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Summary:

In a world where gods and monsters walk among high school students.
Nagi Seishiro sees what no one else can—
scales, dark as night, coiled tight around Mikage Reo.

He knows he shouldn’t look.
He knows he shouldn’t care.

But with every step, the thread pulls tighter, until it’s hard to tell when everything began to unravel.

Chapter 1: 表裏

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Lazy footsteps echoed through the empty hallway. Nagi Seishiro drifted aimlessly, hands shoved into the pockets of his pants. A pair of white headphones hung loosely around his neck.

This was the third time he’d been sent to the staff room in a month — the same amount of time he’d been enrolled at this school. No matter the place, it was always the same: boring lectures, unremarkable classmates, teachers repeating things he’d already forgotten, monotonous days. Like a loop with no exit — just different walls around him.

Getting transferred in the middle of the semester was a pain in the ass — but leaving the country just to follow his parents? That would've been worse.

This time, the math teacher had made him write apology letters for falling asleep in class. But what could he even say? Class was boring as hell, and even when he didn’t pay attention, he still got decent grades. So what was the problem?

Thanks to the old man and his reprimand, he’d missed his chance to leave before the weather cornered him. Heavy rain drummed against the rooftop like it wanted to split it open, and going home wasn’t an option anymore. Listless, his feet carried him to the farthest end of the building, half on autopilot — a place he’d only visited once, back when some faceless classmate had shown him around.

The library.

Though Nagi enjoyed quiet places, the library’s silence always felt oddly heavy — too dense, almost suffocating.

“This is as good a place as any to kill time.” He opened the door, expecting the place to be empty.

Or so he thought.

There he was. Sitting by the window, a book open in his hands, though his gaze lingered on the raindrops tapping against the glass.

Mikage Reo.

Nagi had seen him before. No classes in common, but still, he stood out. Always surrounded, yet somehow unreachable. Just glimpses in passing; during lunch, in the hallways, brief moments that left a lasting impression. It was like he existed on a slightly different frequency than the rest, giving the sense that he didn’t need anyone, yet still held everyone’s attention. A complete enigma.

He was alone, which was rare.

Except… he wasn’t.

Draped over his left shoulder, coiled with an elegance that felt almost unnatural, was a snake. Pitch-black scales shimmered under the fluorescent light, giving it an ethereal glow — beautiful, yet dangerous.

Nagi blinked, rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. Just a trick of the light — It wasn’t.

The snake slowly lifted its head, as if it had heard the door open. A pair of cold, golden eyes stared at him — not curious, just aware.

It acknowledged him.

Reo didn’t react. Didn’t even flinch. Like the creature belonged there, at his side. A jarring sight to witness. After what felt like an eternity, Reo finally spoke.

"Are you coming in or not?" he asked flatly, without turning.

The voice caught Nagi off guard. It was the first time he’d heard it up close — the first time Reo had ever spoken to him directly. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t noticed the snake before — he’d never looked at Reo this closely. He’d always kept his distance. Never saw a reason to get involved with a rich kid like him. But now, seeing him like this — quiet, detached, with that thing resting on him languidly — Nagi couldn’t look away.

With slow steps, Nagi made his way to the table behind Reo’s, pulling out his phone. He didn’t speak — only watched, eyes tracing the slow rhythm of the black being’s movements. The screen glowed dimly as he opened his game, just to distract himself from the crawl of unease the reptile stirred in his insides. Eventually, the glow of the screen blurred into the rainlight, and he pocketed it again.

The snake slithered down from Reo’s shoulder to his forearm, wrapping around it like a living, breathing bracelet made of onyx. Reo turned another page, his fingers brushing lightly against the scales.

"Does he even know...? Maybe not," Nagi wondered, resting his cheek on his hand.

That thing wasn’t an ordinary animal. He was sure of it.

He’d seen them before. Shadows that moved on their own. Shapes that didn’t belong. Reflections that didn’t match the person standing in front of them. Annoying monsters inhabiting the periphery, hidden in plain sight.

And Mikage Reo might be someone who perceived them too.

Or so Nagi assumed.

But what intrigued the white-haired boy most wasn’t just the creature’s presence. It was the way Mikage acted — like the snake was part of him. Welcoming it.

This was the first time Nagi had seen one that didn’t hide, as if the snake knew it wasn’t necessary. And that unsettled him more than he expected.

"Why did he let it cling to him?"

And for the first time in a long while, Nagi felt something akin to… curiosity. Tugging at the back of his mind.

He stayed like that for a while. Still, barely breathing, as Reo flipped through the pages like nothing was written there. At this point, Nagi wasn’t even sure if the purple-haired boy was really reading or just pretending to.

The room felt heavier now. Not oppressive, but dense — like the air itself knew something Nagi didn't.

The snake flicked its tongue, tasting the humidity in the air. Its gaze shifted from Nagi to Reo’s face — waiting.

Nagi leaned back slightly in his chair. He wasn’t afraid — not exactly. But he had to admit: the sight of the black creature made his stomach churn. He hated that feeling more than anything.

Reo sat perfectly straight. Elegant. Controlled. Too controlled. Not the casual stillness of someone lost in thought, but something rehearsed. As if he were putting on an act.

The downpour hummed outside, a soft backdrop to Nagi’s reverie. Somewhere in the room, a fluorescent light buzzed faintly. The faint smell of old books and dust surrounded them. It felt like they were the only people existing in the world right now.

And Nagi wondered how long the snake had been with him. A year? Two? Since he was born?

"Why are you staring?" Reo asked suddenly, snapping Nagi out of his thoughts and back into reality. His voice was quiet but steady, like he was already bored of waiting for Nagi to speak.

"…It moved," Nagi muttered, eyes still on the black creature.

Reo turned to face him. Violet finally met gray, holding him in place. Nagi had never seen eyes with such an unreal color. Like dusk had been captured inside them. And yet, they looked dull. Uninterested. Unlike anything he’d seen before.

"What moved?" Reo asked, nonplussed, arching an eyebrow.

"You know exactly what," Nagi replied matter-of-factly.

In truth, he was making a bet — either the boy knew he was being haunted by something supernatural, or he didn’t. Either way, Nagi couldn’t help but want an answer, even though he wasn’t quite sure why he cared. And if the purple-haired boy was unaware of the black creature, well… Nagi was already used to being labeled a weirdo, so it didn’t bother him.

For a split second, something flickered across Reo’s face — surprise, maybe — before settling back into its usual composure. He let out a soft breath, almost like a laugh.

"Yeah. It tends to."

No denial. No further explanation.

And Nagi didn’t push.

He just kept watching, the flicker of interest in his chest growing warmer, unfamiliar. After that brief interaction, Reo stopped talking to him. Suddenly, the phone on the table — next to the book he’d been skimming — vibrated.

With a swift motion, he shut the book, grabbed his things, and slung his bag over his shoulder. The black creature slithered with practiced ease over his other arm. Both of them left the library without a single glance in Nagi’s direction. A breath Nagi hadn’t realized he was holding escaped. The wooden table, cold against his forehead.

There was something enthralling about Mikage Reo.

 

 


 

 

That night, sleep didn’t come easily.

After waiting what seemed like an eternity, the rain finally let up, allowing Nagi to return to the dorms. He still ended up soaked, thanks to forgetting his umbrella.

Nagi sat on the edge of the bed, shirtless, rubbing his head with a towel in one hand and scrolling through his phone with the other.

“What an annoyingly exhausting day.”

He was about to throw his phone aside when something caught his attention — a photo. Mikage Reo, again. Two guys posed for the camera, trying to look cool, while Reo just looked to the side, distracted. Nagi fell onto his back, still looking at the photo. The snake wasn’t visible.

“Well, obviously,” Nagi muttered, turning off the device.

He lay there, eyes half-open, watching the shadows shift across the ceiling. The rain hadn’t stopped. It tapped against the window in uneven rhythms, like a second heartbeat. Occasional flickers of lightning painted the walls in white for a breath, then vanished.

He couldn’t stop thinking about those golden eyes. Liquid amber waiting to swallow him whole the moment he misstepped. Warning him to stay in his place. Never had one of those things looked straight at him so openly, so brazenly.

And those alluring, yet seemingly hollow violet eyes that barely spared him a glance. It was like something inside Reo wasn’t where it was supposed to be. Nagi wished he could’ve looked into them for a bit longer. Just enough to catch whatever was behind the surface. Maybe then he’d understand why Reo provoked him so much in such a short time.

Nagi turned to lie on his side, closing his eyes. He could still picture the way the black creature moved — fluid, deliberate. The way its body curled around Reo’s arm, as if it belonged there. The way Reo’s fingers had brushed against its scales. Light. Familiar.

“Why didn’t he push it away?”

Notes:

Hi, this is my first attempt at writing a long fic :3
The idea came to me partially after rewatching monogatari series, but the real inspiration came from Reo and Nagi, who always feel like two people on the verge of saying something important... yet never quite do
I hope you enjoy the story as much as I enjoy creating it

Chapter 2: しとど晴天大迷惑

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Lazy sunlight filtered through the overcast sky, coating the concrete in a dull glow. Nagi leaned against the waist-high ledge that divided the walkway between the science and arts wings, a bottle of lemon tea dangling from his fingers. Warm now. Forgotten halfway through.

After endless hours of classes, lunch break finally came. Bachira and Isagi had dragged him to the cafeteria the second the bell rang, claiming all the good stuff would be gone if they didn’t hurry.

Easygoing and just a little too energetic for Nagi’s taste, Bachira wasn’t the kind of person who usually approached him. Maybe he felt bad seeing him get ignored by most of the class, though, that only happened after Nagi gave them the cold shoulder first. Not that he cared much about friends or whatever. The moment Bachira set his mischievous yellow eyes on him, he’d decided to ‘adopt the newcomer’ — which apparently meant Nagi was now stuck with him and his blue-eyed friend.

At first, things had been awkward. Nagi was quiet, not because he was shy, but because he found small talk tedious. Fortunately, Bachira made up for that with his nonstop chatter, and with Isagi… well, after a week or so, they’d found some kind of rhythm.

He wasn’t bad. Just annoyingly obsessed with soccer. He’d even asked Nagi to join the club. As if he ever would.

The humidity in the air made his skin feel clammy and uncomfortable. After four days of constant rain, the sky had finally cleared — but now the heat was almost unbearable. He’d even had to take off his hoodie before he passed out from it.

He could hear Isagi and Bachira talking behind him — something about club activities or the new sandwich Isagi had managed to grab after battling Kunigami for it. Their voices faded into the background, drowned out by his disinterest. His attention was elsewhere.

Across the courtyard, Mikage Reo sat on a stone bench beneath the awning, flanked by a tall, spiky-haired guy and another one wearing glasses. Nagi recognized them — or at the very least, he’d seen them around Reo more than anyone else. His friends… maybe?

Reo sat with his legs crossed, one arm resting over the back of the bench like he owned it. He laughed at something the spiky-haired guy said — too quick, too bright, too practiced.

And there it was—the snake.

Coiled around his shoulders like a scarf, its body black and sleek, unmoving. From this distance, it looked almost like an accessory. Almost. But Nagi could see the subtle rise and fall of its body, the faint glint of its scales catching the light.

“Whatcha looking at?” Bachira asked, suddenly appearing at his shoulder.

Nagi didn’t answer right away. He sipped the lukewarm tea, his gaze still fixed straight ahead.

“Back off. It’s hot enough without you breathing down my neck.” He grumbled.

Bachira chuckled but didn’t move. “Why don’t you just talk to him?”

Nagi blinked. “Who?”

Bachira tilted his head like Nagi was an idiot. “Mikage Reo, duh.”

“And why would I talk to the school prince?” It came out more contemptuous than he meant — whatever.

“Oh, I dunno. Since you’ve been disappearing as soon as class is over and going straight to the library every other day…” Bachira replied, taunting with a smirk.

Nagi rolled his eyes in annoyance, fingers tightening around the plastic. “It’s not what you think.”

“Hm.” Bachira just hummed and leaned against the ledge beside him, swaying side to side with the breeze. Behind them, Isagi raised an eyebrow at the tension but wisely stayed out of it, taking a bite of his sandwich.

Nagi didn’t elaborate. He just kept watching — eyes narrowed, heartbeat annoyingly loud in his ears — as the snake slowly shifted around Reo’s neck, like it, too, was laughing along.

Much to Nagi's chagrin, Bachira had hit the mark. A week had passed since his brief encounter with Mikage Reo, and something inside him had changed. He didn’t quite understand why, but he’d been going straight to the library. He never went inside; he couldn’t — even though Reo was on the other side, sitting in the same spot as before.

After the first few attempts to open the door, he gave up. It was only yesterday that he’d eavesdropped on some girls saying the library was Reo’s place and no one dared approach him there — like a silent rule of sorts.

Out of nowhere, Reo looked in his direction. It startled Nagi until he reasoned it was unlikely Reo was looking at him. Not at this distance. Or so he thought — until Reo’s mouth curved in a smirk, half challenge, half greeting.

A tightness bloomed in Nagi’s chest, sharp and unrelenting — like an iron grip squeezing the breath out of him. He stepped away from the ledge, walking off.

“Nagi? Where are you going?” Isagi asked, confused by his abrupt exit.

“Back to the classroom. It's too damn hot to be outside.”

“What’s with him?” Isagi asked.

“I don’t know? Puberty?” Bachira shrugged.

Still, Nagi could hear them as he shut the door behind him.

 

 


 

 

Music leaked from Nagi’s headphones as his thumbs moved with practiced ease across his phone screen. He was on a roll, having won ten out of ten matches, even when carrying the whole team.

“Take that.” Nagi muttered under his breath, the word VICTORY flashing triumphantly across the screen. His avatar glowed on the scoreboard—top spot, naturally.

He sighed and reached for his water bottle lying beside him. Before taking a sip, his eyes drifted to the soccer field below, where his classmates were running laps around the dusty track.

If Nagi had to pick a least favorite subject, it’d be P.E. — any kind of physical activity that required effort fell under the “what a drag” category, and he preferred to avoid it like the plague.

Running under the scorching sun? A definite no.

Nagi slipped away to the rooftop the moment the teacher turned his back. Up here, he could laze around, no sweat, no noise. Just him, the breeze, and his game. From this distance, he spotted Bachira’s bouncing hair and Isagi’s determined stride. Sparkly adolescence or whatever.

He was getting ready to start another match when the door burst open, startling him — his headphones slipping down to his neck. Silky lavender hair swept back by a hand was the first thing he noticed.

“Cute.” Nagi thought, then immediately reprimanded himself for letting his mind go to weird places.

“Fucking Terada. Like I don’t have enough on my plate already.” Reo muttered under his breath, voice so low it sent shivers down Nagi’s spine—tie loose, annoyance radiating off him in waves.

Reo froze mid-rant when their eyes met. Nagi, caught like a deer in headlights, saw the moment those violet eyes widened in surprise.

Reo’s lip twitched. “This place is off limits, you know?”

Nagi shrugged, insouciant. “Door’s open. Guess it’s not that off-limits.”

He turned back to his phone, now showing bright red letters: YOU LOSE. That distraction broke his winning streak.

“Guess not.”

Reo huffed a quiet laugh and stepped past him to the railing, leaning out over the courtyard like he owned the skyline too.

Just as Nagi started to wonder where his dark companion was, it finally emerged from under Reo’s shirt, coiling over his shoulders. Its golden eyes fixed on Nagi, slits narrowing.

“If you’re gonna stare, at least pretend you’re subtle.” Reo murmured, still facing the sky.

“Why would I?”

“Why, you ask?” Reo let out a low hum, almost a laugh. He glanced at the snake. “She doesn’t like you, by the way. That’s new. Usually, she doesn’t care who’s near me.”

“How do you know that?” Nagi asked, genuinely curious despite himself.

Reo turned, closing the distance, stopping so close that Nagi could see the flecks of dark purple beneath his lashes.

“I just do.”

The corners of Nagi’s lips lifted — just slightly.

“It goes both ways, Reo.”

Nagi knew his name and used it. That pleased him more than it should. It saved time. Saved effort. No need for stupid introductions. He claimed the space next to Nagi without hesitation, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear.

“Does it scare you?” he asked, voice softer, touching the black creature on his shoulders.

“No.” Nagi told the truth — it wasn’t nervousness, but something more like apprehension. “…It’s the first time I’ve seen one act like this.”

“I’m more surprised you can see it. Nobody else ever did.”

“…You should get rid of it,” Nagi said. Not an order, not a suggestion — just firm enough to catch Reo off guard.

“And if I don't?” Reo replied, eyes narrowing.

Nagi lifted one shoulder, noncommittal, eyes darting away from him. “You’ll know. Whether you want it or not.”

Reo looked at him for a moment, long enough to read something in his tone. Maybe. The wind shifted slightly, ruffling Nagi’s hair and carrying Reo’s scent — cool, crisp, sandalwood.

“You’re weird,” Reo stated.

“Takes one to know one,” Nagi replied, eyes back on the screen of his phone, but he wasn’t really playing anymore.

Silence pooled between them, thick. The match started without him. His fingers hovered over the screen, unmoving. Nagi could feel it — that stare. Heavy and coiled, like heat on the back of his neck. He didn’t look up; he didn’t have to. Those golden, slit eyes were fixed on him.

It made him hyper-aware of his posture. His breath. His hand that had unconsciously traveled all the way to his neck just to feel the metal chain around it — an old habit to reassure himself. Reo hadn’t said anything else. Just sat there, seemingly enjoying the silence and the company.

Nagi stood, slipping the phone into his pocket and brushing off his pants.

“Leaving already, Nagi?” Reo asked, voice casual — too casual.

The snake slid down Reo's arm almost possessively. Its obsidian scales glittered in the sunlight.

“Class is almost over. I need to go back.” He kept his gaze on the rooftop door.

Reo tilted his head, a mischievous grin forming slowly on his handsome features. Nagi felt his breath hitch in his throat, wondering how a person could look like a magazine model…

“You should come to the library, not just wander around it.” Reo’s comment startled Nagi — he hadn’t thought Reo would notice his presence.

He locked eyes with Reo for a heartbeat, then finally found the will to leave, without another word. As he stepped inside, the air felt cooler.

“I should’ve said something else,” Nagi thought, descending the stairs slowly. Then it hit him. “He knows my name.”

Everything about Reo made his head feel slow and his body too fast — like he was reacting to things he didn’t understand. It was a new sensation, but not at all unwelcome. He reached the end of the hallway, hand grazing the wall as he turned the corner.

With his index finger, Nagi tugged at the chain around his neck, revealing a silver ring dangling from it. Even though it had been hidden under his clothes, warm against his skin, it felt cold to the touch.

“It’s just a fucking kaii.” He told himself.

But he wasn’t stupid. Not really. That thing wasn’t normal. Neither was Reo. So it was better to take precautions.

Notes:

Sooo any thoughts? I'd love to read them!
btw, the chapter titles are songs that I listened to while writing.

Chapter 3: Control

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The steak tasted like sawdust.

Reo sat perfectly straight, as etiquette demanded, the cold edge of the mahogany table biting into his forearms. The minimalist chandelier above flickered faintly, scattering fractured light over fine porcelain, polished silverware, and three lavishly dressed figures who hadn’t spoken in over ten minutes.

His mother’s knife cut through meat with mechanical precision. Perfectly manicured nails were painted deep red, a stark contrast against the whiteness of her crisp dress. His father, posture rigid, raised his glass of wine with detached movements, untouched by any real appetite.

Stillness suffocated Reo every time he had to endure these performative dinners once a month. A price he willingly paid for being left alone the rest of the time.

“There’s a gathering at the Ryouzen estate. Some international partners will be there. It’s time you start building connections.” His father said, without preamble. “You’ll accompany me.”

Reo’s fingers tightened around his fork. He didn’t lift his eyes.

“I’d rather stab this in my own eye.” He thought. 

What he said was a measured, “Yes.”

Across the table, the serpent moved.

It slithered lazily along the polished wood, leaving a trail of cool air in its wake. No one reacted. His mother didn’t flinch. His father kept eating.

The creature paused, tongue flicking out, then coiled near his father’s plate. Its body brushed against the man’s sleeve, the scaled tail looping gently around his arm. Reo held his breath.

Would it bite him?

No. It just watched with quiet intent, sizing up the source that provoked restlessness in its prey.

Clink.

His mother’s fork tapped the porcelain. A chill prickled across Reo’s skin.

Without incident, the serpent slid back toward him—unnoticed. As if nothing had happened.

The rest of the dinner dragged on in silence, broken only by the muted clash of silver against porcelain and the soft shuffle of ghosts of conversations he wished to forget.

He walked back to his room with heavy steps, tearing open the buttons of his navy blue shirt, hands clammy. The corridor stretched too long, echoes of his footsteps bouncing off walls. This whole house was unnecessarily big for three—scratch that, two—people. 

By the time he stumbled into the ensuite bathroom, his body gave out. The door clicked shut behind him. His knees hit the floor. He doubled over the toilet, stomach twisting violently. He vomited. Not once—twice. Acid scorched his throat, tears blurring his sight. He gripped the toilet’s edges, trying to steady his breath. His heart thundered inside his chest as if trying to break out of its cage.

He despised this. Feeling weak. Emotional.

These dinners had caged him since childhood, but growing older had ripped the veil away. Fake smiles. Hollow conversations. Expectations piled like bricks around his ribs, leaving Reo no choice but to put on a mask and endure.

Until she appeared and made everything weightless. Tolerable.

He rinsed his mouth, catching his reflection. Pale skin. Dark rings under dull eyes. A thin line of something dark at the corner of his lips — was it food? Or just the taste of bile?

He couldn’t care less.

Dragging himself to the king-sized bed, he collapsed on cool sheets, shirt half-undone, an arm draped over his eyes. Tremors lingered in his limbs from the tension, but the numbness settling in was a welcome reprieve. Years ago, he’d have felt like screaming. Broken something. Let the rage pour out.

Now? 

Reo was just tired.

So fucking tired.

From the shadows at the edge of the bed, the snake emerged. Cold golden eyes traced him with predatory calm, mapping every inch like a ritual it knew by heart. Savoring what was yet to come. Icy black scales glided over his stomach, pressed against his feverish skin, offering comfort.

Reo didn’t move.

“Go on,” he rasped. “Do your thing.”

The reptile paused—almost relishing the command. Then its mouth parted, fangs glinting under the soft bedroom light. It sank them in—just below the clavicle. Reo flinched. A breath hitched in his throat.

And then… nothing.

No pain.

No nausea.

No thoughts of his father’s voice echoing in his skull.

He felt light.

Untethered.

Only silence in his head. 

Finally.






The next morning, Reo sat in the back of the limousine. His school uniform was perfectly pressed, tie loosened just enough to hint at rebellion—but never enough to draw comment. The city blurred by in muted smears of gray beyond tinted windows, too small to matter.

For once, his mind wasn’t tearing itself apart. He basked in the afterglow the bite had left him. It was like a dose of drugs, though instead of euphoria it gave him clarity. Everything seemed distant, manageable. Like a calm sea after a storm.

Now, he wasn’t thinking about last night. Not the coldness of the room, not the irritating clink of silverware against china, and certainly not the way he’d crumbled after.

As the car turned into the school entrance, Reo shifted slightly, elbow propped against the door, eyes drifting lazily toward the gates. Just out of habit.

Then he spotted him.

A figure moving with deliberate carelessness: headphones snug over a mess of white hair, shoulders hunched like gravity owed him something.

Nagi Seishiro.

Dragging his feet with the energy of someone who’d snoozed through five alarms and didn’t care one bit. There was an odd poetry in how the boy ignored the world. Blank-faced—but never empty. Everything about him filtered through stubborn indifference.

Reo’s mouth tugged upward. 

From the front seat, Baaya asked in that polite tone she always used. “Did something catch your eye, young master?”

Reo blinked, slowly shifting his gaze. A brush-off would’ve worked. Instead, his head tilted just slightly, still following Nagi’s disappearing form.

"Just a stray," he said, "wandering too close to the gate.”

The corner of his smile lingered a second longer. Baaya hummed as if she hadn’t heard the second part. The car rolled forward, Reo’s reflection trailing behind him in the tinted glass.






Nagi Seishiro wasn’t someone you lost sight of easily. With his 190 cm height and messy white hair, he stood out like a glitch in a well-coded simulation.

And yet, somehow, he’d become impossible to find.

Three days. Three days of turning corners, changing routes, pretending not to look while scanning for any sign of him. But Nagi always vanished before Reo could get close. At first, he thought he was just overthinking it — until Karasu said something while they were studying. Or more like hanging out at a café near the school.

“Isn’t he just avoiding you?” Karasu smirked, tapping Reo with his pen.

“And why would he?” Reo replied, arching a brow. “It’s not like I’ve done anything to him.”

“Yet,” Karasu teased, earning a sharp look from the purple-haired boy before leaning back lazily in his seat. “Easy. I’m just saying, if you could spot him before and now you can’t, that’s the only explanation.”

“By the way, why are you even looking for him?” Yukimiya chimed in, sipping his iced coffee.

Reo shrugged, resting his cheek against his palm. “No reason.”

Yukimiya and Karasu exchanged glances. Now that was new. The school prince — who usually kept everyone at arm’s length — looking for someone on his own volition? Weird. They couldn't understand what was so interesting about that listless guy, though.

But Reo’s taste in everything had always been… peculiar, to say the least.

“And… have you tried going to his classroom?” Yukimiya asked.

Reo avoided his gaze, taking a long sip of his cold brew. Karasu let out a sharp laugh, while Yukimiya raised an eyebrow — disbelief written all over his face. Reo’s fingers drummed against the table in faint annoyance.  

“It's fine.” He thought, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “I always get what I want, anyway.”

His reflection in the café window caught the faint glint of gold coiled around his neck, hidden under his collar.

Right after homeroom, he ditched his friends. Reo didn’t even bother with excuses, pacing toward the third floor with newfound purpose. A few girls smiled as he passed; he didn’t return a single one, not in the mood to grace them with his usual business smile.

His steps slowed near the end of the hallway, where Class 3-3 was located. Peeking through the window, he spotted students chatting in groups, others scrolling on their phones or scrambling to finish assignments.

