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It starts like this: Reo’s in the bathroom, Nagi is getting bored staring at the fourteen linear algebra problems on Reo’s computer, and Nagi opens a new tab. He means to quickly search up a walkthrough of a level that he’s been stuck on in his video game for a while, but his fingers still over Reo’s keyboard when he sees the autofill response after typing in the first word.
How to confess to a crush, it reads.
Oh, Nagi thinks.
Nagi shouldn’t actually be surprised. Reo is Reo, after all, and Nagi’s no stranger to witnessing the rooftop confessions that Reo receives. Just because he’s seen so many of them doesn’t mean he’s used to it, though, and the fact that Reo wants to do the same—blush prettily while offering a small box of chocolates with a bow that’s always the wrong shade of purple—to someone else makes a bitter taste rise in Nagi’s mouth.
So this time when Reo chats amicably with a classmate as he always does, Nagi watches for any sign—a laugh that’s quicker than usual, a grin that’s wider than normal, or a flush on his cheeks—of infatuation to appear on Reo. Nagi watches and watches and watches, and yet Reo seems to interact with their classmates just as he’s always done.
He wrinkles his nose in frustration when he sees Reo wave a polite goodbye to a girl in their literature class. He’s observed Reo the entire day, but he’s seen nothing to signal a crush or anything of the sort. Is he that clueless in reading Reo’s cues? Surely not, when Nagi can categorize every one of Reo’s smiles—surely not, right?
“Ready for practice?” Reo says with a grin—that’s the one that’s most common when he’s talking about soccer.
Nagi hums, trying to push away any visible frustration on his face by looking away. Nagi isn’t the only one who’s been able to pick up on microexpressions from their time together, and usually Nagi rather likes that Reo can pick up on his wordless thoughts so often, but this time, Nagi would rather his thoughts stay his alone. After all, he still can’t put a name to the strange feeling tugging at his guts.
For better or for worse, Reo doesn’t comment on his disposition. Instead, he glances to the side as he shoves his hands in his pockets. He’s silent for a bit as they walk to the field, which Nagi doesn’t mind—even silence, with Reo, is a sort of comfortable, but when Nagi glances over, there’s a thoughtful furrow in Reo’s brow.
“Nagi,” Reo says, stopping abruptly. Nagi, a few steps later, stops too, turning back to find Reo staring with narrowed eyes at the ground below. “I…” He trails off. “There’s something I…”
Nagi stares at Reo curiously. Reo’s never been one to hesitate to speak his mind no matter the circumstances, so his behavior now is more than odd. Nagi distantly wonders if it’s something in relation to Reo’s crush—if so, Nagi hopes he’ll be able to school his expression into something relatively flat before revealing his distaste for the idea.
Distaste—is that what this is? That doesn’t seem right. The idea that there’s someone Reo likes doesn’t cause distaste, necessarily; Nagi isn’t upset that there’s someone that makes Reo happy in a giggly, blushy way, but—
“Here,” Reo interrupts Nagi’s thoughts, pressing a small box into his hands. “For you.”
Nagi blinks. He opens the box wordlessly, blinking again when he finds a pair of dark gloves tucked inside.
“I thought… it might help you on the field,” Reo says, and he sounds so, so awkward, and Nagi cannot figure out for the life of him why. This isn’t anything new, anyway—Reo’s bought him items for soccer plenty of times in the past, but when he looks up from the gloves, Reo is fidgeting.
Reo. Fidgeting. The action doesn’t seem to match with the person as he knows him, and Nagi can do nothing but stare silently at Reo for a few moments before looking away.
“Thanks,” Nagi murmurs, and he thinks the expression of gratitude might ease Reo’s apparent anxiety a bit, but Reo only gives him a strange look—is that disappointment lingering in his eyes?—before looking away with a laugh.
“Yeah,” he says breezily. “No more excuses to slack off in practice, okay?”
This is something Nagi knows how to handle. “Reoo,” he mutters. “It’s such a pain.”
And Reo grins—a Nagi-specific smile for him alone, and Nagi thinks—
He’s not upset that there’s someone that makes Reo happy in a giggly, blushy way, but—
—maybe, he wants that someone to be him.
It is, on later thought, a realization as ill-timed as it is horrifying.
Seishiro Nagi is not the relationship type, to say the least. The handholding, the dates, the kisses—it all seems like an awful lot of work, especially for someone who can barely be bothered to get out of bed and brush his teeth. It would be a massive pain, Nagi thinks, but then he sees Reo receive another rooftop confession—what, is there something in the air?—and he gets that strange, writhing feeling in his stomach again, a bitter taste of something like jealousy on his tongue, and he thinks maybe, with Reo, it wouldn’t be so much of a pain.
