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Even after the betrayal, the name-calling, and being pushed away, Ness still offers Kaiser the window seat on the flight home from Blue Lock.
Normally, Kaiser wouldn’t think twice about accepting and staring into the clouds, but this time, he shakes his head.
That part of whatever they had is over.
Book in hand, Ness nods and settles into the seat, eventually drifting off against the window.
Kaiser steals a glance at him, then at the endless sky he just denied. His thoughts cascade: why hasn’t Ness abandoned him?
The question hovers like Ness’s new passes—fast, deliberate, breaking the boundaries of imagination.
Is this revelation meant for Kaiser? Should he dare chase it?
By the time the wheels touch down, the truth lands too: a pass crafted just barely out of reach—sudden, spiraling, impossible not to try for.
That’s why, after grabbing their luggage and tossing it into the cab’s trunk, Kaiser slams the door and spins on Ness, accusation sharp and unforgiving:
“You love me,” Kaiser says.
Ness freezes, hands stilling in his lap—his body sensing something his mind hasn’t caught up to yet. The cab lurches, throwing him against the door.
“Huh?”
“Don’t pretend,” Kaiser snarls. “You’re always there. You said you wouldn’t leave my side. What else could it mean?”
Ness blinks. “What? Kaiser—wait, I...”
The cab jerks again, and he nearly falls out of his seat. Shaky hands secure the seatbelt, but this distraction does nothing to unfurl the tension between them. “Why do you think that? I mean, I—”
Kaiser raises a hand to shush him, no longer able to stomach Ness’s stammering or nervous energy. Instead, he fixates on the space between them, as if answers are stitched into the seat. “Don’t bother lying. You love me. And that disgusts me.”
His words are colder than intended.
Silence suffocates the cab.
Kaiser pinches the skin covering his knuckles. His skin suddenly feels too tight. “I already told you. I’m trash.”
“You’re not trash.” Ness leans toward him, fists balled as if to fight the insult. “Stop saying that. I won’t let you talk about yourself like that.”
Kaiser huffs, disarmed by Ness’s conviction. He lets the moment stretch before finally muttering, “You’re wasting your time.”
“No,” Ness insists. When Kaiser meets his eyes, they blaze. “You’re worth something. You always were.”
“That’s corny, and you’re wrong.” Kaiser clears his throat, palms suddenly sweaty. Somehow, this is Ness’s fault. “And you’re wrong to love me. Just quit, already.”
A familiar hopelessness unfurls in his core.
“I don’t even know why I let you talk me into coming back to Germany to train for the U20 World Cup. It’s over, Ness—”
“Kaiser. Stop.”
This isn’t the old Ness, the one who surrendered his future, his hopes and dreams, to a stranger with tangled blond hair, a permanent scowl, and a reckless vow to bend impossibility itself.
No, this is the new Ness, who doesn’t follow Kaiser’s whims, who promised to cast a spell on Kaiser’s broken self.
Too bad for Ness—Kaiser’s not in the mood to play nice.
“No. You stop, Ness!” The edge in his words could cut marble. “Since the PXG match last week, you’ve been glued to me like I’m dying. You order our food, wash my hair, do my laundry, refill my water bottle — hell, you even tuck me into bed, for fuck’s sake. Why in the hell—”
His cheeks burn as the words leave him. And then—
“Oh, fuck,” he breathes.
The truth hits like a kick to the chest.
“Oh fuck,” he heaves.
He does love you, his mind taunts. And you don’t deserve it.
Hollow shivers run down his spine. Like prey, he’s cornered, vulnerable, at the mercy of someone who wants only him, even with his ugliness and malice.
Kaiser has always wanted to be loved. He just didn’t expect it to feel like flinching, like an axe pummeling into his skull—promise and threat in equal measure. He’s caught between hunger for it and fear it might cut too deep.
To be wanted, accepted, cared for—those were luxuries reserved for other people. Not him.
He never thought he’d have it.
But that was before Ness.
Now, his mind starts assembling the pieces: ubiquitous, ordinary gestures he’d ignored—Ness cutting his hair, fetching his blue-light glasses, listening to him plot a future that never included staying. A future that meant leaving Bastard München. Leaving Ness behind.
And Ness still supported it.
Still stayed.
That kind of devotion makes Kaiser sick to his stomach.
The cab swerves, slamming Kaiser into the door. The jolt hits harder inside—realization tightening around his ribs like a vice.
Across from him, Ness doesn’t move. One knee bent, hands relaxed on his knees.
Kaiser bites the inside of his cheek. Iron seeps in. “Don’t be fucking rude, Ness. I never gave you permission to love me.”
His elbow throbs where it struck the door. Anger rises like water boiling over—fury is easier to process. He won't be pitied, and he’ll reject anything that doesn’t come with a fight, especially from Ness.
“I’m not doing what you say anymore. I don’t need your permission to love you, and I don’t need you to accept it. It’s just there.”
The cab slows at a red light. Outside, everything sharpens: headlights, engines rumbling, strangers walking past. Inside, Kaiser feels like he’s unraveling.
Isn’t this what he always wanted?
And yet…
Kaiser remembers collapsing on the turf after the last goal of the NEL, defeated, while the team swarmed the thief scorer. For the first time, he wished Ness’s eyes weren’t on him. They held no awe, no starstruck glint—just something darker, something Kaiser refused to name. He had convinced himself it was disgust.
The rush of humiliation of that day still festers like an open wound. The shame of losing his throne, of seeing someone else decode the plays he thought were his and Ness’s alone, crawls under his skin, raw and unrelenting.
So why is Ness still here?