Still no sign of Nagi.

Of course not.

Reo sighed and leaned back against the cool wall. He wasn’t angry. Just… bothered. And maybe a little intrigued at how someone so indifferent could dodge him so consistently. 

He stayed there a few more seconds before turning away.

“Looking for someone?” A sing-song voice pulled him back from his thoughts.

Bachira was standing right behind him, wearing a playful grin and holding a juice box. Reo knew him from the soccer club — before he’d quit — and had often seen him hanging around Nagi, usually with another friend in tow. Perfect timing.

“Nagi.” He replied bluntly. After all, what was the point of dancing around it?  

Bachira nodded.

“Saw him a little while ago. Said he was heading to the staff room.” He tilted his head, mischievous as always. “Better hurry, Reocchi. Nagicchi’s gotten good at pulling vanishing acts lately.”

Without warning, he tossed the juice box. Reo caught it mid-air, barely sparing it a glance.

“Thanks,” he muttered, already moving away. “So he was avoiding me after all.”






The hallway had almost emptied. Reo caught the occasional creak of a door or distant chatter drifting up from a lower floor. He lingered a few meters from the staff room, one hand buried in his pocket, the other idly holding his phone. The snake was there too, coiled lazily on the windowsill — eyes shut. Resting. Or pretending to.

He stayed close enough to see the door clearly, but far enough to appear inconspicuous. When the door finally opened, Reo looked up — and there he was. Their eyes met for the first time that day. He didn’t smile. Didn’t wave. Just an unwavering stare. Nagi kept walking.

As he passed, Reo pushed off the wall and fell into step beside him — silent, casual, like it was the most ordinary thing in the world. The black being slipped from the window, slithering along next to him.

“I told you to come to the library.” He said.

Nagi glanced at him. “Never said I would go.”

A faint smirk tugged at Reo’s lips. “You’re interesting. Not many people ignore what I say.”

Nagi didn’t answer. His hand crumpled slightly around the printout the English teacher had just given him. They walked like that for a moment — neither one speaking.

Then Reo paused and nodded at a door to the right — an empty classroom.

“Come on.”

Nagi hesitated, then followed him in. The door clicked shut behind them with a soft thud.

Dust drifted in the air, backlit by the pale light streaming through tall windows. Desks stood in uneven rows, chairs tucked in or pushed back as if the room had been abandoned mid-thought. Reo crossed to the far corner without a backward glance, perching on the edge of a desk, one leg propped up, the other dangling loose.

Nagi stayed near the door for a moment before drifting inside, settling against the opposite wall. Not too close. Not too far.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” 

“Not really.”

Reo raised an eyebrow. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Nagi didn’t argue.

Reo studied him more carefully this time. “What I want to know is why.”

Nagi held his gaze but stayed silent. That only intrigued Reo more. After that afternoon on the rooftop, he’d thought they’d clicked — but then Nagi had just vanished.

A heavy sigh escaped Nagi’s lips. His gray eyes dropped to the snake. Its tongue flicked out, slow and deliberate, tasting the tension between them.

“Does she bother you that much? She’s harmless.”

Nagi scoffed. “You don't even know what that is.”

Reo exhaled, the corner of his mouth twitching — but it wasn’t quite a smile. “Does it matter that much?”

“That thing is not an animal, Reo. It's not normal for you to have it around you all the time.”

“You think I don't know? I’m not stupid.” Reo snapped.

That caught Nagi off guard. “Then why don’t you get rid of it?”

Reo didn’t answer right away. His gaze dropped to the snake resting beside him, then drifted back to Nagi. A few slow seconds stretched out, silence settling between them like an uninvited guest. At last, Nagi sat on a desk, scratching the back of his head.

“That's not a snake — it only looks like one. That thing is what we call kaii.” Nagi explained, pointing at the black creature with something close to aversion.

Reo’s eyes narrowed, violet irises sharp like glass about to crack.

“The hell is that?” He spat, voice deceptively calm but thrumming with barely contained annoyance.

Nagi studied him, as if weighing how to put it into words. “They have different names — the most common is kaii, or oddities. Supernatural phenomena that latch onto humans. I’ve seen some before, but it’s rare to find one so attached to a person.”

“And why can you see them?”

Nagi tilted his head with a small shrug. “I just can. Doesn’t matter why. Believe me or not — but in my experience… nothing good ever happens to people they cling to.”

Something inside Reo twisted. Anxiety. Doubt, maybe. Or was it distrust? Nagi’s words echoed in his head — something he’d always turned a blind eye to, because the gain was bigger than the loss. Nothing good ever happens…

“As if I didn’t know that already.”

His fingers drummed restlessly against the wood, grounding him.

“How do you get rid of them? Are you a shaman or something?” Reo asked, skepticism curling in his tone.

“Oh, I can't,” Nagi replied offhandedly, making Reo blink as the tension dissolved.

“After that speech, I thought you'd say you'd help me get rid of it — for a price.” Reo laughed.

Nagi pulled a face. “I can't. But I do know someone who could. And if you say you want my help… well, I guess I could lend you a hand.”

For a moment, Reo just looked at him — weighing the offer, fighting the instinct to scoff and brush him off like he always did when others tried to get closer than he allowed. After all, what were the chances that the new guy in school had the “cure” to his ailment? Life wasn’t as convenient as fiction. But curiosity always won with him. It always did, especially with Nagi and those gray eyes that held no apparent malice.

“Then why don't you give me your number? So you won’t avoid me again.” He slipped his phone from his pocket, faintly amused by the rare flutter of excitement stirring in his chest.

Nagi only blinked at him, expression unreadable, but his fingers moved anyway — slow, deliberate — typing the number in without saying a word.

Too late to back out now.

Notes:

would you let a cursed snake just hang around you? be honest.
thanks for reading, let me know what you think!

Chapter 4: Con la Brisa

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

No one had ever texted Nagi that much in his entire life. His usually silent phone had started buzzing now and then with new messages from Reo. They ranged from simple questions about his whereabouts to what he’d eaten for lunch or dinner, and—more recently—random video links. As usual, Nagi's replies were short and dry. He figured Reo would get bored eventually—just like everyone else had.

He didn't.

He’d fallen asleep the night before, still thinking of how to reply. Reo had asked what kind of ‘ghosts’ he had seen. It made Nagi wonder if he was actually trying to ask about the snake, just avoiding the topic on purpose. 

“Reo should just ask. It's not like I won't tell him.”

Now, between classes, Isagi was scribbling furiously, copying Nagi's history homework before the teacher showed up.

"Why do all these notes have tiny doodles of frogs on the corners?" Isagi muttered.

"They're not frogs," Nagi replied without looking up. "They're sleep demons."

"Sleep demons…?" Isagi blinked. “Right.”

"They eat dreams and spit homework,” Bachira added, nodding like it made perfect sense. "You can't see them because they’re nocturnal, Isagi."

"I... don’t think that’s how demons work," Isagi said, but stopped arguing when he realized he was missing a paragraph.

All this time, Nagi had been glued to his game, barely following the conversation—just enough to play along.

“Hey, does that mean Nagi’s been possessed by a sleep demon this whole semester?” Bachira giggled.

"I wouldn't mind if that's the case," Nagi muttered. "As long as it’s a chill demon, that is."

"Like a sloth demon!" Bachira grinned. "It just clings to your back and makes you fail P.E."

“Not a bad deal,” Nagi said flatly.

Isagi sighed. "You’re both impossible."

Then, suddenly, his screen flashed red. Nagi had been killed in the campaign by a sniper he hadn’t seen. He blinked once, miffed. He’d only needed to beat two more people. Before he could lock his phone, a notification popped up. Three sentences. Innocent. Simple. Yet they sent a rush of something akin to eagerness through his veins.

 

- See you after school. I'll pick you up from your classroom. Don't leave before me, like last time.

 

His thumb hovered over the screen longer than he meant to.

"Who's that?" Bachira asked, leaning closer to read the message.

"No one," Nagi replied, trying to sound uninterested as he slid his phone back into his pocket.

"You're coming to our soccer match after school, right?"

Nagi tilted his head, not quite understanding what Bachira was saying. "What soccer match?"

"C'mon, not again, Nagi. You promised you'd come," Isagi huffed.

"Did I?" He frowned slightly. “Huh. Anyway… I can’t.”

"Does it have to do with that suspicious message?" Bachira raised an eyebrow.

"What suspicious message?" Isagi looked up from the notebook.

"Nagicchi has a date," Bachira said, eyes gleaming with mischief.

"It's not a date," Nagi replied immediately.

Isagi looked intrigued—Nagi usually spent his time either with them or alone. "With who?"

"Like I said, it's not a date. I just have something to do after school… with Reo," He added, almost reluctantly.

"Reo? As in Mikage Reo?" Isagi asked, baffled. He turned to Bachira. "Didn’t he dislike him?" 

Bachira shrugged.

"I never said I disliked him,” Nagi muttered.

"You always avoided him, Nagi.”

"That was because of—” Nagi's voice trailed off. He’d almost let it slip.

"Because of?" Bachira teased, predictably curious.

“That damn snake.” Nagi thought. "Nevermind. And it’s not a date."

Isagi frowned, finally closing the notebook he’d been copying. "Wait. Since when do you even talk to Reo?"

Nagi opened his mouth, but didn’t answer. Before he could say anything, the door opened. The teacher walked in with a stack of papers and a deep sigh—the kind that said he didn’t want to be there either.

Nagi leaned back in his chair, eyes drifting to the window. The sky outside was clear—washed in bright blues and soft light. The kind of weather that made everything feel like it was moving in slow motion.

“What a pain,” Nagi grumbled.

 

 


 

 

The class ended with the usual rustle of chairs and scrape of desks. Most students had already filtered out, except for three, who lingered behind as sunlight crawled through the windows. Nagi sprawled on his chair, eyes half-closed. Isagi packed his things hurriedly. Bachira hummed something tuneless as he munched on candy he’d found in his bag.

Then, the classroom door burst open again.

A guy in the school’s soccer uniform walked in, long red hair flowing behind him. He strolled in like he owned the place, his red eyes scanning the room with an air of confidence and aloofness. Kunigami followed closely, less dramatic—like a bodyguard, with his hands in his pockets and a heavy bag slung over his shoulder.

“There you are,” the redhead said. “What’s taking you so long?”

“It’s not that late, princess. Let me just grab my shoes.”

As Isagi bent down, the boy’s crimson gaze flicked to Nagi.

“So this is the guy you were talking about?”

“Yup, that’s him,” Bachira said, beaming. 

He tilted his head, clearly unimpressed. “Doesn’t look that tall.”

Nagi turned slowly to look at Isagi, confusion flashing in his eyes—tinged with the faintest hint of annoyance. Isagi gave him a sheepish smile as he grabbed his bag.

“Say, white head, how tall are you?”

“Chigiri,” Kunigami interrupted, giving him a look. “Leave him alone. He’s taller than me,”

Chigiri blinked, surprised. “So he qualifies.”

“Qualifies for what?” Nagi’s brows knit together. He didn't bother to hide the edge in his voice.

“You should consider joining the club.”

“Nagicchi has after-school plans,” Bachira sing-songed, leaning over his desk. “Way more interesting than playing soccer. Right, Nagicchi?”

Nagi didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

Kunigami rolled his eyes. “Let’s go already. We’ll be late and I don't want Ego giving me shit again.”

“Later, tall guy,” Chigiri said with a flick of his hair and a wry grin, before disappearing down the hallway, the rest of the guys trailing after him like some weird little clique.

Their voices faded, and the classroom grew still. Blue light poured through the windows in long strips, catching dust in the air. Nagi rested his head sideways on his desk, arms folded beneath him, eyes half-shut. He didn’t fall asleep, not really—just drifted a little, wondering when Reo would show up.

Footsteps approached softly. Not rushed. Familiar.

A voice reached him—gentle, velvet-smooth. “Nagi, are you asleep?”

Nagi turned his head toward the voice, meeting Reo’s eyes. The hand froze mid-air. Reo’s fingers hovered for a breath, then retreated—curling in on themselves like he’d touched something hot, though he never made contact.

“You’re late, Reo,” he said, voice casual but a little lower than usual. “Thought you’d forgotten.”

Reo blinked once. His expression was unreadable. “Sorry, the student council president held me back.”

“You’re not the president?” Nagi asked with a faint frown.

“If I were, I wouldn’t be able to leisurely go back home with you,” Reo chuckled, leaning closer to Nagi’s face, making him wonder what kind of concept of personal space Reo even had.

“Anyway, did you bring your bike?”

Nagi nodded. “Outside.”

“Then let’s go. There’s somewhere I wanna take you.”

A pause. Then, “Okay.”

“Maybe this really is a date, after all.”

They’d been spending more time together lately—at lunch, after classes, or like today, riding Nagi’s bike instead of taking Reo’s expensive car. They didn’t always talk. Sometimes they just moved through the day side by side, orbiting each other quietly. Today, they’d stopped by the riverbank to rest for a while.

The river murmured beside them, the grass warm under the afternoon sun. A slightly cool breeze made it the perfect spot for a nap. Perhaps that was why Reo took Nagi here, so they could do nothing together.

Nagi lay on the grass with his eyes closed, fingers resting lightly over his stomach.

“Are you sure you want to do it?”

“C’mon. Just to be sure you’re not making it up,” Reo shot him a crooked smile, head tilted, clearly waiting beside him.

On the ride here, Reo had asked Nagi completely out of the blue. “Why are you so cautious around me?”

“What do you mean?”

Reo kept silent for a few minutes, pondering how to say it, then sighed.

“It's like…you're making sure not to touch me?”

“I don't want to hurt you,” Nagi drawled. After that the conversation stopped… until now.

His eyelids fluttered open, greeted by Reo’s face casting soft shadows over him. The sunset light tinted his lavender hair with blue, his eyes brimming with curiosity. Nagi relished the way Reo looked at him—focused, unblinking.

Nagi sighed. “Fine.” He sat up slowly.

He still didn’t get how Reo always got him to give in so easily to his whims. But such was life, he guessed.

“Don’t move.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them. Reo raised an eyebrow—sharp, questioning—but didn’t flinch. He held still, letting Nagi’s hand close the distance painfully slowly, carefully.

Curled around Reo’s arm, the black snake shifted, scales rippling like water when disturbed. Nagi’s eyes narrowed. He could feel it watching him, aware of the approaching hand. It tightened its grip, but he reached out anyway, fingertips hovering just above Reo’s skin.

Too close to the creature.

The instant the tip of his finger crossed that invisible boundary, it struck. A sudden sting—static crackling between his fingertips and Reo’s arm.

Reo hissed. The creature recoiled, its body flicking back like oil on water. Nagi yanked his hand back. The charge hummed on his skin, dying slowly.

What… the hell was that?” Reo’s voice was lower, edged with tension. 

Nagi tugged at the chain around his neck, the silver ring hidden beneath his uniform pressing cold against his collarbone, a quiet reminder of what set him apart.

“I shouldn't touch you as long as that thing is attached to you,” his voice was flat. “And if I try… that happens.”

Reo’s breath caught. For a heartbeat, neither of them broke eye contact. Neither moved.

The faint buzz on Nagi’s fingertip faded, but its echo stayed—a phantom spark beneath his skin. He watched the snake tighten its coil around Reo’s shoulder, wary now. Good.

Reo’s eyes flicked between the ring on Nagi’s chain and his face. There was a question there—more than one, probably—but he said nothing. Nagi exhaled through his nose, the silence starting to get on his nerves.

“I told you,” he murmured. “You should get rid of it.”

“But I know you won't, not yet.”

Reo’s laugh was soft, almost breathless. “Yeah? You think poking it’s gonna scare her off?”

Nagi didn’t answer. Instead, he lay back on the grass again. Fingers curling on his side to hide the slight tremor.

“Guess I expected more from my personal monster hunter.”

“You’re the one who came looking for me, Reo.” He said flatly. 

Reo tilted his head, that infuriating smile tugging at his mouth again — sharp at the edges, but tired underneath.

“Is that a family relic or something?” he teased, but his voice cracked just a little on the last word.

Nagi caught it. Filed it away.

“Not really.” He tugged the ring again, letting it glint between his fingers. “Someone gave it to me a long time ago. He might be coming back to the country soon. I’ll take you to meet him.”

“Why are you so eager to get rid of her?”

“Reasons.”

A beat. Reo’s eyes narrowed, as if weighing how much of this to believe. Then, softer, almost a whisper. “Don’t go distant on me now.”

Nagi’s gaze wandered from Reo’s soft hair to his eyes, nose, lips, neck, and the collarbone peeking out from under his shirt. Honey-colored skin that looked far too easy to reach, daring him to close the distance and ruin everything. Once again, Reo’s scent clashed with how warm he looked in the afternoon light. A sudden, almost irrational urge to touch the boy beside him crawled under his skin.

“Damn snake.”

Then again, some lines shouldn’t be crossed. Not yet.

Notes:

nagi and reo orbiting each other is one of the things I love the most.
thanks for reading! let me know what you think 💜

Chapter 5: Heat Waves

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The sun was blinding, and even the breeze—meant to bring relief—felt unnervingly warm. The heat clung to Nagi like a second skin: heavy, inescapable, even beneath the shade of the old keyaki tree.

He leaned back on his hands, long legs stretched out in front of him, and watched the chaos unfold across the field. A flurry of excited voices rang out, calling encouragement to the competitors lining up for the next event.

Just beyond the track, Isagi was stretching with exaggerated focus, probably overthinking the angle of his knees or the perfect width of his stride. Bachira, as usual, bounced on his toes—though today, there was no goofy grin. His yellowish eyes held a quiet, razor-sharp confidence as he tracked the relay baton.

The third boy—Naru… something?—was unfamiliar. Just a blur of brown hair and an unremarkable face. If they hadn’t been grouped by class, Nagi wouldn’t have noticed him at all. He still couldn’t remember most of his classmates’ faces or names.

He sighed. “How do they still have energy left?

Not even half an hour ago, Isagi and Bachira—along with some nameless guy in a bandana—had screamed themselves hoarse during the hellish cavalry battle. They’d nearly made him deaf. Reo’s class had won, of course. Otoya, Yukimiya, Karasu, and a strong but anxious wreck of a guy had made a ridiculous quartet—too fast, too unpredictable.

Reo hadn’t joined, though. Said he was saving himself for another event. Nagi had his doubts. Still, Reo had watched from the stands, smug as ever, and Nagi had felt his gaze more than once. He bet Reo got a kick out of watching him get tossed around. Nagi didn’t really mind.

A sharp whistle cut through the air. The relay was starting.

Itoshi Rin’s team lined up in the lane next to Isagi, all silent precision and unspoken menace. The gun went off, and they exploded forward.

Nagi didn’t blink.

Rin’s team would win. Of course they would. Already ahead in seconds. Obviously.

He exhaled, eyes trailing after the blur of runners, already feeling the moment peel away—like watching waves crash from behind a glass wall.

“How long till the sports festival ends?”

 

 


 

 

A few days earlier, the classroom buzzed with restless energy. Papers rustled, desks creaked, and someone had started tapping their pen against the wall in a rhythm that made Nagi want to sink into the floor and disappear.

“We’ll be holding the annual sports festival next Friday,” the teacher announced, holding up a brightly colored flyer like it was a golden ticket to hell.

Nagi blinked, slow and unimpressed. A whole day under the sun? Sweating? No fucking way.

In front of him, Isagi practically lit up. “Let’s go, Bachira! We’re totally gonna win everything this year.”

Bachira grinned, teeth sharp, practically jumping from his seat barely containing himself. “This is our year! We're definitely the strongest duo!”

Nagi stared at the back of Isagi’s head. Of course he was excited. These guys lived for this kind of thing.

He reached out and tapped his shoulder. “Hey, Isagi… wasn’t this event supposed to be, like… way earlier in the semester?”

“Usually it’s in late May, but it got delayed ‘cause of the rain.”

Nagi hummed and slouched further over his desk. Just his luck.

“Nagi,” the teacher called, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Want to join the basketball tournament?”

He opened his mouth, paused, then muttered, “I get dizzy when I bounce the ball.”

There was a beat of silence. Someone snorted.

He didn’t care. It worked. Sort of.

He still got stuck with two events: the cavalry battle—because apparently he was “sturdy enough to carry the rider and not let him fall”—and the 200-meter sprint, which he nearly avoided until someone brought up “even distribution.”

Later, as the class broke into groups to discuss roles, Nagi leaned back in his chair and let the sunlight wash over his face. Outside, the trees shimmered under the early summer heat. For a second, he thought he saw something move between the leaves.

He blinked.

Nothing.

Just a trick of the light?

A chill crept across the back of his neck—light and brief, like someone breathing just behind him.

He frowned, glancing down at his arms.

Weird.

 

 


 

 

Suddenly, applause burst nearby. A group of students had gathered at the finish line, cheering the winner, while someone from the staff announced over the speakers the points awarded and which class was currently in the lead. 

Then, laughter pulled his attention. Clear, melodic, familiar.

Nagi shifted slightly, gaze drifting.

He spotted Reo by the bleachers, talking to Karasu and Otoya. Laughing. Looking relaxed. He hadn’t participated in any events yet.  

Nagi exhaled, slowly. He wasn’t jealous. Not quite. He just wanted to…what? Be near him? That could be it.

"You're such a sore loser," Rin muttered, brushing past Isagi with his usual scowl.

"I literally came second," Isagi called after him, catching his breath. "By, like, a second."

“That’s still losing, you lukewarm idiot,”

"Yeah, yeah—go frown at a cloud or something."

A messy laugh escaped Bachira as he slung an arm around Isagi’s shoulder. "He’s mad because he didn’t break Sae’s record. We still have some events left—let’s get fired up!"

Isagi nodded, his gaze lingering on Rin’s retreating figure.

From the sidelines, Nagi watched them, a water bottle dangling from his fingers. The race had been fun to watch, even if he’d spent most of it squinting through the blinding sunlight.

Bachira had moved fast, closing the gap against runners who’d had a smoother start—unlike the brown-haired kid, who was slow as fuck. Bachira passed the baton cleanly, and for a brief moment, Isagi sprinted like his life depended on it. He went toe to toe with Itoshi Rin... until he lost steam, and slowed just enough for Rin to win by a few centimeters.

Shidou, somehow coming in third despite showboating half the time, strolled up with a wild grin. “Next time we’re doing this barefoot. Make it primal.”  

Isagi gagged. “Please don’t.”

With zero hesitation, Bachira grabbed Isagi’s arm and dragged him over to where Nagi was sitting. He dropped beside him in an exaggerated flop, pulling Isagi down too.  

"Good work~." He handed them their water bottles back—probably warm by now.

"We did well, right? Our class is just a few points behind first place. And we’ve still got the soccer tournament this afternoon!” Bachira exclaimed, punching the air.

"You're even doing the afternoon events?" Nagi looked at them, exhausted, leaning his cheek on his hand.

Isagi emptied the water over his head, trying to cool down. ““It’s our last sports festival—shouldn’t we go all out?” 

“Should we?” Nagi didn’t understand where all that motivation came from.

Maybe it had something to do with Itoshi Rin.

Isagi had been strangely fixated on beating him and had signed up for most of the events. Bachira followed without thinking much—he just wanted to have fun.

“Then what about Reo?” Nagi asked, suddenly. “He hasn't participated much.”

“Reo's part of the committee again this year, isn’t he? He must be busy,” Isagi replied matter-of-factly.

Nagi wasn’t looking at them—his gaze scanned the bleachers, where Reo had been just moments ago. Something in his tone made the other two exchange a hesitant glance.

“You know… back in our first year, Reo joined almost every event. Remember, Isagi?”

“He did?” Nagi turned toward them, visibly curious.

“Yeah. He won most of them. That year, Chigiri was in our class and Kunigami was on Reo’s.”

“Rin skipped the festival back then, since his brother was leaving. So Reo basically dominated in every event.”

Something shifted in their expressions—apprehension, maybe? The silence that followed stretched just long enough to spark Nagi’s curiosity.

“And then…?” Nagi raised an eyebrow.

Finally, Isagi spoke. “I dunno. During the soccer match between his class and Class 5, Reo just… left the field. Never came back.”

“He also quit the soccer club after that,” Bachira added, fanning himself with his hand. 

Before Nagi could press further, the announcer’s voice crackled over the speakers, calling the next game: The Treasure Hunt. Students swarmed toward the booth to draw their random prompts. None of them moved. Not their event, anyway.

Nagi hesitated. He still wanted to continue their conversation. “Why did Reo-?”

“Found you!”

He looked up. Reo was there, slightly out of breath, a white ribbon tied loosely around his neck fluttering in the breeze. His hair was up in a topknot, and a cheeky grin played on his lips as he locked eyes with Nagi

“Come Nagi!” He reached out—hesitated just for a beat—and instead of taking Nagi’s hand, gently tugged at the red ribbon tied around his wrist.

Nagi blinked, startled at Reo’s sudden appearance.

“Hurry Nagi. Stand up,” Bachira prompted, nudging Nagi upright.

Something flickered in Reo’s amethyst eyes at the sight of the other boy touching Nagi’s back nonchalantly—but he buried it just as quickly.

"Are you kidnapping me?" Nagi asked, voice flat.

Reo grinned. "No. I’m winning."

He didn’t explain further, just turned and started running, still holding the edge of the ribbon, tugging Nagi along like a balloon.

Nagi didn't really understand what was happening at all. His eyes wandered to Reo’s hand gripping the ribbon tightly, to the sleeves of his t-shirt rolled up, exposing his forearms, to the vulnerable curve of his nape. A drop of sweat rolled down it. Nagi swallowed hard.

They wove through the crowd, Nagi letting himself be pulled, until they reached the booth. Reo slapped down his prompt slip with a dramatic flourish.

“Someone taller than you.”

The staff confirmed it with a chuckle. “Congrats, Mikage. You win.”

Reo turned to Nagi, eyes sparkling. “Hard to find someone taller than me, you know. Such perfect timing that you were just sitting there. Kinda like a hidden treasure.”

Nagi stared at him, deadpan. “…Did you just call me treasure?”

Reo shrugged, smug. “Did I?”

For a second, Nagi almost smiled.

