Archive of Our Own

Isagi’s used to waking up with a whiff of fresh morning air and the rays of sunlight dancing over cracks to peek through his curtains. He’s highly acclimated to spending daybreak basking in the glory of glistening dew drops and reveling in his renewed vigor, starting his day with spirit and a silly huge grin plastered on his face.

But now that he’s moved in with his pompous, self-centered, and overly overbearing boyfriend, mornings with Kaiser were comparably different—and difficult.

Isagi woke up, greeted by the view of Kaiser’s perfectly framed face. The strands of his hair are loosely tangled, untidy, and disheveled, rebellious like their owner, who worked tirelessly to avoid the disorderly mess. There’s some drool dripping down his chin, and he’s sleeping so soundly that Isagi has the urge to pepper him with kisses.

And he does just that, dabbing him in gentle pecks that eventually wake up the sleeping beauty. Kaiser’s flailing his arms around, a poor attempt to get Isagi off as he continues to coax more involuntary laughter. “Yoichi, that fucking tickles!”

But Isagi doesn’t budge, doing as he pleases because he’s absolutely smitten with the disheveled wreck in front of him. “Good morning,” he says, slowing down his assault. Then, with one final drawn-out kiss, “Micha.”

They’re directly looking at each other, just a few centimeters apart, but still too far for Isagi’s liking. Kaiser reaches a hand towards Isagi’s cheek. It has slightly more pressure for it to be called a caress, but a bit too delicate for it to be a squeeze; nevertheless, Isagi leans in to the familiar touch. “Good morning, Yoichi.” 

Kaiser retracts his hand after some more pressing, and Isagi can’t help but feel a bit disappointed. He wants to close the distance. “You woke me up,” he complains, and Isagi wonders if he’d get even more upset if he started kissing him again.

“Sorry,” he replies. His face is apologetic, but his lips are smiling—Isagi’s only half sorry. “I couldn’t help it.”

“What, waking me up?” Kaiser’s eyebrows are more or less furrowed now, somewhat annoyed, but he still doesn’t push him away, so Isagi thinks it’s okay to carry on a little further.

“Kissing you.” That seems to catch Kaiser off guard, eyes widening slightly. It makes the staring bear more weight, like there was a desire not to shun away from the intensity of the other’s gaze. But Isagi decides to put that fire out in favor of fulfilling his other need instead. Kaiser watches as he grabs a long strand of his hair and presses it against his lips. It makes the moment more intimate, as if they were trapped in their own bubble, hand in hand and unbothered by the affairs of the outside world.

But that moment quickly vanishes when Kaiser takes a good look at the hair on Isagi’s hand. It takes approximately three seconds for Kaiser’s brain to function, and in a swapping turn of events, he kicks Isagi off the bed with a massive scowl on his face. “Get out of my bed, you clown!”

Isagi groans from the impact. He was about to tell Kaiser off for being a rude asshole (which he always was) until he realized he had let him see his hair—a lethal mistake on his end. “Oops. Sorry, baby.” 

However, his effort goes unacknowledged as Kaiser was too busy covering himself with the comforter to care. Kaiser looks like a (captivatingly cute) giant taco. Isagi wants to eat him.  

And since he didn’t get an answer, Isagi makes his way to the bed, scooting closer as he pinpoints just where Kaiser’s lips were and kisses the estimated comforter-covered point. Finally, he elicits a reaction. “Fuck off.”

Isagi laughs, a reaction was a reaction after all, and he knew Kaiser would come to when he felt like it. “See you later, Micha.” 

After taking another glance at his prissy boyfriend, Isagi heads over to their kitchen to eat breakfast. He opens the fridge, searching for a decent meal because he’s too lazy to cook due to exhaustion—from last night’s strenuous activities, even when they spent a huge portion of their time watching movies after.

Isagi grabs the containers containing dried fruits, nuts, and oats, and a milk carton. He places them on the table before snagging a bowl and a spoon. Once he’s done mixing the ingredients to his liking, he shoves a spoonful in his mouth and gobbles up his sweet breakfast.

He carries on eating, chewing the pieces of food with a contented sigh. Isagi loves to eat sweet food, of all kinds from all over the world—like his favorite treat, including but not limited to his ass, Kaiser!

After a while, Isagi hears a door slam open and footsteps coming from the staircase. He meets Kaiser’s eyes, grouchy, and then switches to disgust once he gives Isagi’s meal a once-over. Isagi, however, waves with a mouth full of food, but Kaiser rolls his eyes, grabbing tableware and a glass of water before sitting right next to Isagi.  

Isagi observes as Kaiser pours the water onto his bowl and then the other components after. Weirdo. It’s one of Kaiser’s quirks, how he blatantly avoids white-colored drinks like the plague, and one of them just happens to be milk. Still, who the hell adds water to muesli? He’d rather eat it dry than add anything other than milk and die from the atrociously ridiculous combination. Why the hell did he date this idiot? 