The irony isn’t lost on Kaiser: He had gambled, and had everything taken from him except the heart of the person he’d spent years subjugating.
Kaiser has lost it all: his team, his pride, even the version of Ness he once controlled.
But Ness... Ness remains, more real than ever. More himself: stubborn, loyal, and completely unafraid of who Kaiser is.
Kaiser thought he knew Ness. He thought he molded him. But maybe, just maybe, Ness knows Kaiser far better than he ever expected.
Across from him, Ness watches with an unreadable expression: pity? Frustration? Or something more. All Kaiser knows is that it feels too much like contemplation, and that’s more perilous than being chased with a knife.
How much longer until Ness accepts it’s over?
Whatever they once had—those late-night practices, the whispered plans, their days shopping together—feels distant now.
What they had is gone.
But here they are, on the edge of an end, or a start.
Something real.
Kaiser can’t help but feel terror at the impossible becoming reality.
He has to stop it.
“I wish…” Ness pauses, worrying his lip between his teeth, a crease forming between his brows as he sinks into thought. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.” His gaze softens, like fairy lights flickering in the dark. “You’re magic. You’re determined, you’re talented, you’re smart, you’re—”
Whether it’s a defense mechanism or a childish reflex he never got to live out thanks to his oppressive upbringing, Kaiser can’t say, but he snaps, smashing his hands against his ears to block out Ness’s dumb bullshit.
Ness’s voice leaks into Kaiser’s head anyway, concerned and vexed. “Kaiser, stop running away! How much longer are you going to act like this?”
Irritation and regret both tug at his heartstrings. Kaiser is nothing without his contradictions. “Until you leave me alone, Ness.”
“I’m not leaving you.” It’s just like in the player’s tunnel after the NEL: Ness, determined. Kaiser, exposed. “I’m staying by your side.”
Squeezing his eyes shut, Kaiser presses his hands together harder. Maybe if he does it hard enough, his head will explode.
“You piss me off so bad, Ness. Talking to you is more frustrating than talking to a bench.”
Everything Kaiser ever wanted is sitting across from him right now.
And all he can think is:
You picked the wrong person, Ness.
Rage boils his insides, grief simmering underneath it.
How is he supposed to feel satisfied?
He’s still trash.
There’s no way Ness could actually, genuinely, from the bottom of his sensitive heart, love something as irreparably damaged as Kaiser.
Kaiser’s fingers twitch. Ness isn’t hearing him—not listening anymore, not obeying.
Something in his chest coils tight, too tight. He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak.
He just wants something to crack. A glass, a knuckle, the silence.
Wants to crawl out of himself, out of his useless, trembling body.
He drags his nails across his cheeks, down his neck, clutching at the skin and squeezing.
Distantly, he's aware of Ness’s hands reaching for him—
Kaiser lets go.
As always, the answer comes not from clarity, but from the raw, relentless instinct to survive.
“Fine, Ness—just, fine!” He rakes a hand through his hair, tugging at it. The ache at his scalp is almost comforting. “If you want me so bad, fine.”
Ness’s mouth falls open in a small, startled ‘o’.
“We’ll move in together. Sleep in the same bed. Go on dates. Kiss—”
“Oh!” Ness squeaks, voice pitching high. A flicker of the old Ness, when they first met: innocent, easily flustered.
“—Hold hands or whatever. Fuck. Everything couples do.”
A furious blush burns Ness’s face. “Kaiser! That’s not—”
But Kaiser barrels through, chasing the momentum. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’m trash. You’ll get tired of me.”
Ness’s features twist for a second, caught somewhere between mortified and stunned. But then, just as fast, his shoulders relax. The gleam in his eyes returns. The blush endures, casting him in a pretty glow. His smile is soft. Joyful. Certain.
“Okay,” he says, nodding like he's agreeing to go on an adventure. “Yes.”
Kaiser’s brain short-circuits.
“Okay? Yes?” he echoes, voice scratchy.
Ness nods, curls bouncing slightly. “Yes. I accept.”
Narrowing his eyes, Kaiser shakes his head, hoping to unravel his jumbled thoughts. “I thought you said you weren’t going to do what I said anymore.”
“I’m not. I’m doing what I want. You don’t get to decide for me, and what I want is to love you.”
Chewing his tongue from the indignation, Kaiser represses a scream: “How dare you love me when I’ve done nothing to deserve it, when I didn’t ask for it, when I’m not ready for it? If I didn’t earn it, it’s not real! And if it is real, I still don’t want it! That makes it worse.”
Instead, Kaiser swallows thickly.
If Ness wants this, if he wants them to be a loving couple, then Kaiser will go along with it, too. He’s the one who created this game, not Ness.
Kaiser will just have to win by domineering and destroying. As always.
“Fine.” He crosses his arms over his chest, turning his body away from Ness to glower out the window. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Fine,” Ness hums, happy. Not a minute passes when he adds, “I want to hold hands.”
It’s like grabbing a live wire. Kaiser’s head whips around, sharp enough to make his neck ache.
“Excuse you?”
“I said, I want to hold hands.”
Ness extends his hand into the space between them, expecting Kaiser to take it.
Kaiser stares; those are the same fingers that stain blue from touching up his hair dye every month, the same palms that smooth his clothes free of wrinkles before ironing.
Now, they want to touch him.
Kaiser tries to remember the last time Ness touched him first (maybe a few weeks ago at Blue Lock, when he’d choked himself in the media room—sometimes his back still burns with the imprint of Ness’s hands), but nothing comes to mind.
Kaiser’s heart isn’t beating out of rhythm, no.
“Whatever,” he grumbles, exhaling as he slots his fingers between Ness’s. His are smooth and uncalloused. Must be because he always wears gloves on the pitch.
