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Reo hears from Nagi for the first time in two years in an interview.
It's a standard question, really; the host asks Nagi if he has a lover, and like the young, inexperienced football star that he is, Nagi blushes and shakes his head and stammers something stupid; something romantic about an old crush, about lingering feelings from a long time ago. He does not mention a name, and he does not say Reo Mikage, but the whole world seems to think he did.
Reo hasn't been keeping up with recent sports news, not for a long time, but Kunigami texts him a link early one Saturday afternoon. The title is in English, so Reo can't quite read it, but he knows enough to recognize the name Seishiro Nagi and close the tab immediately. He intends for it to stay that way, but he gets about a dozen more texts of a similar caliber in the same hour, and he has to wonder.
Even after he watches, Reo doesn't think much of it. He hasn't talked to Nagi in years—a childhood friend must be the last thing on his mind. Chigiri, though, is convinced otherwise.
"I don't understand why you're making such a big deal out of it," Reo tells Chigiri over call. "He's just talking about some old classmate from high school. Or Isagi, actually. Probably Isagi."
"Reo, he basically called you the love of his life," Chigiri says impatiently. "Don't you think you guys need to talk?"
"Isagi, not me," Reo corrects him.
Chigiri swears at him and hangs up.
It really is kind of dramatic, the way a single interview can take over the internet. It's all Reo sees on his feed for the next few days. It's all his friends text him about, too, which is especially awkward since the last time he talked to most of them was last decade. It's all a load of impromptu, inappropriately personal questions—Are you dating again? Did you talk to him? Has he talked to you? Just ask him out—and Reo is sick of it.
He is not the same person he was in Blue Lock. He isn't pathetic enough to drop to his knees the moment Nagi says his name, not anymore. His life no longer revolves around a boy who does not love him back, and yet something still stirs in his chest when he sees Nagi on his screen for the eighth time that week, fidgeting in his seat like a nervous schoolgirl, murmuring a confession into the microphone with such a painfully tender expression on his face.
"I love him more than anything."
Reo forces himself not to think about it. He doesn't think about Nagi much at all, actually, and it goes well for him until he remembers that this sort of publicity is contagious, and he answers his door one day to a pair of overeager young journalists.
"Are you Reo Mikage?" the one on the left asks, even though Reo's name is clearly branded on a fancy plaque by the doorbell. "We'd like to ask you a few questions."
"Um," Reo says. He'd just woken up, and he blinks sleepily at the strange visitors for a few bleary moments until it occurs to him to close the door.
"Is it true that you and Seishiro Nagi were dating?" asks the second intruder, sticking his foot in the doorway before Reo can shut them out. "We all know, of course, that you two were close during Blue Lock—"
The mention of the project leaves an unpleasant churning in the pit of his stomach. Reo hated Blue Lock; for bringing Isagi and Nagi together, for its brutality. Maybe simply because it was, in the end, what made him grow apart into his own person, away from Nagi. Now, it's a bad dream, a bad memory—he bristles at it, but before he can think to call security, the door is wrenched from his grasp, and he stumbles backward.
"Everyone wants to know, Mikage," says the first reporter, and Reo almost recoils. His family name is another dose of salt in the wound. Today, it seems, is determined to stir up everything he thought he buried. "What happened to you two? You were so close, and now it seems as if you're not even friends anymore. We'd like to arrange a meeting. A reunion of sorts, maybe rekindle an old flame—"
Reo snaps.
He was bound to, anyway, but he wanted it to be in his bedroom, in the dead of night, over old pictures of Nagi and a bottle of something strong. Not in front of these strange people and their notepads and their microphones, poised at Reo's face, recording as he snarls, "Why? There's nothing to rekindle. He means nothing to me."
It's almost true. He wants it to be true, because it would make his life so much easier, but there's a traitorous swell in his chest at his own words that makes him want to take them back immediately. But Reo is mad, now—at himself, at his friends, at Nagi for looking like such a beautiful, handsome stranger as he bared his heart to the world. As if he'd known Reo had just finished drawing away from him.
Come back, Nagi had seemed to say, with his shallow declaration of love. And he will never be Reo's—he hasn't been, not for a long time—but it's almost enough to make Reo want to crawl back on his years of painstaking work, and he hates it.
The two journalists are still on his front step, gawking at him. Reo pushes them gently out of the way, locks the door, and kicks a hole into his wall.
Reo no longer plays football, but he's always been well known and is even more so nowadays from Nagi's stunt, and his informal 'response' to Nagi's confession goes viral even faster than the original interview. Reo has enough sense left to shut off his phone and lock himself in his room so he can try and fail to scrape together the last of his sanity in peace. He numbs himself with time and a bit of alcohol, and when he emerges a day later to assess the damage, he finds a million messages in his inbox and a picture of Nagi awaiting him on every app he opens.