But as Reo’s hand let go of the ribbon, it brushed too close to Nagi’s again—and there it was: a faint pulse, sharp and static, like something recoiling between them. The same sensation from before. Like lightning trapped under their skin.

Nagi flinched. Reo did too. But neither said anything.

Instead, Reo cleared his throat and handed Nagi a small red candy from his pocket. "Participation reward," he said.

"Cheap," Nagi muttered, popping it into his mouth anyway.

Nagi’s gaze slid over Reo's shoulder, down to his wrist, searching for the shimmer of scales.

“She’s not here,” Reo said, catching the look. “She doesn’t like the sun much. I left her in the classroom to rest.”

The tension in Nagi’s shoulders eased—almost imperceptibly. For once, they were alone.

“Reo, are you busy?”

Reo hummed, scrolling through his phone. “A little. There’s this and that to take care of before the big events.”

Silence stretched thin between them. Reo’s fingers drummed lightly against the screen. Nagi didn’t look away—just flexed his own fingers, still feeling the ghost of static on his skin.

Reo chuckled, catching sight of Nagi’s puffed cheeks. “Don’t pout, Nagi.”

“I'm…not?” He tilted his head, only making Reo laugh harder. “If you're not busy now…come with me?”

Nagi tugged gently at the hem of Reo’s shirt. Reo blinked—puzzled, then nodded. That was enough. Nagi turned without a word, and Reo followed.

They ended up on the rooftop, the breeze cool against their skin. The sounds from the courtyard below felt distant, muffled. The sunlight was softer here, less oppressive, filtering through lazy clouds. It was peaceful—so unlike the chaos below. Like they’d stepped into their own little bubble, suspended above the world.

Reo sat on the ledge, patting the spot beside him. Nagi lowered himself beside him, folding his legs casually.

“Thought you'd skip school today,” Reo remarked offhandedly.

“I wanted to. You said I shouldn’t.”

Reo’s purple eyes widened. He was sure he’d told Nagi that on their way home, right after the festival was announced. Honestly, he’d assumed Nagi had dismissed him without a second thought. This… was unexpected.

He tugged sheepishly at the hairband, freeing his lavender hair and letting it fall over his face—just enough to hide the soft smile curling on his lips.

“Are you signed up for anything else?”

“Two-hundred-meter dash,” Nagi replied with a sigh, stretching his arms out in front of him. “Didn’t really have a choice.”

“Are you a fast runner?”

Nagi shrugged. “Only when I need to be.”

Reo smirked. “I don’t believe you.”

Nagi looked at him, deadpan. “Then make it interesting, Reo.”

Reo raised an eyebrow. “Okay, let’s do this. I’ll give you something if you win.”

A pause. Nagi tilted his head, considering. “Something? Like what?”

“Anything,” Reo replied, confident. “Just name it.”

Nagi watched him—the way his hair danced in the breeze, the mischief twinkling in his eyes. He didn’t think he could actually win.

The ghost of a smile tugged at his lips, eyes narrowing with amusement. “I’ll think about it.”

“C'mon, amuse me, Nagi. You can't say something like that and leave me hanging.” He wanted to push Nagi playfully—lean in, nudge him, something.

But risking another shock? Hard pass.

Nagi’s phone buzzed, shattering the moment. He pulled it out, eyes scanning the screen.

The name flashing stopped him cold.

Notes:

recently i've been obsessed with the song heat waves (again) and i think the lyrics kinda fit nagireo, especially this part:

"Sometimes, all I think about is you
Late nights in the middle of June
Heat waves been fakin' me out
Can't make you happier now"

 

anyway, thank you for reading! let me know what you think :3

Chapter 6: We Lost The Summer

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Nagi’s phone buzzed, shattering the moment. He pulled it out, eyes scanning the screen.

The name flashing stopped him cold. Reo glanced at him, puzzled, as Nagi got up.

"Sorry..." His voice came out dull as he walked off to answer the call.

“What's up, Zantetsu?”

Tsurugi Zantetsu answered nonchalantly. “Yo! You busy?”

“Kinda. What’s up?”

“You never texted back, Nagi.” His reply came with a hint of reproach.

"Ah..." Nagi muttered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I kinda forgot.”

Zantetsu paused, and when he spoke again, his tone had shifted slightly. "Master got in touch with me. He’ll be back in a week… He said something about that ‘hypertensive kaii’ you asked about? He’d like to see it."

Nagi’s brow furrowed at the mention of their master. "It’s not hypertensive... I said it was hypothetical. But... yeah, thanks." He sighed. His gaze drifted to Reo, who was staring at the field, eyes glazed with boredom.

Reo didn't seem to care for the spectacle, a stark contrast to the energy of the event below. Nagi couldn’t help but feel a pang of uncertainty, like there was something he was missing. But the thought was fleeting.

"Say, Zantetsu…" Nagi's voice softened, eyes still on Reo. “If you wanted to touch someone but couldn’t. Like, every time you get close, there's this... barrier. What would you do?"

"A barrier? Like a wall or something?" Zantetsu asked, clearly confused.

"No, dumbass. I mean like—static. Like you're not meant to get too close or something."

"Ohhh. Then I wouldn't touch them. Sounds dangerous."

“...Right. Figures.” Nagi muttered, more to himself. “What did I even expect?”

But Zantetsu wasn’t finished. “I just remembered, Nagi—are you still wearing the master’s ring?”

"...Yeah, why?" Nagi’s voice had an edge of curiosity.

"Why don’t you try giving it to that person? I mean, that thing's supposed to propel kaiis. Maybe if they wear it, the static might stop."

Nagi’s hand touched the silver chain around his neck, the cold metal biting against his skin. "You mean, repel? That…actually makes sense in a weird way. Thanks, Zantetsu."

"No problem. Don't forget, he’ll be back in a week. Later."

With that, the call ended, and Nagi slipped his phone back into his pocket. He looked over at Reo, who hadn’t moved from his spot. The wind played gently with his hair, lavender strands catching the sunlight like threads of silk.

Nagi took a deep breath, steadying himself.

"Hey," he called softly.

"Finished already?" Reo asked.

Nagi nodded, walking back and settled beside him with one leg bent, elbow resting lazily on his knee.

Before either could say more, the speakers crackled to life, shattering the calm.

"Sports committee members report to the staff room."

Reo exhaled with a hint of annoyance. "And that's my call. I should go."

Nagi glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. "...What about my reward?"

Reo smirked, standing up and dusting off his shorts. "You need to win first, treasure."

Nagi's eyes widened slightly. Treasure. The word echoed in his head, like a dropped marble into still water, sending ripples outward. He felt a shiver crawl down his spine. No one had ever called him that before.

Reo waved his hand over his shoulder. "See you later."

And just like that, he left the rooftop, taking with him the quiet intimacy they'd shared. Nagi remained seated, eyes lingering on the door Reo had disappeared through. The idea of the race didn’t excite him in the slightest—until now.

Because now, he had a reason to make an effort.

 

 


 

 

The sound of cheering as Nagi made his way down to the track field. The sun was high now, casting sharp shadows across the ground. The 200-meter dash was the last event before lunch. Students were already gathering, shouting names and buzzing with anticipation.

Nagi stood at the starting line, lazily stretching. Bachira stood beside him, hands laced behind his head, expression practically vibrating with energy.

"You got this, Nagicchi!" he grinned. “Just keep your pace for the first 100, and then—bam!—explode!”

"Don’t listen to him," Isagi cut in from the other side. "Focus on your acceleration out of the curve. That’s where people fall behind."

Nagi blinked at both of them, unimpressed. His gaze wandered past the crowd, scanning the sidelines, the bleachers, the edge of the field... but Reo was nowhere to be seen.

“So much for wanting to be amused,” he thought. Reo must’ve lost interest.

"Looking for someone?" a voice asked smoothly.

Nagi turned to see the student in the next lane: Karasu Tabito, smirking.

"He’s still in the staff room," Karasu added casually, rolling his shoulders. "You look disappointed."

Nagi stared at him for a moment, unreadable. "I didn't ask."

Karasu chuckled. "Right. Of course you didn't."

Before Nagi could say anything more, Isagi snapped again. "Focus, Nagi. Don't let him get into your head."

"Isagi," Nagi muttered, not even looking at him, "Shut up."

The whistle blew. One sharp note, cutting through the noise, signaling them to get into position. The non-competing students cleared the track.

Nagi crouched down, fingertips touching the chalky edge of the lane. His heart beat steadily as he prepared to run.

“Good luck~” Karasu drawled, grin curling at the edges of his mouth.

Whistle.

He pushed off.

The start was clean. Nagi darted forward, his stride smooth, almost effortless. For the first stretch he held the lead, just enough to keep the cheers buzzing in the background. But then—Karasu passed him. Fast, steady, annoyingly unfazed. Nagi could feel himself slipping behind.

He hated running. His lungs began to burn. Each breath scraped down his throat like fire, and his legs screamed in protest. The pounding in his ears wasn’t from the crowd anymore—it was his own heartbeat, frantic and loud.

“Why the hell am I trying this hard?” he gritted his jaw.

And then he saw him.

Reo. Standing near the finish line. A clipboard in hand, posture relaxed like he didn’t care who won, that maddeningly confident smirk daring him to go faster.

Something in Nagi cracked.

He pushed forward. Faster. Past the burning in his lungs, the ache in his legs, the weight pulling him down. The world blurred at the edges. 

The final meters tramped only by instinct.

A sharp sound. The blast of a whistle.

Someone had crossed the finish line.

Nagi tried to slow down, his momentum clumsy. His sneaker caught the edge of the track and he stumbled, crashing onto the dirt with all the grace of a discarded ragdoll.

A beat of silence.

Then footsteps. Reo crouched beside him, concern flickering behind his amused smile.

"You really weren’t kidding when you said you could win."

Nagi groaned, lifting his head. "...Did I?"

A staff member called out over the speaker. "Winner of the 200-meter dash: Class 3!"

Reo chuckled. "Good job, Nagi."

Nagi blinked up at him, still catching his breath. "...Thanks, boss."

That made Reo laugh for real.

The moment didn’t last.

"Oi, Nagicchi!" Bachira called, bounding over with Isagi and Karasu right behind him.

"Told you to kick it at the end!" Bachira beamed.

"You almost had it," Isagi told the spiky-haired guy.

Karasu just raised an eyebrow. "‘Almost’ being the keyword."

Nagi didn’t care about them. His eyes stayed on Reo, who was already standing again. 

"Mikage, a second?" a student called from nearby.

Reo turned. "I need to go."

Still breathless, Nagi pushed himself up. "...Reo. Lunch?"

Reo glanced back, and for a second, something in his expression softened. He lifted his phone and tilted it just enough for Nagi to understand, a silent message in the gesture.

I'll text you.

And then he was gone again.

 

 


 

 

Finally, the main event had arrived. The semifinals were about to begin.

The field buzzed with anticipation, students crowding along the sidelines and filling the bleachers. Nagi sat quietly in the bleachers, elbows on his knees, watching both teams warm up. The sun was softer now, casting elongated shadows across the grass.

"You saved me a seat?" Reo asked, nudged Nagi’s sneaker with his own.

Nagi didn’t move. "You didn't text me."

"I couldn't get away. Someone mixed up the volleyball and basketball tournament schedules." Reo sat down beside him anyway, and sighed tiredly.

“I was waiting.” Nagi mumbled.

“Sorry, next time. I promise.”

On the field, the whistle blew and the players began to take their positions. Chigiri stretched out his legs in long strides near the sideline, while Isagi and Bachira exchanged a high five at midfield.

Reo leaned back on his hands, watching the setup. "You didn’t run half bad."

"I tripped."

"Still. That final sprint wasn’t half-assed. I’m impressed."

Nagi glanced sideways at him. "You didn’t do any events today."

“I did the treasure hunt, didn't I?” Reo said with a hum. "Besides, too busy with committee stuff."

"That’s not the whole reason, is it?"

The words slipped out before Nagi could stop them. A flicker passed across Reo’s face—quick, subtle, but Nagi caught it. His fingers curled slightly over the edge of the bench, shoulders drawn taut with a tension that hadn’t been there before.

The noise of the crowd engulfed them.

"...Who do you think will win?" Reo asked, voice light. Dismissive.

Nagi let it go. He knew that look—don’t ask.

"Dunno," he said. "I don’t really get soccer."

Reo let out a short laugh. "You and Isagi are in the same class and you still don’t care about soccer? He’d be offended.

"I don’t care if he's offended."

"Fair."

They both turned their attention back to the game just as the referee blew the starting whistle. The ball shot forward, propelled by Chigiri’s precise footwork. Isagi darted in to intercept, but Chigiri passed it cleanly to Kunigami before sprinting into open space.

The pace picked up. Faster. More intense.

Chigiri dashed down the right wing, the ball glued to his feet, his crimson hair streaming behind him like a fiery veil. The crowd roared with every touch. It was fast, almost unnaturally so.

"He's unstoppable today," Reo murmured.

Nagi didn’t respond. His eyes had narrowed, not on the ball, but on something else.

There—just past the edge of the field. A flicker.

Like a visual glitch.

A small distortion rippled through the air, barely perceptible. It reminded Nagi of broken pixels, the kind that jittered across his game screen when it lagged. But this... this thing moved. Erratic, fast, slithering across the green like a mirage.

He blinked. It was gone.

Then—again. Closer this time.

Chigiri surged forward, slicing through the defense. The goal loomed. The wind shifted.

Another glitch. Jagged. Disjointed.

Nagi leaned forward instinctively.

“Something’s wrong.”

Then, it happened.

A sharp, inhuman screech—jarring, like nails on a chalkboard—ripped through the field. No one but Nagi and Reo heard it.

Chigiri stumbled.

The ball rolled ahead, untouched.

A moment of silence, like the calm before a storm.

Then, he collapsed—full force against the grass.

The sound of impact echoed like thunder.

Gasps, screams. Students shot to their feet. The referee’s whistle pierced the chaos. Several players stopped in their tracks, staring in horror.

Kunigami was the first to move. He sprinted to Chigiri, dropping to his knees. "Chigiri!" he called, voice cracking. "Hey! Look at me—Chigiri!"

No answer. Chigiri’s face was contorted, pale, his eyes unfocused. He trembled slightly, one leg pulled close to his chest like it hurt just to breathe.

Kunigami scooped him up without thinking, shouting something to the teachers. He ran, carrying Chigiri in his arms like dead weight, muscles straining with panic.

The crowd was in disarray, teachers running toward the field, students calling out, confusion spreading like wildfire.

Everyone moved.

Everyone but Reo.

He was frozen.

Nagi turned toward him instantly.

Reo sat perfectly still, hands gripping his knees so tightly his knuckles had turned white. His breathing was shallow. Sweat clung to his skin. A slight tremor ran through his arms. His lips moved but no sound came out.

"Reo?" Nagi asked, pulse hammering in his ears. "What happened?"

"Not again..." Reo whispered — voice barely audible. His pupils were blown wide, dark with panic. "I didn’t do anything this time.”

Then he stood up so fast he almost tripped—and ran.

"Reo!"

Nagi jumped to his feet, ignoring the looks and noise around him. He sprinted forward. The world narrowed to the shape of Reo’s back as he disappeared into the building.

All Nagi knew was that he had to reach him.

Notes:

will nagi catch reo? what happened to chigiri? stay tuned to find out!!

Chapter 7: ON MY MIND

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Frantic steps echoed through the empty hallway as two figures ran, one chasing the other. The thud on each stair amplified their urgency. With every flight climbed, the chaos of the soccer field fell behind—until only their breath remained, ragged and uneven.

At last, they reached the classroom. Reo pushed the door open with too much force, and it slammed against a wall. Nagi slipped inside after him, shutting it behind them, muting the world outside.

Reo staggered to the back of the room, legs shaky, adrenaline still coursing through his veins. His hair was disheveled from the mad dash, and sweat clung to his temples.

Nagi stood frozen near the entrance, watching him. His chest rose and fell sharply; his head spun slightly from the unexpected run.

Something about the way Reo moved felt wrong—off-kilter.

"Reo," he called, voice low and breathless. "What happened out there?"

No answer.

Nagi took a cautious step forward. His sneakers squeaked against the linoleum, unnervingly loud in the room's hushed silence.

"Reo, talk to me."

Still nothing.

Then Reo leaned over the desk—the one where the viperine kaii lay in wait.

The creature hadn’t moved, yet its presence hung thick in the air. Coiled in place, it glistened in the afternoon light.

"Did you do something?" Reo whispered, his tone gentle, as if coaxing a frightened animal.

He reached toward the kaii. The moment his fingers neared it, the serpent recoiled, curling into itself tighter. Its golden eyes, unblinking and sharp, locked onto Reo as if it were debating whether he was approaching as a friend, or as a threat. Or worse: prey.

Nagi noticed the slight tremble in Reo’s back, the way his knuckles turned white from gripping the edge of the wooden table too tightly. Something inside him stirred—fear, maybe—and that’s when he moved.

Despite the warning static—sparks biting at his fingertips—Nagi reached out and grabbed Reo’s shoulder, forcing him to turn.

A jolt surged through them both.

Reo flinched, yanking his arm back as if burned. That’s when the black creature lunged.

Fangs bared, it struck—lightning-fast—straight at Nagi’s arm.

But it couldn’t reach him.

Its jaws hung suspended in mid-air, just inches from Nagi’s arm—halted by something unseen. As if slammed against an invisible pane of glass.

The creature hissed, low and venomous, its scales twitching with agitation, before it recoiled to its original position.

Reo collapsed backward, the legs of the chair screeching beneath him as he barely caught himself. His breathing was shallow, erratic. He clung to the seat like it were the only thing tethering him to the world.

Nagi stood motionless, his hand still half-raised, fingertips tingling.

He’d never seen Reo like this before.

Worse still, he didn’t know how to help.

"Reo, what happened?" he asked, almost pleading.

Reo wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Nothing... I’m fine," he muttered, still not meeting his eyes.

"Don’t lie."

"I’m not," Reo said quickly. "You—are you okay? She nearly bit you."

Nagi didn’t answer. He just looked at him—really looked, as if searching for a truth hidden in his eyes.

He saw the tremble in Reo’s shoulders, the way his hands wouldn’t stop shaking. His skin looked far too pale. His amethyst eyes—usually so bright—were dull, sunken, afraid. Cold sweat clung to his forehead, and his jaw was clenched so tight it seemed like it might snap.

It hurt Nagi to see him like that.

His voice came out gentle. “You don’t look fine.”

Reo glanced at the black creature still curled on the desk, then looked away.

“It’ll pass soon,” he muttered, eyes fixed on the floor. “It always does.”

To Nagi, it sounded bitter. As if Reo was trying to convince himself, not him.

And Nagi didn’t believe him.

But for now, he let it go.

He shouldn’t have.




 

 

Two days passed.

Reo hadn’t answered a single message. He hadn’t come to school either.

On the third day, Nagi waited by the school gates. His eyes trained on the curb as cars drifted past, one after another. He wore his headphones—not really listening to anything, but to ward off any unwanted conversations. His phone rested heavy in his pocket, every unread message a silent reminder of the distance Reo had suddenly put between them.

When the sleek black car finally pulled up, Nagi straightened without thinking.

The driver, an older woman Nagi had seen before, stepped out first, opening the door. Reo got out a moment later.

His uniform was spotless, hair perfectly styled, a small, practiced smirk on his lips. He looked—oddly—normal.

Curled tightly around his left arm was the kaii—its black scales reminded Nagi of onyx links, like a living chain. It clung to him. Possessive.

Nagi gave a slight nod to the older woman. She bowed in return, then got back in the car and drove off—leaving the two boys alone.

“Morning, Nagi!” Reo chirped, a little too brightly. “Waiting for me? What a surprise.”

“Morning,” Nagi replied apprehensively, slipping his headphones down to rest around his neck.

Reo shot him a sideways glance, eyes playful. “Is there something on my face?”

His voice was calm.

Too calm.

Nagi blinked. “What?”

“You’ve been giving me weird looks since I stepped out of the car. You’ll make me blush,” Reo said with mock offense, flashing a lopsided grin.

But something about that expression unsettled Nagi. It wasn’t one of Reo’s usual teasing smirks—it felt too sharp, a bit murky.

“You weren’t here yesterday, or the day before,” Nagi said, finally.

That caught Reo off guard—if only for a second. Then he smoothed it over. “I needed rest.”

“I sent you messages.”

“You did? I didn’t notice.” Reo chuckled, light and airy.

The sound made Nagi’s skin prickle.

He pressed his lips together. Reo looked the same. Sounded the same. Even acted the same. But something in the rhythm of his words, the timing of his reactions—none of it felt natural.

It felt as if this whole conversation had been practiced beforehand.

Like the Reo who’d nearly collapsed in that classroom had been erased, and in his place stood someone Nagi didn’t quite recognize.

“Bachira wants to visit Chigiri after school,” he said, changing the subject. “He’s still in the hospital. “Do you wanna come?”

Reo blinked, tilting his head just slightly. “Chigiri?”

Nagi’s stomach twisted. 

“You know… from the match. His fall.”

“Ah.” Reo’s smile faltered. He ran a hand through his hair. “Right. That happened.”

He didn’t ask for details.

Didn’t say if he’d go.

And Nagi didn't insist.

They just walked toward the school building, surrounded by an awkward silence that clung to them like fog, out of place amid the bustling noise of students all around.

The classroom came into view sooner than Nagi expected.

“Guess I’ll see you at lunch?” Reo said with a casual wave, before greeting Karasu and Yukimiya as he made his way to his desk. Leaving Nagi behind.

The snake glanced over its shoulder at him, tail flicking lazily. Its golden eyes gleamed—scornful.

Like it knew he was watching.

It wanted him to.




 

 

“Why am I here again?” Nagi grumbled, dragging his feet across the tile floor.

After checking in at the nurse’s station, the three of them were directed toward Chigiri’s room. Apparently, someone else was already there. Or so Bachira pointed after looking at the visit log.

“Because we wanted to visit,” Bachira said brightly.

“And I’m your plus one?” Nagi sighed. “Seriously, why me ?”

“To be honest, Chigiri asked for you,” Isagi replied, adjusting the strap of his bag like it was no big deal.

Nagi scoffed and looked down at his phone.

No new messages from Reo.

That bothered him more than he wanted to admit.

The all-too-familiar scent of sanitizer prickled Nagi’s nose, tugging at memories he’d rather leave buried where they belonged—in the past.

Up ahead, Bachira suddenly halted mid-step, yanked open a door, and dragged Isagi in behind him like it was some kind of secret mission. Nagi just rolled his eyes and followed them, closing the door.

“Way to make an entrance,” Chigiri commented dryly from the bed.

The redhead sat upright in bed, one leg wrapped in bandages, flipping casually through a manga. Kunigami stood by the window, arms crossed, trying—and failing—not to laugh at their antics.

The hospital room was warm and quiet. The soft beep of the heart monitor pulsed like a second heartbeat, calm but constant.

“You look good,” Isagi said, genuinely happy.

"I’ll live. It wasn’t a big deal,” Chigiri replied, waving a hand as if to brush it off.

“You almost broke your leg, princess. Stop saying it wasn't a big deal,” Kunigami huffed, reaching over to ruffle Chigiri’s hair.

“Stop—don’t touch the hair!” Chigiri groaned, but didn’t swat his hand away.

Watching them, Nagi could tell how at ease they were with each other. A pang of—jealousy, maybe?—tightened in his chest, catching faintly in his throat.

Little by little, they eased into the space, growing more comfortable as they let themselves simply hang out.

Isagi had brought snacks, which he spread messily across the small table. Bachira was laughing while showing him some weird video on his phone, the sound barely audible through the speaker. Nagi sat on the armrest of a chair, half-listening, half-distracted by the game on his phone. Now and then, his eyes wandered to the IV drip glinting under the light, or to the faint bruise blooming beneath Chigiri’s cheekbone.

At one point, Kunigami was carefully braiding a loose strand of Chigiri’s hair, mumbling something about fixing what he’d messed up earlier. Chigiri didn’t protest. He just rolled his eyes and let him.

Then—

“Hey,” Chigiri said suddenly, snapping his book shut. “Can you guys go get me a drink? Vending machine by the elevator.”

Isagi raised an eyebrow. “All of us?”

Chigiri gave a cheeky smirk. “Yeah. All of you. I want options.”

Kunigami sighed but stood first. “Just say you want us gone.”

“You caught me.” Chigiri said without hesitation.

Bachira tugged Isagi’s sleeve. “Let’s gooo. I want a coke!”

When they were gone, the room settled into a different kind of silence. Thick. Still. Nagi didn’t move. Chigiri looked at him, expression unreadable.

“So,” he said, voice neutral. “You wanted to say something... right?”

Nagi’s eyes flicked from Chigiri’s face to his bandaged leg. “Isn’t it the other way around, princess?”

Chigiri let out a laugh, light and mirthful—and it caught Nagi off guard.

“Why so serious?” Chigiri teased. “You kept glancing over here. I figured you had something on your mind.”

Nagi gripped his phone tightly. “How’s your leg?”

“It's fine. I mean, it hurts like hell, but…” He shrugged. “They’re keeping me here until they figure out what actually happened.”

Nagi’s brow twitched. “Any idea?”

“Nope,” Chigiri said simply. “One moment I was running, the next I was on the ground. My leg felt like it had been bitten—and then... it just burned. Like acid or something.”

Nagi’s gaze narrowed. “Has it happened before?”

Chigiri shook his head slowly.

Silence settled between them again.

Then Chigiri asked, breezily, “Wanna see it?”

Nagi’s eyes dropped immediately to the bandaged leg.

He hesitated. “Should you be taking those off?”

“It’s fine. I’ll make Kunigami wrap it up again later—he’s weirdly good at it.” Chigiri was already unwrapping the gauze, slow and practiced.

Nagi leaned forward slightly without realizing it. His breath caught when the last layer came off.

The skin on Chigiri’s calf was mottled with a grotesque bruise—deep violet and angry red, spreading outward like a splash of ink. Uneven. Unsightly.

“Looks bad, right?” Chigiri said with a crooked smile. “Kunigami nearly threw up when he saw it.”

Nagi didn’t answer.