The thought “no one’s ever held my hand before” marquees across Kaiser’s mind’s eye.
A gush of sorrow swallows him, triggering the instinct to crush, to clench, to dig his nails into Ness’s soft skin.
He can’t help it. Where is he supposed to redirect his destruction?
“Ow! Kaiser!” Ness yelps, but doesn’t pull his hand away. “You’re too rough. Be gentle.”
“Tough it out! This is how I hold hands,” Kaiser growls, because he can’t say, “I don’t know how to do any of this.”
“Pretend like my hand is a rose, and you don’t want to crush me.”
Closing his eyes, Kaiser recalls the rose in the glass cage from his shitty house, and it only spikes his anger. He opens his eyes and focuses on their joined hands, steadying his breathing, imagining vines connecting them permanently so Kaiser doesn’t have to hold on with a death grip.
His grasp stays firm, though his arms start to tremble with the effort.
Eventually, his fingers loosen—not because he wants to, but because his muscles give out.
Still, Ness’s hand doesn’t waver; he holds on gently, steady.
From his periphery, Kaiser catches Ness smiling to himself. Equal parts annoying and somehow... comforting. “Shut up, Ness.”
“Stop that, Kaiser.” There’s no bite in his tone. Just gentle firmness. “Don’t talk to me like that.”
They spend the rest of the fifteen-minute trip in silence, fingers intertwined. Kaiser absentmindedly rubs circles into Ness’s thumb, pressing with varying pressure.
Testing, pushing boundaries.
Beside him, Ness doesn’t pull away. Instead, he squeezes back.
The cab slows to a stop in front of Kaiser’s building.
Growing up, all he ever wanted was a cozy mattress, clean clothes, good food…and someone to love him. Since joining Bastard Munchen, he had the basics, but that last piece felt impossible.
Now, with Ness vowing to stay at his side, it feels like he finally has everything he’s ever wanted.
But it can’t be that simple.
Can it?
“You’re not going to Hamburg tomorrow, by the way.” Kaiser yanks their luggage from the trunk after tossing a wad of cash at the driver. “You’re staying with me. Here. In Munich.”
Ness folds his hands behind his back, a playful glint in his eye. “What if I want to see my family?”
Kaise’s knuckles pale on the luggage handles. “You’d rather see them than spend time with me—only me, your beloved?” His voice is sharp, brittle. More defensive than he intends.
Ness glances up at the sky, then back, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “Relax. I want to stay with you.”
Kaiser doesn’t respond. Instead, he hauls their suitcases up to the penthouse he bought the second he turned of age and could own property. It’s where he rots alone when Ness isn’t around to drag him outside for fresh air.
“I’m staying because I want to, and not because you told me. And we’re buying new curtains, and vases—”
"You're sleeping in the bed with me," Kaiser says, cutting him off.
Before Blue Lock, when Ness spent the night, Kaiser banished him to the couch, sometimes without a blanket. The real power came from Ness’s wordless obedience.
The idea of Ness in his bed, on his terms, should give Kaiser a rush—proof of control, punishment for Ness’s devotion.
He tells himself it’s easy, that sharing the space is a weapon.
But the truth is, falling asleep next to someone feels like stepping off a cliff without a parachute.
Ness beams, his excitement palpable. “I want the side closer to the window.”
Kaiser holds his breath as he studies Ness, hands itching to wrap around his own neck. Ness outsmarting him, reading his plays—it’s starting to Piss. Kaiser. Off.
How can he break Ness?
“Whatever. Just don’t keep me up too late reading.”
They unpack in silence. Ness folds their clothes with practiced care and, without asking, claims a drawer for himself. The halcyon audacity of it floors Kaiser, who stands frozen, numbly watching as Ness sorts through his socks and underwear, humming under his breath, as if organizing Kaiser’s life brings him peace.
Minutes later, Ness rests his hands on his hips and admires his work before standing up, surprise evident when he realizes Kaiser has been looking at him. The corners of his eyes crease as he smiles. How has Kaiser never noticed this detail about him?
Kaiser’s legs move on their own, as if he’s stepping on clouds. Reaching for Ness is the easiest thing he's ever done: he cups his jaw, angles it slightly, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. He didn’t plan on closing his eyes, but it just happens.
Ness gasps as he kisses him.
“Oh,” he breathes against his mouth.
“Shit,” Kaiser murmurs, then deepens the kiss, teeth clashing.
Ness’s hands come up to rest against Kaiser’s, squeezing, then glide up his forearms and up and down his sides. Exploring. Kaiser’s drowning in the sensation until Ness caresses the skin over his neck tattoo. He flinches, a high-pitched hiss in his head, heart hammering like he’s back home being choked.
His shitty father isn’t even here, and still, somehow, he’s ruining this too.
Guess he’ll deal with that later.
Kaiser lightly taps on Ness’s cheek. “You can touch me anywhere but my neck,” he says, not giving Ness time to apologize before kissing him again, needing to disappear into the sound of Ness’s little noises when he bites his bottom lip.
This time, Ness’s hands find the hem of Kaiser’s shirt, tugging experimentally before slipping underneath. His palms settle on bare skin—warm, real.
The touch burns, just as it did in Japan. It radiates like Ness is branding him.
Shit.
The bed is right there, Kaiser thinks. He needs to brand Ness first. They could lie in it, but they wouldn’t be sleeping—
Ness pulls back first.
When Kaiser opens his eyes, Ness’s cheeks are watercolored red.
“What was that for, Kaiser?”
Kaiser shrugs, mind genuinely blank.
“Let’s stop.” Ness glances at Kaiser’s mouth and licks his lips. “I want to stop.”
