Chapter Text
There are only so many places spite will get you, Reo has learned.
He’s been managing so far somehow, but with midterms rapidly approaching, he fears the end is near.
He’s discrediting himself if he pretends spite is the only reason he’s sitting in this classroom, listening to a middle aged man drone on about the synthesis of benzoic acid.
Pursuing a degree purely out of spite would be ridiculous, and Reo considers himself a sensible person. But he’s also somewhat self-aware. So, while he has his own reasons for being here, he can still admit his desire to get back at his father may have played a part.
It’s easy to blame the man when Reo blinks and realizes he’s three slides behind. What’s even going on?
There’s an unfairly complex structure on the screen in front of him, one Reo’s almost positive he’ll be forced to memorize.
He tilts his head.
Are those six different rings? This looks more like a geometry lesson than the organic chemistry class he’s signed himself up for.
Granted, he’s a couple readings behind.
He’s usually more focused than this. He was up late last night, scrambling to finish a lab report, and the lack of sleep is finally biting him in the ass.
Reo’s concluded that university is nothing like high school.
Reo never had to try very hard to maintain his grades back then. He was first in his class, on the school council, and captain of their football team. Keeping up with his responsibilities had been easy; Reo always had plenty of time on his hands somehow.
That isn’t the case anymore. He’s still in good standing of course, seeing that his parents haven’t forcibly withdrawn him. But it feels precarious, like any moment he’ll slip and find himself too far from the finish line to recover.
He doesn’t think he’d be having the same problem if he’d chosen to study business or economics like his father had wanted. He’d grown up surrounded by it, after all.
But Reo just had to be stubborn, just had to choose science. He doesn’t regret it yet, but this class might just change his mind.
His professor rambles on but the words seem to enter one ear and exit through the other.
It feels like a blessing from some benevolent higher power when his phone buzzes in his pocket.
From Nagi:
they’re out of lemon tea
It’s a simple, inexpressive text, but Reo can imagine the pout that must have been on his best friend’s face as he sent it.
He smiles fondly, shaking his head. Poor Nagi.
Poor you
Nagi’s response arrives momentarily:
i wanna go home
Reo’s smile widens. Nagi’s waiting for him, then.
Nagi’s schedule ends an hour before Reo’s chemistry class on Tuesdays, but he usually chooses to stay on campus and wait for Reo to finish. Reo has an hour-long break between chemistry and physiology, and he greatly appreciates the company.
Lucky for Nagi, Reo’s already packed him a bottle of lemon tea. He hasn’t told Nagi he buys the stuff in bulk, afraid his friend will finish off his stash in a week and end up with dangerously high blood pressure.
In his excitement to see his best friend, the rest of the lecture passes by in a flash.
Finally, he’s packing his bag and bidding his seatmate goodbye. It’s a short walk to the library where Nagi is probably waiting in his favorite place to nap.
He pulls open a heavy door and enters the building, immediately making his way up the stairs and turning left.
There’s a study room back here no one frequents, probably because the door is always closed and the lights are perpetually dim.
Out of curiosity, Reo tried to open it once, surprised to find it unlocked. Nagi, who had been halfway asleep behind him, perked up at the sight of a couch sitting next to the window.
He made himself comfortable immediately, sprawling himself across the upholstery with his arms crossed against his chest like a mummy. His eyes fluttered shut.
Reo’d looked down at him fondly, taken in the glow of the afternoon sun on Nagi’s, admittedly greasy, hair. It had been a long week for both of them, after all.
He continued staring until Nagi opened his eyes, his gaze questioning.
“Are you not going to sit?” he asked, when Reo made no move to explain himself.
Reo chuckled. “Where would I sit?”
Nagi’s answer was to lift his legs in the air, looking at Reo like he had said something incredibly stupid. Reo shook his head, all too amused, and took the offered seat.
Nagi’s legs immediately came back down, settling themselves in Reo’s lap. It was a familiar weight. The two of them had always been touchy; it started on Reo’s part and has always been indulged by Nagi. Perhaps more than indulged.
Nagi’s eyes closed again, and though the difference in his expression was minute, Reo could tell he was more relaxed.
With nothing better to do, Reo pulled out the biochemistry notes he’d been meaning to rewrite. Nagi slept while Reo worked, and Reo realized they’d found a perfect place to revisit.
By now, it’s become something like their place.
And just as he expected, Reo can make out a familiar head of white hair leaning against the window as he approaches.
“Hey!” He waves at Nagi when his friend turns around, blinking.
“Reo,” he greets him softly.
“How was your day?” Reo asks, shrugging off his backpack and setting it down on the couch. He reaches into it while Nagi shrugs.
“Glad it’s over.”
Reo grips the bottle of tea tightly when he finds it. The plastic label is smooth under his fingers. The drink isn’t as cold as it was when he pulled it out of the fridge this morning. Reo hopes Nagi won’t mind.