“Still, the doctors have no idea what caused it,” Chigiri added. “Or how to get rid of it.”

He turned his head toward the window, his voice suddenly tired.

A pause.

Then, with a quiet breath, Chigiri looked back at him. “He didn’t come.”

“…Who?”

“Reo.” He looked at Nagi then, red eyes softening. “I knew he wouldn’t, but I still hoped that if Isagi and the others brought you, he’d tag along.”

“Why did you think that?”

Chigiri gave a faint shrug. “Lately, whenever I see Reo, you’re there.”

He hesitated, then added, “You asked if something similar had happened before… It has. Not to me, but… yeah. Back when Reo was still in the club.”

Nagi stared at him, waiting—but Chigiri didn’t offer anything more. He picked up his backpack and made his way to the door.

He was about to leave when Chigiri spoke again, “Tell him to come. I'd like to see him.”

Nagi only nodded, then stepped out.




 

 

That night, Nagi sat cross-legged on his bed, curtains drawn. After leaving the hospital, Isagi had texted him—scolding him for disappearing without a word—not that Nagi had promised to wait or anything.

His mind had already drifted elsewhere. Or more precisely, to someone else.

Reo.

“There’s a lot of things I don’t know about him, Choki,” Nagi murmured. He tapped a finger against one of his pet cactus’ spines.

His phone glowed faintly in the dark.

Eventually, Reo replied to the message thread with a single sentence:

- Sorry I didn’t reply. I’ll see you tomorrow at school.

Nagi stared at it for a long moment, then turned the phone face down. Something about that one line left a bitter taste he couldn’t explain.

“Things are getting weird,” he told it.

Slowly, he leaned back on the bed, folding his arms behind his head, eyes tracing the cracks on the ceiling.

“You asked if something similar had happened before… It has. Not to me, but… yeah. Back when Reo was still in the club.” Nagi remembered Chigiri’s words.

On the windowsill, Choki sat silently. He glanced at it, gray eyes filled with conflict and unease, in a way that was impossible to ignore any longer.

In such a short time, everything had gotten tangled.

And even if Nagi found it incredibly bothersome to get involved, he couldn’t look away—not if Reo was somehow part of it.

He wanted to understand Reo.

He wanted to be involved with him, more than he was willing to admit.

So he did the only thing that made sense—he opened a new message and typed:

- I need help with something.

Then, tossed the phone aside, letting the silence stretch around him again.

Notes:

not much to say except… ouch for chigiri’s leg
thanks for reading :3 things are gonna get a bit messier from here, see you in the next one!!

Chapter 8: Waiting Game

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Reo rested his elbow against the door’s armrest, watching the city slip past like a blurry watercolor in shades of blue and gray, the late afternoon light smudging everything in softer tones. His own reflection ghosted back at him from the window, looking a little dazed.

Nagi sat beside him, unbothered, his gaze roaming over the plush interior with a quiet curiosity, as if taking in the details of a world he’d never stepped into.

"It’s so spacious," Nagi murmured, patting the seat. "... and comfy." His fingers idly traced the seam of the leather, pressing into it as if testing how deep the softness went.

The steady hum of the engine. The path he’d always taken alone. Baaya’s inquisitive eyes flicking toward them in the rearview mirror—it all felt a bit overwhelming. He'd never expected to allow someone into his personal space.

But this wasn't just anyone — it was Nagi.

Bit by bit, he had seized his own place by his side, yet Reo still wondered how they’d ended up in this situation.

One second, they were in the library; the next—his phone buzzed. Karasu’s name flashed across the screen.

- Have fun with your shadow.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. Of course, Karasu wouldn’t let it go after seeing them leave together and get into his car.

“Why am I so anxious about this?”

Reo let out a slow breath, fingers drumming against his knee. Beside him, Nagi shifted, glancing his way—tilting his head slightly, white fluffy hair spilling over unruffled gray eyes.

“What’s up?” 

“Nothing, just… maybe we should have stayed at the library.” Reo blinked, looking sideways, a little uncomfortable.

“There were too many people, Reo,” Nagi replied, his voice carrying a faint complaint, turning his head to the window.

He did have a point—the library was busier than usual. After the sports festival, final exams loomed, and most students had already begun to panic. Yet even in the noise, there was a bubble of space around them— around Reo . People left the tables near him empty, enclosing them in their own little pocket of relative peace. Reo didn’t care why the rest of the students did that; it gave them privacy, which was always welcome in a world full of prying eyes.

Nagi had been sitting across from him for a while, his books open but untouched. Reo tried not to lose patience, tapping his pen against the page. The silence between them was comfortable, but the way Nagi, cheek resting on his hand, kept looking at him drowsily… not so much.

A faint itch crept under Reo’s skin, the kind that made him want to shift in his seat for no reason at all.

He sighed and underlined another line of text in front of him.

“Reo?” It wasn’t loud, but it was enough to pull his gaze up immediately.

"...What?"

"You still owe me a reward," Nagi mentioned out of the blue.

Reo leaned back. “What?”

“For winning the race.” Nagi raised his brows, unbothered.

“Oh right, I did say that.”

For a second, he’d forgotten about it—the sports festival, the treasure hunt, the rooftop… the way Chigiri’s body had crumpled.

He’d half-expected Nagi to bring that up sooner or later. To ask why he had bolted the moment it happened. Maybe that was what this was about.

A faint coldness brushed his forearm. The snake. She had made a habit of curling around him whenever Nagi was near—which was most of the time now. It reassured him, in a way, that she was still there… except for the way a clouded memory of pained screams suddenly flickered through his mind like a chopped-up film reel, leaving nausea in its wake.

Forcing the thought away, Reo set his jaw and put on a casual smirk, bracing for the worst. “Fine. What do you want?”

"Touch you."

He choked on air. The pen slipped from his fingers and hit the table with a dull tac .

“Are you—did you eat something weird at lunch?” he blurted out, glancing around to make sure no one had heard.

“You said I could ask for anything,” Nagi said, catching the pen before it hit the floor. His fingers lingered on it for a moment before sliding it back toward Reo, gaze steady, unreadable. “That’s what I want.”

A sudden heat flared low in Reo’s gut. He tried to laugh it off, but the tremor in his hands gave him away instantly. “No way. Think of something else. I’m tired of getting shocked—”

“There’s something I want to try,” Nagi cut in, his usual flat tone carrying an edge of expectation.

Reo fell silent, instinctively glancing at the snake resting by his side. He hated Nagi a little for saying it like that—so calm, without realizing what it stirred in him. And yet, it was the first time since they’d met that Nagi had ever asked him for something—simple, direct, with no apparent hidden meaning.

Different from everyone else who’d ever approached him—Nagi simply was .

“…We should go somewhere else,” Reo muttered, snapping his notebook shut.

 

 


 

 

The elevator music did little to distract him; the ride to the top floor felt somehow both momentary and endless, as if time couldn't decide whether to rush or drag. Trapped in the mirrored box, Reo caught the faint scent of fabric softener clinging to Nagi’s clothes—subtle, but enough to make him hyper-aware of the narrow space between them.

He tugged at the knot of his tie, loosening it as if to steal back some air. His gaze caught on their reflection in the elevator doors—unfamiliar, yet not unpleasant.

When the doors slid open, they stepped into a small vestibule with a single floor-to-ceiling door—elegant, minimalist. Reo tapped in the numeric code on the pad, and the lock clicked open.

Inside, he left his bag on the console by the entrance and slipped off his shoes. Nagi stood there, eyes roaming the space. There was a strange look on his face—like a wide-eyed kid on his first field trip. Reo almost let a teasing remark slip, but bit it back—because somehow, that was irritatingly endearing.

“Your parents won’t mind me being here?” Nagi asked, tugging at the straps of his backpack.

"I live alone," Reo replied—sharper than he intended. “Make yourself comfortable.”

He walked toward the open kitchen, pulling two bottles of water from the fridge. From the corner of his eye, he kept an eye on Nagi’s lanky figure as he took in the apartment’s décor—a space Reo had half chosen, half not cared enough to change.

Nagi dropped his bag on the floor and sank into the large U-shaped sofa without a second thought. Reo watched him melt into the cushions—too at ease.

His fingers tightened imperceptibly around the bottle. “So,” he said, trying to keep his voice even, “what exactly did you want to try?”

Nagi’s gaze shifted—first to the snake that had been shadowing Reo since they’d stepped inside, then to Reo, and back to the black creature.

"Can you move it?"

"...excuse me?"

“The kaii. Move it away. Just for a bit.” He made a small, awkward gesture toward the snake.

Reo exhaled, setting both bottles on the coffee table before scooping the reptile into his arms. The action felt ridiculous; she’d been at his side for so long that moving her away felt silly. He was too used to her weight, her quiet presence. In his bedroom, he set her on the bed and brushed a hand over the dark scales in apology, then headed back.

When he returned, Nagi reached under his hoodie and pulled out a chain. Dangling from it was a silver ring—the same one he’d shown Reo by the riverbank.

He set it gently on the coffee table. “When I was younger, someone gave me this,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “It might sound stupid, but… they said it would protect me.”

Reo’s eyes flicked to the ring, then back to him. "Protect you from what? Her?”

Nagi shook his head. “From all kaii, actually. I think… that’s why that happens every time we’re close.”

“…And you’re telling me this now because?”

"Because I want to see what happens when you wear it." There was no hesitation in his voice.

“You’re kidding, right?”

Nagi shook his head again.

“You have any idea what might happen if I do?” Reo asked, leaning back slightly. “…if I put it on?”

“I don’t know,” Nagi murmured, eyes drifting toward the window. “This is the first time I’ve ever shown someone the ring…”

He arched a brow. “Not sure what to say to that… thanks? But—”

“Trust me, Reo,” Nagi said—confident, without dramatics.

Reo stared at him for a beat, weighing the risk against the sudden certainty in Nagi’s tone. The request sat heavy in his chest—unpredictable, reckless even—yet there was no fear in Nagi's eyes. Somehow, that gave him a bit of courage.

He nodded slowly.

Carefully, he reached for the ring. It was cold to the touch—eerily so. Colder than it should’ve been, considering it had just been pressed against Nagi’s skin. He examined the small metallic object, watching it glint in the warm, honeyed light of the sunset.

“Looks pretty normal,” he slid it onto his index finger.

The icy metal made him flinch. But nothing else happened—no pain, no static. Nothing. He could swear he saw the other boy let out a quiet breath, almost like relief.

At least it was comforting to know Nagi was just as nervous as he was.

“Ready?” Nagi asked, lifting his hand.

Reo swallowed. Every nerve in his body screamed that this was a mistake, a bad idea. But—

He reached out, careful, deliberate, until their fingertips met. For a heartbeat, it felt like the air between them drew taut—thin as thread, ready to snap. Reo braced for the static sting.

But nothing came.

He pressed further, entwining their fingers. Nagi’s hand was cool, a little dry. Bigger than expected—bigger than his own. He stared at their laced fingers, surprised at how natural it felt, before letting his gaze travel all the way up to Nagi's face.

The sunset light caught in his hair, turning every strand into pale threads of silver and frost. It almost didn’t look real—like sunlight slipping over untouched snow. The white drank in the gold of the hour, softening it, warming it ever so slightly.

Slowly, with his free hand, Reo reached out and touched it. Soft—strands slipping easily through his fingers. Something in his chest clenched.

"Nagi," he whispered, barely audible.

"Hm?"

His cheeks were burning. His heart wouldn’t slow down. Nagi raised his hand and brushed his fingers over Reo’s cheek, sending a rush of shivers down his spine that lingered long after the touch.

Bzzzt

A sharp vibration snapped them apart.

Reo fumbled for his phone, the sudden vibration cutting through the fragile quiet. A text from Baaya: she’d be arriving soon with dinner. The light had shifted—no more golden hour, a slow bleed into violet and blue, like the moment had slipped away with the sun. Their hands slid apart, fingers loosening with reluctance, as Reo typed back a quick reply.

“Pizza?” he asked with a half-smile, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear.

“Yeah. Sure.” Nagi was already curling back into the couch, the space between them feeling wider now.




 

 

They didn’t study.

Instead, they played video games, shouted at the screen, and laughed at each other’s losses—keeping an unspoken distance, less than they were used to, yet farther than just minutes ago.

Somewhere between a win and a loss, Reo caught himself watching Nagi instead of the screen. Noticing the way his fingers curled around the controller, the small crease between his brows when he focused. The light from the TV washed over him in shifting shades of blue.

Reo didn’t know why, but a strange thought crossed his mind: maybe Nagi would stay. The thought sat warm and heavy in his chest, unsettling in a way that made him want to look away.

But later, when Nagi finally went back home, Reo went straight to his room. The snake wasn’t there.

He set the ring on his nightstand, the metal clinking softly against the wood. That’s when he felt it—the familiar weight and deliberate slide of scales over his leg until the creature coiled itself in his lap.

“I’m sorry,” Reo murmured. “I know we have a deal, but… I want to be with Nagi. For a little longer.” His voice cracked almost imperceptibly. “It’s just… it’s been a while since I’ve felt something this… intense .”

The snake didn’t protest. It simply rested in his lap, golden eyes half-lidded. There was something in that gaze—reluctance, maybe—but also the calm certainty of a predator that knew its prey would come back.

Without another word, he slipped the ring back on.

For the first time in two years, there were no black scales in sight.

Notes:

not much studying happened in the end lol. aside from the title song, free was also a big inspiration—i'm obsessed with kpop demon hunters!!
thanks for reading! let me know what you think 💜

Chapter 9: Magnets

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The classroom buzzed with the restless scrape of pencils, like insects chewing at wood. Sighs and groans filled the air, mixed with the teacher’s steps—rhythmic, predictable—like a metronome ticking.

Nagi had stopped writing long ago. Now, he twirled his pencil idly, letting the noise wash over him. The page in front of him was filled with numbers—he barely remembered half. Not that it mattered. His eyes drifted to the window, searching for something more interesting than the back of Isagi’s head—as the black haired guy seemed to be struggling with some problem. Probably overthinking it.

“Whatever, it's not that difficult anyway.”

Reo’s voice still echoed in his head—sharp, close—like he was still leaning over his shoulder. “Double-check this part, that teacher loves tricky questions.”

Nagi wasn’t particularly worried about exams, but studying with Reo had its perks. He liked the way Reo’s face changed when he explained things—earnest, focused, a little too serious. As if Nagi couldn’t possibly get it without him. Sometimes he already knew the answer, but let Reo explain anyway—pretending to be clueless wasn’t hard. Not when it meant Reo’s attention lingered a little longer.

After all, if he got the right answer, Reo would pat his head, and that made it worth the effort. And honestly, he liked it—the warmth of Reo’s hand slipping through his hair.

The bell rang at last, a sound too bright for how heavy the hour had felt. The teacher’s voice followed, flat and automatic, drowned out by the shuffle of feet and crumpled paper as students moved toward his desk. Chairs screeched. Stress clung to the air like static.

“Criminal. Absolutely criminal,” Bachira announced, tossing his pencil like it had personally wronged him. “I demand sugar after this.”

Isagi stood with a grunt. “Integrals in the first section?” He rubbed his temple. “That was sadistic.”

Nagi barely held back a yawn. “So dramatic. And for what.”

Nagi followed them, hands in his pockets, steps slow. His hair was slightly mussed—he’d nearly dozed off mid-exam and hadn’t bothered fixing it. Honestly, the only criminal thing was expecting him to stay awake for this long.

The hallway swelled with post-test noise—lockers slamming, someone laughing too loud, voices bouncing off the walls. Nagi let it all blur into background noise. Irritating, blaring background noise.

“I think I messed up the last problem,” Isagi said. “The function flipped halfway, and I only noticed when I was checking.”

“That’s why I never check,” Bachira replied. “Keeps the mystery, right?”

“Could’ve been worse,” Nagi offered, which for him was almost encouragement.

Isagi huffed. “Easy for a genius like you.”

Outside the window, the sky looked unusually pale—like it couldn’t decide whether to brighten or fade. Nagi shrugged and kept walking.

By the time they reached the cafeteria, the noise had thickened into a low, hungry roar. Groups had already claimed tables. At the counter, voices overlapped, trays clattered, and the scent of food hung thick in the air. Same ritual every day. Grab food or get stuck with the sad leftovers.

Isagi spotted someone ahead and nudged Bachira. “Wait—Kunigami’s talking to Rin?”

“Seems like it. Didn’t know they were on speaking terms.” Bachira tilted his head, then waved with both hands. “Oi, Rin-chan! Wanna eat with us?”

“Not happening,” Rin muttered.

Nagi caught the faint grimace on Rin’s face—like even imagining it left a bad taste behind.

“You two friends now?” Isagi asked, arms crossed.

Kunigami scoffed. “As if. He just came to say summer camp’s off.”

“What? Why?!” Isagi’s reaction was instant.

“Didn’t say much. Just that after Chigiri’s injury, the director told Ego to call it off. The doctors don’t even know what caused it.”

Nagi used the chance to buy a bottle of lemon tea from the vending machine, half-listening to their conversation. He remembered the awful bruise-like colors on Chigiri’s leg—violet blotches that bled into raw red. The image clung to him more than he was comfortable with. Behind him, their voices tangled over explanations—bad luck, recklessness, or perhaps the thing that bit Chigiri was already gone. Maybe canceling the camp was overreacting, but no one said it out loud.

“Blissful ignorance, I guess,” Nagi thought as he sipped his tea. The taste lingered—bittersweet.

Isagi, Bachira, and Kunigami moved ahead, chatting as they made for a lone table. Nagi’s steps had slowed before he realized it, lagging behind. That’s when he saw him—tucked in the far corner, almost hidden.

Reo laughed at something Otoya said. Across from him, Karasu peeled an orange, wearing the expression of someone one second away from tossing the peel at Otoya’s face. It was the first time Reo looked truly at ease at school. Shoulders loose, smile unguarded. More importantly, no black snake in sight.

Relief surged quietly—like the release of a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He felt lighter. Almost… ecstatic.

Yet something still tugged quietly at his chest—persistent, uneasy. Maybe it was the question that kept circling in his mind: Was Reo still wearing the ring… or had he taken it off to let the kaii in again? The thought made his stomach twist. Thankfully, Reo was still within reach.

Nagi stared a moment too long—at the curve of Reo’s smile, the way the light caught in his hair. The memory of his laugh hummed faintly in his chest, like soft wind chimes. Before he could stop himself, his feet moved. He didn’t follow Isagi and Bachira. Instead, he drifted left.

He heard Isagi call his name. Muffled, distant—like a sound underwater. He ignored it. If he’d turned around, he might’ve seen their puzzled looks. But he didn’t. He just kept walking.

Toward the corner.

Toward Reo.

Reo didn’t notice him at first. He was mid-sentence, gesturing lazily with one hand, his voice loose and casual as Karasu leaned back in his chair. A hand slid in from behind, placing a bottle of tea on the table. The other landed on the back of Reo’s chair—too familiar. Reo leaned back instinctively—his head brushing against Nagi’s chest. His voice faltered, words cut off mid-thought.

Nagi didn’t smile. He didn’t need to. He just looked—into violet eyes still catching up to the moment, filled with recognition… and something quieter he couldn’t name. Reo blinked, his lips parted, as if he were about to say something—but he didn’t. Instead, a small grin tugged at his mouth.

Reo’s voice was soft, amused. “Hello, treasure.”

“Hey,” Nagi said—awkward, almost shy. But he didn’t look away.

Just a word—simple. But it shifted the air between them: subtle, playful. Like they were back inside their own little world. Karasu’s brow arched. Otoya’s chewing slowed. For a beat, even the cafeteria noise seemed to fade.  

Without a word, Reo nudged the chair beside him—just enough. Nagi sat before he could change his mind.

Their knees brushed. Reo didn’t move. He didn’t seem to mind the closeness; Nagi could feel his warmth through the fabric—steady and grounding. He leaned a bit closer, until his head was almost resting against Reo’s side.

Of course, the moment didn't last long. Karasu shattered it first, smirking like he’d seen something incredibly amusing—something he definitely wasn’t meant to witness.

“Well, look at that,” he said lightly. “We’ve got company.”  

Otoya took the chance to steal a slice of orange. “Gonna introduce us to your shadow, Reo?” he asked, nodding toward Nagi with a grin.

Reo glared at them, clearly unamused. Nagi twisted the cap with a click and drank slowly, deliberately. He leaned back, elbows resting on the table, shoulders loosening slightly.

Like he belonged there.

Like he always had.

Reo studied him for a second. “Thought you’d be with Isagi,” he said at last.  

Nagi shrugged. “I’d rather eat with you.”  

“But you didn’t bring food,” Reo said, laughing softly as he gave him a puzzled look.

From one of his pockets, Nagi pulled a melon bread and dangled it between them.

Karasu whistled—low, but genuine. “Look at that, he came prepared."  

The conversation picked up where it had left off. Though not quite. Karasu and Otoya kept talking as usual, though their eyes flicked toward Nagi now and then—like they were waiting for him to interrupt, or shift uncomfortably in his seat.

He didn’t. 

Reo didn’t say much after that, but now and then, his eyes found Nagi—mellow, almost thoughtful. Once he finished his bread, Nagi pulled out his phone. The screen lit up, a cool blue glow. He played in silence, fingers tapping in a quick rhythm—just aware of Reo’s presence beside him, not really listening to the conversation, relishing it.

A few minutes later, Yukimiya approached, iced coffee in hand. He slowed as he reached the table, eyes landing on the now-occupied seat.

“Well,” he said, lighthearted. “Reo, is this going to be a recurring thing? Because if so, we might need a bigger table.”

Reo didn’t even look at him. “Don’t be dramatic. This one’s big enough for five.”

Yukimiya laughed, the sound easy and unbothered. “Fair enough.”

Nagi watched him from the corner of his eye, a faint pinch tightening his chest. Yukimiya kept talking. Karasu and Otoya were loud—on purpose, probably. Reo replied without missing a beat, but none of it reached his eyes. His fingers toyed absentmindedly with a button on Nagi’s blazer, but his attention was elsewhere.

The table felt too crowded. Too loud. And Reo hadn’t looked at him—not once.

Maybe it was stupid to care.

But Nagi just wanted… something smaller. Just the two of them.

Just Reo, looking at him the way he had—minutes ago, but already distant.

Was that so much to ask?

“Have you all finished eating?” Yukimiya asked, sipping his drink. “Chemistry’s next.”

Reo shifted in his seat, just barely. His hand paused on the button of Nagi’s blazer—but he didn’t move.

Nagi noticed.

He could tell Reo was hesitating—caught between standing with the others and staying a moment longer.

So Nagi stood first.

He crumpled the empty melon bread wrapper, tucking it into his pocket. He turned to Reo and reached out, fingers brushing lightly over his shoulder.

His thumb traced the skin above his clavicle—soft, careful.

“I’ll go with Isagi and the others,” he murmured—just for Reo’s ears.

Reo looked up. His eyes widened just slightly—and for a second, a bloom of pink touched his cheeks, quick to fade.

He liked that look on him.

Nagi turned before anyone could say a word. He walked away without looking back, leaving behind a silence unsure of what to make of it. Four sets of eyes followed him across the cafeteria.

Karasu.

Otoya.

Yukimiya.

Reo.

But as Nagi rejoined Isagi and Bachira at their usual, noisy table, a thought tugged at the edge of his mind.

“What a shame.” 

He’d almost had him to himself.

 

 


 

 

The weight of exam week had lifted, leaving behind the soft rustle of wind and the faint echo of a ball bouncing in the distance.

Nagi wandered across the field, not really headed anywhere. The grass was damp under his soles, the faded white lines disappearing and reappearing beneath each step. He wasn’t following them—just crossing over, aimless.

The sky was thickening with clouds, but the wind hadn’t decided what to be—cool, but not cold. Still. Unsettlingly still.

He wasn’t expecting company—yet footsteps approached from behind. Isagi, with no Bachira in sight. Weird.

“Hey, Nagi. Kinda weird seeing you here.” Isagi’s tone was casually forced, like he was testing the waters.

“Just waiting for Reo,” Nagi said. “Why’s that weird?”

Isagi hesitated. “Eh… I guess it’s not.”

He didn’t say anything after that. Just walked beside him—uninvited. Nagi kept his gaze on the grass, as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. He was waiting for a trace—any hint—that whatever he’d seen on the field that day was gone. That whatever had infected Chigiri was done here. Had moved on.

But with Isagi here… the kaii wouldn’t show. Not now.

“I have a feeling I failed the exam,” Isagi said after a pause, half-joking. “Though definitely better than last year. Progress, I guess?”

Nagi didn’t respond. His hands stayed buried in his pockets. His eyes swept across the rest of the field—searching.

Isagi glanced sideways at him, his brow faintly furrowed.

“What about you? Did you figure everything out?”

“Yeah,” Nagi murmured, distracted. “Last page was kinda hard… but Reo helped me review, so…”

He shrugged.

Isagi nodded, a little awkward.

“Chigiri’s gonna miss the exams,” he said, voice lower now. “Apparently his injury’s worse than they thought.”

Nagi kept his gaze forward. A breeze passed by, carrying the smell of freshly cut grass… and something else. Unspoken discomfort.

“They’ll give him an extension,” Isagi added. “But still… sucks being stuck in a hospital while everything else keeps moving.”

Still, Nagi didn’t reply.

Then—

“Have you talked to Reo?”

The question landed like a stone on thin ice—sudden and splintering.

Nagi tilted his head slightly. “About what?”

“About Chigiri. If he’s planning to visit or… something.”

“I never said I would,” Nagi said, voice flat, without looking at him. “If Reo doesn’t want to go, that’s his choice.”

Isagi frowned. “Seriously? So you’re not even going to try?”

“Don’t be annoying, Isagi.”

Nagi turned and started walking. His brows were drawn together—tight with irritation.

Isagi followed a few steps. “You’re always like this—avoiding stuff you don’t want to deal with.”

Nagi stopped.

The wind shifted—barely. A thick cloud swallowed the sun, and the light around them dimmed. Nagi shot a glare over his shoulder—sharp and cold. Isagi flinched, a step retreating before he could stop it.

