Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Life is a balancing act. A tightrope strung high and taut, and teeming with teetering obstacles.

Normally, Chigiri is very good at navigating the tightrope. He grabs it by the balls, and he bounds forward, daring anything to get into his way. Normally, he has a dancers grace about him while doing it.

Right now, though, he is hanging on by a quickly fraying thread. Right now, Chigiri is being pushed and shoved on that stupid tightrope, and he can’t find his life line.

The first day, things are easy enough.

Chigiri wakes up at his usual time, and while he’s a little bummed about having to make breakfast himself, it’s okay. This is something he used to do before moving to the dorms of Blue Lock University. This much is normal.

After he eats, he hits the shower. This is his scheduled free time. Nagi is busy sleeping in his own bedroom, Isagi makes a point to stay out of Chigiri’s way when it comes to his hair care, and Barou is out for his morning run that the others will secretly copy later in the evening.

Even though Isagi isn’t here this week, this much stays the same. So Chigiri showers as he normally does, long and hot, thanking his university for covering the water bill of the dormitories, and then he begins working on his hair in the meticulous way he always does.

He usually gives his hair a rinse every day or so, because he cannot stand the sweat clinging to his roots from soccer practices, but he only washes it once or twice a week to keep in the natural oils. He’s learned, through trial and error and a deep dive on the internet, that it’s best to train your hair to last the week without a wash so you don’t strip it.

And, well, his hair has grown from a shoulder length bob to a length long enough to brush his sternum, so he thinks that that much was true.

When he’s done applying products to his hair, he wraps it in a microfibre towel that Isagi had gotten for him one day. He said something about it being better to use than a blow dryer or a cotton towel that can cause frizz, and while Chigiri didn’t really like the idea of walking around with damp hair.. he conceded. And he’s unfortunately amassed a plethora of compliments from Aryu about his glam cuticle care since, so he guesses Isagi was right.

When he comes out of the bathroom, Nagi is stumbling around the open space floor plan apartment like a ghost, still half asleep.

Chigiri grins, pads close enough for the taller man to spill over and rest his face in the crook of his neck, trusting Chigiri to hold his weight up for him.

Sometimes, when Chigiri is feeling particularly mean, he’ll shove the man off and let him fall. But in the mornings, when they’re both soft and a little pliant, he allows an arm to snake around Nagi’s back, the other quickly getting lost in a sea of fluffy, white hair.

“Mmm,” Nagi hums against him. His nose brushes the slope of Chigiri’s neck, and though his puffs of breath tickle, Chigiri endures it in favour of the warmth Nagi’s body provides.

“Sleep well?” Chigiri asks, but he already knows the answer.

Nagi always sleeps well. Hell, he could probably slip right back into bed and do the full eight hours all over again without a hitch.

“Mhm.” He hums, head pulling up a bit to glance over Chigiri’s shoulder. “Did you eat already?”

Chigiri nods. “Yeah, before I showered.”

Nagi sighs and pulls away. “Troublesome.” He mutters, trudging over to the couch. And unceremoniously, he flops down like a sack of potatoes, lying across the cushions on his back.

Chigiri frowns, following close behind to knee at Nagi’s foot dangling off the side of the couch. “There’s still food, you know. I made some for all of us. Well— the three of us.”

It’s weird to think about Isagi not being there, with them. He’s always there.

He’s only been gone since yesterday afternoon, but Chigiri already misses him.

Maybe he’ll text Isagi what they’re having for breakfast. He would want to know that they’re doing okay.

Nagi pulls in a shallow breath and sighs. “It’s not the same…”

Chigiri nudges Nagi’s feet over so he can sit beside him on the couch, and he cringes when the man just places them in his lap, but if he ignores it, it’s not too bad.

Instead, he rubs a hand up Nagi’s thigh, happy to hear the next sigh that comes from his mouth. Soft and contented, where the last was verging on exasperated.

Good. This is good.

This is better.

“What’s not the same?” Chigiri asks softly, allowing nimble fingers to work into the muscles of Nagi’s thighs.

He doesn’t normally do this, at least not without being thoroughly coerced into it and pretending like he doesn’t enjoy the way his partner melts under his hands, but Nagi seems stressed, and Chigiri does care.

“It’s too much of a hassle to eat by myself.” Nagi pouts, and Chigiri throws his feet off his lap and stands up.

“You’re such a baby.” He groans, earning a deeper frown from the man-baby in question. It gets Nagi an eye roll, but Chigiri thinks that maybe Nagi closed his eyes just so that he wouldn’t have to see it.

Ass.

“Eat with me.” Nagi says, eyes still closed so he can blissfully ignore Chigiri’s scowl.

“I already ate, genius.”

Nagi sighs and leans up on his elbows, eyes blinking up at Chigiri slowly. “Just a little?”

Chigiri might have cracked and caved, but thankfully the door to their dorm is thrusted open, effectively cutting the conversation short.

Barou stalks in, toes off his running shoes and takes out his earbuds.

Chigiri and Nagi watch him, the man still in his own world for a few moments, until he looks up and catches them staring.

“Oh,” he says, but it lacks proper surprise. “You’re up.” That one’s probably directed at Nagi, but Chigiri shrugs too anyways.

And then Barou eyes the two of them, sharp red dragging between them in slow sweeps. Analyzing.

“What are you so pissy about, missy?”

Chigiri scoffs. “Why me?”

Barou grins, sharp enough to cut, but soft enough to be familiar to only them. To only be recognizable for those looking. “Cause that lazy brat’s always pissy in the morning.”

Nagi grumbles, but it’s too early for him to bother fighting Barou. Instead, he crawls up to his knees on the couch and peers over Chigiri’s shoulder at the man still in the entryway. “Barou,” he calls, which earns a quirked brow from the man. “Eat with me.”

Barou’s eyes narrow, then they slide over to where Chigiri is rolling his eyes. “Oh.” He says again, this time in a way that shows he understands the situation. He shoulders off his running bag, placing it neatly in the closet beside the door. “No.”

Chigiri snorts.

Nagi scoffs, offended. “No?”

To his credit, Barou does a decent job of looking disinterested as he walks further into the dorm. His eyes sweep over Nagi, once, twice because he can’t help himself, and then he heads for the kitchen to drop off his water bottle with a scowl. “No.”

Chigiri grunts when Nagi shoves past him, but it is done in an intentional way. Hard enough to catch his attention, but not enough to cause harm or actually make him teeter.

He follows Barou. Corners him before he can get too far, and when the slightly shorter man’s frown deepens, so does Nagi’s pout. “Did you eat already?”

Chigiri swears he can see a vein bulging against Barou’s temple. It’s kind of funny to see him get so worked up over nothing.

In reality, he knows it’s because Nagi is getting in the way of his daily morning routine. But Barou’s a big boy. He can handle it himself.

Chigiri’s not so sure if Nagi knows exactly what he’s doing or not, he’s not normally awake during this time to see Barou’s meticulous post-run cool down, but even if he were, Chigiri wouldn’t be surprised if it were intentional.

Barou grits his teeth. “No. Move.”

Nagi shakes his head, pressing closer into Barou’s space. “Then are you not hungry?”

“Not the point.”