Isagi can’t help but gawk at him even when he loses his appetite from doing so. Kaiser ultimately catches it, raising his eyebrow. “What.” It comes off as coarse, like, What the hell do you want, you fucking clown? so Isagi tries to play it cool and shrugs. 

“Nothing.” He takes another bite of his meal as if nothing had happened, but from the corner of his eye, he spots a cheshire cat-like grin. Isagi knows it spells nothing but trouble. He’s fucking screwed. Kaiser may be moody in the morning, but there’s nothing else he loves more than ruining Isagi’s life.

There’s a tap on Isagi’s shoulder. He’s hesitating to turn his head, considering the possibility of ignoring Kaiser, but reminds himself that there’s a chance he’d get a bowl of water muesli dunked on his head. “Yes… baby?” There’s a hint of nervousness in his voice that he hopes Kaiser doesn’t notice. 

Too bad. His boyfriend’s a genius. “Yoichi, do you want to try?” He’s holding a spoonful of his meal, dangerously close to Isagi’s mouth.

“No, thank you… I’m, um.” Isagi struggles to think of an excuse. “Allergic.” Allergic. Allergic as if they weren’t almost eating the same damn thing. Was that the best you could think of, you stupid fuck? he reprimands himself. 

Kaiser laughs, “Nonsense, darling. Come, try it.” He grabs Isagi’s chin, forcing him to face his way so he can slot his food in. Isagi desperately attempts to turn his head, but Kaiser has an iron grip, and all Isagi could do to avoid the violation was close his mouth. Still, Kaiser has tricks up his sleeve. “Ah, I see,” he says, with a contemplative look. The force of his grip vanished, but the hand is still there. 

Isagi almost relaxes. Almost. “You’d rather I do it with my mouth, huh, Yoichi?” Kaiser has a smirk on his face as he places the contents of the spoon in his mouth. Isagi could only watch in terror as he grabbed his cheeks with both hands and scooted closer to his face. His brain is working overtime, conjuring up possibilities, judging, contemplating. 

Would he really…? And then it hits him, just when Kaiser’s nose was touching his, that yes, he’d fucking do it.

Isagi musters up all his strength to shake Kaiser’s hands off him and scurry off—with his unfinished meal, of course. Once he was certain he was far enough from his menace of a boyfriend, he let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding and heard Kaiser laughing from a distance. 

I’ll fucking kill him.

It’s crowded and noisy, what Isagi would expect from a mall, but what he didn’t expect was being subjected to being Kaiser’s personal bellhop—again. Because why do they have to go grocery shopping before buying the good stuff! (Because Kaiser said so). This is why he hated shopping with Kaiser—even if he was the one who dragged him here to buy clothes. For once, he’d let Ness tag along on their date if it meant he’d carry Kaiser’s too-heavy-for-human-lifting bags like the little puppy he is. Even if he had somewhat mixed feelings from the snarls and eyerolls he’d silently receive. 

They’re at the counter paying for a new suit—the original plan until Kaiser became an asshole. It fascinated him when they started dating, how Kaiser never really wore extravagant clothing—sans his overly pompous bathrobe—outside big events, how he usually wore BM merchandise. Isagi thought it was a waste that such a pretty face wasn’t adorned by the finer things in life.

“Satisfied, Yoichi?” he asks.

“I don’t really think you like it that much though…” Isagi took close attention to Kaiser, how he didn’t give it much thought, and took the most expensive-looking suit—just to fuck with him. It’s as if he never intended to take any of this seriously.

“What, the price hit you hard?” Kaiser makes a spectacle of Isagi’s card, hoisting it up with his index and middle finger like one of the other pretentious people in the world.

“It’s not that! You know what I mean,” Isagi sighs. 

“Are you getting me this or not?”

“Just take it, asshole…” Isagi mumbles the latter part, but he’s sure Kaiser heard.

Kaiser raises an eyebrow. “And if it declines?”

“Like hell it is!” he defends, but deep inside, Isagi can’t help but feel a little worried.

Swipe!

It actually went in! Isagi pumps his fist from behind his back. Knowing Kaiser’s reputation of making his life miserable, he’s glad enough it went through and not about how much was deducted from his account. If all fails later in life and he’d have to resort to eating natto for every meal just like his Blue Lock days, surely, his friends wouldn’t abandon him… right?

The cashier neatly packs the suit in a bag, and Isagi, with hands entirely occupied by bags,  trails after Kaiser, whose hands sit cozily in his pockets. Just as they were about to leave the store, Isagi’s eyes happened to land on a set of bathrobes. 

He halts in his steps, deeply fixated. “Hey, Micha?”

Kaiser notices the lack of a presence following him, stops, and looks behind. “What is it, Yoichi?”

“Remember how I tore your bathrobe last night?”