Then Kaiser remembers he’s doing this, whatever this is, to hurt Ness and push him away. So he lets Ness get lost in his gaze before softly shoving him away and turning toward the kitchen. His mouth needs water, something cold. “Whatever. Like I care.”
“Wait,” Ness says, catching his hand. “I didn’t say I wanted to stop touching. Let’s cuddle. Couples hug—”
Kaiser wrenches free. “I don’t want to.”
The hurt on Ness’s face is immediate. Visible.
Kaiser remembers that he’s trash and promises he won’t ever forget, even if Ness still wants to believe he's human and worth his time.
“Don’t be mad, Kaiser. I liked kissing you... I just think we’re moving too fast.”
For a moment, Kaiser agrees, but he’d never admit it, because Michael Kaiser is a stranger to fear and doubt.
And this is just a game to him, anyway.
“You’re living with me now, and what I say goes.”
“And I keep telling you,” Ness starts, stern, stomping his foot, “I’m not doing what you say anymore, Michael.”
Kaiser’s veins constrict. He feels like he got up from the floor too fast. “What did you just call me?”
“I’m calling you ‘Michael’, now. Because I want to.”
“You know what, Alexis? You’re a shitty brat.” Kaiser throws his arms in the air, like he’s begging God to take him away. “You think you can just do whatever you want, without my permission. I don’t want to be loved, I don’t want to be called Michael, I want—”
“Then I’ll call you Micha.”
“Micha,” Kaiser repeats, stunned. “Big, bad, evil Michael Kaiser nicknamed Micha by his adorable, disobedient little boyfriend…”
Pouting, Ness swivels on his heel and storms into the kitchen.
Kaiser follows like they’re tethered by a string, of course, because arguing is easier than letting go. “What, you think you own the place now?”
“I live here too. You said so.” Ness pours two glasses of water. Hands one to Kaiser. “Let’s stop, Kai—Micha. We need to calm down.”
“You were just begging me to cuddle,” Kaiser points out.
Ness aims a withered look at him over the top of his glass. It’s as menacing as cotton.
“I want to decorate the apartment,” he declares into the glass.
Kaiser chokes on water. “What?”
“You said I could.”
“I never—”
They bicker on the train all the way to IKEA where Kaiser says no to Ness’s whims purely on principle. It doesn’t matter that the other customers stare. Kaiser discovers, between Ness insisting they need frames for the photos they’ll take together and picking heart-shaped cupcake molds, that Ness doing what he wants anyway is lighting up previously dormant parts of his brain.
No, Ness can’t put up star-shaped fairy lights.
No, they don’t need more throw pillows.
No, Kaiser doesn’t like color-changing light bulbs.
No. No. No.
If he can kill every ounce of joy Ness might wring out of being his boyfriend, maybe, just maybe, Ness will finally give up on him.
But the more Kaiser pushes, the more Ness adapts. He counters each protest with growing ease, learning how to handle him.
How to stay.
It almost inspires Kaiser to kiss Ness beneath the lamps and iridescent light fixtures. To trail the shadows on Ness’s face, down the column of his neck—
To break him, of course.
Instead, he grabs him by the hair and tugs him toward the exit.
“Ow—Micha!” Ness yelps, laughing despite himself, hand flying up to cover Kaiser’s. “That hurts. Be gentle with me!”
“I’m tired. I want to go home,” Kaiser growls, giving him a half-hearted shake.
“Let go! I want to look at the wall art.”
“The art here’s garbage. If we’re looking to spend money, we’re going to a gallery.”
Ness goes still. Then nods. “Okay.”
Kaiser squints. “That wasn’t an invitation.”
“I also want a nightstand. For my side of the bed.”
Another voice cuts in: “That’ll be the real test of your relationship.”
Kaiser and Ness turn. An older couple stands nearby, arms linked, cart piled with kitchen supplies.
“If you can build IKEA furniture together,” the woman adds, smiling, “you can survive anything.”
If.
The word creeps into the corner of Kaiser’s mind.
“Mind your business,” Kaiser orders, letting go of Ness just to tug him in by the waist. “He doesn’t need his own nightstand. He can take mine.”
He doesn’t wait to see their reaction—just walks off, dragging Ness with him, jaw locked so tight it hurts.
He hates their expressions. The amused way they watch them, like they know something Kaiser doesn’t. Like they believe love is a test you can pass. Like they think he could ever win.
Ness laughs, but it’s thinner than usual. “I want to look at the curtains.”
“Whatever.”
Kaiser trails behind him, the fight draining out like air from a balloon. He stares at the slope of Ness’s shoulders, the soft curl of his hair at the nape. He wonders if he’s even allowed to want softness like that. If wanting it makes him weak.
In the bedroom showroom area, Ness looks at Kaiser. “Can I really use your nightstand?
“Yeah, why not?”
“But I organized it before we left for Japan, and there is no room. Are you worried we won’t be able to build IKEA furniture together?” Ness teases, and when Kaiser gives him a blank look, his eyes go wide.
Kaiser looks away. “Don’t be stupid, Ness.”
“Don’t talk to me like that.”
“Then I won’t talk at all.”
“Finally, some silence,” Ness half-quips. Playing off the tension, though it doesn’t dissipate completely.
Kaiser flips him off.
At checkout, Kaiser still doesn’t speak.
He swats Ness’s hand away without thinking, pays, then buries his own hands in his pockets—like they might betray him.
Ness throws worried glances from the corner of his eye but doesn’t ask.
He just steers Kaiser into a restaurant for dinner, where the clatter of forks on plates is the only noise between them.
That, and the rustle of the bag with their IKEA goodies.
