks he finally recognizes it. It is the look of a god handing a monster its directive, the master tightening his grip on the leash. Reo's eyes are still haunted, still bloodied by the war in his chest, but the invitation is there, burning through the cold mask.
Nagi stands still as the bathroom door swings shut, the heavy click of the latch echoing like a gunshot. He traces his own jaw, right where Reo's thumb had left its mark. The cotton in his mind is gone, replaced by a dark, intoxicating clarity.
He wanted to bring death to everyone on the field, but now he has a directive. He will tear the stadium apart, step over the bodies of anyone who dares get in his way, and drag them both into the underworld if that's what it takes. He will fight for those passes until his lungs give out.
Nagi will make sure they are the most beautiful catastrophe the world has ever seen.