Kaiser laughs, “So you were aware that you tore it! You were like a little animal, an impatient dog begging for scraps—I was very amused, Yoichi!”

“It was an accident, okay!” Isagi’s cheeks flush.

Kaiser walks over and tilts his chin up. “An accident of animalistic instincts, perhaps.” Kaiser uses the other hand to glide it against Isagi’s chest to lower abdomen, and then, with a low tilt of his voice, “Suppress your little one, Yoichi.” Isagi didn’t know if he could get any more embarrassed than this; he's 100% sure the redness has even reached his cheeks. Isagi wants nothing more than to punch Kaiser in the face—which he’s half-sure he’d do if his hands weren't fully occupied. 

Kaiser turns his and Isagi’s head towards the bathrobe. “So, you want to get me that as an apology?” Kaiser shakes his head. “I’m entirely disappointed, Yoichi.”

Isagi’s mouth widens, “Eh, but I thought you liked wearing them?”

Kaiser facepalms before looking exasperatedly at his lover. “It’s a couple’s bathrobe. Don’t you know how to read?”

“But that’s exactly why I want to get them!”

“You don’t even wear bathrobes, shitty Yoichi.”

“I’ll wear it all the time, I swear! They’re way too cute to pass up!” Thing is, Isagi Yoichi is wired a bit differently from other humans. Instead of They'd be real cozy! or The design is way too adorable! his brain is working on full horsepower to fantasize about Kaiser in pajamas—because apparently it’s very “gap moe.”

“Cute? Cute?” Kaiser repeats in disbelief, growing more disappointed every passing second he spends with Isagi. He has a face that screams, Why? That’s it; just why. Because Why. “That’s your reasoning? And what if you don’t like them?”

“Then I’ll still wear them anyway!” he argues. Isagi was never really good at debating, but for the sake of seeing the cocky emperor in cute polkadots—and maybe get a little action in too—he’d defeat this final boss. “C’mon, Micha. It’s one of those cute couple-y things we never got the chance to try! After all that circling around each other… and after getting things wrong and doing everything backwards, shouldn’t we at least try to act like a couple for once?”

Kaiser groans, not answering for a moment. 

Isagi knows he’s won.

Then, with a heavy sigh that sounded much too like an older boyfriend indulging his younger lover, he spits, “Suit yourself. It’s your money; do whatever you want. But don’t expect me to come save you when you inevitably cry your way back to me.”

Isagi mentally kneeslides in celebration. He just scored a goal!

Isagi lands a peck on Kaiser’s cheek and with a renewed sense of vigor, grabs the set of clothing and pays. At last, they were finally able to leave the store, but Isagi finally noticed the bulging strain on his hands.

He quickly walks to catch up to Kaiser’s side. Kaiser, conscious of his heavy breathing, says, “Don’t worry. We’re almost there. Just a little bit more till we finish, darling. Then I’ll let you throw yourself a pity party.”

But it only aggravates Isagi. “Can’t you at least carry half?” Kaiser shakes his head. “A quarter?” Kaiser shakes his head. “Not even an eighth?” Kaiser shakes his head (again). “Oh, for fuck’s sake, at least carry one, Micha.”

Kaiser makes a show of thinking contemplatively, which gets Isagi’s hopes up more than it should, but as always, it’s a “No.” And Isagi ponders why he even thought Kaiser would give another answer. He then pats his head like he was some fucking pet, when he clearly had Ness filling in that position. “Let me remind you that you’re lucky enough to have me in your life.” It evokes an eye roll and a grumble from Isagi. Then, he places a kiss on his cheek. “ And even luckier I dated you.”

Isagi doesn’t buy his PDA one bit. “Yes, I know I’m a very lucky man, Micha, so can you please help me carry these?” Kaiser immediately walks away because he’s Michael Kaiser, and Isagi follows because he’s Isagi Yoichi and because there’s something completely wrong in that egotistic, football junkie brain of his. 

But sometimes, even an egotistic football junkie can’t keep up when burdened with a load of household groceries. Isagi accidentally drops a bag that falls on the floor with a clang!

Kaiser stops in his tracks and sighs, “I really can’t depend on a second-rate striker, can’t I?”

“Hey—”

“Give me the bag,” he says suddenly.

What? 

“What?” Am I dead? 

“I said give me the bag,” he groans impatiently.

Isagi finally realizes that Kaiser is being serious and hands him a grocery bag. But he clicks his tongue and steals the one with the bathrobes instead.

Ha? No way! Carry the groceries instead, you gorilla gripped bastar—

There’s a small smile adorning his face, like sunshine on rose petals, and Isagi admits now that he’d lost the battle before he even started playing. Kaiser walks off with a pleased hum.

Isagi doesn’t say anything.

