74. SWEET DREAMS

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YOUR

legs move before your mind does and before you know it, you're bouncing in front of Yukki with glimmering eyes and a wide, joyous grin, "You did it! You scored! That was incredible! Amazing! It was amazing, Yukki! You did it!"

Your friends all surround him and cheer as loud as their voices allow them as well—but his striking amber eyes are solely focused on your own. "... Thank you, [name]." He laughs—a genuine, pretty sound that echoes in your eardrums and makes you blush—"I don't know what I'd do without you."

You pause, eyes squinting upwards as you stare up at him—"Then, you won't have to know."

There is a stark sort of momentary silence before the rambunctious cheers start up once more, and you don't think you've ever appreciated such a sound more.

It is startling when it suddenly halts and Yukimiya walks forward, where Isagi stands wiping his face with his damp shirt. They stare at each other for a few awkward seconds. Then, their voices overlap as they synonymously speak, "Sorry."

They each look equally as surprised to hear the word come out of the other's mouth.

Yukimiya looks conflicted as he speaks up, gaze trained down on the ground and fists clenched beside him, "Isagi... If you hadn't passed to me, I would've been finished... earlier, I said some terrible things... I'm sorry."

"No... I needed your strength on that last play." After a moment of consideration, Isagi shakes his head and stares deeply into Yukimiya's eyes. "To beat Kaiser a playmaker, I simply used you as a tool. Everything was going according to plan, except the end. I didn't expect Reo to come charging in like that. But despite all that, you managed to score a super goal. It's your win, Yukimiya, so I'm the one who should apologise. I'm sorry."

"But... how the hell did you draw up that last play...? I mean, didn't you draw it up so that you could score the winning goal?"

Isagi nods, in confirmation of his words, "Yeah. If Kaiser hadn't gotten in my way, I would have scored. But he saw what I was up to, and efficiently moved to crush my goal. Right now, I can't beat Kaiser in a straight-up duel, but... That's why I had a Plan B: assist to Yukimiya. A trump card only I had envisioned. All to destroy Kaiser... and to show the world that I was by far the best player on the pitch."

Isagi's words are nothing short of egotistical and self-centred. If it were anybody else—they would pass him off as a degenerate jerk—but Yukimiya is not anybody else. He laughs, a smirk crawling up his lips and a playful glint in his eye, "Ha. You're a jerk and a real pain in the ass. You're too clever for your own good, but... without a doubt, you were the Man of the Match, Isagi."

Isagi finds humour in this, smiling as well as resting back on his heel, "Hey, hey. I thought you didn't like little goody-two-shoes like me?"

Yukimiya rolls his eyes but still retains that smile. "Bite me."

"But, keep being that same dream-obsessed idiot you've always been, Yukimiya. Don't you dare become a player who I can simply manipulate with my logic."

Isagi's reflection bounces off the sleek plastic of Yukimiya's glasses. "You bet... this twisted relationship suits us... We'll devour each other until only one of us is left standing." Their hands connect in a congratulatory slap—and you can't help but smile.

Your heart warms from how genuine their interaction seems to be. Neither are bad people nor did they wish the worst for each other—they just lack any sort of understanding. To be more accepting of the world, to love this world—you have to understand others.

Alexis Ness is not so understanding.

"What the hell was that..." As if the mere prospect of Isagi and Yukimiya's teamwork simply nauseates him to his core, he stares at the two with a blank expression, completely and utterly repulsed. "Disgusting... No, no, no... No way! What striker would ever pass in that situation!? And that bullshit about you destroying Kaiser—"

His wobbly voice grows more frantic as he goes on, and as his panic grows so does the prominence of his German accent, "You couldn't hack it against Kaiser, so you chickened out with an assist! Didn't you, Yoichi? Stop trying to justify your pitiful assist with logic, you useless pathetic loser!"

Isagi snorts. "Looks like Kaiser's stupid lackey couldn't understand my last play. Should I dumb it down for you, little boy?"

His voice is not taunting or teasing—but perhaps it makes it all the more worse to Ness that it is completely genuine. A vein you do not know the name of pops out of Ness' forehead and he spits through a clenched jaw, "Shut up...! Just shut the hell...—!!!"

"Quiet, Ness."

A strange sense of deja vu overcomes you when Kaiser places his hand on Ness' head and pulls him down into an uncomfortable-looking bowing position. The brunette lets out a pathetic little squeak that sounds oddly similar to that of a rabbit—but once again, apart from that, he does not audibly complain.

Kaiser doesn't give the boy a second glance, sharp electric eyes trained solely on Isagi. "Impressive, Yoichi. That last play, in that split second, you saw further into the future than I did. This match is your win."

Despite Kaiser's calm demeanour, his grip on the froggish boy's hair grows tighter with each word he speaks. Kaiser continues, "However. This time, you had Noa backing you up. Next time, we'll fight without Noa backing either one of us. We're both strikers. Let's see who scores the most goals, Yoichi." His voice is ice cold. "Well?"