So— no, then.

Barou looks like he’s about to burst, and Chigiri would pull out his phone to film the fight, if only Isagi hadn’t imposed the no fighting in the dorm rule. Barou really only follows said rule to keep the shared living space of the apartment clean.

Nagi, however, has always been a sort of free spirit. While he respects and normally listens to what Isagi says, he still inevitably does whatever he pleases. So while Barou looks just about ready to kick him where it really hurts, where a normal person would back off, Nagi fists a hand in the hem of Barou’s shirt and pulls him closer.

“Eat with me.” He says again, and Barou suddenly looks far less likely to start a cat fight with a human sized Shima Enaga. Maybe that’s a good thing, though, because unlike the cute, little Snow Fairies of Hokkaido, Nagi puts up a good fight when he wants to.

Chigiri rolls his eyes and leans back against the armrest of the couch, watching them idly as he unwraps the towel around his head and begins scrunching at the semi damp locks before finger detangling them from ends to roots.

“I have to shower.” Barou relents, narrowed eyes softening minutely. “Get off of me.” He says it, but his hands also come up to rest on Nagi’s hips, holding him right there.

Tch, tsundere.

Nagi hums and ducks in to press his lips to Barou’s, leaning back only far enough to murmur against his mouth. “Are you going to eat with me after?”

Barou grimaces, and Chigiri can see his grip on Nagi’s hips tighten. “Your breath smells like decay. Don’t kiss me if you haven’t brushed your teeth yet.”

Nagi doesn’t look offended, though. Leans in to press their lips together again, and, to be fair, Barou doesn’t actually enforce his own rule either. He does, however, shove Nagi away when he tries to pry Barou’s mouth open.

“Seriously.” He says, pointing a finger towards the bathroom. “Teeth. Brush them. Now.”

Nagi groans like this will be the hardest thing he’s ever been tasked with in his entire life, but he complies.

“And don’t skip out on brushing your tongue and the roof of your mouth.” Barou calls after him.

“What about the insides of his cheeks?” Chigiri teases.

Barou turns to glare at him, but he does tell Nagi to brush the inside of his cheeks too, and they get a drawled you’re both so tiresome in reply.

“How was your run?” Chigiri asks, following Barou into his bedroom and plopping down onto his bed as the man looks through his closet.

“You showered?” Barou asks, because no one is allowed in his personal space, specifically on his bed, unless they are clean.

Nagi is the one who gets away with that the most, but that’s only because he’s the one who likes to blatantly ignore Barou’s rules. When Chigiri ignores them, it’s usually more so because he simply doesn’t want to follow them rather than sharing Nagi’s malevolence towards the older man.

Chigiri rolls his eyes. “No, I’m just drying my hair because I went out in a rainstorm.” He says. Then, because he’s feeling a little bratty, he adds, “How’d you miss it? You were outside, weren’t you?”

Barou spares him an unimpressed look before going back to filing through his perfectly color coordinated clothes, strung trimly on black hangers. There’s not much variation, - mostly black, grey, navi blues, reds and whites, - but anything that doesn’t fall into that category gets tucked away in a drawer to be hidden from sight.

“Run was fine, I guess. Don’t get my bed wet, Princess.” He grumbles, and since he technically asked nicely in the way of Barou, Chigiri makes a point to keep his dripping hair covered until they’re out of his room.

Nagi can be heard frowning from the bathroom. Yes, heard. It’s something none of them truly understand, but his displeasure has a presence of its own, and right now, it’s prevalent.

Chigiri sighs. “You’re going to eat with him, right?”

The muscles in Barou’s back tense under his shirt, then he returns to pulling out a pair of neatly folded pants from his dresser. “Why should I?” He mutters, but he didn’t outright say no this time, which is good.

“You know him. He’ll probably sulk and starve himself till lunch if one of us doesn’t give in.” Chigiri says, twirling a finger around the end of a lock of hair — feigning bored disinterest, even if he is the one actively trying to appease Nagi right now. Whatever.

“He needs to grow up.” Barou says, moving to another drawer to pull out a pair of boxers. “He can’t always have what he wants.”

Chigiri snorts. “That’s rich coming from you, Mr. King.”

Barou probably rolls his eyes, but if he does, Chigiri can’t see it, so he ignores it. He turns once he has all of his clothes, lays them in a tidy pile on the bed next to where Chigiri is seated before heading over to the other side of the room to grab his towel.

And just because he likes to mess with him, Chigiri looks through the clothes. It’s a bland outfit, just sweat pants and a black T-shirt with a red lion print on the back and the clothing brand (ROYAL? … really?) written in curly red letter over the left breast, but it’s also very on brand for Barou.

When Barou comes back to find his pile in a mess, he groans, turning to meet Chigiri’s grin with a grimace. “This is why I don’t let any of you in my room.”

Chigiri pouts. “That’s not true.”

“You let Isagi in all the time.” Nagi finishes from the door, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

Barou rolls his eyes, grumbling under his breath. “Well Isagi doesn’t make messes like you donkeys do.”

Chigiri frowns. “Rude.”

He misses Isagi, even if he hasn’t been gone long. And, oh yeah, Chigiri is not a donkey.

Barou raises a hand to ruffle his hair, but Chigiri bats it away quickly. “You’re sweaty.”

Barou laughs. “Hence why I’m going to shower.” He says, then holds out a hand. “Come’ere.”

Chigiri allows his fingers to slip into the palm of Barou’s hand. Allows Barou to pull him up to his feet and to crowd into his space. And because it’s morning and they’re all a little softer around the edges then, he allows Barou’s lips to settle against his.

It’s quick and chaste enough that Chigiri finds himself propped up on his toes to chase Barou when he pulls away, and Barou grins, a little malicious, but he stays right where Chigiri wants him to. Stays there until Chigiri wants more. And then, like the ass he is, he pulls away.

“Barou-.” Chigiri grumbles.

“Later.” Barou says, and that sounds like a promise. “If I don’t shower now I will end up killing you both, so best let me go.”

Chigiri frowns, but ultimately drops back down onto flat feet and jerks his head towards the door. “Fine. Hurry up. Nagi looks hangry.”

Barou grins. “Nagi doesn’t get hangry. He’s just annoying and slouchy.”

“If it’s for you, Barou, I might get hangry.” Nagi interjects, but Barou’s grin only widens.

“Whatever. I’ll be out in twenty, so make sure the food’s warm.”

If Barou notices the way Nagi’s eyes immediately light up at that, he doesn’t mention it as he pushes past him and out of the room.

And then he comes back, a grimace etched onto his face. “You.” He snarls, brandishing an accusing finger at Chigiri.

He supposes he should have seen this coming.

“Me.” Chigiri says, accepting his fate.

“Your stupid, stringy hair is all over the shower.” He growls, and Chigiri glares at him.

“Excuse me?” He demands, absolutely offended. “Stringy?”

Barou ignores him. “Clean it.”

“No.” Chigiri says, folding his arms a little petulantly. “My hair isn’t stringy. Maybe it’s yours.”

Barou looks at him incredulously, like Chigiri has genuinely lost his mind. Like he’s gone and grown a second and third head for decoration, and decoration alone. Or, even worse, started jumping up and down on his bed with muddy shoes on. “And my hair is the colour of a fucking fire hydrant?”