They walk silently, with Isagi recounting how he’s learned a fair share of Kaiser’s story, accepting what Kaiser was comfortable enough to give, and gently cradling the boy who struggled with a sordid childhood. He listened without judgment, taking the time to piece the fragments of his past to figure out the person underneath, while the boy undertook his own trials, knowing he had someone to fall back into.

Looking at the man who survived the countless stabs and wounds of an abusive household, if carrying the weight of his obnoxious spending is what it takes to stay by his side, then maybe losing his hands in the process was worth it.  

And maybe that’s why Isagi feels like trying harder, because Kaiser is a pompous asshole who spends his time making Isagi’s life miserable.

Isagi walks faster to catch a glimpse of Kaiser’s face, smiling fondly at his lover.

Still, you’re a weirdo for liking bathrobes, Micha.

Isagi grumbled the entire car ride, accusing Kaiser of fraud—tricking him into handing out his credit card with the excuse of buying “necessary” goods because A lot of the groceries weren’t necessary, Micha!—and tax evasion—not spending a single cent on him, because hey, relationships should be fair, right?

In the end, Kaiser, albeit reluctantly, because in his words: why the hell should I spend my hardly-earned salary on you? hands him his card.

Isagi could say the same thing because what the fuck did he gain from teeter-tottering on the verge of debt? 

1.) More affection from his partner? Kaiser says it’s part of the job, and that he should start acting more like a willing sugar daddy than an unloving boyfriend. Because apparently, he shouldn’t be paid unless his wage was being spent on him. And what’s up with the sugar daddy bullshit? It’s not like he was just another one of Kaiser’s ATMs. Right? Right? 

2.) The promise of sweet and sexy copulation? Nothing in their sex life has changed drastically, that’s for sure. Yes, they still have steamy, hot rival sex regularly, but the money he spends doesn’t bear any weight because it’s not a turn on, because the amount of money on your card is a turn off, get on my level and bring home the grub, silly Yoichi. 

3.) There’s a number 3?

Anyways, Kaiser—at the very least—brought him to a decent restaurant. It’s less packed and hidden from prying eyes. Isagi can’t count the times a fan had pulled him over to snap a pic or take his autograph when they were at the mall. Kaiser seemed to revel in the attention, offering more fan service than necessary, prattling around like he was some A-list celebrity when he’s in fact just an athlete. Isagi gets that his face is often plastered on billboards and that he’s a sought-after endorser of numerous luxury brands, but to his very core, he’s still a football player.

Was it the face? Isagi looks at Kaiser. It’s definitely the face.

Isagi ordered the most popular thing on the menu and notes that Kaiser didn’t go for the most expensive one, opting for a meal that Isagi knows he actually enjoys because (thankfully) he’s using his own card.

They’re seated at a window table, abundant in sunshine and the view of flora from outside. “Happy now, darling?”

“Define happiness, Micha,” he says, taking a bite of his lamb skewers. They were actually pretty good! Kaiser had a knack for picking restaurants after all.

“Hm… let me think.” Kaiser stabs the meat with his fork, tipping it slightly with every syllable that comes from his mouth. “Happiness is…” Then he points the utensil towards Isagi. “Having the privilege to remain by my side, no?”

“Whoa, I could die,” he replies, voice dripping in sarcasm as he tries to quell his annoyance with the flavor of animal flesh.

“Then do it.” Isagi has to turn his head to take a second look at Kaiser. He shrugs, unperturbed, as if he actually wanted him to.  

Isagi sighs, “Can’t.” He takes another bite of the meat. “I have to save the unfortunate soul who’ll take over my place.”

He catches a glimpse of a smile peeking through the icy front Kaiser puts on. It’s soft and warm, and so unlike him that Isagi hopelessly clings to the moment. “My, you think I’d easily move on, Yoichi?

“Wouldn’t you?” It’s supposed to come off as a joke, a one-liner that’ll evoke a laugh from Kaiser. But it’s a question—something that feeds off answers, and Isagi doesn’t know why he felt the need to ask or challenge the roots of their relationship. “Never mind, don’t tell me.”

“Then don’t leave.” It’s raw and genuine, as desperate as a plea and as silent as a secret. Isagi finds himself being drawn to Kaiser’s world. Even now, he’s still shrouded in mystery, enduring the fragments that continuously scar his skin as he miserably tries to patch himself up. But Isagi wants to wait for Kaiser to bare himself open, to feel safe enough to be vulnerable. And regardless of how pathetic and broken Kaser decided to paint himself, he knows deep in his heart that he’d cradle the boy in his arms and shield him from the pain the world persistently threw at him.

But he can tell Kaiser was strong enough to survive, rigid from the constant collision of bitterness and a hardened wall that kept people at a distance. There was a chance that Kaiser would push him away, lock him out of his heart, and leave him in the same frost that swallowed him whole—but Isagi wants to stay. He wants to slowly acclimate Kaiser with warmth and shield him with the universal force called acceptance because he wants to. Isagi so desperately wanted to hold him tight, shower him with affection, and never let someone so beautiful, so deserving to ever feel like they weren’t wanted, like they were alone in this imperceptible system called life.