“I don’t get why you’re mad at me,” Nagi said, airily. “It’s not like I owe Chigiri anything. I barely even know him.”

There was a pause.

“…But Reo does,” Isagi said.

Nagi scoffed. “So what? Should I drag him there by the hand?”

Isagi narrowed his eyes. “You think this is a joke?”

Nagi looked away. “You always try too hard.”

Isagi stepped closer. “Why are you always like this?”

Nagi raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“Like you’re above it all. Like none of it matters. If you care—even a little—then do something,” Isagi snapped.

And something in the air cracked.

The blankness in Nagi’s face made it worse. Isagi stared, frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

Finally, Nagi looked at him.

Not angry.

Maybe bored.

Hard to tell.

“You don’t even know why Reo doesn’t want to go. Don’t you think it’s kind of hypocritical to push him when you haven’t even asked?”

Isagi opened his mouth.

Closed it again.

And for a moment, the air held a fragile tension—cold and brittle, like a glass surface about to shatter. A flicker of something unseen—a breath too sharp. It caught Nagi’s attention. It slithered like a glitch in the air—sudden, erratic. Appearing sporadically before vanishing again. Nagi scanned the space, anticipating the next ripple—where the distortion might blink into view.

A voice cut through the tension, catching them both by surprise.

“What are you two doing?”

Reo.

He stood a few steps away—no blazer, sleeves rolled to the elbows, bag slung over one shoulder. His expression: questioning. Nagi turned to face him. His jaw relaxed. The tension melted. The buzzing under his skin vanished.

Isagi stood still.

“I came to find you,” Reo said brightly, his eyes only on Nagi.

And Nagi, without a word, walked toward him—as if pulled by some magnetic force.

“See ya, Isagi,” Reo said at last, barely sparing him a glance.

Though Isagi could swear there was an edge in his voice—a veiled warning. Reo slung an arm over Nagi’s shoulders as they left the field—like being that close was the most natural thing in the world. A quiet kind of earned intimacy. Or something like it. 

The gesture was light, but Nagi enjoyed the proximity—the soft brush of lavender hair against his skin. Reo smelled faintly of clean fabric and something cool and expensive. For a moment, Nagi let himself breathe.

“What were you two talking about?” Reo asked.

“...Nothing of importance.”

Reo hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Let me be the judge of that. So, tell me.”

“Why is he even curious?” 

As they turned the corner of the building, the side corridor was quiet—just a few students with half-zipped backpacks trickling from nearby classrooms. No one gave them a second glance. And Nagi thought—if Reo was actually bothered by that conversation, then what was the point in hiding it? Whatever he decided to do, Nagi would be by his side.

Nagi drew in a breath. “You see, when I went to–”

Out of nowhere, someone stepped into their path—tall, messy-haired, sleep-deprived.

“Hey, Mikage,” he said, stopping like something had just clicked in his memory. “Hang on a sec…”

“You were friends with Chigiri from Class 5, right?”

The moment Reo’s arm slid off, Nagi’s shoulders tensed.

Reo blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

The guy didn’t wait for an answer—just started digging through his bag.

“Something for Chigiri—handouts, recovery sheets, notes, whatever. History teacher gave it to me, but I’ve got stuff to do.”

He yanked out a crumpled green folder—bent corners, one sad clip holding it together.

“I figured you could give it to him. You guys were close, weren’t you?”

Reo didn’t respond. His expression hardened. The polished smile he usually wore didn’t even try to surface.

The guy raised an eyebrow and offered the folder, like he couldn’t get rid of it fast enough. Nagi’s gaze shifted—folder, then Reo. The air thickened, quiet tension threading between them.

“It’s that or the teacher gets pissed. Not that he’d be mad at you.”

Reo took the folder with stiff fingers—the kind of motion you make when you don’t really want to, but you do it anyway because you’re expected to. His jaw clenched, eyes still downcast.

The guy laughed, awkward and dismissive, then walked off without even uttering a thank-you.

The folder didn’t weigh much. But the air around it felt heavier—thick with something sour, like whatever was inside had started to rot between the pages.

Nagi kept his mouth shut, watching him closely. Reo stood still, gaze fixed on the floor.

“...Didn’t even ask if I wanted to,” he muttered, barely above a whisper.

Several seconds passed. No one moved.

Then Nagi spoke, his eyes drifting toward the corridor ahead.

“Do you want—”

Reo turned slowly, confusion knitting his brow.

“Do you want to go?” Nagi asked.

There was no judgment. No pressure. Just waiting, willing to follow through with whatever Reo decided.

Reo clutched the folder tighter.

“…I don’t know,” he murmured, almost to himself.

Nagi gave a small nod. “It’s okay. I can take care of it.”

“No—wait,” Reo said quickly, voice catching. “Just… give me a second.”

He let out a breath, rubbing the bridge of his nose with two fingers. That’s when Nagi understood—Reo had already made up his mind. He just couldn’t take the first step. So Nagi gave him a push. Or rather, a pull—he took the folder from his hands.

Reo blinked, startled. He parted his lips to say something—then stilled as Nagi took his hand, firm and steady.

They walked in silence, steps syncing as they left the corridor behind—and the school with it.

And Reo followed—fingers entwined.

Notes:

any thoughts? lmk 💜

Chapter 10: Ballroom Extravaganza

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

They had been standing in front of the door for five whole minutes. A couple of nurses had passed by more than once, shooting them questioning glances. Nagi ignored them, obviously—his attention fixed on the boy beside him, who couldn’t stop fidgeting in place.

Reo’s frown said enough. Nagi could tell he’d rather be anywhere else. It was as if they’d been rooted there for an eternity—just the two of them, caught between muffled voices, the shuffle of footsteps, and the sharp sting of antiseptic in the air.

Nagi’s hand was still in his, warm and steady.

For a moment, Reo only breathed—slow, bracing himself. Then he squeezed his hand—harder than expected. Nagi felt the weight of it, like Reo was trying to anchor himself… before he let go.

The door slid open with a dull scrape.

The room looked exactly the same as before. The window was cracked open, curtains swaying lightly with the breeze. A faint hint of summer slipped in, softening the sterile smell. Chigiri sat propped up against the pillows, his injured leg suspended by a sling. Kunigami was there too, in the chair beside the bed, a half-closed book in his lap, fingers marking the page. Both looked up as the door slid shut.

Silence pressed down for a beat—thick, unyielding. Then Chigiri smirked.

“Well, well. If it isn’t Mikage Reo,” he said, voice light but sharp. “Took me nearly breaking a leg to make you appear, huh?”

Kunigami let out a sound between a laugh and a sigh, closing the book against his palm. Nagi rolled his eyes at the jab and drifted closer to Reo until their shoulders brushed. Reo gave a low, humorless chuckle, almost swallowed before it left his mouth.

Nagi felt his stomach tighten. The mask was back on.

With smooth, deliberate strides, Reo crossed the room and tossed the green folder onto the side table. “Don’t get too excited. This isn’t a social visit—I’m just the delivery guy.”

Chigiri hummed, eyes narrowing. “And here I thought you’d finally remembered we’re friends.”

Nagi caught the flick of Chigiri’s gaze toward him, a silent question. He hadn’t said a word—and he wasn’t planning to. They wouldn’t even be here if that bothersome guy hadn’t shoved an errand on them, ruining their way back home together.

The conversation with Isagi still lingered at the back of his mind. But he hadn’t seen Reo’s face when Chigiri collapsed—drained of color, seized by panic. After that, how could he even suggest bringing him here?

If choosing Reo made him look indifferent to the rest, so be it. He owed them nothing. That didn’t mean he didn’t care, though.

Reo noticed the glances, but let them slide. Hands in his pockets, posture loose—slack in that practiced way he used whenever he wanted to look unaffected.

“That’s all we came to do, so we’re leaving.” “He turned on his heel, voice clipped.

“Why don’t you stay a bit longer, Reo?” Kunigami’s tone was calm, but it carried a bit of insistence.

Reo froze for a fraction. His shoulders tensed, then eased, caught between leaving and staying. Nagi saw it—the flicker in his face, hesitation cracking through.

So he leaned in, tilting his head slightly, close enough for only Reo to hear. His voice was quiet, each word careful.

“Maybe we should stay,” Nagi whispered. “If you want.”

Reo’s lips pressed into a thin line. He looked ready to walk out—just to make a point, but Kunigami’s words lingered, and Nagi’s whisper still clung, pulling him back.

He clicked his tongue, sharp and dismissive. “Fine. Five minutes.”

Kunigami’s shoulders eased, almost imperceptibly, as he rose from the chair. He picked up the folder Reo had left, flipping it once in his hand before placing it neatly on Chigiri's lap.

Reo shifted the strap of his bag higher on his shoulder and crossed the room. He dropped into the nearest chair with careless grace, leaning back, hands loose in his lap. His eyes drifted to the window—anywhere but the bed.

Nagi followed wordlessly, letting his backpack slide to the floor as he sat beside him, their knees brushing. Nagi was close enough that if he leaned just slightly, he would catch Reo’s scent.

The stillness stretched, thin and brittle, as if daring someone to break it. Reo’s gaze stayed fixed on the window, jaw tight. Nagi caught the faint shifts in his face, the slow rhythm of his breath.

Chigiri skimmed through the folder, lips tightening as he let out a hard breath. “It’s too much,” he muttered. “I can’t even sit for the exams like this…”

Kunigami’s hand settled firmly on his shoulder. “Relax. You’ll be fine soon,” he said softly, as if certainty alone could carry it.

“What if I don’t get better— ever ?” Chigiri scoffed, gripping the papers tight.

“Then we'll figure something out.” Kunigami reached over and gave his cheek a quick, playful pinch—as if that simple touch could erase his doubts.

“This is pointless, we should just leave.”

Almost out of habit, his gaze slid to Reo. His hand drifted over his wrist, fingertips brushing cool skin. The tendons tightened under his touch. He looked calm enough to anyone else, but Nagi felt it—the tiny tremor.

Reo swallowed hard, eyes downcast, before he finally asked, “Your leg… is it that bad?”

Chigiri let out a tired chuckle, fingers brushing the bandages in frustration. “Who knows? I just thought I’d be out of here by now.”

Kunigami cleared his throat, his gaze flicking toward Chigiri’s leg. “At least you’re moving better than yesterday.”

“Could have been worse. At least it’s just one leg,” Nagi said, absent-minded.

Reo shot Nagi an outrageous look, jabbing him in the ribs. Nagi only shrugged, letting his shoulder rest against Reo’s.

“What? It really could’ve been worse.” He knew that better than anyone.

Chigiri narrowed his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward. “Gee, thanks for the encouragement.”

The conversation drifted after that—Kunigami grumbling about the summer camp being cancelled, Chigiri complaining about nurses hovering over him every hour. Even Nagi spoke once or twice, muttering that the only good part of hospitals was napping and playing games all day.

Reo didn’t join in. After that one comment, he kept silent, his leg bouncing restlessly—Nagi set a hand on his knee, steadying him.

Reo didn’t shake it off.

Chigiri leaned forward, eyes keen, almost feline.

“…I never got to ask,” he said, deceptively casual. “Back in first year. During that match, a player dropped in the middle of the field, and right after that, you vanish from the club. No warning. What the hell was that, Reo?”

The air thinned. Kunigami glanced at Chigiri, then at Reo. “Should Nagi and I… step out?”

“Should they, Reo?” Chigiri tilted his head, gaze fixed on him—forcing Reo to finally meet his eyes.

Reo’s jaw tightened, his leg tense under Nagi’s hand. Still, his eyes never left Chigiri’s.

“Nothing. I just got bored,” he said offhandedly.

A sudden, incredulous laugh. “Right. Mikage Reo, bored of being at the center of everything. That’s believable.”

“You’re free to believe whatever you want, Chigiri.” Reo stood up briskly, as if ready to leave.

“Wait, Reo! Listen…” he jerked upright, startling Kunigami, who reached out as if to steady him. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but—you left the team, started avoiding us...”

“So it’s my fault?” His eyes locked on Chigiri—colder than Nagi had ever seen them.

“No! It’s just… I thought you might know something, anything.” Chigiri leaned deeper into the pillows, the folder slipping a little in his hands. “I’m fucking tired of being here, you know?”

His words lingered in the air, thick as smoke.

Reo’s throat bobbed once, as if swallowing back whatever he meant to say.

“Sorry, I don’t know anything,” he muttered. “Let's go, Nagi.”

They left the room, their steps echoing against the tiled floor as they headed for the elevator. Reo jabbed at the call button—once, twice, three times—like the machine might move faster if he pressed harder. Nagi thought of saying something, anything. But nothing came. He didn’t want to make Reo’s mood worse. Then a hand reached for Reo’s shoulder. Nagi caught the wrist before it touched him, grip firm. Instinctive.

Kunigami blinked at him.

“Good reflexes,” he said, awkwardly. “Now, could you let go?”

Nagi glanced at Reo. At his nod, he let go.

“Now what?” His voice cut sharp with irritation.

Kunigami sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, Reo. He’s been on edge since earlier.”

“And that’s my problem, why ?” Reo shot back, eyes narrowing.

“Reo…” Nagi murmured, trying to take the edge off.

Reo dragged a hand through his hair, letting out a heavy breath. “Whatever. So… what’s with him?”

“Chigiri’s not getting better,” Kunigami admitted, looking worn and frustrated. “It’s spreading up his leg. He’s getting desperate.”

The hum of fluorescent lights cut through the pause. Nagi shifted his weight against the wall. He wasn’t surprised.

“He’ll get better,” Nagi simply said, eyes on his phone. His thumbs flicked across the screen before he pocketed it.

Kunigami’s shoulders sagged, a weary half-smile tugging at his mouth. “Thanks. I hope so.”

The elevator doors slid open.

 

 


 

 

They walked side by side, footsteps the only sound between them. The streetlamps weren’t lit yet. The sun slipped down at a languid pace, tinting the clouds with a soft gold that blended into faded violets, stretching their shadows long across the pavement.

Nagi wondered, briefly, why Reo hadn’t called Baaya. But the thought slipped away as quickly as it came. It wasn’t important. What mattered was that he had more time with Reo—just the two of them.

After a while, Reo’s voice cut through. “Can we stop somewhere?”

Nagi nodded.

They ended up by the riverbank again, the water sluggish in the setting sun. Reo sat down first, shoulders heavy, gaze distant. Nagi followed, settling beside him. For a moment, neither moved. Then a group of kids tumbled past, kicking a soccer ball, their shouts carried on the wind.

Reo smiled faintly, head bowed. “Aren’t you going to ask?”

The wind blew a strand of purple across his face. Nagi brushed it aside without thinking.

“I won’t ask anything you don’t want to say.”

That made Reo laugh—soft, genuine, as if the words had startled him. He toyed with the metal band around his finger, twisting it restlessly. “You’re weird. But… it’s nice. Being with you. It feels like I can breathe.”

Something warm and alive rushed into Nagi’s chest, so strong it startled him. He turned quickly toward the kids, pretending to watch their game—though what he wanted more than anything was to keep looking at Reo in the late afternoon light.

Reo’s voice came softer this time. “I liked playing soccer too. Feels like forever ago now.”

Nagi tilted his head. “Why did you quit then?”

Reo gave a small, resigned shrug. “Stuff happened.”

“Like what Chigiri said?” Nagi pressed gently.

Reo went still. His eyes clouded, like he was staring through something only he could see. For a heartbeat, he looked hollow—like he might crumble and slip through Nagi’s fingers. Instinctively, Nagi leaned in, nuzzling his side with just a brush of contact, pulling him back.

The sharp inhale that followed eased the tension. His hand came down atop Nagi’s head, fingers combing through his hair. Nagi stayed still, soaking in the warmth.

He spoke again. “In my first year, I was on the team. Match against a school—Aomori… something. We were tied 2–2. One of their players fouled Rin with a dirty slide, and the ref let it go. Over and over, they kept pushing it. And this one guy—I don’t even remember his name—stuck to me the whole game, trying to make me slip. Damn bastard… if he can’t win fair, why play at all?”

Nagi shut his eyes, letting Reo’s voice fill the space. It was easier to catch all the nuances—buried between words.

“And then…” Reo’s eyes flickered. “She—the snake… did something. One moment, he was behind me. Next, he was on the ground. Unconscious. The match was canceled, obviously. And it wasn’t just him—others, the ones pulling fouls, they collapsed too. Anyway, those guys got better after a week or so…”

The quiet pooled between them, dense and unmoving. It felt incomplete, like a puzzle missing pieces. But Nagi didn’t push. He remembered what he’d promised. The story would come in time.

Instead, Nagi said softly, “It wasn’t your fault, Reo. What happened to Chigiri—that wasn’t the snake. There’s something else.”

Reo didn’t answer. He just looked at him, truly looked, the fading light catching in his eyes. They gleamed, deep and violet. Nagi leaned closer, then stopped. He wanted… what? Something he couldn’t pin down.

For the briefest moment, color rose to Reo’s cheeks before he coughed, embarrassed, leaning away—much to Nagi’s dismay. Then he stood, stretching his arms before offering his hand.

“…Stay with me, tonight?”

No way Nagi would ever say no to Reo.

Notes:

let me know your thoughts :)

Side note… reo’s goal in the manga?? i’m so happy!!

Chapter 11: The Death of Peace of Mind

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“Everyone, don’t forget your summer homework. Don’t leave it for the last day, and enjoy your break.” The homeroom teacher’s voice blurred into the background—just another string of last-day clichés.

As if anyone was still listening.

Nagi wasn’t. He had already zipped his bag before the bell’s echo faded, the sound lost in the shuffle of feet.

He stood and slipped past the rows of desks without looking back. Even when he felt Isagi’s gaze—especially then. Since their last argument, words had dwindled to almost nothing. A stray greeting, a passing nod, and silence filling the rest.

Nagi ignored it. He ignored him. Ignoring was easier.

The hallway opened up—students spilling into groups, eager to trade exhausting classes for summer freedom. Nagi rolled his shoulders once, as if shaking off Isagi’s stare and leaving it behind with the rest of the bothersome things.

“Yo, Nagi!” Bachira’s voice bounced down the hall, cutting through the shuffle of footsteps. He jogged up easily, falling into step beside him, grin wide and unbothered. It only made Nagi vaguely tense.

“So…” Bachira drew the word out, matching his pace. “How long’s the silent treatment gonna last, huh?”

Nagi shrugged, gaze drifting ahead. “I’m not the one who got mad.”

“Yeah, well…” Bachira tilted his head, humming like he was savoring the thought. “That’s just him. Don’t take it too seriously.”

Nagi slowed for a step, cutting him a sideways glance. “If it mattered that much, why didn’t he talk to Reo himself?”

"Fair point.” Bachira chuckled, giving Nagi a playful punch on the shoulder—light, fleeting. “Guess we figured he’d listen to you. Isagi’s… logical, y’know? Thought you had the better chance.”

“Still. That has nothing to do with me. Or with Reo.” Nagi rolled his eyes.

Bachira only shrugged, easygoing—not offended in the least.

Then—ahead of them—a glint of violet hair caught his eye. Reo. Leaning against the wall like he’d been waiting all along. Nagi’s pace quickened before he realized, feet moving faster on their own.

“Nagi!” Bachira called after him.

He turned his head.

Bachira’s smile softened, almost knowing. “Friends fight, y’know? But they make up too. Maybe… think about talking to him, yeah?”

“I’ll think about it,” Nagi said—though his eyes were already fixed ahead.

Nagi slowed when he reached him, chest tight, pulse too quick for such a short walk. Ridiculous. He found it weird that Reo could do that to him without even trying.

Reo noticed him before he spoke.

Of course he did.

“You bailed fast,” Reo said, smile curved, playful.

Nagi shifted his backpack straps, avoiding his gaze. “Not an interesting conversation.”

Reo pushed off the wall, closing the distance until the light caught in his hair, scattering violet glints with every step. “So you came to me instead?”

“...Yeah.”

The grin Reo gave him made something buzz under his skin—mischief and warmth tangled together.

“Good boy,” Reo said, patting his back as he brushed past. The touch lingered just long enough to heat Nagi’s ears. “Let’s go, then.”

Nagi followed him.

They walked side by side. Reo talked easily, hopping from one subject to another—how Yukimiya would be stuck with modeling gigs all summer, how Karasu was suddenly into some blue-haired guy he’d met online, or how Otoya had just decided to go backpacking out of the blue.

Nagi didn’t really care about Reo’s friends. Not much, anyway. But watching Reo talk was different—the way his face shifted so quickly, thoughtful, amused, ironic; the sound of his laughter spilling out. It held Nagi still, caught him in place, as if he’d been spellbound.

The sudden buzz of his phone in his pocket cut through it, snapping his focus back. A message he’d been waiting for.

“Reo,” Nagi said, tugging at his sleeve, “do you have plans tomorrow night?”

Reo stopped mid-step, one eyebrow arching. He leaned in, just slightly, studying Nagi’s face as if to confirm he’d heard right. The question was strange enough to throw him off—too strange for Nagi.

“Why? Are you asking me out?”

Nagi’s breath hitched with Reo’s face so close. It flustered him, his gaze flicking from violet eyes to lips to anywhere else. His chest tightened, traitorously eager.

“Eh… I—well, kinda?”

Reo laughed at his troubled look. “Kinda? So you’re not?”

“Don’t make fun of me, Reo.” The words slipped out in a pout before Nagi could stop them.

That only made Reo laugh harder. He slung an arm around Nagi’s shoulders, pulling him close until their sides brushed. Heat crawled up Nagi’s neck.

“I need a favor, Reo.”

Reo tipped his head, grin lingering, eyes narrowing with amused suspicion. “A favor, huh? You’ll have to be more specific.”

Nagi swallowed, clutching his bag strap tighter. “Just… come with me. I’ll explain then.”

Reo hummed, low and teasing. “Mysterious. I like that.”

Nagi didn’t answer.

Reo squeezed his shoulder, leaning close until his laughter brushed Nagi’s ear. “Fine. Whatever it is, I’ll be there. I’m curious, anyway.”

Nagi’s heart stuttered. He looked away, hiding it the only way he knew—by walking faster. Reo kept up easily, grin never fading.

Nagi didn’t say a word, but the flutter in his chest gave him away. He told himself Reo hadn’t noticed.

 

 


 

 

The summer night pressed down on them. A sudden draft slipped through the gates, rattling the branches until they groaned in protest. Nagi shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, staring up at the building. Tall. Ominous. Like something straight out of a horror movie—not that anything wouldn’t, at this hour.

Beside him, Reo shifted on his feet, the scrape of his shoes dragging Nagi’s attention for a second.

“Well, this isn’t what I thought you had in mind.”

Nagi scratched the back of his neck, catching the faint downturn of Reo’s smile. “Sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”

“Anyway, are you sure we had to do this now?” Reo asked, voice aiming for casual.

Nagi shrugged, sluggish. “Not really. But better than in the day. Less of a hassle.”

Before Reo could reply, a sound rolled out from the distance. Low. Guttural. A growl that climbed louder with every second.

“…Shit,” Nagi muttered, shoulders tensing before he even realized.

Reo blinked, startled, like the word had caught him off guard. He looked like he wanted to ask something, but one glance at Nagi’s face—half annoyance, half resignation—shut him up.

The roar of a motorcycle cut through the night, headlights slicing the gates like a blade. It rolled to a smooth stop, engine rumbling low and steady, alive.

The rider killed the lights, swung a leg over, and stepped down with practiced ease. Hard to miss; leather jacket padded at the shoulders, dark jeans tucked into combat boots, helmet tucked under one arm. His hair somehow spiked up in defiance, gravity and helmet both ignored.

To Nagi, he looked more like a gang leader than someone here to deal with a supernatural pest problem.

The guy’s eyes swept over them, lingering on Reo a beat too long. Something in his look sharpened, like he’d noticed… something off. But he didn’t comment. He just moved on.

“What’s this? You pick up a sidekick?” Barou’s voice was low, unimpressed.

Reo frowned, clearly irritated at his attitude. “Excu—”

Nagi lifted a hand, cutting him off without even looking.

“Did your sisters play with your hair? What’s with the red stripes, King?” Nagi’s voice was flat, almost bored, but the bite was there.

Barou sneered. “Whatever.”

He dropped the helmet onto the bike seat with a dull thud, cracking his knuckles loud enough to echo.

“What are you doing here, King? Wasn’t Zantetsu the one coming?”

“The idiot got lost. Again. Took the wrong train.”

“Stupid Zantetsu,” Nagi muttered with a sigh of irritation.

Dealing with a kaii was already a pain. Doing it with Barou made it a hundred times worse.

“So. Where is it?” Barou asked.

“The soccer field,” Reo answered before Nagi could, pushing the gate open just enough for them to slip inside.

 

 


 

 

“This is ridiculous,” Reo muttered, leaning against the fence that separated the field from the bleachers, restless energy rolling off him.

Nagi tapped at his screen, half-focused on the shooting game. Out of the corner of his eye, Barou prowled the field like he owned it, boots thudding with every step.

“Say, Nagi—this standard procedure for… whatever the hell this is?” Reo breathed, impatience edging his voice.

“Hmm, not really,” Nagi said as he shot the last person standing between him and victory. “Barou’s just a weirdo.”

“You’re the weirdo, stupid. And stop wasting my time with small fry. You should’ve handled this,” Barou barked from the middle of the field.

“Too much of a hassle. I’m not a specialist. And I didn’t ask for you, Barou,” Nagi said flatly, never lifting his gaze from the screen.

Barou was on them before the words even faded.

“You. Purple head. Hold this.” He tossed his leather jacket at Reo without slowing.

“Quit it. Reo’s not your assistant. Don’t throw your crap around,” Nagi cut in, sharper than usual. The edge in his voice was enough to make Barou glance back.

Barou taunted. “If he’s not a servant or a sidekick, then why bring him?”

Nagi clenched his jaw. No answer came, even when he wanted to deny it. Reo wasn’t a specialist. He already had a kaii haunting him. Letting him tag along was reckless. He could get hurt. Or worse—become a liability if that damn reptile decided to act on its own. That risk still lingered, even with the ring suppressing it—never foolproof.

So why had Nagi let him stay?

A bundle of crumpled paper charms thudded against his chest, snapping him out of it.