“Here you go,” Reo announces, pressing the bottle against the back of Nagi’s neck. Nagi doesn’t even flinch. “As a reward for your hard work today.”
Nagi’s eyes widen when he catches sight of the drink in Reo’s hand. Reo pulls it away to unscrew the cap, then passes it back.
“Oh,” Nagi says, still quiet.“Thank you.”
Nagi’s looking at him, eyes full of gratitude, and Reo’s looking back, pleasantly warm, and he wonders, for a moment, if this is it. This could very well be the moment he’s been waiting for.
The moment is shattered when Nagi takes a sip of the tea, and breaks their eye contact. Reo leans back, hyper aware of how close their faces had been.
He flushes, embarrassed by the direction his thoughts had taken. He’d gotten carried away again.
Something as simple as handing Nagi a bottle of tea couldn’t possibly be enough. No, Reo’s sure when the moment comes, it’ll be unmistakable. He wouldn’t mind a peaceful exchange like today’s, but the universe probably has bigger plans for them.
It’s alright. Reo doesn’t mind waiting.
“How was class?” Nagi asks him, as if it’s suddenly occurred to him to reciprocate.
Reo settles next to him on the couch, dropping his head onto Nagi’s firm shoulder. “A pain,” he says, mimicking Nagi’s usual quiet register.
Nagi huffs but leaves it there. He brings his shoulder down slightly, to ease the strain in Reo’s neck. He doesn’t ask for elaboration, picking up on Reo’s unwillingness to discuss chemistry any further.
Reo closes his eyes as Nagi, presumably, picks up his phone to play a game. Usually, Reo talks about whatever he’d like to, while Nagi listens to him, but he’s always exhausted during this one hour break. The two of them usually spend it in silence, just soaking up each other’s company.
It’s nice to sit here like this, with Nagi. Nagi, who knows him better than anyone else in the world.
It’s to be expected. They’re soulmates in all ways but one. Though, that’s bound to change soon.
“Give me a sip of your tea,” Reo finally mumbles into the fabric of Nagi’s sweatshirt. He’d emptied his water bottle in his last class, and forgotten to refill it.
“Eh?” Nagi looks offended by the request, but begrudgingly passes over the bottle. In retaliation, Reo chugs as much of the drink as he can before Nagi snatches it back, unimpressed.
Reo laughs at the pout on his friend’s face. “Remember who bought that for you.”
“It was a present. You can’t take it back.”
“This is the last time I’ll do something nice for you, then,” Reo says with a mock sigh. They both know that’s far from true. The only way Reo knows how to treat Nagi is nicely.
About forty minutes into his break, Reo’s eyes snap open. He’s not sure if he dozed off, or simply lost track of time while zoning out. He takes a second to look up at Nagi, whose eyes are still glued to his phone.
Though Reo can perfectly recall every detail of his best friend’s face from memory, sometimes looking at him feels strange. Nagi’s so familiar, but sometimes, Reo can’t help but compare him to the boy he met, all those years ago.
Growing up alongside someone will do that to you. Nagi’s the same in all ways that matter, but little things have changed.
Nagi’s hair used to be an untamed mess back then. It’s still a little overgrown now, but Reo thinks it suits him. He’s lost some of the baby fat on his face, but his features are still soft.
The most striking difference is how tall he’s grown up to be. Nagi used to be of average height, used to be shorter than Reo, in fact. Now he towers over everyone, Reo included. The last bit is an exaggeration, but Reo does have to tilt his head up to meet his friend’s eyes.
Nagi’s handsome now. There’s no denying it.
Reo doesn’t think Nagi realizes the effect he has on other people. Reo’s has seen the longing glances and timid smiles directed at him, but Nagi never bats an eye. Personally, Reo’s grateful for his obliviousness.
He doesn’t know how he’d take Nagi suddenly becoming aware of other people. Selfishly, he wants them to remain as they are, blind to the world around them.
“What are you looking at?”
Reo flushes, realizing he’s been caught. Oh, well. It is just Nagi, after all. He responds with the truth: “You.”
Nagi’s eyes leave his phone and land on Reo’s face. His eyebrows furrow ever so slightly, the only indication of his confusion. He relaxes when Reo offers him a hesitant smile.
“Am I that interesting to look at?”
From anyone else, that might have sounded suggestive, or borderline flirtatious. Coming from Nagi, in that characteristic deadpan tone of his, Reo can’t even tell if he’s joking.
“Your hair’s growing out,” Reo tells him instead, reaching out and tousling the strand hanging in front of Nagi’s eyes.
Nagi leans into the touch. “Oh,” he says.
Reo swallows, a little self-conscious when Nagi’s big gray eyes stay pinned on his face. “I didn’t notice.”
“I’ll take you to get a haircut next week.” Reo lets go of his hair, and adjusts his cheek on Nagi’s shoulder. “If you want.”
Nagi nods and Reo nearly closes his eyes again, before remembering to check the time on his phone.
Yikes. He should really get going.