“I won’t.” Isagi wanted, no—needed, to make it clear that he’d never leave. He wasn’t planning to, and he never will. He hurriedly grabs Kaiser’s hand that wasn’t in use, inducing a small yelp, but what really surprises Kaiser and causes his eyes to widen, dazed and baffled, was Isagi squeezing him three times. One is a clasp. Two is an embrace. And the final is a reassuring hold.

It’s quiet for a moment, Kaiser heavily entranced by the hand that held his, and Isagi with Kaiser’s eyes. “Yoichi, do you know what that mea—”

Woof.

A dog breaks them from their stupor. It’s barking from the other side of the window, wagging its tail and jumping animatedly to get Kaiser to notice it. Kaiser handles it with a short wave, but it does enough to pacify their furry friend. 

Even before Kaiser and he made it official, Isagi noted how dogs always hung around him. It’s fascinating how they seemed to want to form bonds with Kaiser, like they saw through the cracks of his soul and yearned to appease the child underneath.

“Dog whisperer,” he mumbles. Kaiser was always more comfortable around dogs, a fondness that he never showcased around others. Isagi wonders if it had something to do with his past, why he looked for shelter in anything that wasn’t human.

“What?” he asks Isagi while the dog owner offers a polite nod, stumped at why their pet began to bark at a stranger. 

On the rare occasion that they run into strays, Kaiser would take the time to interact with the animals. Isagi couldn’t help but compare the two, feral and avoidant. But there was a sense of loneliness that only they could confide in each other, and if he focused a little more, maybe he’d get to understand Kaiser too—if only just a little more.

“Nothing, weirdo,” Isagi replies as he side-eyes him.

“Whatever, you were always incompetent anyway,” he responds in between bites.

“Ha? Me, incompetent? You sure you aren’t talking about yourself, shitty emperor?” 

Kaiser looks at him with a face of disgust. “Haven’t I told you that I found your idea of foreplay weak?”

Isagi almost chokes, saliva flying off his mouth as he punches his chest firmly. “Foreplay? Micha, you—”

Kaiser crams a piece of his food in Isagi’s mouth. “Shut up and eat, darling.” He then wipes the smudge on Isagi’s lips with a condescending smirk. “You’re pretty slow when it comes to your mouth, aren’t you?”

Isagi has a hard time swallowing, so it comes off as inaudible, but Kaiser more or less understands. “Goh, fruck of.”

Reading is one of Kaiser’s more practical hobbies. He engrosses himself in all kinds of books, but he’s especially interested in those that deal with psychology and philosophy. Kaiser said he was curious about what caused humans to tick, how to get into their heads and understand the complexities of human existence.

Isagi could respect him for that, especially because he achieved his daily word count from reading manga—he gets them imported from time to time. It’s not that manga was a lesser form of literature! It’s just that he continually chooses the simpler ones—so basically it really is Isagi’s problem, not manga, never manga! Nonetheless, Isagi didn’t anticipate Kaiser delving into the realms of What was it called again? Friction? Fanition? Ah, shit. Fanfiction.

Isagi doesn’t know if Kaiser actually enjoys it as a pastime or simply gets off to mocking him. Just when he thought Kaiser sent him cute pics (or nudes), he’d open his phone to find screenshots of fanfics where he’s bullied or receiving backshots. With all the goals he’s made since his first season, he expected to at least be somewhat respected by the online world.

Turns out, every existing human individual fucking hates him—his boyfriend included.

Kaiser is hyena-cackling on the couch, ear-splitting and snobbish, like he wasn’t bothering the other living human in the room. Each kick sends a powerful strike towards Isagi’s abdomen, and he fucking swears he’s doing this on purpose. Kaiser could easily position his head on Isagi’s lap, but he chooses to place his feet there instead.

The way the strands of his hair swayed with every resounding laughter and how his eyes creased with every wrinkle in time, Isagi was certain he was starstruck—literally because his kicks stung like shooting-shitting-stars. Seriously, Was reading this fun?

“Yoichi, look at this!” Kaiser shoves his phone to his face, a much too bright screen straining his vision. Isagi scans the paragraphs to find what he was gushing about. 

The heavy heat spikes in between their shared gasps. It’s lewd and filthy, the slapping of skin as they desperately struggled to chase their highs. Isagi could feel his heart rate spike, almost as if it could pump out from his ribcage to unveil the physical exertion it’s been subjected to. He could tell his arousal was close, wanton moans escaping…

“Are you reading porn of me…?” 

“Us, Yoichi. Us,” he corrected, nodding to himself. Then adds, “Semi-public and doggy, by the way,” like an afterthought. 