Chigiri scoffs. Is he serious? His hair is clearly a nice shade of raspberry red. He would never have something so flashy.

“Fire hydrant red is too noisy of a color.” Nagi says. “Even for Chigiri.”

“Thank you!” Chigiri says, throwing his arms up and letting them slap his legs as they swing back down. Then he squints, frowns and looks over at the man leaning against the door jamb. “Even for me?”

This goes ignored as well, though. Swallowed up by Barou’s grumbling. “Missy, the shower.”

Chigiri levels his glare. “No.” His hair isn’t stringy, and he isn’t lifting a finger until Barou agrees. “Take it back.”

Barou looks ballistic, and Chigiri would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy at least this much. “Maybe if you cleaned after yourself, I wouldn’t have anything to complain about.”

Chigiri doesn’t care about that. “Take it back.”

And because he’s King Barou and he never does what he’s told, he says, “make me.”

Okay.

Chigiri promptly stomps over to his closet and begins pulling shirts off their respective hangers.

“What are you doing?” Barou barks, but Chigiri continues. “Put those down, missy.” He doesn’t. “Missy.” He grabs more, even as Barou grabs his shoulders and tugs him around until he has to crane his head up to meet his gaze. Stupidly tall asshole. “Put them down, Chigiri.”

Chigiri grins up at him, mean and vicious. “Like this?” He says, dropping a single, perfectly clean shirt to the ground. And maybe what he said about Nagi earlier, about his malevolence.. maybe that has rubbed off on Chigiri, too.

He might have felt bad if it weren’t so funny watching the way Barou’s eyebrows draw together like Chigiri just shattered a family heirloom of his. If Nagi wasn’t snickering at the door.

“No.” Barou growls between gritted teeth. “Put them- no, stop!” He shouts when Chigiri drops another. “Okay, fine! Your hair is perfect, like stupidly so.. when it’s on your head, but I really don’t need it in the shower.”

Chigiri raises a brow, still not quite satisfied.

Barou looks genuinely pained. “Please.”

Chigiri smiles and shrugs Barou’s grip off his shoulders, laughing when the man stalks closely behind him like he might do more damage. — He’ll have to text Isagi about this later. He’ll get a kick out of it, for sure. — But no. He’s done. He drops Barou’s clothes on his bed and grins up at him.

“Was that so hard, King?”

Barou blanches, his voice coming out throaty. “I feel like that just stole ten years off my life span.”

Nagi makes a mock whining sound. “Already? That means you only have like, five more.”

Barou rolls his eyes. “I’m only two years older than you losers.” It’s true. He’s only twenty one where they’re still nineteen, but they like to tease him and call him a grandpa sometimes.

Chigiri shakes his head, eyes closed, hand clutching at his chest gravely. Dramaticly. “A lot can happen with that much of a difference. Stay safe, old man.”

“Don’t let your balls get all shriveled and saggy.” Nagi adds cheerfully, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I like them just the way they are.”

Barou shouts some choice words as Chigiri pushes past him with an obnoxious cackle bubbling in his throat, but he does actually go and clean the shower. And maybe he even puts Barou’s clothes back in the closet in the meticulous way he knows he likes while he’s washing up, if only because it means he’ll get to touch the brute more after he’s done.

So he likes his partner, dumbass or not — sue him.

Nagi slots himself against Chigiri on the couch. Chigiri hands him the remote for the TV, and the man kisses him as thanks instead of using his words, but Nagi has never really been one to care much for talking anyways, and it’s not like Chigiri is complaining.

Nagi puts on the same soccer match he watched last night and recorded on the TV box, replaying certain parts with a calculating look in his eyes, stopping to take videos of moves he finds particularly cool before fiddling with his phone, and Chigiri rest an arm over his shoulder and plays in his hair.

Barou eats with Nagi after his shower without a word, and Chigiri gets to have and hold and touch as much as he wants.

This isn’t too bad. This isn’t too hard, even if something so very important is missing. It sucks, when Chigiri thinks about it, so he tries not to.

Chapter Text

Now, the second day. That’s when things start to get a little bumpy. That is when it becomes apparent that the three of them together, are a shattered bowl.

Even though they presumably have all the pieces they need to fix it, they just won’t fit together. At least, not for long.

“You didn’t wake me.”

It’s Nagi again, frowning at Chigiri as he comes out of the shower. He didn’t wash his hair today, but he did give it a little rinse since he and Nagi went for a run last night.

“No?” Chigiri agrees, a questioning lilt to his tone. “Was I supposed to?” He doesn’t remember being asked to wake anyone up.

Nagi frowns deeper, not even bothering to answer the question. “And you ate already?”

Chigiri narrows his eyes at him. “Seriously? If you’re so adamant about not eating alone, why don’t you - oh, I don’t know - wake up earlier?”

Nagi throws his arms up. “How am I supposed to wake up earlier if you don’t wake me?”

Chigiri’s eyebrows furrow incredulously. Though they’re usually softer in the mornings, it’s also far easier to push their buttons, and right now, it is way too early for Nagi’s bullshit. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was dressed up as an alarm clock. Would you like me to wake you up before your afternoon class, too?”

Nagi tilts his head, genuinely thinking about it. He’s actually thinking about it. Chigiri kind of wants to strangle him. “I was gonna try and stay up till then, but if you’re offering-“

“I wasn’t being serious!” Chigiri grits. “Don’t you have a phone that you’re always attached to?” He demands, stepping closer to jab a finger in Nagi’s chest repeatedly. Chigiri has to crane his head up to look at him from this close, which only pisses him off even more. “You know it’s there for more than just games and soccer videos, and taking pictures or videos of, once again, games and soccer, right?”

Nagi grits his teeth, like that’s some sort of painful reminder. Like Chigiri’s the one being an annoying ass right now. Well tough shit.

He sighs and rolls his eyes, looking off. “It takes too much energy to set up an alarm. And turning it off is annoying.”

Chigiri has no clue how such a lazy person could possibly play college level soccer, let alone have the natural skill set and reflexes Nagi possesses. Insanely, Nagi is one of the most active people on the field that Chigiri knows. And somehow, miraculously, that’s not even a jab at their other teammates.

“Jackass.” Chigiri says out loud this time, because he speaks his mind when he wants to.

Nagi narrows his eyes at him, and for some reason Chigiri doesn’t understand, he looks tired. Exhausted beyond belief, even though he likely just had one of the best sleeps of his life. “What’s so hard about waking me up?” He asks, as if that’s the issue here. As if he isn’t being a demanding ass who expects this and that from him without ever asking. “Isagi does it every morning.”

And that.. that hurts more than it should.

Chigiri had mostly tried to ignore it yesterday, because he had only been gone for a single night then, but if Chigiri is being honest — and he means really, really honest.. — he misses Isagi more and more, every second of every day, and it hurts. It hurts like hell.

It’s stupid. He hasn’t even been gone for a full forty eight hours yet, but Chigiri misses his meddlesome ass more than he cares to admit. It doesn’t help that Isagi’s busy doing some hardcore programming training camp and rarely has time to call.