But before that: “Thank you,” he murmurs, still tucked against Nagi’s neck.
Nagi blinks.
“For waiting with me,” Reo adds. Nagi has no reason to stay an extra hour, but he does solely for Reo’s sake. It’s exhilarating. The idea of an unmotivated, apathetic Nagi going out of his way, just for him, always goes straight to Reo’s head.
Nagi shrugs. He’s never been the best at accepting gratitude. But then he offers Reo another sip of his tea, and it says enough.
When Reo was in his first year of middle school, he became hopelessly infatuated with football, and one Nagi Seishiro. One of those obsessions lasted longer than the other.
He stumbled across Nagi in a stairwell one day, in what must have been a fated series of events. He hadn’t anticipated the change Nagi would bring to his life just then.
No, Reo had simply been impressed by Nagi’s agility. Reo was going to become a world class football player, and was going to win the World Cup. He knew Nagi was the missing piece he needed.
In the process of convincing Nagi to join him, Reo became strangely endeared by him.
He’d never met anyone like Nagi before.
Nagi didn’t treat Reo with the same false regard his classmates and friends did. He turned down Reo’s requests easily, brazenly asked Reo for money, and seemed to care little about Reo’s opinion. It was refreshing.
Nagi wouldn’t blindly agree with everything Reo said. Sometimes he’d be too tired to speak at all.
But he was always listening.
“You don’t like cherry,” he’d said one afternoon, looking at the candy in Reo’s hands with thinly veiled disapproval. Reo, who’d received the candy from a classmate and planned on eating it out of politeness, stared at him.
“Here,” Nagi had said, stretching out a hand. “I’ll eat it.”
To anyone else, it might’ve seemed self-serving or opportunistic. But, to Reo, who knew Nagi found even simple things like chewing troublesome, it was anything but.
He’d happily handed over the candy, and offered no excuses when Nagi asked him why he was smiling so widely.
Reo had never considered himself to be lonely, before. He’d always been surrounded by people, had always been subject to the admiration of his peers.
Now that he has Nagi, Reo knows he’d been desperately lonely back then.
Nagi has always seen past his family name, past his riches, and past his predesigned future. He’s always seen Reo as just himself.
Reo can say with confidence that Nagi is the most important person in his life.
It’s why he knows they’re soulmates.
A soulmate is someone who understands you better than anyone in the world, someone whose soul resonates at the same frequency as your own. Someone meant just for you.
It’s not a random act of God or light-hearted suggestion. No, a soulmate bond requires a connection to come into being, and creates a pull that can’t be ignored.
Reo’s been feeling that pull since he was twelve years old. There’s no denying he’s found the mystical sort of connection some people spend their whole lives searching for. It’s a lucky thing, to meet your soulmate young.
Reo’s not the only one who thinks so. In fact, he wasn’t even the first. He isn’t sure who started it, all these years later, but six months into his friendship with Nagi, the comments started.
“Is Nagi-kun your soulmate, Reo-kun?”
The girls in their grade, that once pined after Reo, began to take an interest in what they perceived as a blossoming romance between two people who couldn’t be less alike.
It became a frequent question, one Reo would awkwardly laugh off and hope Nagi was unbothered by. “I don’t know,” he would say. “But he is my best friend.”
It wasn’t a far-fetched suggestion. It was only a natural conclusion to draw, when two people were glued to the hip like Nagi and Reo were.
Soon enough, even their teachers caught on to their closeness. Reo would be the first person asked, “Is Nagi-kun sick today?” if his friend happened to be absent. If someone needed to find Reo, all they needed was to find Nagi.
Reo had even overheard his eighth grade English teacher talking to her husband on the phone about the “adorable pair of soulmates,” in her afternoon class.
He’d stood outside the classroom, the paper in his hand all but forgotten, unfamiliar heat crawling up the back of his neck. If even his English teacher, who bore the most striking soulmark Reo had ever seen, courtesy of her husband, thought he and Nagi were soulmates? Well, it said something, didn’t it?
It was enough for Reo to mention the subject to Nagi himself.
“Did you know everyone thinks we’re soulmates?” Reo finally asked him one day, as they shared lunch on the roof.
Nagi nodded, mouth too full to respond. He wore the same expression as always, so Reo pushed him a little further.
“Does it bother you?”
Nagi swallowed and squinted at him. “No. Not really.”
Good. That was good.
As long as Nagi wasn’t bothered, Reo wouldn’t feel any guilt basking in the comments. Throughout the last year, he’d come to realize that their classmates’ assumptions filled him with something like satisfaction, an unfamiliar fuzzy feeling that nearly had him confirming the rumors.
He wondered if Nagi felt the same. He didn’t dare ask.
Reo just took a sip from his juice box, bringing their conversation to an awkward close.
Only then Nagi asked: “Do you think they’re right?”
Reo turned back to Nagi, who’d stopped eating. His stare was strangely disarming.