“I didn’t need to know that,” he says regretfully, but hey, if his boyfriend got off on their online explicit erotica, then who was he to reprimand him?

“Well, now you do,” he singsongs, lying back on the couch, and Isagi silently wonders if he should go sit somewhere else to avoid his inevitable harassment.

But even if he went now, he’d still be bullied later, so he decides against it, relaxing on the couch to brainlessly scroll on Twitter. He’s seen the reels, has been stalking commentating accounts, and all he can say is: Fuck you all.

They’re all acting like professional analysts when they’re all just jobless wannabes. He spent almost an hour quote retweeting their tweets on his private account. First of all, he was executing a logical play, sweeping behind the enemy’s blind spot, but somehow got the ball stolen from him. It’s not a skill issue (as they like to call it), his rivals are just that good! They’re professional athletes for fuck’s sake. Besides, he still clutched the winning goal. Bastard Munchen is in a huge winning streak, yet they’re acting like it wasn’t all because of him—and Kaiser.

He can’t deny how much Kaiser’s pushed him to greater lengths, how he crushed all Isagi’s possibilities and forced him to reshape his future into one that included him. Now Isagi has found himself stuck to him like glue, permanently fixated on the meanest menace of his otherwise soccer-occupied world. They’re even following each other on their private accounts, and speaking of which, What was he up to now? 

Isagi’s been too busy with soccer—and catering to his prim and prissy boyfriend—to check his rants or whatever the fuck he tweets about. It was then that he stumbled upon explicit Kaisagi fan art. Isagi is, by no means, an expert on the celebrity lifestyle, but don’t most famous people steer clear of this crap?

Holy shi—

A cushion gets thrown to his face, interrupting his train of thought. “You jerk, you’re only using me for my body!” 

Isagi turns to look at the assailant. Kaiser’s face is all scrunched up and angry (clearly a jest to anyone who hasn’t been doomscrolling on Twitter), a frown tainting the perfectly smooth skin. “Micha, what the fuck?” And then he sees it, droplets glistening from the corners of his eyes.

“I knew you had a thing for using me like your personal cum dump, but was that all I was to you?” he argues, hands tightly hugging a cushion like a lifeline. “Just some stupid sex toy you could discard when you get bored?”

“Um… uh….” What the hell? Isagi doesn’t remember Kaiser doing drugs.

“Um, uh,” he repeats bitterly. “Don’t ‘um, uh’ me, you narcissistic prick! You’re just waiting to exploit me, aren’t you?” He propels another cushion to Isagi's face.

“Huh?” 

Okay, where the hell is this coming from? He swears he’s been nothing but a devoted and loyal partner who indulged his boyfriend’s sadistic (and masochistic) desires. Where did he go wrong? He tries to rerun all their previous interactions, scrutinizing, analyzing, just to find that missing piece.

“Oh my, this fanfic’s actually pretty accurate! You’re pretty fucking clueless, Yoichi.” Kaiser bursts out laughing.

Ultimately, the piece is fictional.

Kaiser wipes the tears from his eyes as Isagi stares at him quizzically. “Are you high?”

“Not on drugs,” he answers, then scoots over to Isagi so that he’s now leaning on his head. “You have to read this, darling. It’s so fucking good.”

Isagi glances at his screen and grimaces from the sheer number of words. “I’m… sleepy.” He fakes a yawn, exaggeratingly stretching his arms as he peeks at Kaiser—who eyes him indifferently, unimpressed by his antics.

“Okay, you can sleep on the couch,” he sighs, “for the whole week.” What? He fucked up. 

“Micha, baby, please listen—”

“Ah, silly me, you want the bed?” he chuckles to himself. “I’m going to room with Ness. Bye, darling!” Kaiser stands up with the intention to leave. Isagi takes a deep breath before wrapping his arms around Kaiser’s hip and yanking him so he topples over on his lap, but Kaiser’s so damn tall and too damn heavy that his thighs feel as if they’d been mauled by a bear.

“Okay, okay. I’m reading, I’m reading,” he says, albeit with a grumble in his voice. There’s no winning with Kaiser; any (rare) momentary victory becomes overshadowed by his schemes. And then there are the (common) draws where they edge each other to the point it becomes foreplay. Lastly, when Kaiser wins (uncommon), it’s hell.

Being with him is a losing game, and Isagi’s already accepted he’ll continue losing to that damn brat because he’s already lost the ownership of his life, his brain cells, and his virginity in an abandoned Blue Lock storage room.

Kaiser pats his head because he knows he hates being treated like a second-rate version of Ness. “Good boy.” 

“Don’t pet me, Michael.” Isagi uses his first name because he’s annoyed, harassed, and agitated.

“You’re too cute not to do so, U-sa-gi Yoichi,” he singsongs, and Isagi regrets teaching him Japanese.