Then they’re back.
Back home.
Kaiser’s home.
“I want to shower,” he says when they step inside. His voice sounds wrong, like he hasn't used it in years.
Locks the door and peels the clothes off himself. Listens to Ness rummaging around, humming, before turning the key. Letting the water run down his legs as he stares at his feet.
The water is too hot. Steam clings to his skin, but nothing lifts.
The feeling stays. Heavy. Low.
Like he’s still somehow not enough.
Like he never will be.
When he emerges, Ness is perched on the couch, the string lights and soft bulbs casting the room in warm, flickering shadows. Something about seeing him like this—peaceful, waiting—eases the heaviness.
“Blue and pink and purple lights, huh,” he mutters. “I never said you could install those.”
“I do what I want,” Ness says, then disappears down the hall. “My turn to shower.”
Kaiser watches him go.
If he wanted, he could follow. Press Ness against the tile, run his hands down his slick back. Ness wouldn’t stop him. Might even smile at him, like he always does: soft, willing.
But is it power if Kaiser’s the one left sitting here, alone, aching?
If he’s the one imagining Ness behind the curtain, warm and wet and consecrated?
By the time Ness returns, Kaiser has changed the lights to a medley of oranges and yellows and done what he always does: boxed the feeling up, shoved it somewhere unreachable, the way he used to after his father was finished with him.
Ness doesn’t say anything. Just sits beside him, like he belongs there.
“I had so much fun with you today,” he sighs, head resting on Kaiser’s shoulder.
Kaiser stretches, tossing an arm around him. “Get real. We argued and bought light bulbs, Ness.”
“But it was fun because we were together.”
Suddenly the hem of Ness’s sleeve is interesting. Kaiser plays with it, curls Ness’s hair before flicking it away. “Hmm. We’re always together.”
“I know. But today was the best day ever.”
Kaiser leans in to flick Ness’s nose. “So you’re saying I was boring before.”
It’s fun to watch Ness go pink. Reticent. Kaiser’s fingers drift up Ness’s arm, unhurried, the thrill of proximity urging him closer until the curl of Ness’s hair caresses his lips.
“Are you nervous, Ness?”
“No, because you're you.”
Ness’s pulse thrums against Kaiser’s mouth when he leans in, ghosting his lips along the line of his neck. Ness’s breath stutters, shallow, uneven, and Kaiser drinks it in like a reward. That heartbeat, that breath, the hitch in his throat—it’s all because of him.
He doesn’t think of it as control, not exactly, but there’s a thrill in knowing his touch rewrites Ness’s rhythm.
Kaiser lingers, just to feel it again. He wonders—briefly, sharply—what it would be like to keep going. To drag his fingers just so. To push until Ness forgets how to breathe altogether. He prods, until he finds a spot under Ness’s shoulder blade that makes him squirm.
“Ha, that tickles…”
Even Ness’s laugh. That’s his too. That’s not something Kaiser focused on, before—Ness’s tears, his fears, his insecurities. Kaiser could poke at those. But this is new.
Cute, Kaiser hums.
Hands make themselves at home on Kaiser’s waist. “You smiled more today.”
Kaiser sits back on his heels to look at Ness. “Huh?”
“I haven’t seen your real smile in a while.”
Before Japan hangs unspoken in the air.
But that’s not what catches Kaiser’s attention. “My real smile?”
“Yeah. You have different smiles—one for opponents, one for the press, one for fans. But they don’t reach your eyes. The real ones do. When you smile like that, your eyes look even bluer.”
Kaiser hadn’t noticed. But now that Ness says it—
Yeah. Those smiles sit strangely on him. Like shoes that aren’t his. A shirt too tight.
But today... today felt lighter. The weights around his ankles had loosened.
A different kind of aggression bubbles in Kaiser’s hands. They slide up Ness’s chest, along his neck, then squish his cheeks together.
The giggles that spill out of Ness set Kaiser’s nerves alight—fire and static and something he can’t name.
I want to kiss you, he thinks—
And then remembers: he can. So he shuts Ness up accordingly.
Little shivers ripple down Ness’s spine, and Kaiser feels it under his hands—the tremble, the trust. He grips Ness’s hips like he owns him, almost reverent.
Ness’s hands slide to his shoulders, then wander higher, fingers slipping into his hair, nails grazing his scalp.
A shaky, restrained gasp escapes Kaiser, like he’s holding too much heat in too small a space.
They kiss lazily, their breathing falling into sync. Kaiser smooshes Ness’s cheeks again just to hear him laugh, then kisses him for it.
Ness, bolder now, presses a hand to Kaiser’s chest and gently guides him onto his back. The shift feels natural, but the view—Ness above him, light haloing his hair—is entirely new.
Kaiser doesn’t let it linger. He flips them again, pressing Ness into the couch like an answer.
‘Even so, I’ll stay by your side,’ Ness’s voice echoes through Kaiser’s head, along with, ‘Be genter’ and ‘You smiled so much today.’
When Kaiser pulls away, it’s like leaving a warm blanket. Revels in Ness beneath him: hair tousled, lips tinged pink, chest moving up and down.
Because of him. Kaiser.
Wonders what Ness sees when he looks at him.
If there’s a halo around him in Ness’s eyes.
‘Quit football,’ echoes in his mind, in his voice. ‘You’re trash’ and ‘Pig.’
A wobbly smile tugs at his lips, still warm from Ness’s. For once, the voice in his head goes mute—just long enough for him to wonder if maybe he’s not all teeth and damage. Maybe he’s something else, too.
“Hey, Ness…Alexis.”
They lock eyes. Kaiser could count his eyelashes, if he wanted.