“About us being soulmates?
Nagi nodded again.
Reo took a second to think.
He thought about the elm tree branching up the shoulder of his English teacher, about the knowing gazes his father would send his way when he mentioned Nagi in conversation, about the pair of childhood friends turned soulmates in his favorite bedtime story.
He thought of the ease with which Nagi received his passes or read his mind, the certainty he felt whenever he met his friend’s gray eyes, the feeling of belonging Nagi so readily invoked in him.
What else could a soulmate be?
“I… I think so,” he managed to choke out. Nagi’s expression didn’t change.
A little more confidently, Reo said, “It makes sense.”
Then he waited, practically shaking in anticipation, for Nagi’s response.
Nagi hummed. Then, ever so softly, he said, “You’re probably right.”
And Reo exhaled in relief.
From that day onwards, they gave up on correcting people’s assumptions. What did it matter if they weren’t soulmates yet, when the outcome was practically inevitable?
From middle school, to high school, to university, Nagi and Reo have stuck together. By now, Nagi’s become a crucial part of Reo’s identity.
He’s half of a set; half of him is Nagi.
And though they’ve known each other eight years and still don’t bear each other’s marks on their bodies, Reo’s only grown more certain they’ve got it right.
He’s yet to meet anyone who fits into his life as seamlessly as Nagi. The same goes for Nagi, of course.
And it’s not too unusual to not have a soulmark yet.
There’s no rhyme or reason to a mark. People say a mark simply arises when the time is right or whenever two soulmates have fundamentally changed each other’s lives. They can appear within an hour or a decade of knowing someone.
Reo’s even heard of married couples whose marks refused to appear until years after their wedding.
Him and Nagi have no reason to complain. Their future is certain, anyway, so Reo doesn’t mind the waiting.
And sure, maybe a tiny, unspoken part of him doubts, sometimes.
But Reo’s gotten lots of practice pushing his doubts down.
Unlocking the door to his apartment after such a long day fills Reo with overwhelming relief.
He’d nearly fallen asleep on the bus ride back. Even the impact of his head hitting the window wasn’t enough to snap him out of it.
As he pushes the door open, Reo thinks, longingly, of the bed that’s waiting for him. He’d like nothing more than to sink into his plush mattress and soft sheets.
Too bad he has work to do.
He takes off his shoes upon entering. The lights are on in the kitchen and there’s a pleasant aroma in the air. Yukimiya must be making dinner, then.
“I’m home,” he tells him, before heading to his room to drop off his stuff.
“Welcome home,” comes his roommate's polite response.
As Reo enters his bedroom, his phone vibrates in his pocket.
He takes in the mess of clothes on his bed, the assortment of cups sitting on his bedside table, and the various pens and pencils strewn across his desk. He groans, and decides it’s a problem to tackle after dinner.
He pulls out his phone, and as he expected, a text from his mother awaits him.
Rather than type out a response, he video calls her.
She picks up on the second ring. “Reo, darling,” she greets him. She’s wearing a full face of makeup, with her hair elegantly pinned back. She probably has dinner plans.
“Hi,” he says, trying for enthusiasm. He wouldn’t want her to feel like a bother and go complaining to his father about his attitude.
“Your father’s here too,” she says. “Come say hi to Reo, dear.”
His father’s familiar face enters the screen. “How was school?” he asks, cutting straight to the point.
“Good,” Reo says dryly. “Are you guys going out?”
“The Miyazakis have invited us to dinner.”
“Ah.” There’s an awkward pause as Reo thinks of something else to say.
His mother cuts in. “Do you remember Izumi-chan? She’s grown up quite a bit.”
Reo remembers her well, mostly because of the close friendship their mothers share. Still, he tilts his head, apprehensive about his mother’s intentions.
“Next time you come down here, you should join us,” she says.
Reo’s school is only a couple hours away from home by train. Still, he reminds himself not to visit for a while.
“I’ll think about it,” he says instead, not in the mood for an argument.
His mother’s never taken Reo and Nagi’s not-quite relationship seriously. His father, on the other hand:
“Don’t tease him, honey.” He regards Reo with amusement. “How’s that little soulmate of yours, anyway?”
Reo flushes. “Nagi’s fine. He’s doing well in all his classes.”
He doesn’t miss the frown on his mother’s face. She wrinkled her nose when his father said the word soulmate, but held back whatever comment she wanted to make.
“That’s nice, darling. Have you made any other friends?” It’s a clear attempt to redirect the conversation, and Reo, still too tired to start an argument, indulges her.
He talks about Yukimiya, who his mother is particularly fond of, and mentions the new acquaintances he’d made at his lab. It’s his father’s turn to wrinkle his nose, as he’s reminded of Reo’s field of study, but he also lets the matter go.
When they quickly run out of things to discuss, Reo cuts things short. “I should probably go eat dinner now. You guys have fun later.”
His mother’s smile is a little more genuine as she waves him goodbye.