“Do something useful and set up the barrier, or pretty boy’s gonna get hurt,” Barou muttered.

Nagi caught the ofuda without enthusiasm, letting the paper settle in his palm. He turned to Reo, who stared back at him in confusion.

“Reo, stay in the bleachers, okay?” Nagi’s voice was gentler now, but left no room for argument.

Reo stepped behind the low wall, eyes fixed on him as Nagi pressed the ofuda along the fence. One, two, three—forming a loose triangle. Each paper sank into the surface like it was swallowed whole.

For a moment, it looked like Reo would stay put. But when Nagi glanced back, he was already slipping past the barrier before it closed, standing close to him again.

Nagi exhaled through his nose, shoulders weighted. He should’ve pushed him back out.

He didn’t.

“What? There’s no way I’ll let my treasure be in danger.” Reo grinned, haughty.

“That’s not the point.” Nagi’s voice came out reluctant.

Barou yelled from the far side of the field. “Bait, do your thing.”

Nagi rolled his eyes. Without a word, he tugged at the sleeves of his hoodie and let out a slow breath—steadying himself. Something shifted in the air, thickening. The far end of the field rippled—like heat haze. Slithering from one place to another.

When Reo looked at Nagi, his eyes caught for a beat. Nagi’s gaze was fixed straight ahead, the gray of his irises now tinged faintly green-blue, cold under the dark.

Then came the crack—shrill, splitting the silence.

The field wavered, and something enormous bled into view. First, only a shimmer of jagged legs—too many, moving out of sync. Then the bulk followed: black chitin, slick with a dark sheen, burgundy lines pulsing under its shell like veins. The stinger dripped venom as it curved forward, a grotesque hook glinting under the artificial lights.

“What the hell?!” Reo’s voice rang sharp—not fear exactly, but the shock of seeing something that shouldn’t exist suddenly standing there.

Instinctively, Nagi stepped in front of him, shielding Reo with his body. His hand found Reo’s, fingers curling tight. It was to steady him—that’s what he told himself. But the touch anchored Nagi just as much as it did Reo.

Barou’s grin cut wide, all teeth. “Finally.” His eyes lit up the way kids looked at their favorite toy. He spotted a ball near the goal, spun it once on his index finger. “This’ll do.”

With long, confident strides, he headed straight for the creature.

“He’s seriously going to use that?” Reo’s eyes tracked the ball in Barou’s hand before flicking to the scorpion.

“Idiot king,” Nagi muttered.

The ball moved first. Barou’s kick split the air with a sharp whistle before slamming into the scorpion’s chest. The creature staggered back, pincers clacking in agitation.

Barou barked over his shoulder without turning. “You just gonna stand there like a fucking statue?”

“I’m keeping Reo safe.” Nagi only shrugged.

When he glanced sideways, Reo was watching him. Too intently—like he was seeing someone else. Nagi looked away, abashed.

The scorpion didn’t wait. Its stinger arched forward with sudden speed—aimed straight at them.

Reo’s shout came a second too late. “Nagi, move!”

But the stinger never struck.

It stopped inches from his face—caught by something unseen.

Reo squinted—and then he saw it: thin, bony phalanges stretching out from Nagi’s shadow. A skeletal, translucent hand clamped around the stinger, holding it mid-air.

Barou let out a low, scornful laugh. “Show-off.”

“All yours.” Nagi flicked the kaii away, as if tossing a stone.

The scorpion crashed to the ground, screeched, and hauled itself back up, furious. Its limbs skidded over the turf. The air grew heavy, pressing down until every breath turned labored.

Reo’s grip on Nagi’s hand tightened—too hard now, like he was clinging to something solid. His eyes stayed wide, locked on the shadow-hand that had vanished as quickly as it came. Disbelief lived there, and something more primal—fear, maybe. 

“It’s giving you a hard time, King,” Nagi said dryly. “Thought you didn’t need help.”

Barou clicked his tongue and tossed the ball aside. Then he lunged forward—a blur of motion, his presence exploding outward: heat rippling, shadows stretching like a mane. For a heartbeat, he looked like a lion roaring across the field. The scorpion screeched as his kick slammed into its head, pincers rattling, stinger thrashing.

Until it noticed them.

The stinger whipped toward the bleachers.

“Reo!” Nagi’s voice tore out harsher than he meant, panic breaking through. He shoved Reo aside, their hands slipping apart. Reo hit the low wall hard, pain jolting up his shoulder.

The stinger caught Nagi instead, driving into his side and hurling him into the concrete with a sickening crack.

“Nagi!” Reo’s voice cracked, panic raw and unguarded.

Nagi tasted iron, copper thick at the back of his throat. His lungs burned as he forced himself up on trembling legs. Still, he raised one hand, fingers curling into a fist. The scorpion froze mid-lunge, its body seizing as though gripped by invisible chains.

“Stop dragging it out,” Nagi snapped, anger cutting through. The damn kaii had dared to go for Reo, and Barou was still playing around.

“Don’t order me around!” Barou shot forward, fist drawn. His presence roared, heat and force rolling with him. With a single blow, the scorpion split in two, its shriek cutting off into silence.

Only Barou’s ragged breathing filled the air, along with the faint crackle of the still-burning talismans on the barrier.

Reo was suddenly there, dropping to Nagi’s side—face pale. “Nagi, dammit! Why—”

Nagi blinked up at him—blood on his lip, cuts stinging along his hands, a red blotch spreading across his right cheekbone. He lay back on the turf, chest rising and falling too fast.

“He’ll be fine,” Barou cut in, his shadow falling over them. “If the kaii had hit you instead—well, you can guess.”

Nagi smirked faintly, forcing the words out. “Good job, maid-Barou.”

Barou bristled, fists clenching. “Who the fuck are you calling maid, lame-ass? You’re out of shape.”

“Like I said, I’m not a specialist.” Nagi exhaled, wincing as he pushed himself upright. He glanced at Reo, who was still hovering too close.

“Reo, give us a minute?” Nagi asked, quieter now.

Reo frowned, hesitation written all over his face. He didn’t like it. But after a second, he nodded, stepping back toward the bleachers with clear reluctance. His eyes lingered until the last possible moment before he finally gave them enough space.

Barou clicked his tongue. “Oi. That guy’s being haunted.”

“I know.” Nagi’s reply was flat.

“And?”

“It’s none of your business, King.”

Barou scoffed, arms crossing. “Does Chris know?”

Nagi nodded, expression fed up. Barou snorted. He wasn’t the type to meddle in someone else’s mess—especially not Nagi’s.

“The guy’s full of holes. Better hurry and do something… or not. Up to you.” Barou shrugged, snatching his leather jacket from where Reo had left it. “I’m out. Tell the idiot he owes me.”

“Bye-bye, maid-Barou. See you never~”

Barou flipped him off without turning, pulling his bike keys from his jacket.

“Nagi, how are you feeling? Can you get up?” Reo crouched beside him, brushing his bangs out of his eyes with a gentleness that filled Nagi with calm.

“I’m tired, Reo~. Give me a ride?” Nagi drawled, trying and failing to stand. Every muscle still ached.

Reo didn’t answer right away. He pulled out his phone instead. “Baaya, could you pick me up? …Yes. Yeah, I’m fine. …Alright, thanks.” He hung up, sliding the phone back into his pocket.

Then he turned, crouching low, back toward Nagi. “Get on.”

Nagi blinked. “…What?”

“Get on my back,” Reo repeated, voice firm, leaving no room for debate.

Nagi blinked, but the corners of his mouth tugged faintly upward. He climbed onto Reo’s back, arms looping loosely around his shoulders. “Not what I was thinking, but… thanks.”

“You saved me,” Reo said simply, adjusting his grip under Nagi’s legs. “So this is your reward. Enjoy it.”

“The school prince is carrying me. I’m so lucky,” Nagi murmured, chin resting lazily on Reo’s shoulder.

“Should I drop you?” Reo muttered, annoyed but careful with his steps.

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I. I hate being called that… especially by you.”

The words landed heavier than they should have. Maybe to Reo it was nothing, just another offhand comment. But to Nagi—did Reo realize what that meant? How it made his chest feel fuzzy and restless all at once?

Special.

Nagi Seishiro was someone special to Mikage Reo.

That had to be it.

Superiority.

 

Notes:

yeiiii, i was so excited to release this chapter and i really tried to have it out earlier :3 as always, let me know your thoughts 🦭 and thank your for reading!

Chapter 12: True Disaster

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The door creaked open into the dim, quiet stillness of Nagi’s apartment. Reo’s arm was locked around his waist, holding him upright. Nagi had muttered the same line again and again during the drive—that he was fine, that Reo should just go home. Reo ignored him.

The place smelled faintly of something citrusy and soothing, a scent that didn’t quite fit the image Reo had of Nagi’s apartment. It was subtle, almost too clean. It made him feel like he was stepping into a space he wasn’t supposed to disturb.

Once inside, Nagi kicked off his shoes and shuffled straight to his bed, collapsing face-first with a dull thud.

“Where’s the first aid kit? You have one, right?”

Reo flicked on the light. The room filled with a warm, soft glow. He went through cabinet after cabinet, the sound of doors opening and shutting echoing in the silence. From the bed, Nagi’s gaze followed him. Reo could feel it—calm, almost welcoming. Strange, coming from someone who usually found any intrusion troublesome.

At last, under the sink, Reo found a small white box. He turned back. “C’mon, take off your hoodie and shirt.”

“So pushy,” Nagi mumbled, voice flat in that lazy drawl of his.

Reo gave him a playful shove, and Nagi grimaced. The white-haired boy groaned, dragging himself with sluggish, painful movements—his body protesting with every step. He winced, hand instinctively pressed to his ribs.

Slowly, he peeled off his hoodie. The shirt rode up with it, dragging against his skin until both dropped to the floor.

Pale skin caught the light—smooth lines of muscle, unfair in how effortless they looked. The sight caught Reo off guard almost as much as it drew him in. For a fleeting second, Reo’s throat tightened, heat rushing to his face. Then his gaze caught the bruises. Angry blotches of red and purple sprawled across Nagi’s ribs like spilled ink on fragile parchment.

Reo’s breath hitched. The blush drained from his cheeks as his stomach plunged, worry pressing heavy in his chest.

“…Damn.” The word slipped out before he could stop it.

Reo sat beside him, opening antiseptic and gauze. His fingers weren’t as steady as he wanted, but he forced them into precision, dabbing at the worst of it with a careful touch. Nagi flinched once, though he didn’t complain. The sharp sting of alcohol burned Reo’s nose, forcing him to stay focused.

He worked methodically, tracing each mark as if he had to memorize them—though it only left him more unsettled. Every bruise only tightened the knot in his chest.

“You’re weirdly good at this.”

“It’s just first aid. We should’ve gone to the hospital,” Reo muttered, jaw tight.

“Don’t bother. In a few days, it’ll be fine.”

The silence that followed pressed heavy. Only the soft rustle of gauze and Reo’s uneven breathing filled the room. His heartbeat felt too loud in the stillness.

Nagi’s shoulders rose and fell in a tired rhythm. But beneath his stillness, something shifted—something vulnerable, as if the moment was starting to weigh more than either expected. Reo let out a sharp breath, setting the kit aside. As if in sync, Nagi let his body drop back into the mattress with a quiet sigh—like they’d both been holding their breath.

“I’m staying the night.”

Nagi turned his head, just enough to see him. “Are you?” His voice was skeptical, but his eyes had softened—resigned, maybe even a little grateful.

“Yeah.” Reo smiled, not really asking for permission. “I’m borrowing your shower.”

He didn’t wait for a response. Decision made, he slipped into the bathroom. The apartment fell quiet again once the door clicked shut.

“There are clothes in the drawers,” Nagi called after him, voice muffled by the sheets. “Take whatever.”

Water started running, steady and loud in the otherwise silent apartment. Nagi let his eyes drift shut, tension bleeding from his body, bit by bit.

The bathroom was small—though to Reo, everything felt small compared to his place. The warm spray hit his skin, loosening the ache in his shoulders. Carrying Nagi from the field to the car and then up here had been more of a strain than he wanted to admit.

“Guess I need to work out more,” he thought, shutting his eyes.

But then the image came rushing back. The scorpion’s massive body, black armor glinting under the light; the stinger, dripping poison in thick, slow drops. The memory crawled over his skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. His stomach lurched at the thought—an instinctive fear, primal and nauseating. He could still hear the dull crack of impact, the way Nagi’s body was thrown aside like it was nothing, bruises blooming across pale skin.

Reo’s hand shot to the silver ring on his finger. He hadn’t taken it off since that day at his place, when Nagi gave it to him. He hadn’t needed her help—not when he had Nagi by his side. But the anxiety lingered anyway. Kunigami’s words about Chigiri’s leg getting worse. Chigiri’s scream when he hit the ground. And a pair of cold golden eyes, watching his every move, promising silence—for a price.

Then, clear as if whispered into his ear, Nagi’s voice echoed in his head.

“Nothing good ever happens to people they cling to.”

Reo thought he knew that well enough. His first year was proof enough. He hadn’t had full control of the snake—that much was obvious. That was why he kept his distance, avoided anything that might push him too far. When the weight grew too heavy, he shut himself away in the library, buried himself in silence.

Until Nagi.

Until he walked in, bringing a kind of excitement that made the monotony unbearable.

He’d let his guard down—until Chigiri’s accident. That night he asked for her help, just to breathe, just to forget, just to feel lighter for a moment.

“Nothing good ever happens…” The words slipped past his lips, swallowed by the steam. A question scratched at the back of his mind.

What if I keep her by my side?

What happens to me then?

Will she ki—

Cold washed through him. The water burned against his skin. The walls pressed in, closer, too close. Claustrophobic.

But then again, Nagi had said he would help him. And Reo believed him. He wanted to believe him.

The thought alone made it easier to breathe. By the time he stepped out of the shower, steam curling off his skin, the panic had dulled to a restless hum. He rubbed at his hair with a towel and let his eyes fall to the bed.

Nagi was sprawled across it, breathing slow. The sight loosened something tight in Reo’s chest. Bruised and beaten, and still—he’d protected him. Even hurt, Nagi had been the one to keep him safe.

Without thinking, Reo sat on the floor by the bed, his hand brushing through Nagi’s hair, slow and warm.

For Nagi, the scent reached him next—his own soap, mixed with something else, something unmistakably Reo. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He thought he’d only closed his eyes for a moment. But when he opened them, Reo was there, cross-legged on the floor, hair still damp and wearing one of his oversized shirts.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.” Reo’s voice was barely a whisper.

“’s fine.”

“How are you feeling? Still in pain?”

“Not really.”

Reo’s eyes softened, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Liar.”

Nagi stared at him—the curve of his jaw, the way his lips moved when he smiled, the sleepy weight of his lashes.

He’d been injured before. Stitched up, patched, scolded. But no one had ever done it like this.

No one had ever looked at him like that.

It felt strange—lightheaded, maybe. Like Reo’s presence was some kind of narcotic. Like getting drunk on him.

“What?” Reo asked in a low voice.

Nagi tilted his head, slow, not understanding.

“You’re staring.”

“I am.”

Reo reached out and brushed Nagi’s bangs from his face.

“Your eyes back on the field… they looked green. Now they’re gray again.”

“Do they creep you out?”

The words slipped out, soft and unsure—like a thought he hadn’t meant to say out loud.

Reo tilted his head slightly, a half-smile tugging at his lips—fond, a little amused.

Are you seriously asking me that?” He chuckled under his breath, but his gaze never wavered.

Nagi nodded.

“They were pretty—still are.”

“I like yours, Reo.” Straightforward, like stating a fact.

Purple met gray. Unmoving—but everything in them stirred. A thread stretched too far, ready to snap with a single breath. Neither of them said a word. Neither of them had to. The pull between them begged for one of them to close the distance, to take the risk.

Reo was the first to give in. He leaned closer, brushing his lips over Nagi’s—barely a touch. Gone before it even began. A question with no words.

His heart slammed against his ribs, his hands knotting the bedsheets as panic surged through him.

He pulled away just as fast, breath catching, eyes snapping open—

And Nagi was staring back. Wide-eyed. Frozen.

Reo’s chest seized. Panic clawed up his throat. He lurched back, nearly stumbling in his rush to put distance between them. Stupid. Idiotic. What the hell had he just done? Tears burned hot behind his eyes.

Nagi moved first. He pushed off the bed, hand catching Reo’s shoulder, yanking him close, meeting him halfway.

Reo shuddered, hands fumbling for something—his shoulders, his wrist—anything to hold onto. All he found was heat: a mouth claiming his, a hand at his waist holding him in place.

This kiss was nothing like before.

It was deeper. Desperate. Hungry.

Nagi’s fingers tangled in his lavender hair. Reo gasped, the sound swallowed between them, letting Nagi deepen the kiss until he trembled.

The heat raced up his spine, dizzying, overwhelming. He hadn’t felt anything like this—enthralling, exhilarating. He felt alive, more than ever, right on the edge of breaking.

They only broke apart when the air finally ran out.

Reo didn’t remember how his hands had ended up tangled in Nagi’s hair. His chest heaved, lips red and swollen, eyes glazed. He could still taste iron—Nagi’s cut lip had opened again.

He looked gorgeous. Lips kiss-bitten, breathless—devastatingly so.

“Good thing you kept the ring,” Nagi murmured.

Reo blinked, still catching his breath. “Huh?”

“Wouldn’t have done that without it.”

Nagi brushed his thumb against Reo’s lower lip, sending electricity down his spine.

“You’re still staying, right, Reo?” The words weren’t really a question.

 

 


 

 

Morning light slipped through the curtains, pale and soft. For a moment, Reo felt disoriented. The room was unfamiliar, silent—so different from his own. The only sound was Nagi’s steady breathing beside him.

Then it hit him. The night before. Heat crept to his face—not unpleasant, just… embarrassing.

Nagi’s arm was draped around his waist, keeping him close. Reo turned his head, eyes tracing the mess of white hair, the way sleep softened his features. He looked younger, almost boyish.

Reo shifted carefully, about to push himself up, when a muffled voice stopped him.

“Don’t get up yet. It’s still early.”

Reo chuckled under his breath. “We should get moving.”

Nagi shook his head without opening his eyes, tightening his arm around him. Reo couldn’t help but laugh harder, shoulders shaking.

His gaze wandered around the small apartment—white walls, a desk with a laptop, a narrow shelf stacked with more games and manga than books. A lone dresser, where he’d grabbed clothes last night. On the windowsill, a tiny cactus catching the light.

“I didn’t know you liked plants,” Reo said.

Nagi hummed, voice thick with sleep. “It’s my pet.”

Reo raised a brow. “A plant pet?”

“Choki,” Nagi mumbled.

Reo snorted. “Of course it has a name.”

Nagi gave the smallest shrug, pretending to be asleep again.

“Come on, I’m starving. Don’t you want breakfast?” Reo nudged him, just a little.

Nagi cracked one eye open, then the other, sighing like it was the hardest thing in the world. He sat up, sheets slipping to his waist, pale skin catching the light. Reo’s eyes widened—the bruises were gone. Or almost. Just faint traces where angry blotches had been the night before.

“What the—how is that possible?” Reo whispered, his hand brushing Nagi’s side before he could stop himself.

Nagi shivered at the touch. “Told you I was fine.”

Reo looked up, ready to argue, but Nagi leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his lips—light, fleeting—before standing and scratching the back of his head like nothing had happened.

Reo was left stunned, heat rushing to his face. Again.

A moment later, water ran in the bathroom. Reo sat back, gaze drifting around the room again. Small. Simple. Quiet. Much like Nagi himself. And oddly, he felt at ease here.

He changed back into his clothes and ran a hand through his hair, trying to tame the bed head. Then he felt it—arms circling his waist from behind, a face nuzzling into his hair. Reo tensed for a second before melting into the warmth.

Nagi didn’t say anything, just breathed him in.

“…Hurry up,” Reo said under his breath, a smile tugging at his lips. “I’m taking you to my favorite place.”

Nagi sighed, refusing to let go.

“It better be good.”

Reo chuckled under his breath, already imagining Nagi’s face when he saw it.

Notes:

slow burn isn’t so slow anymore, any thoughts?

Chapter 13: Dionysus

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The café wasn’t much—small, tucked away on a quiet street, with the faint smell of roasted beans clinging to the walls. Exactly the kind of place people walked past without noticing. That was why Reo liked it: quiet and a little hidden, a corner of the city that felt almost private. An old couple lingered on the terrace, sharing a plate of French toast, while a lone office worker hurried out with her to-go cup. Otherwise, empty. Perfect.

He pushed the door open for Nagi, who drifted inside with that half-lidded stare Reo could never read—did he like the place or not? Reo never knew. He guided him to a booth at the back, away from the counter. Nagi slumped against the cushion, limbs spilling everywhere like he owned it. Reo almost smiled; some things never changed.

He went to sit across from him, but a quiet voice stopped him.

“Why’re you sitting so far?”

Reo blinked, then laughed softly, lifting a brow. “What, can’t stand being away from me for two seconds?”

Nagi hummed, tugging at his sleeve until Reo gave in and stepped closer. The smile tugging at his mouth felt stupidly wide.

“I’ll go order. Be right back,” he said, ruffling Nagi’s hair.

From the corner of his eye, he caught the white-haired boy watching him all the way to the counter. At the register, a twenty-something barista fumbled with her notepad as she took his order.

“Anything else?” she asked. Reo offered a polite smile and shook his head. “You’re not alone today,” she added with a small laugh when he blinked at her. “Sorry, I just… usually see you by yourself.”

The barista probably recognized him—Reo did come here every other day whenever he needed to breathe. It wasn’t strange that she noticed; what was strange was the comment. He let it slide.

“Guess you’ll be seeing us more often,” Reo said, a hint of pride slipping into his voice.

When he returned, Nagi shifted automatically, making space. As Reo slid in beside him, Nagi draped an arm along the backrest, his head falling into place against Reo’s shoulder like it had always belonged there. Natural. Too natural.

Reo’s pulse stumbled. Since last night’s kiss, that invisible line between them had vanished. Now Nagi was simply… doing what he wanted. Refusing to leave Reo’s side, not even for a second.

“It’s a bit… unexpected, this place,” Nagi murmured after a beat. “I like it.”

Reo pinched his cheek, grinning. “What, you thought I’d take you to some five-star place?” Nagi nodded. Reo shrugged. “I like this one better. No one bothers me here.”

A low sound from Nagi—half hum, half yawn—was his only reply.

The barista arrived, tray balanced in hands that trembled just slightly. She set their food down, cheeks flushing when Reo gave her one of his polished smiles—the kind he wore at school; businesslike, practiced. He hadn’t expected the sharp weight of Nagi’s stare until she nearly tripped on her way out.

“Jealous?” The thought sent a smug heat curling through his chest. He liked this side of Nagi. Liked it too much.

“C’mon, let’s eat. I’m starving.” Reo slipped out of his hold, only to hear the soft huff of protest that followed.

The food was simple but good—sweet and savory sandwiches, a latte, a black coffee, two glasses of orange juice. Reo barely noticed, more focused on the tug at his sleeve as he lifted his cup.

He glanced sideways—only to find Nagi’s half-lidded eyes fixed on him, lazy but intent, as he pointed at his own mouth.

“…What?”

“Feed me, Reo.”

Reo choked, coffee catching in his throat. Heat rushed up his neck as he sputtered, “You—seriously?"

But Nagi had already parted his lips, waiting. Expectant. With fingers clumsy from nerves, Reo picked up a sandwich. He held it out, too aware of how close Nagi leaned in—how his breath brushed against his hand a second before his lips touched the bread. A slow bite, a lazy chew. Reo’s ears burned hot. By the time his brain caught up, he dropped the sandwich onto Nagi’s plate with a flustered frown.

“Eat by yourself, idiot.”

“’Kay,” Nagi drawled, unbothered.

Instead, he caught Reo’s hand under the table, lacing their fingers together with ease. His grip was loose, gentle. Warmth seeped into Reo’s skin, a jarring contrast to the cool porcelain of his cup. Giddy. Ridiculous. Like a kid. How could Nagi do this so easily, without even blinking?

“Could he be used to this?” 

But then Reo remembered how Nagi kept everyone at school at arm’s length, and how the only two people who’d stuck by him this whole semester were Bachira and Isagi. No—he dismissed the thought. Maybe Nagi was just at ease with him. Yeah. That had to be it.

So while they ate, the talk drifted to small things: the end of the semester, summer plans. Anything but the scorpion. Anything but the kiss.

Especially not the kiss.

Eventually, Reo powered his phone back on. It buzzed harshly in his palm, the screen lighting up with missed notifications, emails—and the one thing he didn’t want. Messages from his father.

Three of them.

One: instructions to show up to a social gathering without fail.

Two: the address, time, and dress code.

Three: two words. Not optional.

His stomach twisted; cold sweat slid down his neck. A prickling pressure filled his chest, his breath turning shallow.

“You okay?” Nagi’s hand squeezed his under the table. Reo glanced up to find him watching, concern tucked beneath his usual sleepy drawl.

Reo forced a grin, leaning back. “Family stuff. Don’t worry.”

Nagi didn’t look convinced. He let out a quiet, heavy sigh. “Hey, Reo… I wanted to ask you… do you have time?”

Reo set his empty cup down, brows furrowing. “What’ve you got in mind?”

Nagi shifted, gaze flicking away. “There’s someone I want you to meet. But… only if you’ve got time.”

Reo tilted his head, leaning closer, noticing how Nagi’s eyes refused to stay on him. Ridiculously cute. “Sure. I’ll pay the bill—and you’ve got me for the whole day.”

He slipped his phone back into his pocket. Home could wait. Going back was the last thing he wanted.

 

 


 

 

“What the actual hell?” Reo’s gaze lingered on the tinted glass double doors towering before them.

The day had been uneventful—half spent lazing around Nagi’s place, a movie playing on his tablet, Chinese takeout scattered across the table. Then Nagi’s phone buzzed. Reo watched as he answered, his tone clipped, monosyllabic. Not like how he spoke to Reo. Maybe he only bothered with full sentences when it was him on the line.