The media has turned them into a tragedy. Reo Mikage, desperate not to have his heart broken again, and Seishiro Nagi, the poor suitor, dragged away from his one true love by a series of unfortunate miscommunications. The first article on his feed that day features an old photo from high school, of Reo draped over an unwilling Nagi's shoulders in a postgame celebration. The nostalgia is borderline painful, but as Reo scrolls down, it seems like all anybody is talking about is their past.
He finds photos he'd forgotten about. He finds some photos he didn't even know existed, most from their Blue Lock days. He sees Nagi's indifference and he sees his own desperate affection, echoed in every unreciprocated embrace and eager smile, and it's really kind of pathetic, looking back at it.
Despite himself, Reo wonders what Nagi thinks of all these old memories. No doubt he's being pestered day and night for another interview. Still, it's hard to imagine Nagi caring much, especially since they haven't seen each other in so long. And Reo is the one who left Nagi in the first place, but it still stings to realize that Nagi probably hasn't even noticed his absence. Probably hasn't even noticed this fiasco.
(Don't think about it.)
But Reo cannot not think about it anymore, not when the sound of his phone ringing rouses him from sleep one night and his screen is a long list of Missed call from Seishiro Nagi all the way down, no matter how far Reo scrolls. It illuminates the inky darkness of Reo's bedroom, pale flashing gray across his bedsheets, stinging his eyes until he blinks away the glaring brightness.
He counts thirty-eight. Nagi has been calling for two hours. He's calling now, and Reo, still half-asleep, freezes up as he holds his vibrating phone on his hand. The call goes dead after three more rings; the phone falls cold and silent in Reo's palm, and it sits there, heavy, for another moment before it comes back to life again.
Reo is afraid. He's genuinely afraid, with the kind of gripping fear that paralyzes him right down to the tips of his fingers. He's shaking as he drops the phone and fumbles to pick it up again, but when his screen says Seishiro Nagi thirty-nine times, he cannot ignore it. He can't ignore Nagi, really, because the boy has been on his mind since they met, even if it hurts on the best of days to think about him.
Pick up, Nagi beseeches him, from across a city or two. Wherever he is.
Reo listens to him; he always does.
"Hello?"
"Reooo," Nagi whines. "Hey, Bachira, he picked up—I told you—told you he would—"
"Nagi, what's going on?"
Nagi laughs. Reo can count the number of times he's heard Nagi laugh on one hand, and it startles him now. Something in his chest flutters, and he forces it down before he does something stupid. "Nothing, Reo. Just wanted to, uh, talk. Yeah, how are you? How are you doing, Reo?"
"Nagi, where are you?"
"I'm at home," Nagi slurs. "Come over, Reo. We can talk."
"I'm not hooking up with you while you're drunk."
"Fuck," Nagi says. Reo, despite himself, chuckles a little. It would be funnier if they hadn't been strangers for the last two years, or if Nagi didn't sound so genuinely distraught at Reo's response, or—"How about when I'm sober?"
Reo digs his nails into his palms. "Definitely not," he says firmly. "Do you have anyone else with you?"
"Just Bachira. He's asleep in the...the other room." The phone spits a burst of rustling static into Reo's ear.
Reo clicks his tongue. "Bachira, are you there?" he calls.
"He's hammered," Nagi says gleefully. He sounds far too delighted for such a simple fact, and it occurs to Reo that he's never seen Nagi drunk before. Never heard him sound so happy, really, unless he was talking to Isagi. It's not something Reo likes to remember. "Hey, Reo, you ever gone out to drink before? It's fun, you should...come with me next time."
Reo doesn't respond. Nagi murmurs to himself, unintelligible, and quiets down once he realizes Reo isn't speaking anymore. "You still there? Talk to me."
"I'm here."
"Ah, good. That's good, Reo. Good." Nagi sighs happily. "Miss you, Reo. Always missing you. Haven't talked to you in so long, but I am now, that's pretty great, isn't it?"
Reo lets his head fall back against the wall with a thunk. He wedges the phone between his shoulder and cheek and says, "Nagi, why did you call? It's nearly midnight."
"You didn't answer me yet," Nagi says stubbornly. "Answer me. How are you?"
"I'm fine, Nagi."
"You sound mad."
Reo groans and raises his fist to pound against the mattress. The phone tumbles out of his hold at the movement, and he drops his arm, picks it back up gingerly. "I'm not mad, Nagi. I'm just tired."
"You're lying."
"So what if I am?"