Reo sighs once he’s hung up.
Little soulmate rings in his ears.
He’s not sure what bothers him more. His father’s lackadaisical approach towards his and Nagi’s relationship, or his mother’s distaste.
His father, like so many of their family members and friends, thinks Reo and Nagi are soulmates. He just has little regard for the whole concept. He’s never said it aloud, but Reo knows he finds the whole thing childish.
Powerful men like him see no value in fixed matches like soulmates. His mother isn’t his father’s soulmate, after all.
It's a further reason for Reo’s blind pursuit of Nagi. Reo can’t envision a life without his soulmate by his side. There’s simply no way he’ll end up like his parents.
His mother, on the other hand, likes to shut down the topic entirely.
“Stop calling them soulmates,” she’ll say to his father when she thinks Reo’s out of earshot. “Don’t encourage this.”
To this day, Reo doesn’t understand what her problem is.
She doesn’t seem to dislike Nagi as a person. She’s never even made any snide remarks about his status, or frankly abysmal sense of fashion.
But as soon as Reo or anyone attaches the word soulmate to the same sentence as Nagi, she looks as though she’s bitten into something sour.
Reo shakes his head. There’s no use thinking about it any longer. Besides, he rarely sees his parents now.
He’ll go join Yukimiya for dinner and put his parents’ words firmly out of his mind.
Still, the next day, when Reo’s sitting in the library with Nagi’s head in his lap, it all comes back to him. He looks down at Nagi and thinks.
Once they get their marks, his mother won’t have anything left to complain about.
She’s always been more of a romantic than her husband. She’s the one who introduced Reo to sappy movies and novels about soulmates. She has a shoujo manga collection that rivals all of Reo’s friends’.
Yes, Reo’s absolutely certain she’ll give up complaining once she realizes she’s wrong about Nagi.
Nagi’s who’s staring intently at his phone, while Reo absentmindedly runs a hand through his hair.
Nagi who’s become a permanent fixture in Reo’s life, who Reo has planned a future around. Nagi, who’s planned a future around Reo in return.
Reo remembers asking him once, what he wanted to do after college. Nagi had blinked as if surprised by the question. Then: “I’ll play football, of course. I’ll win the World Cup before we turn twenty-five.”
Reo had paused then, a little flustered by Nagi’s determination to fulfill their shared dream. Nagi sounded so matter-of-fact about it all.
“And then?”
Nagi had tilted his head. “Then, I guess you and I will get married.”
Then he stared in confusion as Reo covered his burning face with his hands, like he’d said nothing out of the ordinary. Reo couldn’t meet his eyes for half an hour.
Reo smiles faintly at the memory.
He hopes they’ll get their marks before that day comes. Reo can’t think of anything more idyllic than marrying his soulmate. Though marriage still feels like something of the distant future.
He’s sure Nagi feels the same way. They don’t talk about soulmates, not really, but Nagi knows how much it means to him.
He’s never shot down any of the teasing from their friends. He doesn’t refer to Reo as his soulmate, but doesn’t correct anyone who assumes as much.
Though, Reo wonders, how much does Nagi care for it all?
Maybe it’s because his father’s words are still fresh on his mind, but Reo breaks their tentative truce on the subject.
“Do you ever get tired of waiting?”
Nagi looks away from his phone, sensing the seriousness in Reo’s tone. “Waiting for?”
“Your soulmark.”
Nagi puts down his phone and turns a little in Reo’s lap. Now they’re eye to eye, with Reo’s hair hanging awkwardly over his face. He keeps stroking Nagi’s hair as his friend formulates a response.
“No,” he says finally. “Not really.”
Reo blinks down at him. He hums when Nagi doesn’t elaborate. It’s a little disappointing, sure, but Nagi’s never been one to think too deeply about the future.
“I see.”
Nagi reaches for Reo’s free hand, and brings it to his chest. He starts uncurling each of Reo’s fingers, like Reo’s hand is his personal fidget toy. Reo lets him, relaxing into the familiarity of Nagi’s touch.
“Do you?” he asks, when Reo says nothing more.
Reo decides to be honest. “Sometimes,” he says quietly, breaking eye contact. He feels a little guilty for complaining, especially when Nagi is so unbothered.
“Why?” It comes from a place of honest curiosity.
Reo hums again, halting the motion of his fingers on Nagi’s scalp as he thinks of a way to explain himself. “I guess it makes me nervous. Like, I don’t know. Maybe we’ve got it wrong.”
Once the words have left his mouth, Reo exhales. It’s a little relieving to say them aloud.
Nagi stops fidgeting with his hand. “Wrong?” He sounds a lot more engaged all of a sudden.
“Maybe we’re not— Ah, nevermind.”
Nagi’s scrutinizing him now and Reo sorely regrets opening his mouth in the first place. He quickly buries his face in a textbook, tracing the words coagulation cascade over and over, until he’s certain Nagi’s no longer watching him.