“Why? Why do you love someone as irreparably damaged as me?”
Ness scrunches his nose. “Kaiser, that's what I've been trying to tell you. I don’t lo—”
The air between them collapses. Even the light seems to cower.
Then whatever fragile, blooming moment between them snaps. Ness gasps, his hands flying from Kaiser’s thighs to cover his mouth like he’s trying to take the words back before they can fully exist.
At that same moment, Kaiser hears the words left unsaid: I don’t love you.
And somehow, they hurt more than they should.
More than they have any right.
More than the choking, the belittling, the kicks to the ribs back home—
Kaiser imagines splitting open like a watermelon under a freight train. No whistle. No brakes.
Ness recovers first. “Kaiser—”
Kaiser launches himself off the couch. Trips over his own feet. The floor is hard beneath his hands, but he gets back up. He always has, even back home. He crosses the room in three steps. “So we’re back to surnames, too? Shut the fuck up, Ness—”
Ness chases after him. Some things never change. Kaiser feels a sick twist in the pit of his stomach.
“Can we talk, please? Kaiser?” Ness doesn’t touch him. He never does touch him first. If he did, maybe things would be different—
The doorknob is cold underneath Kaiser’s hand, but it’s what he needs to snap out of his franticness and settle into his wrath.
He spins without warning, fast enough to make Ness jolt. And in that fractured moment, Kaiser sees it: Ness’s hand, half-raised, fingers curled in hesitation, reaching for him before instinct says not to.
“So, so—” Kaiser's mind breaks. “When you let me kiss you, when I told you to be my boyfriend, you were pretending? You led me on?”
Ness opens and closes his mouth.
Then spurts out, “Hold on! I never meant to lie to you—”
“Because, you know, Ness—I never! Fucking! Lied to you! I even told you that I was a piece of shit and you would regret being my boyfriend. But now it turns out you're the piece of shit and I'm the fucking useless idiot who thought he could be loved—”
“Let me explain! I never lied either—in the taxi, you said I loved you, and I do! I thought you meant as a teammate, or platonically, and then you mentioned being a couple and I—well, I didn’t hate the idea, and I thought, you must have jumped to that conclusion for a reason, so I went along with it—No Kaiser, please wait—”
Kaiser throws the door open and seizes Ness’s arm. “Get out! Out!”
Ness skids across the floor in his socks as Kaiser yanks on him. “No, wait, wait—Kaiser, I cherish you!”
The alarm bells in Kaiser’s head shut off. Abrupt silence echoes in his head. He stops. “What?”
Glassy-eyed, Ness nods feverishly. Fingers clutching the door frame. Staying. “I…cherish you, Michael. I promise.”
Kaiser’s forearms quiver from clawing at Ness’s arm. But Ness doesn’t budge.
He’s just there, taking it, like Kaiser’s ball, like little Michael pinned underne—
“I hate you, you know that! There’s something wrong with you, Ness!”
His fingers find his hair again. Nails jab into his skin.
“That’s probably true, but it doesn’t make my feelings any less real.”
“Why don’t you call me trash? Just say it, I know you think it—”
The thought hits him out of nowhere—
His father calling him subhuman.
Then the flash: the televised award ceremonies, the vindictive scowl on that man’s face.
The kick to the head for forgetting the milk.
The next day, remembering it, stealing it, bringing it home—
And still having it dumped over his skull, sour and cold, his father’s hand pressing him under the running tap.
Yelling about wasting water. Spilled milk.
Memory and punishment bleed together. Always have.
Then—Ness.
Ness with scissors, cutting Kaiser’s hair so carefully that Kaiser almost fell asleep.
Ness, who held something sharp near his throat and still made him feel safe.
His father. Never saying his name. Isolating him. Hurting him.
His father.
The only person other who has touched his hair. Twisted and pulled until strands came loose.
Maybe that’s why Kaiser only knows how to pull, how to bruise.
Ness never pulls on him. Never bruises.
He touches like the world won’t shatter if he’s gentle enough.
Maybe Kaiser could learn from that—
—but no.
He hates himself too much to try.
Right?
“I think you’re lovable,” Ness says.
Kaiser winces. “You said you didn’t love me.”
His face dims with regret. “I'm sorry. I didn't think before speaking. I didn't mean it like that, I swear. To be honest, I've been confused ever since the cab ride.”
“How am I supposed to believe you’re not confused now?”
The words slice out before he can stop them. But deep down, Kaiser knows Ness isn’t lying.
“You saved my magic, Micha—”
Hope is terrifying. He spits it out like poison. “You let me believe you loved me—when I told you to be my boyfriend—”
“Because I wanted to be loved too, okay?” Ness blurts out, grimacing. “In the taxi, when you accused me of loving you, I panicked. I didn’t understand why my body reacted like that. I mean, you’ve always been special to me, but it didn’t hit me all at once.”
He swallows hard. “I said ‘yes’ to being your boyfriend partly to prove a point—that you’re worthy of love, even if you can’t see it. I know you've been trying to upset me the whole day so I'd give up on you..." He worries his lip. "But also... I said yes because I’m selfish. Because I wanted to be loved, too. Even if it was pretend.”
He looks down, voice softening. “Before Blue Lock, sometimes I thought... maybe you cared. You told me about your rose tattoo. You trusted me to cut your hair. You ask me to go shopping, eat meals with you. You ask what I think when you’re not sure about something. You calm me down when I’m anxious. Those things mattered to me.”
Ness hesitates, eyes shining. “So even when you were awful—when you grabbed my hair, when you threw your drink in my face, when you called me a pig—I didn’t walk away. Because I knew that wasn’t the whole story. That wasn’t all of you.”
