Work Text:
i. a pressed black suit; the brush of silk curtains
Reo clamps small hands over his mouth, stifling his giggles as he watches his attendant pace the hallway. Hidden behind a gauzy pink curtain, Reo watches Ba-ya open and close doors, peer behind sculptures, and check inside cabinets.
Through the sheer fabric, the world is dyed in a delicate, hazy rose. Reo thinks of fossilized butterflies and lizards—eternally preserved in amber, and in the glossy pages of his science book—and hopes that memory works the same way. He never wants to forget the moment that he finally surprises Ba-ya! He’s been able to prank other staff members, but not his own attendant, who he should know best! Mama says it’s because Ba-ya is a super elite warrior, but Reo won’t give up!
“Where could Young Master Reo be?” Ba-ya ponders loudly. “There’s such a nice steak waiting for him at dinner…”
Reo giggles harder. Ba-ya’s just trying to trick him! It’s too early for dinner; his watch from Papa says so!
Ba-ya suddenly turns, approaching him with slow, intentional precision. There’s no escape; Reo can only wait for the inevitable.
When Ba-ya draws back the curtains, sunlight rushes to meet her in full force. Reo remains still. “Why, hello, Young Master Reo. Is there something interesting back here?”
“I was gonna scare you,” Reo pouts, raising his hands and curling his fingers into claws. “But you found me first, Ba-ya!”
“Go on then,” Ba-ya says genially. She closes the curtains and turns around, hands patiently clasped behind her.
Reo thinks as hard as he can, but without the element of surprise, it’s impossible.
“It’s not the same anymore,” Reo whines, shuffling out of the curtains and into Ba-ya’s open arms. She smooths down his hair, patiently waiting for his reluctant, inevitable command of carry me, Ba-ya.
“If Young Master Reo really disappeared,” Ba-ya murmurs as she lifts him onto her back, “I would be very, very scared.”
“But nothing scares you!” Reo peers at her face, and sees that she’s totally serious. Unexpectedly, he’s succeeded, but he doesn’t like it. “I won’t go anywhere! Promise!”
“Pinky promise?” Ba-ya asks solemnly.
“Pinky promise!”
“Then we have a deal, Young Master Reo.” Ba-ya smiles. So does Reo, happily linking their fingers together.
“Ba-ya, is there really steak for dinner?”
“Would I, Ba-ya, ever lie to you?”
“Never!”
As Ba-ya carries him through the hallway, the world is a rose-gold glow against Reo’s closing eyelids. Lulled asleep by her warmth, Reo is suspended in space and time—like a crystallized lizard eternally basking in sunlit serenity.
ii. the blend of every shape and color, loud and bright
For his thirteenth birthday, Reo’s parents gift him his own — already fully renovated — floor of their home. While Reo notices a handful of pieces that he wants to replace, there’s a painting in the living room that makes him pause.
Something soft unfurls in his chest.
“Do you like it?” His mother beams, claps her hands. “As soon as we saw it, we knew you had to have it!”
“Yeah, I do.” Reo steps closer to the painting, taking it all in. A face with big eyes, spidery lashes. A drooping tear, not yet falling. Bold, blocky shapes and patterns fragment the face and background, but one corner boasts a heart unfettered by anything else. “I really like it.”
His father pats his shoulder, satisfied. “I’ve sent you the contact of our interior decorator, so get anything else that you want.”
His parents take their leave, allowing Reo to properly explore his new home at his own pace. In each room, his parents have included art pieces and other tokens from their travels, as well as a few framed family photographs here and there.
Gifts have always been his parents’ strength. Even if Reo became bored of the endless toys and trinkets, wishing for things that money couldn’t seem to buy, he knew that his parents cared for his happiness.
(But what, exactly, is his happiness?)
Reo picks up one of the framed photos, biting back a wry smile. It’s an old picture taken by Ba-ya: he’s standing between his parents, posing excitedly. God, he was so clueless about this monotonous world. That kid is long gone, but somehow, Reo still feels a surge of fondness for the past. Playing with Ba-ya, reading books alongside his parents, attending extracurriculars and lessons, traveling from country to country… All of those things led him to where he stands now.
Even if he’s disillusioned, even if his name is as binding as it is advantageous…It’s his parents who gave him all of those opportunities. Even if the world were ending, he’d still want to thank his family sincerely.
One day, he’ll find his own happiness, but today — today, maybe he doesn’t have to wait until the end to express his thanks.
Reo puts down the photo, and turns for the door.
iii. laughter at midnight, lit by the cityscape
Nobody speaks to him like Nagi Seishiro does.
Nagi’s the first person to tell him to do less, the opposite of Reo’s usual network. If this lazy genius wasn’t the key to winning the World Cup, their fates may have never intertwined. But Nagi is, and so here they are, celebrating their victory against Aomori Dadada.
They drink bubbly champagne by the window, and Reo savors everything that he learns about his new partner. But soon enough, it’s time for the prince of Hakuho and the prince of video games to temporarily swap their partnership for rivalry.
It’s Reo’s idea to play: he wants to test himself against Nagi’s formidable gaming skills, forged daily from morning to night. Nagi doesn’t seem to believe in him, but that doesn’t stop Reo — it only makes him more eager to prove himself.
(And Mikage Reo always gets what he wants.)
When he wins the round, just like he hoped that he would, Reo cheers, pumping his fist in the air. “How’s that for boring?!”
Grinning, he turns towards Nagi, and finds his treasure squinting at him, confusion highlighted by the screen’s glare.
“I said Reo would get bored,” Nagi says, “if it’s too easy.”