He texts, sure. Responds as soon as he can whenever Chigiri sends him an update, no matter how ridiculous it is. — Like last night, when Chigiri texted him that he saw Isagi’s favourite breed of dog on his run with Nagi. He hadn’t even sent him a picture of the pup, but Isagi seemed happy to hear it nonetheless. — But it’s not the same as getting to see him. As getting to hear his voice. As being able to pretend he’s right there, with them.

Chigiri sighs, the ire in his voice eking out. “That’s not fair.” He says weakly, throat tightening around the words. “And that’s not the point.” The side of his fist falls to Nagi’s chest when he stops jamming his finger against him, his head falling to hang low between his shoulders, suddenly listless. “Just.. set an alarm for once.”

Nagi lifts his hand to reach out for him, but Chigiri’s already pulling away. He makes a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat as he watches him go. “I’ll try.”

He won’t. Nagi is too much of a baby. He wants to be woken up. Chigiri knows it, and Nagi certainly knows it.

Maybe he’ll try that tomorrow, if he remembers. Right now, though.. he doesn’t really want to talk.

When Barou gets home, Chigiri and Nagi are sat on the couch watching TV. Or, well, Chigiri is watching TV. Nagi is playing a game on his phone and taking a suspicious amount of screenshots, but what’s new.

The latter half is, but that’s not the point.

Barou gives them one glance, and immediately he can tell something’s up. “What’s you guys’ deal?”

Maybe it’s the fact that Nagi isn’t all over Chigiri like the puppy he is. He usually fits himself against any one of them, his head leaning on a shoulder or propped in a lap, legs or feet draped over whoever is thoughtful enough to become his cushion. When he’s feeling really clingy, he’ll drop himself right down onto one of their laps.

But right now, he and Chigiri are sat on opposite ends of the couch. And though Chigiri leans his elbow against the armrest, temple propped up against his fist as he stares blankly at the TV, Nagi does still touch him, if only the tiniest bit.

Their legs are strewn across the middle section of the couch, and Nagi slides his ankle across Chigiri’s, up and down in a slow drag as he taps away at his phone. It’s grounding in a way so simple, but it’s about as much as Chigiri can take from him right now. Likely as much as Nagi is willing to give when he’s annoyed with him too.

Maybe Chigiri should have woken him up.. but that’s never been his job, though. He barely even registered that it was something that had been done for the man until today.

Sure, he’s seen it happen. Nagi will fall asleep in the afternoon, and Isagi will gently prod him awake just in time to start getting ready for his exams. Or when they fall asleep together, he’ll sometimes hear Isagi coaxing Nagi awake with the promise of food before he comes to wake Chigiri and Barou up too, offering the same thing.

Even still, he’s a little annoyed at Nagi for bringing it up. It’s not like he asked Chigiri to do it for him. Ungrateful ass. He should be happy Chigiri made breakfast for him in the first place.

That’s Isagi’s thing, making breakfast in the morning for all of the them…

Fuck.

“Hello, earth to lazy ass donkeys?” Barou says, standing in front of the couch and blocking the view of the TV that Chigiri realizes he really wasn’t paying attention to at all. Barou crouches in front of Chigiri, frowning at him. “Why do you look so miserable?”

Chigiri huffs a laugh, but he can only muster about half the humour in the sound. “Maybe because I am miserable?”

Nagi’s touch at his ankle pauses at that, but he resumes and goes back to his game quietly.

Barou groans, because this is not his area of expertise. He doesn’t know how to help people, especially not in this way. He has no clue how to make someone feel better, how to comfort them, and Chigiri doesn’t blame him. Barou’s just not that kind of person.

But the fact that he tries. The fact that Chigiri can see it in the grimace on his face that he is trying his hardest to figure out something to say or do, makes him feel a little better.

“I’m okay.” Chigiri says.

Barou gives him a skeptic look, squinting at him. “You lying to me, Missy?”

Maybe. — No. No, he’s okay. It’s fine.

He will be fine.

Before he can answer, though, Barou leans forward to press his lips to Chigiri’s forehead and murmurs against his skin. “Tell me what’s up, Princess.”

Chigiri‘s lips tug upwards. “It’s nothing.” He whispers, shakes his head. Barou leans down to kiss his lips. Soft and slow until Chigiri is humming against him.

Barou may not be good with words, but he is good with actions. It’s something so small, so domestic, but it makes Chigiri smile wide and forget that tang of pain in his chest for a moment.

And then Nagi answers for him. “I yelled at him.” He admits. Barou takes his time pulling away from the kiss, which Chigiri is grateful for, but he still doesn’t want him to go when he finally does pull away.

“That’s not true.” Chigiri grumbles petulantly.

Nagi’s ankle stops rubbing against his entirely, then, as he puts his phone down before leaning to sit up. “Yes I did.”

Chigiri rolls his eyes. “I wouldn’t really call that yelling. If anything, I was the one who yelled at you. But no; that’s not the reason why I was—“ He pauses, lips screwing to the side as he inhales a slow, wavering breath through his nose, before pushing it out his mouth with a shake of his head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m fine now.”

Barou looks between them, unsure of what is going on, frowning. Chigiri can see him glance at Nagi and jerk his head in Chigiri’s direction, but he doesn’t bother looking and intruding on whatever silent conversation they’re having.

Eventually, though, Nagi sighs.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” He says.

Chigiri laughs, but it’s more of an exasperated sound than anything else. Tastes bitter on his tongue. Coats his throat like lacquer. “You didn’t, and once again, that isn’t what made me so.. I don’t know.” He finishes unsurely.

Maybe he’s just over reacting. Being a big baby, like he always teases Nagi about. Barou doesn’t seem to be missing Isagi, not that he would admit it if he were, and though Nagi’s morning routine is being messed up by his not being here, he doesn’t seem to mind too much either.

Isagi hasn’t been gone long, Chigiri reminds himself. He’s just being clingy.

But then he glances over at Nagi and sees his brows pulling down in a soft slope, a frown tugging at his features. “Is it because of what I said?” He asks tentatively. “About Isagi?”

Barou’s brows draw together at that, like he wants to press whatever the hell that’s about, but he doesn’t say anything. Chigiri doesn’t either, opting to turn back and rest his head in his hand again. The TV flickers behind Barou’s head. Chigiri doesn’t pay attention to the channel anyways.

“Oh, Chigiri. I didn’t—“ Nagi pauses. He makes a wet swallowing sound, then the couch dips and whines in protest as he shuffles closer. “I didn’t mean anything by it.” He murmurs, crawling over Chigiri on all fours. “I’m sorry.”

He looks a little ridiculous when Chigiri finally turns to face him - laying on his back as the man hovers above him like a spider, a cloud of white haloing his face - but this is a Nagi he’s more accustomed to. Well, save for the desperate look on his face, like he thinks Chigiri might hate him forever over this. Like Chigiri could ever hate him. Nagi’s annoying, sure, but Chigiri knew what he was signing up for when he got with him.

“Seriously.” Chigiri’s sighs. Rolling his eyes a little fondly, this time. “You are such a baby.”

Nagi frowns, leaning closer into his space. “You’re the youngest, Princess.”