Kaiser scoots over to sit beside him now, and Isagi tilts his head to get closer. From here, he can catch a whiff of the expensive shampoo he uses, the one he forced Isagi to utilize as well, but it always managed to smell better when it was on him, and he’s able to feel his body heat, like the world’s somehow gone warmer.

Kaiser’s shoulder was probably the most tender place in the world.

As Kaiser dictates the beginning of the story and how Isagi diligently tries to follow along and not fall asleep, he’s reminded of why he’s so attracted to this damn weirdo.

The bright blue sky mellows down to a more orange hue, and Isagi takes his cue to start dinner. It’s the perfect excuse after all, to keep away from Kaiser for a bit, since they’ve been reading for what he felt were hours, yet they still haven’t made it halfway in the story.

He had begged Kaiser to let him take a break, but that scheming brat kept threatening him like he held his life on the line—he did. Now that Kaiser has left him to his own devices, Isagi could focus on preparing their dinner.

Kaiser usually nitpicked his cooking, calling his meals something along the lines of “failed YouTube tutorials," but ended up finishing his plate and asking for seconds because “I want to see if I’ll turn out to like it this time.” Isagi wonders if he managed to outdo himself this time and go far beyond his limits, he’d be able to get a genuine compliment.

So that’s his goal for now: becoming Kaiser’s personal 3-star Michelin chef. But hey, if he cooks terribly, Kaiser’ll have no choice but to cook dinner. His cooking is so damn good that just the thought of it makes Isagi drool. However, Kaiser said he doesn’t really like him, so he’ll only cook for him when he feels like it.

Isagi swears that if he actually pulls this off, he’ll start becoming religious. He scans the contents in the fridge, contemplating what to cook, but eventually decides on grilled lean meat and salad. He has to keep them in tip-top shape after all, since Bastard’s wins are proportional to their condition—the press’ words, not his.

Isagi drowns himself in his task, grilling the steak and preparing the salad, then adding the necessary condiments to perfect his dishes. And soon enough, he finds himself standing by the dinner table, wearily anticipating Kaiser’s reaction to his food.

Kaiser eyes the food intimidatingly, then side eyes Isagi. “Stop looking at them like that. It’s fucking creepy.” He picks up his phone to snap a pic. “What, are you just going to stand there?”

“Are you going to tell me how it tastes?” he quips, standing tall despite the objection. 

“Tastes like shit, now take a seat so I can take a picture of us both,” he replies, scrolling through his phone.

“You haven’t even tried it yet,” Isagi says bitterly, but pulls up the chair beside Kaiser.

“Nuh-uh, across from me, darling.” Kaiser doesn’t give him one glance, and it makes Isagi roll his eyes. “I don’t have to try it to know your cooking skills aren’t on par with mine.”

“Isn’t it about time you started cooking dinner again?” Isagi scowls. He guesses he wouldn’t be praying to the gods anytime soon.

“I don’t really like you, you know?” Kaiser answers, then props his phone at an angle, arm outstretched to fit them both in the frame. “Smile, Yoichi.” Isagi almost misses the opportunity to smile at how suddenly Kaiser spoke. Based on his mood, he doubts he’d retake the picture because he liked making him look bad.

“Are you seriously posting this? I thought you wanted to keep things private.” He watches as Kaiser eagerly taps on his screen, shuffling through photos to find which one he looks the best in—and which one Isagi looks like he’s on steroids. 

“I do, but they won’t know unless we confirm it, silly Yoichi,” he chuckles. “Besides, they’re funny. It’s like watching a circus.” He puts his phone down and looks Isagi dead in the eyes. “You should audition.”

“What, to join you?” he muses.

“Mhm. As the clown, since I’m the ringleader.”

Isagi inhales, then exhales—at a gruesomely long pace. “Okay, let’s eat,” he changes the topic. He didn’t want to pop a vein at dinner.

“Loser,” Kaiser mumbles, but he’s sure he meant for him to have heard it.

Well, if Kaiser didn’t allow him the pleasure of victory through receiving compliments on his cooking, he just has to settle for viewing Kaiser’s face as he eats. The first bite he takes is honest, with both facial contortions and body language. Isagi wonders if he actually was a creep for watching him eat. But it’s a warm and fuzzy feeling, like being covered in a winter blanket, and Isagi doesn’t have it in him to face the cold alone.

Kaiser takes a slice of meat first and positions it to his mouth, but a strand of hair falls and covers the food. Isagi notes that his hair had grown longer over the course of time that he had carelessly let escape from his memory. He contemplates if time really did move fast when you’re having fun, if he’d one day wake up and find the strands of his hair turn grey. But it’d probably be fine, he thinks, as long as he gets to wake up next to a particularly fussy blue-blond menace.

Isagi laughs, and Kaiser raises a brow. “At least your hair likes my cooking.” He hands Kaiser the hair tie he’s kept on his wrist and watches as he ties his hair. It never fails to amaze Isagi, how Kaiser always manages to flawlessly fix his hair in a messy bun.