Nagi shifts. Reo hears the scrape of wood on wood, probably a chair. "Reo, can we talk for a bit?" he asks, with a sudden weighty seriousness. "I haven't seen you since Blue Lock."
Reo presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth. He's glad that they're not having this conversation face-to-face, at least. "I've been avoiding you for a reason, Nagi," he mutters.
"I don't even know what that reason is," Nagi says mulishly.
"Don't see a reason for us to talk, then. I'm hanging up."
"Waitwaitwait, Reo, don't—"
Reo hangs up. It only takes two seconds for his phone to ring again, and by now he's so frustrated that he can't stop himself from raising his voice as he picks up and snarls, "What do you want?"
"Please," Nagi says. "Don't do this again. Don't just leave without saying anything."
Reo squeezes his eyes shut for a long, dizzying moment. He remembers another exchange, years ago, and is unable to swallow the sudden bitterness that lumps in his throat. Hypocrite, he thinks. Not as if he should expect anything from Nagi, anyway, why is he disappointed?
("I'll just join Isagi's team, then."
"Is that okay with you, Reo?")
"Isn't that exactly what you did to me?"
Nagi falls silent. Reo sinks into his pillows, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. "That was a long time ago," Nagi says, slow and measured. "I made a mistake, and I'm sorry. You already know that."
"Nagi..."
"I'm sorry, Reo."
Even after all this time, Reo is weak to Nagi. He caves, even as it grates on the way out when he says, "Fine, Nagi. What do you want to talk about?"
Nagi takes a moment before he answers. When he does, he's so quiet that Reo has to press his phone into his ear to hear. "Why did you disappear after Blue Lock? You didn't respond to anything I sent you. I didn't—you never told me why, and I thought we had finished being mad at each other."
The simple answer is to tell Nagi, "I got jealous," but somehow Reo doesn't think that's going to go over very well. It's petty, what he did, but the softer part of him couldn't live with the slow realization that Nagi would never look at him like he looked at Isagi. Maybe it was childish, blocking Nagi on every account he could think of, moving just to be sure that the other man wouldn't show up on his doorstep one day, but he'd been afraid.
"You didn't care about me anymore," Reo says instead. "Not like I wanted you to."
"What did you want, then?"
Reo runs his fingers through his hair. Nagi sniffles quietly on the other end of the line. "I wish you loved me," Reo finally says. He regrets it almost as soon as he says it, but there's no point in taking it back. It's not true anymore, anyway. It hasn't been for a long time.
Like it had flipped a switch in him, Nagi bursts to crackling, static life in Reo's hand. "Reo, I do," he says, startlingly earnest, his voice bright. "I promise you, that's all I've ever done—love you more than anyone else, you know I do—"
"It's not like you ever showed it," Reo says. "I mean, you didn't love me enough not to leave me, did you?"
"I wasn't leaving—"
"Whatever." Reo groans and drops his face into a hand, pulling at his own skin until it burns. Frustration is beginning to bubble in the pit of his stomach, and he struggles to squash it before it boils over. "Doesn't matter, does it? We're both happier now."
Nagi lets out a tense, irritated grumble, and Reo bites back his next words in favor of letting him speak. "I never agreed to any of this," Nagi says, his voice tight. "I'm not happy right now. And you can lie to me if you want to, but I don't think you are, either."
"What, are you going to tell me that I'd be happy with you?" Reo spits. Nagi inhales, quick and quiet, and Reo allows himself a moment of vindictive satisfaction. "You're going to tell me that you'd treat me well? That you'd care about me? Because that's bullshit, and we both know it."
Nagi makes a miserable sort of noise on the other end of the line, something between a whine and a sigh, and Reo hates himself immediately. "I tried my best, Reo," Nagi says. He suddenly sounds incredibly small. Reo deflates instantly, his anger seeping away as quickly as it had come. "I always tried for you. I'm sorry it wasn't enough."
"Your best is..." awful, is the truth, but Reo is too tired to fight now. "...it needs work."
"Not anymore," Nagi says. There's an eager, desperate quiver to his voice as he speaks. "Reo, I'm better now. I'll never hurt you again. I'll take care of you. I'll do anything you want, I promise. All you have to do is ask."
"Nagi—"
Nagi ignores him. "Do you still want to win the World Cup?" he asks. Reo goes still for one long, frozen moment. "I'll bring it to you, Reo. I know I can. You just have to tell me you want it. I'll do it, I swear, I won't mess up again."
Reo drags in a breath and lets it out with a shaking exhale. "Nagi, please," he says. His voice rattles in his throat. "I don't—"
"Come home to me."
"I don't want to," Reo says gently. It's the truth, but the way Nagi goes dead silent in his ear chills him to the bone. "I'm sorry, Nagi. It's just not the same as it was before."