Princess. That’s good. That’s very good. Means Nagi is feeling a little better about earlier, too. Chigiri grins, a soft, genuine playfulness reigniting within him.

“Maybe that’s true, but it doesn’t feel like it.” He teases, fingers curling around Nagi’s wrist where his hands are planted on the cushion on either side of Chigiri’s head. Nagi doesn’t pull away from him. Doesn’t shoo away his touch. Chigiri leans his chin up to feign taking in his scent. “You even smell like milk, you giant baby.”

“Sour milk, maybe.” Come a grumble from their side. Chigiri doesn’t even have to look to know it’s accompanied by an eye roll. “Stinky.”

“Hey!” Nagi snaps at Barou, who merely grins and readily accepts the assault when Nagi shoves at his shoulder. But when his frown doesn’t dissipate, when he hesitates to finish closing the distance between them despite Chigiri wanting him to, - damn near needing him to, - Chigiri pulls him in slowly until Nagi drops his weight against him and buries his face in the curve of Chigiri’s neck.

He feels Nagi melt against him. The way he breathes him in, sighs against his throat with gentle relief. “I’m fine, Nagi.” Chigiri says, running a hand up and down his back, feeling the way Nagi’s chest expands and contracts against him with every breath. God, how could he ever hate him? “It’s okay, you didn’t do anything. And, I’m sorry for being a dick to you. Sort of.”

Nagi tries to pull away and argue, probably to insist he shouldn’t have even brought up Isagi in the first place, and then to bark at him for the sort of he tacked on at the end, but Chigiri just drags him back down until he can kiss him quiet.

Nagi stirs slightly, his body jolting with surprise. But then he huffs out a soft breath from his nose and leans in further into him, and when Chigiri parts his lips just slightly for him, Nagi licks into his mouth gladly. A well received invitation and call for a truce.

Barou declares his departure to hit the shower. Chigiri grabs his hand as he stands up, holds it, squeezing in silent thanks. Barou returns the firm press. Then Chigiri reaches up with his other hand so he can tug Nagi’s hair until he whines against him - because maybe Chigiri’s an annoying ass too - before he kisses him again, soothing away the sweet, hushed sound.

“Say thank you to Barou, Nagi.” Chigiri says against his throat when he tugs hard enough for Nagi to look up at the man still stood at the foot of the couch beside them. If it weren’t for Barou, they’d likely still be pouting and ignoring one another.

Nagi looks indignant about it, but he does it nonetheless. “Thank you, Barou.” He grumbles, and Chigiri can hear the little amused huff Barou lets out in response, probably followed by a wolfish grin. Can feel Barou ruffle Nagi’s hair just above where Chigiri still holds him at the base of his head; an action Barou picked up from Nagi himself, no doubt.

Then Chigiri feels a thumb brush over the knuckles of his own hand that Barou gently places back down beside him, sees him kiss the crown of Nagi’s head, then hears him leave. And soon after, Nagi’s lips are back on his, soft and determined.

The kiss says I’m sorry, and thank you for forgiving me, and I’m an ass, but so are you. The kiss says you are enough. What you already do is enough, and I want you, please want me too. The kiss says I understand, I get it, I’m hurting too. It says so, so much, and Chigiri whimpers into it, trying to ignore the way his heart flutters and aches all at once.

“I miss him, too.” Nagi murmurs against his mouth, so soft it’s almost inaudible. Chigiri’s heart thrums louder, burns deeper, pierces sharper in tandem. His throat bobs, tight and wet. He can hear the same strain in Nagi’s voice, too.

“I know.” He whispers into the kiss. Pulls Nagi closer, wrapping his legs around his hips and his arms around his neck until he can tug him down and hide them both away on the couch. A cocoon of warmth and protection from that cold reality. The one where Isagi is gone. “I know.”

How could he not? How could he have ever thought that he didn’t? That they don’t miss Isagi, just as much as he does.

Chigiri is an idiot.

Barou gets bored later that evening, and that’s never meant cleaning Isagi’s bedroom before, but Chigiri doesn’t prod. He also doesn’t ask about Barou’s new found routine to walk aimlessly, back and forth, through the dorm from time to time, but he doesn’t suppose he would get an honest answer even if he tried to ask anyways.

Chapter Text

The next day, Chigiri wakes up Nagi. It’s possible, though, that maybe Nagi wanted him to do so in a nicer way. A way that didn’t result in silent treatment and a bruise on the side of his waist.

And, listen. No, really. Listen. In his defence, Chigiri had definitely tried to be gentle about it.

He slipped into Nagi’s bedroom a few minutes after waking up himself, and with a yawn, he pondered in the dark until he found the foot of Nagi’s bed. Once found, - with a short break to groan over the toe he stubbed against the frame, cursing himself quietly for not flipping on the light switch or pulling open the curtains, - he plopped down onto the mattress, crawling over the mess of sheets until his hands found purchase on soft, warm skin.

Nagi usually sleeps without a shirt on, and while Chigiri enjoys when he does so in his bed and he gets to wake up to it, he can’t bring himself to sleep beside Nagi or Barou if Isagi isn’t there. It just feels wrong. So, pushing that thought aside with a pouting sigh, Chigiri had leaned over the sleeping man and peppered kisses across his face.

See? Gentle.

“Nagi.” He had cooed in his ear. Nice. Soft. Sweet, even.

The man stirred, turning to wrap his arms around Chigiri’s waist and hold him close. “Not yet.” He murmured in his sleep.

Chigiri poked at his side incessantly. Still nice, in his book. “Wake up.”

Nagi, unbothered by Chigiri’s pestering, had nuzzled his nose into his shoulder. His hand slid under the back of Chigiri’s shirt, roaming up and down the expanse of his bare skin while the other rolled a lock of raspberry hair between gentle fingers.

He breathed Chigiri in, smiling against his skin. “Mn mn.” He hummed, nuzzling in deeper, and Chigiri groaned. “Five more minutes.”

“Nagi, no.”

Nagi hummed sleepily, pressing his lips to Chigiri’s shoulder in a delicate kiss. “Please?”

Cheater.

Chigiri gave him maybe four minutes, if only because he was feeling generous. — In actuality, he just wanted to snuggle into Nagi’s warmth, but he’s not admitting that without a fight. — So when he nudged Nagi again, tried to coax him out of bed while the man had grumbled, asking for another ten minutes…. You can probably see why Chigiri had quickly grown annoyed and kicked Nagi until he yelped.

Look. He tried, okay?

That’s how his soft morning with Nagi had quickly soured. And sure, maybe he hadn’t needed to be so aggressive with him, but he deserved it. How was he going to ask Chigiri to wake him up, then act like a baby when the time came? Sleep in, or wake up early. Pick one!

So now he and Nagi are making breakfast together, but they aren’t talking, are barely touching, and quite frankly, it’s going horribly.

Chigiri knows Nagi is a terrible cook. It shouldn’t exactly be surprising, given that he’s a lazy lump who only exerts energy for gaming and soccer. The fact that the man is nineteen going on twenty and doesn’t know how to cook beyond pre-packaged food that only needs to be heated up, however, is a little concerning.