Not that he’ll ever know, because Reo’s apparently got someone else in mind.
Nagi decides it doesn’t matter though, not really, because Reo treats him the same as he always does, with grins and touches and words reserved for him. In particular, Nagi now finds himself paying extra close attention to the latter. Reo isn’t typically reticent with his compliments, especially when it comes to Nagi’s skill on the field, but more recently, Reo’s taken to complimenting him in regards to other things, too.
“You’ve got really soft hair,” Reo remarks one day, his fingers trailing through Nagi’s locks as Nagi rests his head against the desk. Nagi makes a vague noise of confusion, and with a light laugh, Reo lifts his hand. “It’s kind of unfair. You don’t even have to put effort into it.”
Nagi doesn’t know how to ask for Reo to go back to petting Nagi’s hair without sounding desperate, so he simply lets out a long sigh before lifting his head up. “What?” he asks when he finds Reo still staring at him strangely.
“You’re attractive,” Reo blurts out. “You know that, right?”
Nagi blinks slowly. “What?”
“You know,” Reo starts, his cheeks beginning to color. “Like, in a casual way. You know?” He looks away. “I read something about the effortlessly attractive aesthetic once,” Reo continues, his voice dropping in volume until it dissolves into unintelligible mumbles.
Nagi has no idea what Reo is talking about. Reo, calling him attractive? Did Reo hit his head?
Nagi leans in closer to squint at Reo. “Did you hit your head?”
“Huh?” Reo says, surprised. “What? No, I—”
His face is still terribly red. Maybe he’s got a fever. Nagi brings his hand to Reo’s forehead to check for his temperature, but Reo startles away.
That’s odd, too. Reo’s never been one to shy away from physical affection.
“What are you doing,” Reo blurts out.
Nagi lets his hand drop. “Checking if you have a fever.”
“...I don’t have a fever, Nagi.”
“Are you sure? You’re really red.”
Reo slams the textbook on his desk closed with a loud laugh. “Would you look at the time!” he giggles out, and then he’s out the door. Nagi watches him leave before dropping his head back onto the desk with a sigh.
What a pain, Nagi thinks.
Ever since Nagi’s realized his feelings for Reo, he’s expected something to change. He’s expected Reo’s lingering touches to make his heart race faster, Reo’s wide grins to make his skin flush, Reo’s laugh to echo in his ears—
—but, well. Reo has always sort of had that effect on Nagi, and now, the only thing that’s changed is Nagi’s lingering fear that it’ll come crashing to a halt one day. If Reo finally confesses to the person he likes, wouldn’t they be the new recipient of Reo’s affection? Wouldn’t they be on the receiving end of Reo’s smiles and laughter and—
—wouldn’t Nagi, once again, go back to a life of solitude?
That won’t do, Nagi thinks, closing his eyes against the wind pushing at his face as Reo bikes the both of them to Nagi’s apartment. Yes, Nagi liked being alone, but alone and without Reo had two very different meanings, and Nagi has slowly come to realize that he really, really does not want to go back to the latter.
At the very least, his supposed talent in soccer should keep Reo around.
It’s that very thought swirling in his head when Reo’s bike comes to a stop in front of the Hakuho student dorms, and it’s why Nagi’s so absentminded when he clambers off of the bike. He’s so absentminded, actually, that he nearly misses when Reo hesitates, opens his mouth, closes his mouth, darts forward to press his lips against Nagi’s cheek quickly, and blurts out a hurried “bye, Nagi, see you tomorrow!” before quickly biking away.
Nagi freezes completely—his limbs, his body, his thoughts.
Ever so slowly, he brings a hand to his cheek where Reo—
—where Reo kissed him?
Already, the fleeting touch is fading from his skin, but the memory, he can already tell, is going to be much harder to shake. If only he hadn’t been so distracted—maybe then, he could have better categorized the look on Reo’s face, but he had disappeared so quick—
Oh, Nagi thinks, his hand dropping when he remembers a single incriminating search history. Maybe this is goodbye.
“Nagi,” Reo says one day. “I like you.”
“Oh,” Nagi says. “I like you, too.”
Goodbye, apparently, was right, because not even a few days after that kiss—although Nagi is still reluctant to classify it as such, given its half-a-moment presence—Reo is nowhere to be seen. He doesn’t show up to classes anymore, and Nagi can only shrug when their teachers ask after him. Practice, naturally, is canceled, and Nagi should be rejoicing, but all he can think of is that damn search history and Reo’s odd actions for the past week—
—before he realizes it, he’s made it to the Mikage residence.