He has shorter strands, faintly bristling his face, the bun slightly tousled and unsymmetrical—it looked so jagged and relaxed, that it made it feel so Kaiser.

Was it just his face? The way his hair was cut? Or was he some magical weirdo alien that descended from space to make Isagi’s life a living hell by making sure he never figured out why he always looked so perfect?

“I like your messy bun,” he mentions casually as Kaiser finishes tying his hair.

“You wanna fuck me in it?” he teases.

Isagi sighs, “Can’t you just be normal and let me point out things I like about you?” Sometimes, Isagi questions if Kaiser actually believes what he says.

“I don’t know.” Kaiser takes a bite of his food and chews. Isagi notices the corners of his cheeks rising. It’s slightly hidden and could be overlooked, but he doesn’t forget to mentally store that moment in the crevices of his mind. “I don’t think there’s anything to like.” He doesn’t miss the misery in his tone, despite it being masked with a smile. It’s lonely.

But he doesn't point it out. “Then maybe if I continue sticking around, I’ll be able to show you.” Isagi takes the first bite of his dish. He looks up again to see Kaiser eat, and somehow, it actually tastes even better.

“You into body worship?" Isagi almost choked for the second time that day.

He chugs a glass of water, then frowns. “God, why do you always make me seem like some sort of sex fiend?”

Kaiser ignores him, choosing to focus on the meal at hand, and Isagi doesn’t wait for an answer. There’s a lull in the conversation, but it doesn’t eat away the warmth in the ambiance. And for a while, with constant chewing and the clinking of silverware, accompanied by a presence just a mere two feet apart, they eat in silence.

“Hey, Yoichi. Let’s continue watching the movie, okay?”

“Okay.” Isagi wipes the remnants of sauce on his mouth and begins to put away the dishes. By the time he’s finished washing up, he discovers Kaiser had already turned the TV to pick off where they had left and saved him the seat, the one next to a fluffy blanket and right by his side. 

The reverberating sounds of ironic dialogue and volatile musical scores echo throughout the room. It’s altogether just background noise and doesn’t take away from the rustling of air from Kaiser’s nose and the steady beating of his pulse.

Their limbs are tangled with each other, wrapped around a thick blanket. It’s late in the night, supposedly around 11 in the evening. Kaiser has trouble focusing, eyes squinting from the onslaught of radiation. Isagi briefly wonders how long he’s going to keep this up until he decides he’s had enough and drifts off to sleep—after he forces Isagi to carry him back to their room—even if Isagi himself is also pretty much zombified.

It comes out of Isagi’s mouth before he can comprehend the burden he’s placed on his heart. “Hey, what would you do if I told you I fell in love with you?”

“Run away,” Kaiser says nonchalantly. His brows are slightly furrowed, eyes glued to the screen as if he couldn’t comprehend the weight of his words. Isagi knows he said it without meaning, but it still leaves a sour taste on his tongue.

Isagi shifts, hands tangling to trap Kaiser’s, then suddenly lunges towards him, pinning him down on the couch. “And what if I cage you inside and never let you go?”

He knows Kaiser could easily shove him aside and continue watching the stupid movie, but he only glares and clicks his tongue. Isagi thinks he must really be falling in love. “Seriously, Yoichi, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“I think I love you.”

Kaiser’s eyes widened. For a second, Isagi thinks he’s scared him away. He holds his breath as Kaiser refuses to meet his eyes, finding the inanimate couch a greater bearer of comfort than his partner’s sincerity. Why do you act the way you do? Isagi lets go of a hand in favor of brushing loose strands off Kaiser’s face. Kaiser is completely still. Isagi thinks that’s no good, so he shuffles to wrap his arms around Kaiser’s back and envelop him in a hug.

But why do I still find myself drawn to you?

Now that Isagi couldn’t see his face, he finds Kaiser’s body losing tension.

And Isagi just can’t help himself. “No, scratch that,” he nuzzles into his neck. “I love you.”

It’s almost too simple, like he’s said it a thousand times before. But it’s new, not foreign—just a bit too easy. 

It’s almost too silent until Kaiser laughs—Isagi thinks he’s never heard something so beautiful. “You’re weird, Yoichi. You must really have some screws loose inside that awfully shitty head of yours."

Isagi smiles. “I think I’m pretty messed up too, but I think that’s fine—since you’re awfully twisted as well.”

It’s a cacophony of laughter and a labyrinth of limbs, but the rhythm of their hearts beat in tandem, almost as if they were always meant to find each other.

Hey, Micha. If I didn’t tell you how much I love you, would you still let me stay by your side?

And if I continue to stay by your side, do you think I’ll finally hear you say it?

But if I say I’d wait no matter how long it’ll take, that’d be a lie.

Because, I think you already love me.