“It’s not too easy,” Reo insists. Something pulls at his chest, dragging him a little closer to Nagi. He knows that getting bored too quickly is his weak point, but he doesn’t want to discourage Nagi right at the start of their partnership.
“You really don’t keep your distance, do you?” Nagi mumbles.
“I—” He wants to, but can’t. Somehow, things with Nagi are so comfortable that he forgets himself — but how does this lazy little slacker even notice these things about him?! “I do!”
He sits back, clutching his controller in his hands. “It’s fun. I’m not bored at all. Let’s play again, Nagi, and I’ll kick your ass this time too!”
“You’re weird, boss.” With a sigh, Nagi increases the game’s difficulty level. “And nope, you won’t.”
“You’re weird, and yes, I will!” Reo huffs. “One of these days, you’ll say you’re having fun!”
Hours later, when it’s time for Nagi to go home, he doesn’t admit to having fun, but he does say this: “Oh, Reo… don’t die before I do.”
It’s an unexpected farewell, and so is Nagi’s explanation: it’s something my parents said that made me happy… It doesn’t matter how you live, just don’t die before me.
Reo’s so surprised that he can only laugh and scold Nagi playfully. Of course it matters — at the very least, Nagi should eat properly!
After Nagi waves goodbye, Reo watches him go until the night swallows him up. Reo stands alone by the window, but Nagi’s voice still seems to linger.
If Nagi thinks Reo’s weird, he should reflect on himself first — but wait, why are those strange words making him smile?
Nagi… aren’t you saying that you want to spend more time with me?
Aren’t you saying that you’ll miss me?
iv. new cleats, green grass — v. the setting sun, ready to rise again tomorrow
A few weeks back, they had gone shopping in Harajuku for cleats, but why stop there when there’s so much more that Nagi doesn’t have? Even if he won’t take any of Reo’s paintings, he should decorate his home with something, right?
So Reo drags Nagi out again, filling his arms with bags of clothes, accessories, snacks, and decorations. Reo carries the heavier bags, but Nagi still complains that he’s carrying more.
“I can’t carry it all,” Reo scolds, and so, with a long-suffering sigh, Nagi bears with it. When Ba-ya takes them back to Nagi’s dormitory, Nagi collapses onto his bed while Reo gets to work.
Once he’s done, Reo spins around, spreading his arms effusively. “There! What do you think, Nagi?”
“Eh… where did that soccer poster come from?”
“It’s inspiration!” Reo jumps onto the bed, grabbing Nagi and shaking him. “C’mon, do you like your room now?”
“Ouch, Reo… It hurts…”
“Well, I love it,” Reo declares, falling back and laughing when Nagi makes affected wheezing sounds. After a minute, Nagi tucks into Reo’s side so that Reo can apologetically pet his hair while they look up at the stars that Reo stuck to the ceiling.
“…Thanks, Reo,” Nagi mumbles, already half-asleep. Reo preens, satisfied.
One day at a time, he’ll brighten up his treasure’s life.
At the next morning’s practice, Reo laces up both of their cleats, beaming at their complementary pairs of gold and silver. Of all the things that Reo loves most in this world, nothing comes close to soccer. It’s both his anchor and North Star, keeping him grounded as he races forward towards his dream. And now, he even has a partner to run alongside him.
To dream is to live; Reo proves the existence of this truth. A boring life warrants nothing beyond an effortless minimum, and how could that be worth anything? If the Mikage heir is expected to seize the world, it should be an equivalent exchange. Life should be full of exciting challenges to conquer; it should make Reo want to run.
Like now, as he weaves through their teammates, racing towards the goalpost. Nagi appears like lightning, waiting for a pass that roars like thunder.
Together, they take the field by storm.
With Nagi, soccer plays burst into being, infinite possibilities scattered across the pitch like a verdant constellation. They’re unstoppable, just the two of them against the rest of their team, scoring goal after goal. When Nagi lays down in the cradle of the net to rest, Reo sprints over and topples onto him for a hug.
“Good boy!” Reo cheers, ruffling Nagi’s hair. The last time that Nagi slept in the net, the strings made pink indents on his cheek. This time, it’s Reo’s hands that leave a flush in their wake.
“Reo was cool too,” Nagi says, shying away with a pout. “So we don’t need to practice anymore.”
“We’re nowhere close to done, Nagi!”
Nagi’s groan is drowned out by Reo’s laugh as he springs back up, jogging back to the center of the field. Even if Nagi’s already running on empty, Reo feels like he’s overflowing.
Reo will do anything to get what he wants, but it’s not just that. It feels like he’ll do anything to finally live.
For the past few years, sunsets had irritated him. Another day wasted, spent in the lull of boredom. But now, sunsets are a surprise, finally bringing practice to an end.
Once he’s carried Nagi to the bike rack, Reo takes one last look at the sky, unable to fight the smile that pulls at his lips. They’re one step closer to nationals; one step closer to the World Cup. He can see it already, his dream coming to life before him on the familiar ride back to Nagi’s. His muscles ache as he pedals, proof of a job well done — and proof that he’s not a totally heartless boss like Nagi claims. A precious treasure has to be taken care of, and Reo will do anything to keep his partner shining.
Nagi falls asleep against his back, unconsciously tightening his arms around Reo’s waist. A new ache blooms in Reo’s chest, but something about this feels old, too, like a distant childhood memory.
There was so much strange love showered upon him when he was younger — he had no idea what shape his own would take. But he thinks he likes how it looks right now: boundless underneath a pink sky, riding on a dream and a bike for two.