The call ended, and minutes later they were in a cab. Thirty minutes of restless silence brought them here: a sleek, glittering tower on the upper side of the city.

Not what Reo expected at all.

The elevator carried them high above the streets, glass panels opening to the sprawl of the city below—streets smeared in neon, cars like specks of light. With every floor, Reo’s unease climbed higher.

At the top, a small nameplate marked the entrance: Blue Lock. Odd name for a place that whispered exclusivity. Through the tinted glass, Reo caught the blur of low lights. The faint scent of smoke drifted out when someone passed through. A bar, maybe? He stopped just short of the doors, one hand shoved deep in his pocket, the other hesitating as if to tug Nagi back by the sleeve.

“You sure this is the place?” Reo’s voice came out lower than he meant. His throat was dry.

Nagi only hummed, gaze indolent. “Mm. He said it was here.”

He tilted his phone, the glowing map and address filling the screen. No more explanation than that. Nagi didn’t look suspicious—and Reo trusted him. Even so, unease curled tight in his stomach as he pushed the doors open.

Inside, golden light spilled from overhead, catching on chrome and glass until the whole room gleamed. Music hummed low and slow, more like a murmur than a melody. The lounge was almost empty: two men in suits chatting idly by the window, a woman crossing the floor with heels clicking sharp as a metronome.

At the polished bar, a man lounged with a drink in hand—foreign-looking, relaxed, confident, laughing at something the bartender had just said. His posture was loose, effortless—yet it carried a pull that drew the eye without effort. The bartender, a young woman with brown hair and doe eyes, smiled faintly, as if the two shared a private joke only they understood.

The foreigner noticed them first. He turned, lifting a hand in a wide, theatrical greeting. His voice cut easily through the hush of the lounge.

“Seishiro!”

The name hit the air like a spotlight switching on. Beside him, Reo felt Nagi freeze—his grip tightening, his shoulders taut—but he said nothing.

The stranger’s grin widened. He tipped his head toward the bartender. “Mind setting us up in a private room, Anri?”

“Of course.” Her practiced smile didn’t falter as she slipped away, keys already in hand.

The man was already moving before the door even clicked open. Reo felt Nagi’s hand clutch his, reluctant. His eyes were sharp, edged with something that looked a lot like dread. But curiosity clawed at Reo more than hesitation. He laced their fingers tighter and followed, pulling them both into a darkened hallway.

The private room was pure lavishness: black leather couches, a white marble table gleaming under low light, a massive screen pulsing with an endless gradient of blue, the letters BLLK drifting across in hypnotic repetition. The air smelled faintly of cedar and smoke.

The man dropped onto one of the couches as though it were a throne, his glass catching the low light as he set it on the table. “Sit. Make yourselves comfortable,” he urged, a lazy sweep of his hand pulling them closer.

Reo hesitated a beat too long. Nagi moved first, settling into a slouch on the couch that looked careless but felt tight at the edges. Reo followed, arranging himself with practiced ease—detached, confident, unbothered. But it all felt paper-thin.

The foreigner leaned back, one arm stretched along the couch, eyes flicking toward Nagi. “Been a while, Seishiro. How are your parents?”

Nagi’s lip curled, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face as he glanced away. “Traveling. As always.”

“I see.” The man’s smile deepened, as though he’d already known. “Still, it’s good to see you’re doing fine.”

Something unspoken tightened the air. His gaze sharpened as it settled on Reo. “And you must be Reo. Chris Prince. Seishiro has spoken of you.”

It was the first time Chris spoke his name—and it carried weight, like an acknowledgment at last.

“Really now?” Reo scoffed, glancing sideways at Nagi.

Nagi turned slightly, bangs casting shadows over his eyes. “Reo. He’s the person I told you about. The one who can help with the kaii.”

At the word, a chill shot down Reo’s spine. His eyes widened, breath catching as the air turned heavy and cold, pressing down on his chest like lead.

“I’ve heard you can save me,” Reo said at last, his voice caught between taunting and doubt.

“Save you?” Chris’s smile curved, sharp at the edges. “Impossible. Only you can save yourself.”

Reo narrowed his eyes. “You’re the third person to throw those words at me. The other two were frauds. Are you the same, Chris?”

Chris chuckled, amusement clear. “You’re very direct, Reo. I like that. Different from Seishiro.”

Beside him, Nagi shifted, discomfort flickering across his face. “Is this why you called us, Chris?”

Chris swirled the glass in his hand, languid. “Well, well. We can’t move forward unless you tell me your story. Don’t worry—I know how to keep a secret.”

“I think I’ve explained what’s needed already, Chris,” Nagi said flatly.

“But not the whole story, is it, Reo?”

The sound of rain invaded the back of his mind—the cold bite of night air on bare arms, the dull ache in his skull, the sharp sting of fangs breaking skin. His breath stuttered.

A hand on his shoulder pulled him back. Nagi. Reo’s gaze was still unfocused, his grip tightening so hard his knuckles whitened—it must have hurt Nagi.

“Maybe it isn’t time for that story yet. But tell me—what did you think, seeing a kaii that wasn’t your own?

Reo’s pulse stumbled. He forced a smirk, tilting his chin as if the question slid right off him. “Not sure what you mean.”

Chris laughed softly, amused, though his eyes stayed sharp. “No need to pretend. I already know you were there.”

Nagi’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing. “How—” Then, quieter, almost to himself. “…Barou.” Nagi’s frown deepened as he looked away. “Out of everyone, why him?”

“Thank Zantetsu,” Chris said with a shrug. “He got lost, so I had to send Barou in his place. I’ve got him training now. Might do you good to consider the same.”

Nagi snorted, leaning back. “Not interested. I’m not planning to become a specialist.”

The air pressed heavier around him. Reo sat like an outsider, dropped into a conversation full of names he barely knew. His gaze flicked between them, unease sharpening when he caught the guarded set of Nagi’s shoulders.

Chris’s attention slid back, pinning him. “So. What did you think?”

Reo let a grin curl at the corner of his mouth, stalling. “Interesting,” he lied.

Chris tilted his head, eyes narrowing. For a heartbeat, Reo thought he’d answered wrong.

Then—

“Hmm.” He looked nearly satisfied, though Reo couldn’t tell why.

Then, with a casual lean forward, elbows braced on his knees, eyes gleaming, he said, “I see you’re wearing the ring. Would you mind taking it off?”

The words landed like a blow.

Nagi reacted at once. “Chris, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” The sharp urgency in his voice was utterly unlike him.

Chris lifted a hand—easy yet strong—and Nagi fell silent, jaw tight, teeth set.

Reo glanced at him—Nagi wouldn’t meet his eyes. His own fingers toyed with the band, sweat slick on his skin. He didn’t want to do it. He didn’t want to see what would happen. But Chris’s stare stayed steady, unflinching.

“Stand back a little, Seishiro,” Chris said—light on the surface, but threaded with command.

Nagi scowled, hesitation etched across his face, but after a moment he moved—just a few steps away, arms stiff at his sides. Reo swallowed hard. His heart pounded, like it was trying to crack his ribs. In one sharp motion, he tore the ring free.

Everything snapped.

The snake burst forth, black coils unraveling across his lap, scales glistening as jaws gaped wide—straight for Chris.

It never reached him. Something unseen slammed it down, the impact cracking against marble, violent and ringing. The table rattled under the weight. Glass shattered, shards skittering across the floor. The serpent writhed, hissing like steam tearing through a ruptured pipe.

And Chris laughed—loud, rich, delighted. “Fascinating. Absolutely fascinating.”

Reo’s breath came ragged, chest tight. His eyes stung, and when he looked at Chris, the blue of his irises was gone—molten gold in their place, sharp and unearthly.

Nausea clawed at Reo’s throat. His hands trembled, fury and fear tangling until his voice tore out, hoarse: “Stop! Enough!”

Chris exhaled slowly, amused, then leaned back. “Put it back on.”

Reo shoved the ring back onto his finger, desperate. The black creature dissolved into nothing, vanishing like smoke.

Nagi was at his side instantly, hand brushing his arm, eyes narrowing on Chris. “Was that necessary?”

Chris’s laughter softened, fading into a sigh. His grin shifted into something that almost looked apologetic. “Not my usual style, no. But I had to be sure.”

Reo stared, chest still heaving, ears ringing like after an explosion.

Chris shifted, crossing one leg over the other as he settled deeper into the couch. “You know what a kaii is, don’t you?”

Reo nodded slowly, throat tight. “Nagi told me. A little.”

“Then let me add a little more.” His tone shifted, almost kind. “They’re not all the same. Different shapes, different hungers. That scorpion? It fed on frustration. The school itself was its nest—easy pickings. That’s one kind.”

Reo’s brow furrowed, jaw tight. His breath stuttered, chest hollowing as if the air had been stripped from him.

“But yours,” Chris’s gaze sharpened. “It clings. Protective. Possessive. That isn’t common.”

The room stilled. Pressure thickened, heavy and suffocating.

“All kaii feed on something. Yours unravels knots. Ties. Memories.”

Reo’s mouth was dry. “Then… she—”

Chris cut him off, merciless. “It’s taken from you before, hasn’t it? Not once. More. You’re riddled with holes, Reo.”

He swallowed hard, afraid to look at Nagi—afraid of what might already be written in his eyes. If Chris had seen what the kaii had done to him—what he’d allowed her to do—then maybe Nagi had too.

But Nagi’s hand found his wrist—warm and gentle.

“And how do we cut it off?” Nagi asked, voice quiet but determined.

Chris shrugged, insouciant. “The one bound to it is the only one who can sever it.”

“That’s no help at all.” Nagi exhaled sharply.

“You think so? And here I thought I’d given you all the clues, Seishiro.” Chris reclined, utterly languid, his smile sharp and amused.

Nagi rose, hand outstretched. Reo hesitated only a moment before taking it, the tug hauling him upright. His knees wavered, but Nagi’s hold stayed firm as they moved toward the door.

“Hebi musubi,” Chris called after them. “A snake’s knot. That’s what coils around you. And every knot it unravels—” He tapped a finger against the fractured marble, the sound echoing. “That’s another memory gone.”

Reo’s heart stuttered. Nagi’s grasp tightened around his fingers.

Chris tilted his head. “So the real question is—how long before there’s nothing left of you?”

Notes:

and chris finally enters the stage :3 and the snake finally has a name, let me know your thoughts ✨

Chapter 14: Nowhere

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The soft air from the AC raised goosebumps along Nagi’s bare arms. He sat cross-legged on his bed, shirtless. The bruises along his ribs and back had faded into ghost-like shadows. Still, a dull ache lingered—a low thrum beneath his skin that tugged at him whenever he moved.

He tried to keep his eyes on the glowing phone screen, thumbs moving lazily over a game he wasn’t really playing. But his mind kept drifting back to the message Chris had sent minutes after they’d left that place.

- If I came off as rude, that wasn’t my intention. It was necessary. There’s something off about that kaii. I’ll look into it. In the meantime, keep an eye on Reo. Take care of yourself, Seishiro.

It wasn’t that Nagi was angry at Chris. Not exactly. He knew how unpredictable Chris could be. But the cab ride had been suffocatingly silent. Reo hadn’t looked at him once. When they got at Nagi's home, he just told Nagi to take a shower—the smoke on him was unbearable. Maybe the smell reminded him of earlier.

His screen flashed red. Killed again. He hadn’t won once all day. He tossed it aside. What a shitty day. It had started out well enough—waking up next to Reo, the kind of easy morning he could get used to. Then Chris barged in, shattering everything.

“What was all that about, anyway…” Nagi muttered under his breath.

“You’re wetting the sheets, Nagi.”

He lingered by the doorway, the bathroom light giving him a soft halo. He wore the same oversized shirt as last night—a towel raking through his damp hair. Nagi tilted his head, watching as he approached. A faint crease formed between Reo’s brows, like he couldn’t decide what to say. Nagi found that expression... cute.

He blinked, tugging the blanket away from beneath him.

“Better?” Nagi asked.

“A little,” Reo murmured, sitting beside him, fingers still ghosting over the towel.

“You’re quiet.”

“Am I?”

“Kinda.”

Reo’s hand stilled briefly, then kept moving. “Guess I’m just thinking.”

“About earlier?”

“... Yeah.”

He set the towel aside, meeting Nagi’s eyes.

“Did it bother you? What Chris said…”

“Not really.” His voice was low. “It’s just… that person wasn’t what I imagined.”

Nagi shifted. “What did you imagine? An old man?”

“Not an old man,” Reo admitted, lips quirking. “Definitely not a foreigner. Especially not someone who looked like a movie star.”

“A movie star, huh?” Nagi repeated, feigning boredom but leaning closer anyway.

Reo snickered. “Relax, I like you better.”

He didn’t know why it stayed with him—the way Reo said it. Heat climbed from his chest to the tips of his ears before he could stop it. He leaned forward, pressed his lips to Reo’s, closing the distance. Slow at first—testing, coaxing—but the moment Reo kissed him back, something shifted in the air. The kiss deepened—rougher, breath tangled between them.

Nagi pushed him down, one hand braced beside Reo’s head, the other curling into the fabric of his shirt. Reo’s hands weren’t still either—one slipping around Nagi’s waist, the other threading into his hair, holding him there for a heartbeat longer than needed. Nagi breathed against his lips, catching the faint taste of mint. Reo let out a soft whimper, and it only pulled Nagi closer to the edge. The rhythm of it—breath, heat, the scrape of fabric—blurred everything else for a moment.

“Wait—Nagi, your hair…” Reo gasped between kisses.

“Later,” Nagi muttered.

Then Reo pushed him back, cheeks flushed. “You’re dripping all over me. At least let me dry it before—” He stopped short, eyes darting away.

“Fine,” Nagi sighed, reluctantly climbing off him. He slid down to the floor, back against the bed, head resting between Reo’s knees. “But after that, we’ll continue.”

Reo laughed at Nagi’s childish remark, then grabbed the new hair dryer on his desk—the one he’d bought and never used. Nagi closed his eyes, letting the warmth spill over his scalp as Reo’s fingers combed through his hair. The dryer’s hum was steady, but the slow drag of Reo’s hand pulled him under, each touch easing him further. He hadn’t known a machine could feel tender—just because it was Reo using it.

When the dryer clicked off, Nagi let his head tip sideways onto Reo’s thigh. The silence was comfortable, broken only by Reo’s fingers threading absently through his hair.

“You two… seemed close,” Reo murmured.

“Who?”

“Chris. You and him.”

“…He helped me,” Nagi answered. “He’s something like a benefactor.”

“You mentioned that before.”

“Did I?”

“How did you meet him, then?”

Nagi cracked an eye open, looking up at him. “Are you curious?”

Reo’s mouth curved into a playful smile. “I’d like to hear it,” he murmured, tugging lightly at Nagi’s cheek.

Nagi turned his face, nuzzling into Reo’s leg. His eyes slipped shut. Memories drifted in, unbidden.

 

 


 

 

Nagi had always been able to see them—creatures other people pretended not to see, or maybe truly couldn’t. At first, he didn’t even know what they were, only that it was safer to stay away. Some ignored him entirely, as if he were too insignificant to care about, but others—the annoying type—drifted too close, leaving scratches he couldn’t explain when his mother asked, concerned. Hurting him, getting him in trouble, following him like a shadow.

During his early school years, Nagi quickly became aware that what he saw wasn’t normal—it wasn’t something he should talk to other kids about. It didn’t bother him much when kids called him weird for staring at empty spaces. After all, they came on their own, out of curiosity, and left on their own when Nagi didn’t reciprocate.

That was fine. He was fine being alone.

Being an only child, with parents rarely home, made it easier to get used to it. They were always traveling, working—too busy to notice anything. Too busy to notice him. But his grandmother—small, with the same white hair as his mom and him, and eyes that lit up brightly when she smiled—was different. Nagi liked her. He liked the warmth of her house, the quiet of the garden, the way the wind carried petals into his lap as he sat on her veranda.

One spring afternoon, he saw her extend a hand toward a cat lounging on a branch of the cherry tree. A normal scene—except for the two tails swaying lazily behind it, the green eyes gleaming unnaturally.

“Grandma… doesn’t that scare you?” young Nagi asked, voice flat but curious.

She looked at him, taken aback—and knew he saw it too. A small, sad smile touched her lips. “So my little Seishiro takes after me.” Her hand smoothed over his hair. “Not all of them are scary. Some are just… passing through. Do they frighten you?”

He shook his head, showing her his bruised arm. “…Some hurt me, though.”

She pulled him into a warm, gentle hug. “When you grow up, maybe you’ll stop seeing them. That would be best.”

But her wish never came true.

By middle school, the creatures had grown bolder. Most of the time, he could ignore them—pretend they weren’t there.

Until the bird.

At first it was small—blue feathers, harmless enough. It perched on the shoulder of a classmate Nagi had barely noticed, until the girl fell down the stairs and returned weeks later with a cast. By then, its plumage had deepened—now tinged in burgundy. Then it hopped to another classmate. His face grew paler, eyes ringed with shadows—until he stopped coming to school. Apparently, he’d been in a traffic accident on his way home from school. By that time, the bird’s feathers were a scarlet red. The chemistry teacher was next—a woman in her thirties, dogged by the bird, now swollen to the size of a basketball. She was burned by chemicals; her arm left ruined.

That was when the bird noticed him.

It followed, circling closer each day—wings flashing crimson, like fire. Nagi began to avoid certain parts of the school building. Useless. The creature always found him, no matter where he went. That was when he began skipping classes. Eventually, his grandmother was called in. She asked if he had problems. He couldn’t answer. He didn’t want to burden her.

And so, the bird waited.

One night, on his way back from a convenience store, Nagi heard the eerie flutter of wings behind him. He walked faster through the strangely deserted streets, eyes darting to the sides, trying to spot the creature. As if summoned, the creature perched on a streetlight above him. Its feathers blazed like coals. When it spread its wings, the dark sky seemed to crackle with fire.

Nagi turned and ran. His ears rang, vision blurring, footsteps echoing too loud against the pavement—until he nearly collided with someone.

The man didn’t even flinch. He snapped his fingers and the air shimmered. The creature shrieked, thrashing against something invisible that held it in place. Nagi froze, staring. A golden silhouette hung in the air—semi-human, enormous. Its outline felt wrong in ways he couldn’t describe. The sight of it made his skin crawl.

“You’ve got interesting eyes, kid,” the stranger said. His eyes were sharp, the golden light in them even sharper.

The bird screeched, jarring and sharp, wings beating furiously as the beak tried to pierce—what, air? Then another snap rang out. The animal shrieked in agony. Nagi covered his ears on reflex. It was as if something crushed it mid-air with enough force to snap it apart, scattering it into ash drifting on the wind.

Nagi could only stare.

“You were unlucky to cross paths with that one.” He brushed ash from his sleeve. “They don’t usually cling like that. And this one had been feeding well.”

Nagi opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

The man slung an arm around his shoulders, as if they were already acquainted. “Or maybe you were lucky.” His grin was audible in his tone. “You ran into me, after all.”

“…What was that?” Nagi finally managed to say.

“That,” he said, amused, “was a kaii. Though not your first one, right?”

Nagi dropped his gaze to the ground. He didn’t answer.

The man laughed—loud and carefree. “Thought so. I like you, kid. Here’s some advice: learn to keep your energy hidden. Right now, you’re like a walking buffet.”

Nagi didn’t understand, not really. But the man slipped him a card anyway, with letters embossed in gold.

“If you want to keep them away, find me… might be worth your while.”

“…You’ll help me?”

“No.” The man grinned, too wide. “But I can teach you how to keep yourself safe.”

That was the first time he heard the name—Chris Prince. The one who taught him about kaiis—and how to avoid them. The one who later pressed a silver ring into his palm—unnervingly cold, thrumming faintly with something that felt alive. A charm. A shield. Because of it, he learned to fight back with his own power. Because of it, he could be with Reo now.

 

 


 

 

Nagi opened his eyes. Reo’s hand was still in his hair—grounding, gentle.

“Chris did a lot for me,” he said. “I don’t know if it was pity or interest, but thanks to him—and the ring—I’ve been able to live quietly. And now… I can be with you.”

Reo’s hand stilled. He didn’t speak at first, his eyes thoughtful yet unreadable.

“What is it?” Nagi asked.

“It’s just… I realized I don’t know much about you.”

“You can ask,” Nagi said. “Anything you want.”

“You’ll tell me everything?”

He nodded.

Reo’s gaze softened. “How’s your grandma doing?”

“She’s fine, I guess? She went on a cruise with friends. I talk to her from time to time.” Nagi turned around, resting his arms on Reo’s lap. “When she comes back, I’ll take you to meet her… if you want.”

Reo huffed a soft laugh, the corners of his mouth quirking. “A cruise, huh? Guess she’s cooler than I thought.” He ruffled Nagi’s hair. “Yeah… I’d like that.”

A few seconds of comfortable silence passed before Reo spoke again.

“…Nagi. What Chris said—about me having holes. You already knew, didn’t you?”

Nagi didn’t want to answer. But he had promised. “…Yeah.”

“Since when?”

“After we met at the library.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was waiting.”

“... For what?”

Nagi looked up, steady now. “…For you to notice me.”

Reo blinked and a small smile eased the crease in his brow. “You’re strange,” he whispered. “But I like that about you.”

Nagi’s lips curved faintly, eyes half-lidded as he let out a quiet hum before closing the gap—kissing him again, slower, deeper, until silence and distance felt like they’d never existed between them.

And Nagi thought, maybe—for once—being called strange wasn’t so bad.

Notes:

hiii, yuralism here! sorry for the late update, life got hectic out of the blue. hope you enjoy the new chapter :3!!

Chapter 15: Salt Skin

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

A few days had passed since Reo left Nagi’s place. It was obvious he’d been stalling, delaying the moment he’d have to go back home—and Nagi didn’t mind having him to himself a little longer. But as suddenly as he’d arrived, Reo was gone—leaving Nagi with the lingering sense that something was missing in his small apartment.

They’d promised to meet again—Reo had called it a “date”; the word had stayed in Nagi’s head ever since, impossible to ignore. And now, here he was—standing before his door, finger hovering over the doorbell for a moment longer than necessary. He could’ve just typed the passcode. Reo had made him memorize it weeks ago, insisting it was “practical”. But somehow, pressing the bell still felt easier—less like crossing a line he didn’t know he could step over.

The chime echoed softly, followed by the sound of familiar, unhurried footsteps. A few seconds later, the lock clicked, and Reo appeared on the other side—hair tied up neatly, wearing a yukata.  Deep indigo, the knot sharp and precise at Reo’s spine. It looked good on him. Too good, actually. It made Nagi think about things he usually didn’t—and then he stopped thinking at all.

“So damn pretty…”

“You know I gave you the code for a reason, right?” Reo said, leaning against the frame, amusement glinting in his eyes.

“I know,” Nagi murmured, shifting his weight. “Just… not used to it.”

Reo’s smile widened. “Then get used to it already. You’ll be coming often, won’t you?”

He slipped an arm easily around Nagi’s shoulders, pulling him inside—his touch enough to make Nagi’s heart stutter.

The apartment smelled faintly of cedar and a hint of citrus—Reo’s cologne, probably. It mixed with the warm, humid air carrying the scent of summer drifting through the half-open window. He glanced away—to the odd-looking painting by the entryway, the polished floor—then back at Reo. The loose collar revealed just enough skin to make Nagi’s mouth dry.

“You’re staring,” Reo said, with a crooked smile as he adjusted the obi around his waist.

“I wasn’t,” Nagi lied.

“Sure,” Reo chuckled. Then his gaze slid down to Nagi’s T-shirt and loose sweatpants, and the grin faltered. “You’re not seriously going like that.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Everything,” Reo deadpanned. He turned, rummaged through a nearby bag, and pulled out a folded bundle of black fabric. “Good thing I planned ahead.”

Nagi blinked. “You planned…?”

“A matching one,” Reo said, unfolding the yukata with a triumphant grin. “Your size. Go get changed.”

Nagi let out a quiet sigh, eyeing the fabric. The pattern mirrored Reo’s, though the thread was silver instead of gold. It was impossible not to notice how intentional it looked.

“…You really went all out for this,” he said.

“Of course,” Reo huffed, rolling his eyes in feigned annoyance. “I wanted a proper date this time.”

Nagi stared at him a moment longer, then took the yukata from his hands. “Guess I should change, then,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of apology.

Nagi pushed open the door to Reo’s room—he’d never been there before. It felt like stepping into a forbidden space made entirely of Reo. The room was spacious, tidy, and dimly lit. Books were stacked in even rows along a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf, and a massive TV was mounted on the wall facing a king-sized bed that looked far too soft.

Nagi ran his fingers along the glass-and-steel desk, where he found a lone framed photo: a young Reo with round cheeks and bright violet eyes, flashing a V sign at the camera, a woman beside him with the same eyes and hair, holding him close with a gentle smile.

Nagi smiled faintly at the image. “So he’s always been cute…”

Maybe if they’d met sooner, he could’ve been there through all of Reo’s changes—right beside him, holding him close.

Nagi turned away.

He loosened the hem of his T-shirt, his fingers hesitating before he finally pulled it over his head. The air felt cooler against his skin. He’d barely reached for the yukata when a knock came at the door.

“You good in there?”

Reo didn’t wait for an answer before stepping in. He stopped halfway in the doorway, blinking. “You’re… still not dressed.”

“Don’t know how to wear this,” Nagi said flatly, holding the fabric as if it might explain everything.

Reo’s lips curved into a small, helpless smile. “You’re unbelievable.” He rolled up his sleeves and walked closer. “Come here—I’ll help you.”

Nagi tilted his head. “You know how to tie an obi?”

“Well, my obi is tied, isn’t it? How else would it be?”

“I thought someone had helped you…”

“Baaya taught me,” Reo said, a little smug, as he reached for the yukata.

Nagi huffed, quietly amused, and raised his arms for him to continue. The first brush of Reo’s fingers made Nagi tense—suddenly nervous, yet secretly enjoying the care in his touch. Reo adjusted the collar, smoothing it over his shoulders, then stepped behind him to fix the folds.

The silence between them settled, filled only by the rustle of fabric and their breathing. Nagi could feel Reo’s gaze on him—heavy, tracing his form, as if searching for something beneath the layers.