Isagi knows how to cook because he’s an only child who likes to please his parents, who adore him greatly no matter what he does, whenever he has the time and inclination. And now, in their dorm, he’s usually the one who cooks them breakfast every morning.

Chigiri knows how to cook because he used to watch his mom and older sister in the kitchen, and when he expressed interest in joining them, they had gladly let him do the easy stuff until he was old enough to try his hand at more. So now that Isagi isn’t there with them - Chigiri sucks in a shallow breath - he’s taken over breakfast duty.

Now, Chigiri thinks Barou can cook. If he’s being honest, he’s never seen the man make anything more than rice, steamed vegetables and steak. And while, yeah, sure, it was a good steak when he finally convinced Barou to let him steal a bite, it was still rice made in a rice cooker, vegetables made in a steamer, and steak. It’s kind of hard to mess up steak.

But then, there’s Nagi.

Nagi, who would very easily mess up a steak. Nagi, who Chigiri can see both undercooking and overcooking the exact same meal at once. Nagi, who hasn’t a clue what the hell he’s doing in a kitchen save for grabbing gamer fuel. — Pouring chips into a bowl instead of eating them straight from the bag does not consitute as preparing a meal. They’ve had that argument before. — Even when Chigiri gives him the easy jobs, Nagi still manages to make a mess.

There’s flour and okonomiyaki batter all over the counter and Nagi’s shirt, a steady drip, drip, drip, plop as some drops to the floor. The clean floor that Barou mopped just last night…. When Chigiri frowns at him, the older man just gives him a sheepish grin in response.

“Here.” Chigiri grumbles, probably the first thing he’s said to the man since putting him on mixing duty. He drops a rag in Nagi’s hands. When Nagi starts wiping himself off and Chigiri sees no real difference, he sighs. “Why don’t you go shower first?”

Nagi looks up from where he had been wiping over his abdomen - more like smearing the mess further into his shirt, god, - and pouts.

Genuinely, he is an over grown baby.

“Don’t worry, the food will be done when you come back out.” When Nagi still doesn’t look quite satisfied, Chigiri rolls his eyes and walks away. “I’ll wait to eat with you.” He says, then ducks into the fridge to look for nothing in particular. His cheeks suddenly feel warm, despite the cold.

He can hear Nagi hum softly, and if he squeezes Chigiri’s hip briefly, if he brushes a hand over the small of his back as he leaves for the bathroom, then they both pretend not to notice.

The food turned out fine, in the end, but fixing what Nagi managed to mess up leaves Chigiri more tired than it should. So even though he knows he shouldn’t, he eats with Nagi and leaves the mess to be cleaned later as they both plop down on the couch.

Now, if it were just him and Nagi, this wouldn’t be a problem. But that’s exactly why it is a such problem. Because it isn’t just him and Nagi, and when Barou comes home some twenty minutes later, the first place his eyes go is the kitchen. Like he could sense it, or something.

Surprisingly, he does a good job of staying calm. But that’s actually more terrifying than his usual immediate outburst of death threats.

He toes off his shoes, places his running bag in its designated space at the bottom of the coat closet. He even takes the time to make sure his shoes are lined up properly on the doormat. Then he steps out of the entryway, one foot into apartment, and Chigiri already feels a chill trickle over his nape and strike down his spine before his body spikes hot.

Hell, it’s not even his mess and he’s sweating.

Barou avoids glancing at the kitchen again as he continues stalking closer. Chigiri takes this as a good sign. This means he’s attempting to quell his urge to murder them on the spot. Good. Thank god.

“So,” Barou’s voice engulfs him, thick and dark, and laced with dripping venom. Screw a lion, this guy’s more like a spitting cobra. Or a viper, coiled up and ready to strike. Definitely some form of snake, but Chigiri can’t be bothered to decide on just one right now. “Do either of you want to tell me where the kitchen is?”

Chigiri doesn’t, actually. But Nagi’s an ass, through and through, and though his malevolence is usually placated by the early hours of the day, he’s been woken up by a furious kick and a shower. That, and he’s always up for a challenge when it comes to Barou.

“Yeah, so if you turn around 180°, then look about 45° to your left, you’re going to want to head that way. You’ll have to-“

Barou cuts him off with a snarl, unimpressed. “I don’t know, looks like a pile of flour to me.”

Among other stuff. Chigiri wonders if he notices the other stuff. It’s probably best that he doesn’t notice the other stuff.

“Yeah, I was getting there.” Nagi says. Scoffs, really. Like he’s annoyed with Barou for cutting him off. Fucking hell. “So, under that pile of flour - and don’t forget the other stuff, too. The food scarps, the batter. Oh, and the sink filled with dishes, that’s very important - you’ll find the kitchen. Hope this helps.”

“Idiot.” Chigiri grits under his breath, exasperated. Nagi is a fucking moron, and he is going to get himself killed.

Nagi nudges him in the thigh with his foot playfully, like Chigiri’s his accomplice or something. And, well — maybe he is his accomplice, in a way, but… “I know, right? We’ve been living here, for what? A year? And he still doesn’t know where the kitchen is?”

But Chigiri doesn’t need to be dragged into this. Chigiri doesn’t have a death wish.

“I’m going to kill you.” Barou growls, lifting Nagi off the couch by the collar of his shirt alone. One handed, too.

Shit. He’s really fucking pissed.

If Barou didn’t mean it, if he weren’t genuinely about to kill one of Chigiri’s boyfriends right before his very own eyes, Chigiri would probably find the display of strength kind of hot. He’s not even struggling, even as Nagi refuses to assist by holding up his own weight. But they’re both idiots, and Chigiri is about to witness a brutal second degree murder.

“What’s wrong, dethroned king?” Nagi drawls in his throat, voice dripping low and mean to match Barou’s, and Chigiri can’t say he’s seen the two of them fight like this in a while. It’s been a really long time, and he doesn’t know what to do. “You’re my servant, aren’t you? So clean.”

That’s insanity. Chigiri grabs his phone and texts the first person he can think of. The one person who’s always on the back of his mind.

Chigiri: I’m sorry I couldn’t save him. It doesn’t look like Nagi’s going to make it.

It takes about three minutes for his phone to start ringing, and he’s surprised the fight hasn’t escalated further than a few shoves and sharp jibes by time he picks up.

“Chigiri?”

Oh god. Just the sound of his voice makes Chigiri whimper.

He sets the phone on speaker and pulls it away from his ear with pouted lips, eyes stinging. He puts it down on the cushion beside him, if only because he can’t stand to have his voice so close but him so far. His voice that Chigiri has missed so much.

“Chigiri, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” He asks, and when Chigiri doesn’t immediately answer, he curses. “Is Nagi okay? Where’s Barou? — Shit, Chigiri. Talk to me. Are you there?”

“Yeah.” He whispers, swallows wetly around the lump forming in his throat as he leans closer to the phone. Chigiri can’t help it, he gets dragged in by him so easily. Chigiri misses him so fucking much. “Yeah, Isagi. I’m here.”

Isagi sighs a soft breath. It sounds pained and relieved at once. “Is Nagi okay? What happened? You can’t just text me that while I’m away and say nothi—.”

“I’m here.” Nagi says, quickly pulling away from Barou’s hold in his moment of stunned pause.