He lifts his chin, determined. “I didn’t lie to you, Michael. I was just confused, and scared. But not anymore.”
A pause. His eyes don’t leave Kaiser’s. “I don’t care what you say. You’re not trash.”
Kaiser’s throat closes. “Stop... Stop thinking I’m worth this, Ness. I’m not human—just a fucking mess. You’re just wasting your time.” He presses a hand over his heart, like he could crush the feeling out of it. “I always wanted to be human, but now you’re hurting me. Just hate me already. It would be easier for both of us.”
“No, I can't hate you. Even if you're mean sometimes. I love that part of you, too."
They hold each other’s gaze—one afraid to believe it, the other asking him to.
"You’re so beautiful,” Ness whispers. “In every sense of the word. You’re my favorite football player, you know—”
“Who cares about football?” Kaiser mumbles. Can't tell what's true anymore. “I never liked it anyway.”
Ness looks horrified.
Michael almost laughs—almost. “Tell me you hate me.”
“I don’t.”
“Tell me to fuck off, Ness.”
“No.”
“Hit me, Ness.”
“No.” Ness doesn’t waver. Shakes his head. “When I was little, I liked to make snowmen.”
Kaiser stares. “What?”
“Snowmen,” Ness repeats, soft. “My siblings would always smash them. Break my toys. Tell me I was stupid. That I didn’t belong. You called me useless too, Michael. But I can’t let go of you. I don’t want to. My siblings were malicious, but I don’t feel that from you. You just seem… sad. At IKEA today, you felt so sad. I didn’t know what to do. But I want to learn.”
Kaiser’s chest feels split open. Naked.
But he doesn’t run. Not this time.
“I don’t fucking understand you, Ness.”
His voice trembles like glass about to give. “You let me treat you like trash. Like your siblings did. And they never apologized, did they? And I haven’t either. And the louder I get, the quieter you become. I hate it.”
“Kaiser…Michael… Stop…” Ness’s voice cracks. Kaiser is always stealing from him, somehow. “I don’t want to yell at you. I don’t want to hurt you. I lo—”
Then he stops.
It hurts Kaiser more than he could ever understand.
Being loved is all he ever wanted.
And Ness is holding back—
Kaiser stares, unblinkingly, even when his eyes sting.
Ness’s face crumples, pinching his nose like he’s barely holding himself together.
And—
“Kaiser, I think we should break up.”
A pause.
Then, with finality—he sucks in a breath, fists closing at his sides.
“I’m breaking up with you. Because I’m in love with you.”
Once, Kaiser read a book that described heartbreak like glass shattering. He’d thought that was a stupid metaphor—he’d felt glass break before, plenty of times. Beer bottles smashed over his head. Windows caving in under bricks. TV screens cracked in drunken rage. None of it ever felt sad. Just loud. Dangerous.
But this… this feels like he’s an empty box filled with glass shards, and Ness is shaking him mercilessly.
Being loved is all he’s ever wanted.
And now Ness is taking that away from him.
“Why?” Fuck, Kaiser’s eyes burn, his face is hot. He hiccups. “If you love me, then why are you leaving me?”
It’s pathetic. Isn’t he getting what he wanted?
He’ll push Ness out of the apartment and deny it later.
“I’m not leaving you.”
Kaiser presses the heels of his palms into his eyes until technicolor swirls burst behind his eyelids. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means I love you and want to be by your side. But I can’t do this,” he gestures between them, “anymore. What we're doing. It’s not right. You asked me to be your boyfriend to make me hate you, but it only made me realize I love you. That part is real. How I feel is real. And because of that, I can’t keep doing this.”
Kaiser’s hands tremble, his eyes glassy with a storm of feeling—joy tangled with bitterness, a sharp ache burning behind his ribs.
“Shitty Ness... I almost want to believe you,” he mutters, kicking the floor. “You love me. You love me, you love me.”
Elation floods him, too bright to hold. He feels unreal. His body recoils on instinct—but even as it slips, he reaches for it, desperate to keep it close.
“You’re always there, rooting for me, backing my craziest plans, because you’re in love with me... but why? Why me?”
“I don’t really have a reason, Michael. You’re you.”
Michael Kaiser is a bully. Malicious.
But sometimes Ness looked at him as if he were precious.
Kaiser felt it, too. Fleetingly.
Unstoppable.
Wanted.
Ness gave him freedom.
Maybe with that freedom, Kaiser could try.
Try…
“So...What does this mean? Are you…”
Kaiser sighs, and stares at his hands—still empty, even after hours of being full of love.
He could be angry, but it kind of makes sense. Love isn’t tangible, and he’s an unfillable cup.
Love isn’t something he can steal, hoard, or earn.
And that injustice burrows under his skin like rot.
Self loathing. Hope.
Pushing. Pulling.
“Are you…not going to love me anymore? You'll just turn it off?”
“That's not something I can turn off.”
Kaiser’s gaze lingers on Ness—his nose, the way his eyebrows stay hidden beneath his unruly hair. It’s like he’s memorizing him, desperate to hold on. “What if I don't want you to stop loving me?”
“I won't.”
“I mean...” Kaiser bites his lip, voice rough. “I don’t want this to end. I don’t want us to break up.”
One side of Ness’s mouth hikes up into a smile, but his chin quivers the way it does before he starts bawling. Kaiser represses the urge to put his hand over Ness’s eyes, if only to protect himself from the guilt of always, always, being responsible for Ness crying.
“Fuck, Ness. Is the idea of me loving you that terrible?”
“No, no—never.” Ness sniffles, wiping his own tears away. What is it about Kaiser that always makes Ness suffer? “I… I’m happy. This is something I didn’t realize I wanted until now.”