“The bruises…” Reo spoke up suddenly, voice low. “They’re completely gone.”

Nagi hummed. “Yeah, took a while to heal this time.”

“How did you do it?” Reo asked, avoiding his eyes.

“I don’t really know how to explain it. I just… do. Chris said I should learn how to do it—since running into kaii always leaves marks.”

Nagi felt the shift in Reo’s breathing before he saw it, a small hitch, a hesitation. When he glanced down, Reo’s expression had dimmed—something unreadable tightening his jaw.

“…You okay?” Nagi asked.

“Yeah. Just—” Reo looked away, loosening his grip on the cloth for a moment. “Never mind.”

But Nagi noticed. He always noticed.

When Reo leaned in to tie the final knot, loose strands of his hair fell forward, brushing Nagi’s shoulder. That’s when Nagi noticed them—two faint marks at the base of Reo’s neck. Too symmetrical to be random. Too fresh to ignore.

Nagi reached up before he could stop himself, his fingertips grazing the spots lightly.

Reo froze.

“What’s this, Reo?” Nagi asked softly, by his ear.

Reo flinched back, his hand shooting up to cover the marks, color draining from his face. “Nothing.”

“Reo,” Nagi said, his tone calm but searching. “You didn’t take off the ring, did you?”

Reo’s silence said everything.

Nagi stepped forward—one pace, then another. Each slow enough for Reo to retreat the same distance, until his back hit the wall.

“You see, Zantetsu—he’s a friend of mine. He was the one who came up with the idea of giving you the ring,” Nagi murmured, his gaze steady. “Though Chris told me it only keeps the snake away while you’re wearing it. But if it bit you again…”

He stopped centimeters away, close enough to feel the warmth of Reo’s breath, lowering his voice.

“...why did you take it off?”

Reo looked torn between fear and guilt, his mouth parting as if to explain. “I—it’s not what you think. I just—”

Nagi leaned forward until his forehead rested against Reo’s shoulder, a soft breath brushing the skin there.

“I’m not mad,” he sighed. “Just… don’t use it. I don’t want it hurting you. I don’t want you to forget me.”

Reo’s throat tightened. “Forget you? How could I ever—”

Before he could finish, Nagi pressed his lips gently to the skin above the bite. Reo shuddered, half a sound escaping him—until—

The click of the front door broke the moment.

Reo tensed, gently pushing Nagi back. “It’s probably Baaya,” he said, already moving quickly toward the door.

Nagi stood there, dazed—the ghost of the kiss still tingling on his lips. Reo’s skin had felt cold—unnaturally so.

Five minutes passed. Then ten. Reo still hadn’t come back. Nagi frowned, adjusted the loose collar of his yukata, and finally stepped out of the room.

At first, he only heard voices. One was Reo’s—steady, but strained in a way Nagi had never heard before. The other was deeper, colder—unfamiliar, carrying an unspoken authority. Nagi followed the sound toward the living room. His steps were silent on the polished floor; the soft ticking of an antique clock Reo liked was the only sound breaking the silence between sentences.

“…a dinner every month, Reo. That was the arrangement,” the unfamiliar voice said.

“I forgot,” Reo replied. His tone was calm and controlled. “It won’t happen again.”

He rounded the corner, just enough to see.

The man sat on the couch as if it belonged to him—posture flawless, every movement deliberate. His suit was immaculate: dark, tailored, catching the light without a wrinkle. Reo stood before him, hands clasped behind his back, shoulders tense. He didn’t look like the Reo Nagi knew—it was like watching someone perform the role of Mikage, the heir.

The man exhaled sharply. “Your mother and I waited. Even your caretaker didn’t know where you were. I thought I made it clear that your privileges come with responsibility—as my successor. Must I remind you again?”

“No need,” Reo said, his voice even though his hands trembled—just barely. “It won’t happen again.”

The silence that followed stretched thin—the kind that made Nagi’s skin prickle. He didn’t like how Reo looked—pale, cornered. Before he could think twice, he stepped forward.

“He was with me, sir,” his voice came out louder than intended.

Both turned toward him. Reo’s eyes widened—startled, panic flashing for a split second before he masked it. The man, however, only glanced at Nagi—assessing, disinterested, as though measuring an object.

“And who might you be?” the man asked.

“Nagi Seishiro,” he said, forcing his tone to stay even. “We go to the same school.” He hesitated, glancing at Reo before finishing, “We’re… friends.”

The man’s brow lifted, faintly amused. “Not your usual type of friend, I see. Thought you’d quit the soccer club already.”

“Like that has anything to do with you,” Reo muttered through clenched teeth.

“I’ll let that slide, Reo—just this time.” The man stood, the movement graceful but predatory. “I only came to see what was keeping you from your responsibilities. Don’t let it happen again, or there’ll be consequences.”

He turned toward the door, hand on the knob, but paused. “There’s a business meeting soon. Don’t forget it.” His tone was clipped.

The door shut behind him with a soft click. The silence that followed was heavy.

Reo remained where he was, head bowed. His shoulders rose and fell once, as if releasing the breath he’d been holding since the moment Nagi spoke.

“…Sorry,” he said at last. “I didn’t mean for you to meet him. He never comes here. I just… forgot that dinner. Stupid mistake.”

Nagi walked closer, stopping in front of him. “It’s not your fault.” He hesitated, his gaze drifting toward the door. His hand brushed the sleeve of Reo’s yukata, a faint unease creeping in.

“That damn kaii,”

“That was your father, wasn’t it?”

Reo nodded slowly. “Thanks for saying I was with you. But next time… don’t. He’s not someone you should deal with. It’s my problem.”

The words stung more than Nagi expected.

A quiet line drawn between them.

“…I won’t,” Nagi said simply.

Reo looked up, taken aback. But Nagi continued, “Because you’re not alone. You don’t have to handle everything on your own.”

Something flickered in Reo’s eyes—surprise first, then something softer. He let out a breath that sounded like a laugh, small and disbelieving. “Never seen you this serious before.”

Nagi rolled his eyes, his hand still finding its way to Reo’s head. “Don’t mock me, Reo.”

Reo smiled then—the same dazzling grin that seemed to erase everything heavy from the room. He leaned forward until his forehead rested briefly against Nagi’s shoulder, as though drawing strength from the contact.

When he finally straightened, Reo’s tone had shifted again—bright, effortless. “Come on. We’ll be late for our date.”

Nagi blinked, then smiled faintly. “Right.”

As Reo turned toward the hallway, adjusting his yukata with practiced ease, Nagi watched him go—the curve of his smile, the light behind his eyes. It was radiant. Too radiant. Almost as if he was trying hard to conceal everything with it.

 

 


 

 

The summer air was thick with the smell of grilled food and the hum of cicadas. Lanterns hung in long strings across the street, their warm glow painting everything in gold and red. The blend of laughter, chatter, and distant music merged into a steady rhythm that seemed to pulse through the night. Nagi trailed half a step behind Reo, watching the way the fabric of his yukata shifted with every movement. The colors—deep and vivid—suited him perfectly. Reo always looked like he belonged anywhere he decided to stand.

“This is too crowded,” Nagi muttered under his breath.

Reo turned, grinning. “It’s supposed to be crowded; that’s the fun part.”

“I’d rather be home,” Nagi grumbled, tugging at his sleeve. “With the air conditioner.”

“Too bad. You promised me a proper date.”

Nagi sighed, but the corner of his mouth curved up all the same. They passed rows of stalls selling candied fruit, shaved ice, and little stalls with games where children laughed every time the bell rang. The festival lights reflected in Reo’s eyes—bright enough to drown out the last traces of what had happened earlier. Almost.

Reo stopped at a booth where a woman was handing out paper masks. “Which one do you want?”

Nagi looked over them—fox, tanuki, cat, even some anime ones. He pointed absent-mindedly at a white fox with red markings.

“Unpredictable choice,” Reo said with a grin, before choosing another fox mask for himself—just to keep matching.

They wandered on, stopping occasionally for food. Nagi let Reo pick most of it—yakisoba, taiyaki, something drowning in sauce but surprisingly good. Reo was in high spirits; the wide smile he wore made it obvious. Nagi didn’t mind being dragged along if it meant seeing that smile up close—especially for him.

“Is that…?” Reo slowed down as his gaze caught a familiar group gathered near one of the game stalls.

Nagi followed his line of sight. Bachira, Isagi, Chigiri, and Kunigami were crowded around a shooting stand, each holding a toy rifle and arguing loudly about aim and prizes. Beside them—arms crossed, expression unreadable—was Itoshi Rin.

Reo laughed under his breath. “Well, that’s a surprise.”

Nagi’s gaze trailed toward him. “Go say hello?”

Reo shook his head. “Come on—there’s a yoyo tsuri game over there. Win me one, treasure,” he teased.

However, before they could disappear into the crowd, Bachira spotted them first. Without an ounce of hesitation, his hand shot up, waving at them.

“Oi, Reocchi! Nagicchi! It's been a while, you two on a date?”

Suddenly, three pairs of eyes were watching them, expressions ranging from awkwardness to mischief. Reo let out a dismissive laugh, trying to pull Nagi along.

“Yes,” Nagi replied. 

Reo choked. “Nagi—!”

Bachira burst out laughing. “Cute. Matching outfits, too.”

Isagi’s eyes darted between them, clearly unsure what to say. Kunigami and Chigiri exchanged a glance, then looked back at the game, like they’d rather not get involved. Rin, on the other hand, didn’t even look up. He just adjusted the rifle, aimed, and hit the target dead center.

The bell rang.

“Show-off,” Isagi muttered.

Rin glanced their way briefly, eyes flicking over the two of them before turning back to claim his prize—a Godzilla keychain.

Reo smiled faintly, a trace of sadness in his voice. “Guess everyone’s here tonight.”

Nagi tilted his head. “Should we go?”

Reo exhaled. “Too late for that.” He nudged Nagi’s shoulder lightly. “Come on—let’s win something too.”

As they stepped forward toward the booth, Nagi looked up. The night sky above the lanterns was dark and endless, the stars faint, swallowed by the city glow.

Notes:

sorry for the late update! this one was supposed to be up on sunday, but life got a bit messy (again lol).

thank you so much for reading and for being patient with me. hope you enjoy the festival scene 🌸

Chapter 16: The End

Notes:

hi everyone! this chapter contains suggestive themes / implied intimacy, just thought I’d give you a heads-up

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The summer night hummed with the easy, restless energy of the festival—laughter, chatter, the crackle of grills and games. Paper lanterns cast a soft, colorful glow over the bustling stands. They’d been wandering for hours—playing games, eating shaved ice, watching street performers—like a group of ordinary friends killing time. At some point, Nagi had won a pair of yoyo tsuri—one light purple, one white—while competing with Rin. In the end, Nagi had given them to Reo, who couldn’t help praising him to no end. Nagi looked satisfied enough with just that.

Reo was having fun too—laughing easily whenever Bachira dragged them toward another game or performance. Even so, an odd tension lingered beneath the noise—Isagi’s quiet glances, Chigiri’s unreadable smile, and the way Nagi kept ignoring Isagi’s small talk despite Bachira’s best efforts to keep things light.

When Chigiri started lagging behind, Kunigami suggested a break. Bachira immediately hooked his arms around Isagi and Nagi, saying something about getting drinks for everyone. Kunigami followed them, probably just to make sure they didn’t get lost in the crowd. Rin’s phone buzzed, breaking the brief quiet. He frowned and stepped aside to take the call.

Reo lingered awkwardly, unsure whether to follow anyone—until he noticed Chigiri sitting nearby with one leg stretched out, still wrapped in bandages. Chigiri was scrolling absent-mindedly through his phone. Reo hesitated for a moment, then walked over and sat beside him anyway. Chigiri glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and huffed a small laugh.

“Didn’t think you were the festival type, Mr. School Prince.”

“Well… once in a while,” Reo said with a cheerful laugh. “Besides, Nagi makes it fun.”

Chigiri tilted his head, unimpressed. “If you say so.”

With a swift movement, Reo pulled down his hair tie, letting his hair fall as he shook it out. The back of his neck was slightly damp—the heat of the summer night clinging to his skin.

“When did you get discharged from the hospital?” he asked, keeping his tone casual even as his eyes flicked to the bandaged leg.

“Not long ago. Why? Were you planning another visit?”

Reo winced at the memory.

“Relax, I’m joking,” Chigiri said, pocketing his phone. “Actually… after talking with Rensuke, I realized I owe you an apology. I was frustrated and took it out on you. Sorry.”

Reo blinked, caught off guard. Chigiri’s tone was genuine, his grin small but sincere. Those bright red eyes met his for a second too long; Reo cleared his throat and looked away.

“I’m sorry too—for how I acted at the hospital… and before that, I should’ve told you that I was planning to quit the club.”

“It was because of your dad, wasn’t it?”

Reo stiffened. “How did you—”

Chigiri turned his gaze toward the street, a blur of color and sound. “Back then, I heard you talking with him—by accident.” He ran a hand through his hair, pulling it to the side. “He’s not exactly fun to deal with, huh?”

“You bet.” Reo scoffed, a humorless smile tugging at his lips. “How’s your leg?”

“Much better. I still need checkups, but I can walk. Maybe I’ll rejoin the club next semester.”

“You got better all of a sudden? Just like that?”

Chigiri shrugged. “I know, right? One night I got this crazy fever—I thought my leg was melting, it hurt like hell. The doctors panicked… and then, the next morning, it was gone. Like nothing happened.”

Reo froze, his pulse quickening. “When was that?”

“About three weeks ago—right when summer vacation started. Would’ve been nice if it happened earlier; I had to take remedial exams because of it.”

Reo went still, eyes narrowing as memories clawed back—black chitin, the shrill scream of the scorpion, the flicker of its tail before it sent Nagi flying across the field. Goosebumps prickled along his arms.

“Reo? You okay?” Chigiri’s hand brushed his arm, and the cold rush broke instantly.

“Yeah,” Reo said softly. “I’m glad you’re better.”

“Yep. Aside from the scar, I’m fine.”

“Scar?”

Chigiri nodded and carefully removed the bandage, revealing pale skin and—just below the calf—a dark mark, like a huge puncture wound that had healed wrong. Reo stared, breath hitching. His hand drifted instinctively to the base of his neck, where his own mark hid beneath the yukata.

“Does it hurt?”

“Sometimes. Not much now. Rensuke worries too much—he visited me every day, you know? Sweet, but a bit overbearing.” Chigiri laughed softly, warmth flickering in his eyes before his tone shifted. “So… are you and Nagi really dating?”

Reo blinked, caught between confusion and panic. “What—no, I mean—uh… kinda?”

Chigiri smirked. “What do you see in him? Man, your fans are gonna cry.”

Reo’s lips parted, unsure what to say at first. 

“Nagi is…”

His mind filled with soft white hair, gray eyes that always looked half-asleep, and the ease of being around him—like breathing again after holding it too long. The way Nagi had covered for him. The feel of his lips against his skin.

“Nagi is my treasure,” Reo murmured, a hint of possessiveness slipping through before he could stop it.

Chigiri snorted. “Shit, you’re down bad for real.”

Reo rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks burning, and laughed. “Guess I am.”

Then Rin came back, tucking his phone into his pocket.

“Everything okay?” Chigiri asked.

“Yeah. My brother’s back from Spain,” Rin muttered, “and I don’t feel like dealing with him right now.”

A few minutes later, the rest of the group returned—Bachira bouncing ahead with Kunigami and Isagi, Nagi trailing a few steps behind them. Kunigami handed Chigiri a cold can of coffee before sitting down beside him. He gently lifted Chigiri’s bandaged leg onto his lap, the color in his cheeks rivaling the one of his hair. Nagi dropped down beside Reo, handing him two bottles of ramune.

“Open mine?” Nagi asked, resting his head against Reo’s shoulder.

Reo chuckled and popped the cap with a hiss. “What took you so long?”

“Bachira and Kunigami disappeared on the way to the vending machines,” Nagi said, sounding faintly annoyed. “I was stuck with Isagi for a bit—he apologized.”

“And you?” Reo asked quietly. 

Nagi looked thoughtful for a moment. “I did… even though I wasn’t wrong.”

“Good boy for apologizing anyway. Didn’t know you two argued.” Reo smiled, reaching up to ruffle his hair.

Nagi just shrugged and took a sip from his bottle.

 

 


 

 

When the fireworks announcement echoed through the festival speakers, Isagi perked up immediately.

He insisted he knew a perfect spot by the river to watch the fireworks. The group followed him through the narrow paths winding past the stalls. Reo and Nagi walked behind the others, their steps slow, unhurried. Nagi’s sleeve brushed against the back of his hand every now and then—then, without warning, his fingers slipped into Reo’s.

Reo stiffened.

There were people everywhere—families, couples, groups of friends. The air buzzed with noise, laughter, music. Instinctively, Reo tried to pull his hand away. Nagi only tightened his grip. Reo sighed under his breath, the fight leaving him as quickly as it had come. He gave up, letting their hands hang loosely between them. The warmth was disarming—steadying in a way he didn’t expect.

By the time they reached the riverbank, the crowd had thinned. The water glimmered faintly under the lantern light—black and gold, rippling against the stones.

“See?” Isagi said proudly. “Told you this place had the best view.”

“It’s not bad,” Rin said flatly.

“Not bad?” Isagi scoffed. “Admit it, you’d never find a spot this good without me.”

Rin rolled his eyes, Bachira snorted, and the bickering began—light, teasing. Kunigami muttered something like “childish” under his breath before taking a sip of his drink.

Nagi sighed.

“They’re loud,” he drawled with a hint of annoyance. “Guess we won’t get to be alone on our date after all.”

Reo smiled, watching him from the corner of his eye. “It’s fine,” he said softly. “We’ll have plenty of chances.”

And he meant it.

They sat by the water, a little apart from the rest. The grass was damp, soft beneath their palms. Nagi leaned back on his elbows, eyes half-lidded. The faint hum of cicadas filled the silence between them.

After a while, Nagi spoke.

“Hey, Reo.”

“Hmm?”

“What’s your family like?” Nagi asked, his voice light, almost idle.

Reo’s shoulders tensed. His gaze stayed fixed on the river.

“...I don’t really have a good relationship with my parents. You know I live alone, but before that— I used to argue with my dad all the time. It just… got exhausting after a while. For everyone. So we made a deal, I guess. He’d give me some freedom if I quit the club and stopped... trying to fight him. No more trouble. No more rebellion.”

“Why would you agree to that?”

“Because eventually, I’d have to let go of everything I wanted anyway.” His tone was light, but something in it cracked. “After that match—and what happened with the snake—it didn’t feel safe for anyone to be around me.”

He paused, eyes softening. “Until I found you, of course.”

Nagi frowned, turning his head toward him. “You should do what you want, Reo.”

Reo gave a small laugh—quiet and tired. “Well, I am. Right now.”

Before Nagi could answer, the first firework tore through the sky.

A sound like thunder split the air. Then another. The sky bloomed in slow, trembling color—orange, green, red—reflected over the water like a kaleidoscope. Each burst rippled across the surface, until the world shrank to that small piece of light between them.

He turned his head. Nagi sat beside him, the colors washing over his face in waves—blue over white, purple over gray. His expression was soft, almost childlike in wonder. The reflection of the sky danced in his eyes. For some reason, Reo felt something press against his chest—too full, too much. He didn’t understand it. A feeling—something he could only call melancholy—rose inside him, sudden and wordless, unannounced and senseless. He wanted to say something—anything—but his throat refused.

“You make everything feel unreal.” The words slipped out before he even realized he’d said them.

When Nagi finally looked back at him, the world tilted. His eyes burned before he realized he was crying. Nagi blinked, startled. His hand lifted automatically, thumb brushing under Reo’s eye—slow and tender. A final explosion thundered above them, flooding the night in golden light. Reo looked up, blinking through the brightness.

“Let’s go,” Nagi whispered close to his ear.

Before Reo could answer, Nagi stood and tugged him gently by the hand. He followed without thinking—through the crowd, past the noise and the lights—until the festival sounds faded behind them.

The streets ahead were empty, washed in pale moonlight. Their footsteps echoed softly against the pavement. Only then did Reo realize he still hadn’t let go of Nagi’s hand.

 

 


 

 

Nagi unlocked the door and stepped in first, kicking off his shoes before turning on the hallway light. Reo lingered by the entrance, still catching his breath from running all the way there.

“Was it okay to ditch them like that?” Reo asked softly, still standing by the doorframe.

He noticed Reo was still halfway in. Turning on his heel, Nagi walked back to him. One hand landed on Reo’s shoulder, the other on the doorknob. The door clicked shut—echoing through the small apartment. Reo was trapped between it and him.

“I didn’t want them to see you like that, Reo.”

“Nagi, I don’t want to go back home.” Reo didn’t look up, his gaze stayed fixed on the tips of his shoes.

“Then stay,” Nagi said simply.

That was it. No questions.

They wandered in slowly, like neither of them knew what to do next. In the kitchen, Nagi took two bottled teas from the fridge and offered one to Reo.

Reo’s fingers brushed his as he took it. They sat on the floor instead of the bed, their backs against the frame. The room was dim, only the light from the hallway spilling in. Neither of them turned on the overheads. Nagi opened his bottle and took a sip.

Reo’s shoulder bumped his.

“Your place smells just like you,” he said, closing his eyes as he relaxed.

Nagi glanced at him. “Is that bad?”

Reo’s gaze flicked sideways, a small smile tugging at his lips. “No, I like it.”

The silence after that felt softer, like something had settled between them. Nagi shifted a little to see him better. Reo was close—close enough for him to notice the curve of his throat when he swallowed, the way his lashes caught the light. 

He didn’t mean to stare. But he did.

Reo caught him staring. “What?”

“…You look different tonight.”

“Do I look ugly after crying?” Reo teased, lifting an eyebrow.

“No, that's not what I'm saying.”

“Then do I look weird?”

Nagi’s lips twitched. “No.”

Reo laughed, a quiet puff of air. “So just… different.”

Nagi nodded. “Yeah.”

Another beat.

Reo leaned forward to set his tea down. When he turned back, his knee brushed Nagi’s—and he didn’t move away.

“I don’t know what I’m doing. I feel like a mess,” Reo said, voice low, almost like a confession.

“I’m a mess too,” Nagi breathed out.

“You say the strangest things sometimes, Nagi.”

They looked at each other, the air between them heavy, laced with anticipation.

Nagi reached out—slow. He brushed a strand of hair from Reo’s face, his fingers lingering near his temple. Reo didn’t pull back. Then—carefully—Nagi leaned in. The kiss was tentative, awkward. Too dry at first. Reo made a small sound, half a laugh, before kissing back—slowly turning its softness into something almost desperate. Their hands fumbled; Reo’s tea bottle tipped over, clinking against the floor.

“Sorry, I’m bad at this,” Nagi mumbled against his lips.

Reo shook his head. “Don’t be. I’m bad too,” he whispered, pressing their foreheads together. His breath felt warm against Nagi’s skin.

Nagi’s hand fell over Reo’s thigh, the touch light. Reo’s breath hitched—a small shiver running through him.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t feel like it,” Nagi said quietly, trying to reassure him.

“I want to.” The words came out too fast.

Nagi pulled back slightly, searching his eyes for confirmation—or some kind of divine revelation, whichever would be enough for him. Reo’s hand clung to his arm. Nagi could feel the rise and fall of his chest, the pulse beneath his palm where it rested against Reo’s neck.

“Okay,” Nagi whispered.

It wasn’t planned. It didn’t feel like crossing a line they shouldn’t. It felt like falling asleep still holding hands with someone dear—like taking a leap of faith.

They moved slowly—hesitant. Clothes shifting, hands exploring. Nagi didn’t know where to put his mouth, so he kissed Reo’s shoulder. Then his chest. Then the scar under his ribs—the one he didn't know about. Reo’s fingers tightened in the fabric of his yukata, as if he was trying to keep him close. Neither of them said much. They couldn’t—not after being drowned in sensations both unfamiliar and strangely familiar.

By the time they climbed onto the bed, Nagi’s hands were shaking again—but Reo’s weren’t. 

He didn’t have the words for what was happening—didn’t think they’d be enough, even if he had. Everything felt too loud inside, his thoughts bumping into each other and collapsing before they could form. But Reo seemed to understand without needing to ask. His hand touched Nagi’s cheek, as if trying to memorize this with every part of him.

The room tilted and steadied all at once. Nagi sat down slowly, blinking at the way the bed dipped beneath their weight. He tried to breathe around the knot in his chest. He wasn’t sure if it was from nerves or from the way Reo was looking at him—like he was wanted, needed. His skin buzzed where Reo’s fingertips had lingered. He tried to steady himself, but the air between them felt too thick, too charged—like a dam about to break.

His mind felt hazy—yet aware. Every detail pulled at him: the soft shift of Reo’s weight on the mattress, the way the dim light traced his collarbone, his hair slightly tousled; lips parted as he tried to catch his breath, eyes unfocused but holding a glint of kindness and want. 

Nagi didn’t know how to breathe around that. There was no rush in him tonight—no sharpness left.

“I can’t think straight,” he almost said. But he didn’t need to. Reo stayed close without crowding him—like air, only lighter.

Nagi reached for Reo’s hand, lazily tangling their fingers. Without thinking, he brushed his thumb over Reo’s index finger—where the silver ring sat. He tapped it once, then again. The cool metal against Reo’s warmth.

Reo exhaled. “I really don’t want to go back home.”

“Then stay here,” Nagi said softly. “Forever, if you want.”

“They’d find me here in an instant,” Reo chuckled. “Should we leave?”

Nagi blinked. “Leave where?”

Reo’s voice came out hoarse, threaded with hope. “Somewhere that’s not here. Far away.”

Nagi remembered how Reo’s violet eyes had sparkled with tears under the fireworks. The smell of skin and sweat. The way he’d looked under the hallway light.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Let’s leave. It’s a promise, Reo.”

A promise soft enough to hold—fragile enough to keep them in blissful oblivion, for a little while longer.

Notes:

even if the title of this chapter is "the end", it's not the end of the fic, promise!

anyway, let me know if you liked this one 😶‍🌫️