Barou doesn’t even try to drag Nagi back to beat his ass. Instead, he blinks rapidly, shakes his head, then follows close behind until they’re all crowded around Chigiri’s phone; Nagi sat on the couch beside Chigiri while Barou crouches on the floor just before them.

Isagi sighs again, this time echoed by a desperate click in his throat. “God, you scared me.” He says, breaths coming in sharp, puffing out fast. “And Barou? Is he there? Is he okay?”

Barou frowns, but that’s pretty much a petulant pout coming from him. “‘Course I’m okay, you donkey. The fuck’s wrong with you?” He murmurs, but his gaze on the phone seems soft, and his voice lacks its usual gruffness. Lacks the animosity from merely seconds ago.

It’s noticeably fond, if you know what to look for.

Isagi laughs through the speaker. “Yeah, yeah. My bad.” He teases throatily, like he still hasn’t fully settled from the scare earlier. “Why should I ever worry about the king, right?”

Barou frowns deeper and narrows his eyes at the phone before looking off. It’s a little funny, considering Isagi’s not even on a video call to be seen. He’s cute. Barou is a cute animal who is very easy to piss off. “I didn’t say not to worry….” And is also a big softie inside, all at once.

Isagi releases a soft sound that makes Chigiri’s stomach twist and turn. “I know, pet. I won’t. — Stop, that is.”

Barou makes a disinterested grumble, but even if Isagi can’t see it, it’s not hard to imagine the way his face dusts pink as he pushes out his lips and chews on the inside of his cheek. He always pretends to hate the nickname, but it’s pretty evident that it’s a lie.

It derived from a time when the two weren’t even friends. Isagi had become fed up with Barou’s bullshit and called him a donkey several times in return. This led to that, donkey led to pet, and an insult had quickly become a term of endearment that Barou could never outright say he hated, because he doesn’t.

That being said, it’s a name reserved for Isagi, and Isagi alone.

The last time Nagi tried to use it.. well, let’s just say there’s a reason why Isagi needed to impose the no fighting in the dorm rule in the first place, and it hadn’t been because of the mess that followed that scuffle, despite that being Barou’s reason for agreeing with the rule.

When it comes from Isagi, it’s nothing but an endearment. The equivalent of being called love, darling, baby, or in Chigiri’s case, princess. When it comes from Nagi? Yeah right. It’s more akin to being called a stepping stool or, in more Nagi fashion, a servant. Chigiri hasn’t really bothered trying to use it, because he would probably say it teasingly and end up being thrown out a window along side Nagi, so Isagi can have that one all to himself.

“Nagi?”

“Isagi.” Nagi hums in response.

“You’re not dead.”

Nagi side glances Chigiri, his eyebrows pulling together. “No..?” He says slowly, then tilts his head a little playful. “Not yet, I don’t think.”

Isagi makes a quick humming noise that Chigiri recognizes as the sound he makes when he nods, satisfied with a response. “That’s good. Try not to die until I get back, okay?”

Nagi nods, though Isagi can’t see him. It doesn’t matter though, because Chigiri’s sure Isagi knows. Isagi always knows.

Barou rolls his eyes. “Until you get back, huh?” He mutters, leaning his folded arms against the cushion of the couch and laying his head on it, right next to the phone. “You’re such a sweet talker.” Barou says it mockingly, but there’s a dreamy aura around him that Chigiri is one hundred percent sure comes from Isagi’s presence, at the moment, even if only through an audio call.

Isagi snorts. There’s the sound of papers ruffling, a quick apology for taking too long on his break, then some steps before Isagi responds in a semi hushed tone. “You say that, but who was it that got us all together? How do you think that happened, huh, pet?”

Chigiri twists a lock of freshly dried hair around his finger, uninterested in producing a response, even if it would be funny to watch Barou go the same shade of red as Chigiri’s hair with embarrassment. Barou puffs out his cheeks and looks away. Nagi, very in character, leans in closer to the receiver, unperturbed by the taunt.

“You’re a little too good at devouring, Isagi.”

Isagi makes a weak huffing noise, and as there’s the distinct sound of fabric shuffling, Chigiri can imagine him shifting the phone to his other ear the way he sometimes does when he’s flustered. It makes his chest tighten, his heart warm for no real reason at all.

“Greedy, too.” Chigiri adds with a grin.

Barou scoffs. “Demanding.”

“Kind of egotistical.” Nagi hums, rolling over to lay on his back with his legs in the air, head on the opposite side of the phone to Barou.

Isagi snorts, his giggle sounding through the speaker. “Aw, what the hell, guys. Why are you ganging up on me?” Chigiri can imagine the feigned pout he probably wears as he says it. Chigiri would kiss it away, if Isagi were here to touch. He really wishes Isagi were here to touch. Here in general. “Don’t you miss me?” He teases, and that’s just not fair.

“Fuck you.” Barou growls thickly. When Chigiri looks up at him, his brows are furrowed, eyes narrowed at the phone and lips pulling back in a wavering snarl. Distraught. “Don’t ask dumb-ass questions you already know the fucking answer to.

“Do you think I would even be here, wasting my time talking to a donkey on the phone after my run when I could - should - be showering, if I didn’t miss your annoying ass? That Chigiri would be texting you his stupid, utterly useless updates all day if he didn’t? That Nagi, with his lazy ass, would actually take the time to send you screenshots of his game achievements or videos of soccer moves he likes? Do you really think we don’t miss you? Do I have to kick your fucking teeth in just so you can feel it?”

You’re always on our minds, and we miss the fuck out of you, so don’t you dare try to insinuate otherwise, you dickhead, Barou doesn’t say, but it resonates loud and clear in the air between them anyways.

Isagi takes in a long, shaky breath over the phone. It all makes Chigiri’s heart squeeze and his mouth run dry.

He didn’t even know Barou knew about the texts. It wasn’t exactly something he did consciously, per se. He just felt as though Isagi would have wanted to stay in the loop, and so Chigiri made sure he was.

And Nagi. Nagi doesn’t text unless he truly has to. Even then, he’d rather call, say one word, then hang up. Chigiri did notice him taking an abundance of pictures and videos, but he didn’t think too much about the why past assuming he’d started a new game he really liked.

And though Barou doesn’t mention it, Chigiri has seen the way he slips into Isagi’s room when he thinks no one’s paying attention. How he cleaned it for him yesterday, when he was ’bored’. How he tends to ponder the apartment aimlessly sometimes. Suspiciously close to Isagi’s door, now that Chigiri thinks about it.

Of course they miss him. Of course they do.

Isagi makes a wet sound, then he scoffs. “Dude, I’m still at the training camp,” he sniffs. “ Don’t make me tear up.” Then he sucks in another breath, pushes it out slowly. “I miss you guys, too. I’m sorry I said that. It was stupid and unnecessarily mean.” He says. Chigiri agrees. “God, I miss you guys so fucking much. I can’t stand it here without you.”

Chigiri leans in closer. “Come home, Isagi.”

He gets an aborted breath in response. A cut off gasp, then a sharp puff of air. “That’s not fair.” Isagi whispers. “You know I can’t leave yet.”