It’s really not worth discussing. If Nagi doesn’t feel any impatience, who is Reo to complain?
Reo doesn’t mind waiting. He doesn’t mind if it’s Nagi.
Besides, it’s only a matter of time now. If he doesn’t think about it, it’s more likely to happen: a fundamental rule of the universe.
Nagi squeezes Reo’s hand then, snapping him out of his thoughts.“Are you coming to my game on Thursday?” he asks, when he sees he’s gotten Reo’s attention.
Reo appreciates the reminder. The game had slipped his mind entirely.
While football has become a distant daydream of Reo’s past, it’s Nagi’s whole future. Or at least it could be.
Reo isn’t sure how Nagi feels about football, to this day. He began playing at Reo’s request, and kept it up simply as an alternative to quitting. There’s no denying Nagi’s an excellent player, but Reo’s never sensed passion from him, at least, not the kind that’s needed to become the world’s number one.
Reo knows Nagi’s capable of it. Knows that while football might not be in Nagi’s future, Nagi could very well be the future of the sport.
He just hopes Nagi actually enjoys it. He seems to get along with his teammates, at least. “They’re not you,” he said when Reo, desperate to know more about his best friend’s life outside of him, had asked. “But they’re alright.”
It was high praise, coming from Nagi.
Still, part of Reo can’t help but wonder: is he still playing for Reo’s sake?
Nagi had seen just how much it pained Reo to leave the sport behind. Reo’s father had issued an ultimatum as he entered high school, one Reo spent two years fighting, while Nagi stood by his side.
In the end, neither of them got their way. Sure, Reo no longer plays football, but he still isn’t fulfilling his father’s wishes. The career path he’s pursuing is respectable, one his father can’t complain about, but it’s far from what he wants.
It’s amusing to see his father try to hide his frustration.
There’s another squeeze of his hand and Reo realizes he’d zoned out and forgotten to answer Nagi’s question.
“Of course. I’ll be there.”
Looking back on it, maybe Reo should have done something differently.
Maybe he should’ve asked Nagi if he really did enjoy football, or what it was he was playing for. Maybe he should’ve told Nagi, it’s alright if you want to quit. Don’t just play for my sake.
Maybe he should’ve suggested Nagi ditch the game and do something with Reo, just the two of them.
Maybe he shouldn’t have agreed to come in the first place.
When Thursday rolls around, Reo’s sitting in the stands, watching Nagi’s game while working on a problem set for his statistics class.
He’s usually accompanied by Yukimiya at these events, but his roommate urgently needed to finish a paper, and has abandoned Reo to spend the evening alone.
He’s trying to split his attention evenly between Nagi and his work, but he realizes, halfway through a problem, he hasn’t looked up in five minutes.
When he fixes his gaze on the field again, he thinks he can feel Nagi’s eyes on him. He’s too far away to tell, but just in case, he waves at him.
“Reo?” Someone calls his name, drawing his attention.
He looks down the stands and sees a group of semi-familiar faces.
There’s Aryu, Tokimitsu, Karasu, and Otoya. Reo only knows them through Yukimiya, but they gesture for him to come join them, and Reo isn’t one to turn down an invitation.
He opens his bag, dumps his things inside, tucks his pens into the side pocket, and zips it back up.
Once he’s made his way over, he’s greeted with a pat on the back from Karasu and a comment about his hair routine from Aryu.
It’s easy to insert himself into their conversation. Reo’s been trained in the art of socialization from a young age, and though he has little in common with Yukimiya’s friends, he makes himself comfortable among them.
They belong to a different department than Reo. They’re in business and commerce mostly, though Reo’s not sure Tokimitsu is suited for it. The exception is Aryu, who Reo is pretty sure studies the performing arts.
Luckily, their interest in football ties them all together.
“Hey, that’s your boyfriend, right?” Otoya points towards the field where Nagi’s gained possession of the ball.
“Oh, yeah, that’s—“ Reo stops himself, unsure if he should agree. They’ve never really used that label.
“That’s Nagi,” he finishes weakly.
Nagi passes the ball to a teammate and keeps moving up the field. Reo knows he could move faster, but at least he’s putting in some effort.
He’s finally getting into the flow of things, then.
Reo’s not familiar with the team they’re facing today. He’s heard of the school in passing, but never in the context of sports.
It should be easy to beat them. Especially when they have Nagi on their side. Reo’s treasure , as he fondly calls him.
The team scores a goal, and Reo cheers along with everyone else. Hopefully Nagi will score next. Reo wants to show him off.
A few minutes later, Reo nearly gets his wish.
Someone passes the hall to Nagi and Reo finally gets to see his best friend in action. Nagi traps the ball smoothly, and Reo bites back a grin at Tokimitsu’s gasp of surprise.
Nagi isn’t facing the net, but it’s never been a problem. Reo’s heart kicks into overdrive as Nagi stretches out a leg to shoot and—
And has the ball stolen from under his nose.