Actually, he’s not sure how he even remembers which floor Reo occupied in the tall building, but when he finds himself face to face with a door with a familiar keychain on it—one Nagi gifted him a few months ago—he knows his memory has taken him to the right place.
His fist hovers awkwardly over the door. A few moments of deliberation later, he taps slightly at the door.
Surprisingly, the door opens. Nagi is privy to Reo’s stunned expression for half a moment before the door is promptly slammed shut in his face.
“...Reo?”
“Go away,” comes the muffled response. “What are you doing here?”
Nagi stares at the door, even though he knows Reo can’t see him. “I… have your homework?”
The door opens a crack for a skeptical eye to peer out. “Really?”
“No,” Nagi admits. “I was too lazy to pick it up.”
With a sigh, Reo opens the door further. “I knew it,” he mutters, wrapping his arms around each other and curling his shoulders into himself. “Well?” he asks when Nagi’s silence continues. “What are you doing here, then?”
What is Nagi doing here?
“Uh,” Nagi starts. “Hm.”
Reo’s eyebrows raise. “You don’t even know?”
Nagi shrugs. “I just wanted to see you, I guess.”
“You just wanted to see me,” Reo repeats. He lets out a weak laugh. “That’s—Nagi, seriously?”
Nagi frowns. It’s an unorthodox reason for him, yes, but Reo’s acting like it’s entirely beyond the boundaries of possibility altogether.
“Is that so hard to believe?” Nagi can’t help but ask.
“Is the idea that you want to see me after rejecting me four times in a week hard to believe?” Reo scoffs. “Yeah, Nagi, I think it is.”
Nagi doesn’t understand most of the words Reo’s just said.
“Rejecting you?” Nagi repeats slowly. He squints at Reo. “When did I…” He trails off. “Reject you about what?”
He tries to remember the past week and the events that have apparently worked Reo up so much, and even after running through their recent interactions in his mind, he can’t find a single instance of him rejecting Reo—not his gifts, not his words, not his touch, so what could Reo be talking about?
Reo sends him an exasperated look, much to Nagi’s further confusion. “What, you’re going to make me say it?”
“Say wh—”
“My confession, dumbass,” Reo blurts out before pulling back into himself. “Ah, shit. I told myself I wouldn’t make it awkward,” he mutters to himself, but Nagi can hardly hear him over the sound of his own thoughts—
—Reo’s confession?
Reo’s confession to… Nagi?
“What,” Nagi blurts out. “Confession to who.”
Reo eyes him strangely. “You’re not really asking that, are you?”
“Confession to who.”
Reo blinks.
“...you?”
Nagi blinks once. “I like you,” Reo had said. Twice. “Bye, Nagi, see you tomorrow,” Reo had said with a parting kiss. Thrice. “You’re attractive,” Reo had said. “You know that, right?” Four times. “Here,” Reo had said with uncharacteristic nervousness before pressing a box into Nagi’s hands, “for you.” Five times.
How to confess to a crush—
“Oh,” Nagi says out loud. “I’m the crush.” He blinks yet again. “I’m the crush.”
Reo stares at him. “Are you okay—”
“Reo,” Nagi interrupts. “I like you, too.”
Reo’s expression flattens. “Yeah, got the message loud and clear the last four times—”
“I like you too, Reo.”
Reo blinks. “You mean, like—”
“Like everything.” That’s terrible, Nagi thinks. He tries again. “Reo, I like you. I like your laugh, I like your smiles, I like your hands, I like your hair, I like your eyes, I—” He hesitates. “I like you, Reo.”
“Oh, wow,” Reo says weakly. “That’s, um—” His eyes flicker away. “This isn’t a roundabout way of rejecting me again, is it?”
Nagi thought he was the stupid one.
“I’m in love with you,” he says bluntly. Reo’s eyes widen.
“Oh, wow,” he croaks out. “Then, this entire week…”
“I had no idea you were trying to confess to me,” Nagi confirms. “I thought you were interested in someone else.”
“Someone else?” Reo repeats, like the very idea is unthinkable. “Why would I be interested in someone else when you’re right here?”
“...”
“...”
“...”
“...ah,” Reo mumbles, covering his face with a hand. “That was embarrassing, wasn’t it?”
“No,” Nagi says, pulling Reo’s hand away from his face to brush his lips against the back of his hand, “I think it’s perfect.” Just like Reo, he kind of wants to say, but the prominent blush on Reo’s face tells Nagi that he’d probably pass out entirely if he let the phrase slip.
But maybe next time, Nagi thinks—
—because they have enough next times for the rest of their lives.