He sounds tinny through the speaker, a little distorted and wet, but it’s him nonetheless. It’s Isagi, and Chigiri feels greedy, too, now. He can’t help it. Not when Isagi’s right there. He’s right there. So close, yet so, so far.

“I would say I’m sorry, but I’m not. And maybe I’m a little sorry for that, but even then, not nearly enough.” Chigiri says, his voice dropping low and airy. Raspy with an emotion that grasps at his throat, burns deep in the pit of his stomach, eager to claw its way out with no regard for his body that it destroys in the process. Chigiri lets it consume him. Lets that raging fire within devour him. “I want you here, Isagi. With us.”

“You should be here.” Barou echoes, softer than he usually is. Maybe it’s the fact that it’s still the morning, or maybe it’s just the effect that Isagi has on him.

Chigiri can’t blame him. He has the same effect on all three of them, in different ways.

When Chigiri had first met Isagi, he hadn’t been in a great place mentally. After falling to an injury, back in middle school, that could - and very well still can - end his career entirely if re-inflamed, Chigiri grew scared to ever play all out again. He healed soon enough, but that fear, the chance that he might hurt himself again and lose everything in the process, - lose himself and what he perceived as his importance as a person, in the process, - it held him back from ever playing the game with his heart in it.

He became reclusive, played soccer at fifty percent, and was no longer confident in pursuing his dreams of becoming a pro soccer player.

That is, until Isagi’s meddlesome ass started poking around in his business.

Chigiri had tried to fight Isagi’s pull, back then. He really did.

Chigiri wasn’t really the friendly type, after his injury. He preferred to keep his distance from his team. To hole up within himself as he went with the motions of the game. Just enough to keep his dream afloat, even though he still felt it unattainable. Enough to keep him going, but never moving forward.

Isagi hadn’t gotten the memo, though, and Chigiri couldn’t help but let him in, little by little. Or, more accurately, Isagi had pushed and shoved at the door to his heart until the chain-lock snapped and shattered to pieces.

Chigiri had hidden his dreams in the back corner of his heart. He was ready to give up. Was actively looking for a reason to quit, when they’d met, actually. But Isagi wasn’t having any of that, and somehow, though many had tried before, he managed to light a flame under Chigiri’s ass and reignite his zeal.

Isagi is heat and passion, to Chigiri. He is the spark that sets Chigiri’s kindling heart aflame. He is the one who made Chigiri realize that it’s okay to be greedy. To want. To desire. To fight for his dream, tooth and nail, even if it means he might lose it in the end. To give it his all and enjoy it in the moment, instead of shying away and losing everything without even trying.

Now, Barou. Barou was already confident and desirous before they had met him. He was mean, rambunctious and demanding. A true King of the pitch. — He still is.. and he likely always will be, but Chigiri finds he likes that flame about him now. — If Chigiri is being honest, the Barou he first met is someone he never would have expected to enjoy romantically, so much as want to be around. He was an ass, for lack of better words.

Isagi didn’t mind, though. Isagi powered through, finding those small moments where Barou would allow others to slip in just the tiniest bit closer, and Isagi would attack.

Barou did not take kindly to this. He still refused Isagi, time after time. He was still a conceited ass, self-important and unwilling to share. — The irony of that and their relationship is not lost on Chigiri. — Isagi had went into it thinking he could change Barou, even if that wasn’t his conscience intentions. When he decided that his attempts weren’t going to work, that he would have to play on Barou’s field instead of dragging Barou to his own, had devoured Barou entirely, something clicked.

Barou is still nowhere near a docile creature. But that being said, ever since that day, the soft spot that Isagi had been slowly chipping away at, had ended up clawing at and cleaving right open, had been bared. Barou has done a terrible job of hiding it since.

Isagi is the calm to Barou’s storm. He is the rain to his dark, cloudy heart; pulling out the haughty buildup and leaving him soft and fuzzy inside. It is an endless cycle.

“It’s not the same without you.” Nagi adds with a sigh, legs plopping down to hang over the armrest on the other side of the couch. “We need you.” Then he cracks a grin that Isagi can’t even see. “Or else Barou is going to kill us,-“

“Us.” Chigiri scoffs with a shake of his head, rolling his eyes. Of course Nagi is still dragging him into this. What the hell.

Nagi ignore this and continues. “-and I won’t be able to keep that promise from earlier.”

Chigiri and Barou were pulled apart and glued back together by Isagi, that is true, but Chigiri does not believe the same was done for Nagi. At least, not entirely.

They had met as rivals, similar to Isagi and Barou, but it wasn’t a heated exchange with bared teeth and snarls. Nagi has admitted he never cared much for soccer when he first made the move to Blue Lock University. His best friend, Reo, - who had adopted Nagi much like a stray dog, Chigiri likes to joke because of their strange way of meeting, - had been the one who wanted to pursue a dream through soccer.

Nagi had followed Reo’s lead, playing soccer merely because it was something he happened to be good at and he enjoyed that time with Reo. That feeling of succeeding.

Isagi had come around, Nagi was sure that his and Reo’s team would win because they always had, and Isagi had crushed that. He had given Nagi his first taste of defeat, and like the gaming addict he is, that had stirred something deep within him. Had awakened his love for soccer.

But even still, that wasn’t some huge switch for Nagi. He is still the same, more so than the rest of them, even if he actually exerts energy into soccer and adores the sport now.

It was Isagi who had been fired up by their exchange, and broken free from the complacent mindset he hadn’t even realized he began to step into of relying on his teammates’ strengths instead of building upon his own abilities. Isagi, who decided he was willing to do anything to further himself for the sake of his dream. Isagi, who had been consumed by Nagi’s newly found obsession and his interest in him.

Isagi is the counter piece to Nagi’s seesaw. The driving force to Nagi’s desire, and in turn, vice versa. Isagi is the rock face of a cliff that stands strong, who is still ultimately worn down by the high tides of a tumultuous and demanding sea; Nagi’s waters lapping at Isagi’s shores ceaselessly, and Isagi’s high wall inviting him in, enticing, and bouncing him back. A constant push and pull.

“Barou-” Isagi starts. Nagi snorts at the betrayed glare Barou immediately shoots his way for inciting his downfall. Chigiri hadn’t even told Isagi about the fight.

“I’m not making you any promises, Isagi, so don’t even bother-.”

“-stay safe, okay, pet? All three of you. Stay safe.”

Barou pauses mid sentence as Isagi finishes over him. His mouth falls shut around a frown, and Chigiri feels for him. That was hardly fair. How is he supposed to fight with that?

There’s more moving around and shuffling on the other end of the line, then what sounds like someone calling Isagi back from his break. It’s hard to let him go, but they say their goodbyes, and when Isagi leaves the call, Barou doesn’t kill Nagi about the kitchen or for snitching on him. Nagi even cleans while Barou’s in the shower, all prior animosity having vanished the instant they heard Isagi’s voice.

Chigiri does the dishes as Nagi scrubs at the counters and floor. He texts Isagi more useless updates later in the day, because he misses him. When he hears Nagi return to taking screenshots of his game, hears the muted thump of repeated steps and looks over to find Barou pacing in his house-slippers, Chigiri understands.