Reo blinks, stunned, as a dark-haired man leaves Nagi behind, running towards the other side of the field. There’s no way he could’ve anticipated what Nagi was about to do. He must have gotten lucky.
But then it happens again, and again, and again.
Everytime Nagi’s in the right position to receive the ball, the other player is there waiting for him. It’s as if he’s seeing through every one of Nagi’s plays. Like Nagi, the most brilliant player Reo has met in his life, is somehow predictable.
Reo can’t make out the name on his jersey from here. He curls his fingers into his sweater and watches in open-mouthed surprise as Nagi starts to run faster, starts to demand his teammate’s passes, starts to become desperate.
Well, Reo assumes he’s desperate. He looks the same from up here, but Reo can see the urgency in his every movement.
He’s never seen Nagi like this.
“Who is that?” Reo asks no one particular.
“That’s… Isagi Yoichi,” Tokimitsu tells him hesitantly. He must have noticed Reo’s uncharacteristically frustrated expression. “I think he’s friends with Bachira.”
Reo still keeps up with the football scene. He knows of all the prominent players his age, like Itoshi Rin, like Barou Shouei, like Kira Ryosuke.
He’s never heard the name Isagi Yoichi before.
Maybe Reo’s biased, but he can’t help but find the man unremarkable. If not for the clear determination in his stance, he would’ve faded into the background of the game. But he demands to make himself known with his near prophetic ability.
Tokimitsu winces as, once again, Isagi seizes control of the ball, despite the best effort of Nagi’s team. Ultimately, Isagi scores a goal and his teammates pile onto his back and ruffle his hair. Nagi stands a few feet away, a lone figure in the midst of it all.
The rest of the game passes by in a similar fashion. The opposing team scores another goal. Nagi fails to score even one.
His team, too reliant on their striker’s ability, can’t recover quickly enough.
It’s a mercy that the game finally comes to an end, with a score of two to one. Reo thinks if it had lasted any longer, Nagi’s team would have lost less gracefully.
It’s silent in the aftermath of the whistle, at least where Reo’s sitting. He’s sure the other team and its supporters are shrieking their heads off in delight. Reo can’t process any of it, though. He only has eyes for Nagi.
Nagi’s never lost before. Reo tries to catch his eye, but Nagi keeps his head down as his captain addresses his team.
“Well, that was somethin’,” Karasu has the nerve to comment. Tokimitsu nods in agreement and Aryu opens his mouth to provide his own opinion.
Reo’s already standing up.
“It was nice catching up with you guys, but I have to get going.” He smiles pleasantly, despite feeling strangely off-kilter. Down on the field, the teams start to disperse.
“Aww.”
The group bids him goodbye, making him promise to bring Yukimiya along next time, paper or not. Reo swears to do his best, before slinging his bag over his shoulders, and making his way down the steps.
“Good luck consoling your boyfriend,” Otoya says, just before Reo’s out of earshot.
Reo shakes his head but doesn’t say anything else.
He was planning on finding Nagi after the game, so they could go back to Reo’s apartment to celebrate. He supposes they can commiserate instead.
He traces the familiar path to the locker rooms and takes a seat on the bench across from the doors. For good measure, Reo shoots Nagi a text:
I’m outside.
Then, with nothing better to do, he checks his email.
A while goes by as Reo’s organizing his inbox, and people start to stream out of the room. He recognizes a few of them, like Chigiri, who shoots him a wave as he passes by.
Reo waves back with a friendly smile on his face, before returning to his phone. Then, he pauses.
Chigiri’s already out?
In the kindest way possible, Chigiri can be a little high-maintenance. Reo’s specifically referring to his self-care routine. There’s no world in which Nagi could take longer than Chigiri to shower and get dressed.
Reo checks the time and does a double take. He must have gotten too caught up in all his unread emails. He hopes he didn’t miss Nagi’s exit. Then again, there’s no way Nagi could’ve missed Reo when he’s sitting directly in front of the door.
Feeling a little impatient, Reo stands up and approaches the door to the locker room. He doesn’t hear any voices coming from inside.
Reo’s not sure if he’s allowed to enter, but takes the risk anyway. He pushes the door open slowly, and still, no sounds spill out.
He takes a hesitant step inside. It’s empty.
Did Nagi really leave before Reo’s arrival? It would explain how long Reo stood outside waiting, but it still seems unlikely.
They have a routine after every game, one they haven’t strayed from once. Reo will wait for Nagi to leave the locker room and congratulate him with a wide grin. Then they'll head to Reo’s apartment and gorge themselves on takeout and cheap beer.
Reo takes another step and pauses. Sitting on the bench, across from the lockers, is Nagi’s bag.
It’s just a plain black bag, one Reo bought for him, but has a distinctive Kuromi charm hanging off its zipper. Even more incriminating is his cell phone, sticking out of the side pocket
Nagi’s prone to spacing out, sure, but there’s no way he would leave without his phone.