Something clatters on Nagi's end. There's a distant voice, a muffled call that fades immediately. Probably Bachira. "It can be," Nagi says quietly. "I'll do it for you. Whatever you want, Reo, please."
Reo bites his tongue. He shakes his head, and Nagi can't see him, but he seems to sense it anyway.
"I love you, Reo."
"I don't believe you."
"Reo," Nagi repeats, like a plea. Reo drives his nails into the skin behind his ear and tries not to cry. "Reo, I don't give a shit about Isagi. I don't care about him like I care about you. I'll stop talking to him if you ask me to."
"This isn't about Isagi," Reo says. Something breaks inside of him, a careful collapse, and Reo relents with a defeated sigh. "Just...I'm over it now. I'm sorry for ghosting you. I'm doing fine."
"But I'm not."
They've both run out of things to say, it seems. Reo drops a finger over the red circle on his screen and holds it there. He doesn't press it, not yet—he can still hear Nagi breathing, gentle and steady, as if he'd fallen asleep. "I'm not mad at you," Reo says hesitantly, grasping into the dark. "I care about you. Always."
Nagi hums, drowsy. "Thank you," he whispers, easy as anything. "Do you love me, too?"
Behind the dark of his own eyelids, Reo gathers himself. It's easier to say no—it's not entirely untrue, either, but love is a flimsy term and when it comes to Nagi, Reo has always bled around the edges. Reo is still scared, though, to hurt again after years of steeling himself. But he thinks of Nagi, shrouded in the black of a night like his with only the hopeful buzz of alcohol to keep him company, and he can't bring himself to break his heart.
"Maybe," is what Reo says instead, distantly, the words unfurling from his tongue like a quiet truth. "I used to, Nagi, but I really don't know anymore."
The silence is heavy. Reo hunches his shoulders and listens to Nagi breathe, a series of choppy exhales that fall apart and back together again until Reo realizes that the other man is crying. "You okay, Nagi?" he says quietly.
"No," Nagi says thickly. He hiccups. "Am I supposed to be?"
Reo rolls onto his side. He sets the phone, carefully, onto the mattress. "Back then, I never would have thought you'd cry over me," he says.
"Me neither," Nagi says, a little lighter. Familiar. The gnaw in Reo's chest ebbs a little, and he allows himself to smile. "It was slow. You grew on me."
"Wish I grew on you a little faster."
"I've loved you for a long time, Reo."
(Reo almost loves him back.)
"It's okay," Nagi tells him. Reo hears him inhale, slow and steady, like he's holding himself together. "I'll stay with you. I'll love you enough for both of us, until you come back to me."
Reo does not try for anyone except Nagi, and he tells him so. "I need time. I can't promise you anything, Nagi, but I'll try."
"That's all I want to hear," Nagi says. Reo yawns, and Nagi laughs, says, "Sorry for waking you up. I didn't actually expect you to pick up after the twentieth call."
"Unfortunately, I think I'd always answer you," Reo says. His eyelids are heavy, and it takes a tremendous effort to reach for his phone and say, "I'm going to sleep, Nagi. Goodnight."
"Call me?" Nagi asks. "In the morning."
"I won't," Reo says. "But I won't ignore you." Not anymore. "I'll pick up if you call, okay?" Nagi doesn't answer right away, and Reo chuckles and adds, "I guess we'll have to see if you remember any of this, huh?"
Nagi sighs. Reo hears the smile in his voice as he replies.
"I remember everything about you."
"You're a handsome, young man, Nagi. Surely you've got a sweetheart at home?"
"...Sweetheart?"
"A lover. Who's the lucky girl?"
"Ah—about that. I, uh..."
"Go on."
"There's no 'lucky girl,' but there's a—there's a boy. He's an old friend of mine."
"How did you meet?"
"It was a long time ago. He just sort of...picked me up, I guess. He's the reason I play football. He's the reason I do pretty much anything, really. I'm going to win the World Cup for him one day."
"That's touching."
"We actually haven't talked in...a long time."
"Aw, that's a shame. How come?"
"I don't know, really. I upset him. I, um...I do that a lot. I didn't know enough to treat him well, and we went our separate ways. I know I was hurting him, and it's my fault , but I miss him every day."
"I see."
"..."
"You liked him a lot?"
"I still do, after all these years. I love him more than anything."
"If you could talk to him now, what would you say?"
"...I don't know, honestly. I'm scared to see him."
"..."
"Hey, if you're watching...just, um...just know you mean the world to me. You always have. I'm waiting at home for you, whenever you're ready. Even if you never are."
"Do you want to give us a name?"
"No need. He knows who he is."