Kaiser smiles sadly. It's weird, being wanted. Incredible. Terrifying. “You have really shitty taste, Ness."
Ness tucks one of Kaiser's blue strands behind his ear. “I love you.”
Maybe this isn't a loss, Kaiser thinks.
Yes, he feels like a hungry vortex, desperate for love, loath to hold it.
But he feels little pinpricks of happiness at hearing that Ness wants them, too.
They're just...
Starting. Ending. Starting.
Staying, but not stagnant.
Ness leads Kaiser to the bathroom, guides the toothbrush into his hand when Kaiser can’t grip it right because he's too exhausted. Brushes Kaiser’s teeth himself when it’s clear he won’t manage. Washes his face with careful fingers, warm water, soft cloth. Scrubs until his skin is raw and fresh and clean.
Kaiser realizes his heart is starting to feel the same way, faintly.
Undressing is clumsy—Ness fumbling with buttons, clothes pooling around their feet before they slide into pajamas and Ness tucks them both into bed. He’s the one leading, but for once, Kaiser doesn’t mind.
It doesn’t feel like losing.
“I love you, Micha,” Ness says, like he can’t believe it himself.
“I’ve always wanted to be loved,” Kaiser replies, hollow. Disbelieving. And yet, with so much emptiness, there is so much room...
“Me too,” Ness whispers.
It strikes Kaiser, suddenly, how much they actually have in common—more than he’d ever let himself believe. He twiddles his thumbs. “I don’t think I know how to love.”
“I don’t know how to love without losing myself. But… However I end up loving, I want it to be you. I do love you.”
Something deep inside Kaiser gives—like ice shearing off into a dark, frozen sea. He cries there, in the bed, in the dark, with Ness silent beside him. Ness doesn’t comfort him, but he doesn’t leave either.
Back home, crying had only made things worse. He learned to do it covertly. Alone.
Kaiser doesn’t bother wiping his tears. He never has. “I think there’s something wrong with me…” The dark psychology books and sketchy articles on manipulation and coercion that he’s read online flash in his mind. “I know there is.”
“Even if that’s true,” Ness says softly, “it doesn’t change how I feel.”
“You’re stubborn.”
“I know. I love you.”
Each time Ness says it, it lands differently—still not the right shape or size—but a little easier to hold.
Kaiser laughs under his breath, eyes on his hands. “So now what?”
“I need space. Just for a little bit,” Ness says, rubbing his palms together. “I’m going to Hamburg tomorrow after all… We’ll meet in two weeks to train for the World Cup, remember? We can talk more then. And…I think you should talk to a therapist.”
“You think I’m crazy?”
“No. It’s just… something people do. I’ve been thinking about starting therapy, too. There are things I want to talk about.”
“Like what?” The words slip out before Kaiser knows what he’s asking. The thought that Ness has private feelings Kaiser hasn’t already seen unsettles him. Makes him feel left out.
“My parents are scientists,” Ness starts, hushed. “They raised me to believe science could answer anything.
When I asked what dreams and memories were made of, they told me about neurons.
When I asked what the wind was made of, they told me about molecules.
But when I asked why we dream, or why we love certain people, they couldn’t answer.
Maybe no one can answer. And that’s okay.
But…why couldn’t they try for me?”
Kaiser chews on his lip. Thinks Ness is something that shouldn’t exist in this world but does—beautiful, fragile, infallible, raw. A contradiction. A miracle.
He wants to press a pillow over Ness’s face just to feel him struggle.
But more than that, he wants to let Ness breathe.
“Hey, Ness.”
Bright eyes meet his: clear, intense, flecked with magenta like bruised starlight.
It dawns on Kaiser that Ness looks at him because he wants to. That truth is a dangerous mercy. Want can be withdrawn. And Kaiser knows—one day, Ness could decide not to look at him at all.
It would wreck him.
Still, something stubborn and tender in Kaiser rises to meet the risk.
A shiver of reckless hope coils in his gut, tugging against the fear.
“Yes, Micha?”
The first time they met, Ness had been on the ground, broken, tears clumped in his lashes, disillusionment etched across his face like a map. Now he’s here on the same playing field as Kaiser, steady and vivid, eyes shining, waiting.
Kaiser understands, distantly, that Ness’s ability to tear up isn’t a weakness.
He leaves room for the possibility that his own crying isn't a weakness either.
Kaiser draws in a breath so deep it rattles through his ribs, trying to steady the chaos in his chest. His heart flips, tumbles, refuses to be calmed. His head hurts from crying, but he does feel a little lighter.
“Can we start over?” he asks, voice low.
Ness doesn’t hesitate. “Yes. Okay.”
“I’ll probably mess up again. A lot. So…”
“Okay. Me too.”
Kaiser holds out his hand. He almost asks Ness to dye his hair before leaving tomorrow—not for the color, but so his blue would linger on Ness’s hands while they're apart. A mark to stay, until they can try again.
But Ness simply laces their fingers together, and they lie down, facing each other. Kaiser falls asleep, rubbing Ness’s thumb.
In the morning, he’ll wake with a leg draped over Ness, Ness tucked into his side.
They’ll kiss at the airport, one more time. Ness will cry. Kaiser will say, “We’ll see each other in two weeks,” like a promise. And it will occur to him that this is the first time they’ll be apart since they met.
Ness will hug him, and Kaiser won’t know how, but he’ll try.
He’ll imagine Ness taking the window seat for himself this time.
And when Kaiser looks up at the sky an hour later, watching contrails disappear into blue, he’ll hope quietly that someday, Ness will offer that seat again.
Next time, he’ll be ready.