Reo realizes, then, that the lights are on in the bathroom. The bathroom is separated from the lockers by half a wall, so right now, it’s out of Reo’s line of sight.
There isn’t anywhere else Nagi could possibly be.
He makes his way over, his heartbeat speeding up for some odd reason, turns the corner, and standing there is Nagi.
Reo sighs in relief. Then stiffens again when he gets a better look at his friend.
Nagi’s leaning over the sink, staring intently at his reflection. Reo can’t see his face from this angle, but can tell his hair is still damp from sweat.
He hasn’t even changed out of his jersey. Reo takes a step closer.
Nagi’s too engrossed in the mirror to catch sight of Reo standing behind him.
Reo opens his mouth, a question on his lips, but he swallows it down as he catches sight of something strange.
There’s something unfamiliar on Nagi’s skin, a bright splash of color painting his collarbones. It’s rich and dark, like ink, and almost shines under the fluorescent light of the bathroom.
Reo thinks of wetting a towel and smudging it away. Blue doesn’t belong on Nagi. He wonders how this came about.
Did Nagi spill something on himself? Why hasn’t he cleaned up? There are plenty of paper towels left in the dispenser.
Why is Nagi just staring at his reflection? Why are his eyes, the same eyes Reo’s spent eight years looking into, suddenly so unreadable?
Why is Reo’s heart thudding so loudly in his chest? Why is his stomach sinking to his feet?
“Why–” he starts, but never gets the chance to finish.
Nagi brings up a hand and runs his fingers along the edges of the mark on his collarbone, more delicately than Reo thought he was capable of.
“Hey, Reo,” he says blankly. “I have a soulmate, I think.”
Reo blinks. That doesn’t make sense.
A soulmark doesn’t appear on your skin just like that. There should’ve been a tingle, a warmth, or something to alert Reo that eight years of waiting had come to fruition.
But Reo felt nothing out of the ordinary while watching Nagi play.
Just in case, Reo pulls at the collar of his shirt and looks down. As he expected, his skin is smooth and flawless. Aside from a freckle or two, nothing marks his chest or neck.
It doesn’t make any sense unless—
“You…” Reo can’t even finish the thought. Nagi does it in his place.
“During the game, I felt something strange.” Nagi isn’t even looking at him. “I think Isagi–”
It’s Reo’s turn to interrupt him. “Stop. What are you…?” Stop talking, Nagi. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to hear it.
“I think, when I was playing against Isagi I.. Well, I lost, Reo.”
Reo witnessed it with his own two eyes. But it’s still not enough to explain—
“You lost to him, so…?”
Nagi’s hand won’t leave the mark on his neck. He’s picking at it like Reo used to pick at his mosquito bites, until his mother told him he’d create a permanent scar.
“So, I think he’s my—“
“No,” Reo breathes. “That’s not…”
It doesn’t make any sense. A little thing like that? A loss? How could that be enough?
“No,” Reo says again. He’s having trouble breathing all of a sudden and Nagi’s not making any sense. “I can’t… I don’t want to listen to this.” It’s better not to know, not to think too deeply. Ignorance is bliss.
Finally, Nagi turns to him. His eyes are so big and so empty. Reo nearly takes a step back.
“Just… What do I do now, Reo?” He looks so blank that the dread Reo feels is quickly overcome by ire.
How should Reo know? He takes a closer look at the mark, no, the soulmark , on Nagi’s skin. It’s a deep blue flower.
Reo would rather die than find out what it means.
“Who am I to tell you?” he spits out, when Nagi continues looking at him with an apathetic expression.
Who is Reo to tell him anything? Apparently he’s not his soulmate.
Nagi, as if determined to make things worse, says, “I could talk to Isagi? Do you think he’s still out there?”
It hits Reo like a punch to the gut. There’s nothing he’d like less than Nagi running out to meet Isagi, and leaving Reo here, picking up the pieces of his shattered dreams. Their dreams. Their future, that he thought Nagi was equally certain of.
But he can’t get the words out. Reo can’t do anything but stand there, shaking his head at someone who might as well be a stranger.
“Whatever,” he finally chokes out. A strange numbness takes over his body. His mouth moves on auto-pilot. “Do what you want.”
Nagi nods like it’s perfectly reasonable, like Reo is in any state to be left alone right now. It’s unexpected for the boy he grew up beside, for the man who supposedly knows him best.
So, before he has to watch Nagi walk away from him, Reo leaves the bathroom. Suddenly, he desperately needs to be home.
He takes three breaths, clenches his fists, and convinces himself he won’t throw up. He’s not the type to express his frustration through violence, though he’ll admit the locker room wall seems like a tempting target. Still, Reo sees himself out quietly, leaving his knuckles intact for today.
He walks quickly, as if he’s afraid of being chased, but no one comes after him. All the way from the locker room, to the field, to the bus station, to Reo’s apartment, Reo’s alone.
Nagi doesn’t follow him.