Isagi lets out a heavy breath. It is strained and sounds more like a strangled gasp—he does not reply to Kaiser's request and falls forward. Every single alarm in your brain goes off and your hand instinctively reaches out for him—eyes wide. "Isagi!"

Kaiser abruptly lets go of Ness and instead grabs a fistful of Isagi's hair to tug him up before he manages to hit the ground. His eyes are icy and uncaring, even as he replies to Noa's ask of what happened, "Nothing. He just overheated, that's all. Recklessly pushing past your limits... what are you, some brat who doesn't know self-control? Goddamn egoist."

Your eyes narrow sharply—gone are the thoughts of them being one of the same, gone are the thoughts of everything you've said is all for naught—you rush forward and grip Kaiser's wrist. The heel of your palm brushes against soft black hair. "Give him to me."

Kaiser's brows furrow, but apart from that, he does not say a word. He lets go of the tight grip he holds on his hair and practically shoves him into your arms—you stumble back a little but manage to securely hold Isagi without him tumbling back.

You place your arms around him and it feels strange to hold him while he lay limp against you. His head falls over your shoulder and you get an eyeful of the back of his jersey—the large number 11 and his name just on top.

Your gaze drifts upwards to the hair that swishes against the back of his neck. You always forget to take care of yourself, too.

To scare me like that—you must be the most terrible man alive, Yoichi.

And yet, you still cradle him as he is the most fragile thing alive—softly, and gently, and you press your fingertips into his shirt.

And still, I take care of you.

You sigh, watching as Noa comes walking over—presumably to help with carrying him to the medical bay, where you will be allocated to do some obligatory checkups.

... Tell me why I do, Isagi Yoichi.

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Yukimiya peers down at you. He no longer has sweat dripping down the expanse of his face, nor does he sport the sleek orange glasses he wears during games—he appears to glow with the freshness of his shower, and even with dripping wet hair that is stuck to the side of his cheek, he is beautiful. "So, is he okay?

You step outside of the fluorescent-lit room and you silently slide the door closed behind you. You stand beside Yukki and look up at him, "He's fine. He just drained himself so much he knocked himself out."

Yukki chuckles lightly, shaking his head, "Sounds like Isagi. Honestly, I wonder what he was even thinking. He's always three steps ahead of us all of us."

You both begin to walk—your slippers make a quiet pitter-patter noise that you can only hear when your voice lowers—"Well, you were right. He is far too smart for his own good. If this keeps happening..." You sigh, glancing over your shoulder at the closed doors behind you. "I don't know what I'll do."

Yukki stops you in your tracks, looking down at you through the thick lens of his rounded glasses. The light above him reflects off his hair perfectly and you could've mistaken him for an angel. "Put your faith in him. Didn't you say you believed in us—that you wanted us to win? You shouldn't get all worried now. We won. Your childish thought, your silly dream—it's not a lie. With your belief—we won."

His hands are placed atop both your shoulders and you feel so small underneath his touch. "R... Right. I... You're right. I'm... feeling too pessimistic." You smile. "Thanks, Yukki."

He smiles back. "It's nothing."

A sweet sort of silence consumes the air around you. You're tired. Your eyes are sunken and you think your legs may just give out at any moment beneath you. It's not exactly something you're trying to explicitly hide from Yukimiya—so it's not a surprise when he breaks the silence to ask, "Are you tired?"

You give him a weak smile, "Is it obvious?"

He shakes his head. His brown locks flutter with his movements. "Yes—but not in a bad way. You still look good."

"Flattery doesn't work on me in this state, you know."

"I know."

You feel like all the weight of the entire day just hit you all at once, like a truck. The high of your team's win has worn off—and like a hangover, all you want to do now is crash into your sheets and never wake up.

All the nervous moments—the opposing goals, Isagi fainting into your arms—and all those exciting ones, too—when Yukimiya scored, when Mariele smiled, when you all won—it all accumulated to such sleepiness. You feel silly saying it—but you really do want to take a nap.

Your eyes are half-lidded and you practically have to force them open with each slow blink. Is this what Nagi feels like all the time? I couldn't imagine living like this.

Beside you—Yukimiya is silent. You're not too sure whether it is out of consideration for your dreary state or because he simply has nothing to say—at the moment, you appreciate this gesture for whichever reason it is.

It takes less than five more minutes for you both to have reached your room. Since it was before his—it was easy to walk you back. He'd insisted after seeing Noa carry Isagi to the infirmary, with you right beside the master striker.

"You sure you'll be alright?" Concerned as ever, Yukimiya asks you.

You smile a little, waving him off with a flopping wrist. You fiddle around for your ID card in your jacket pocket and swipe it across the scanner beside your room's door. It opens immediately. "I'll be fine. I'm probably just going to wash my face and go to sleep."

You turn around on your heel and stare up at him while trying to keep your eyes open—he finds this action mildly amusing. "I'll see you tomorrow, Yukki. I hope you'll be able to sleep after that goal today."

He shakes his head with a small chuckle. "I'm not too sure I'll be able to. Regardless—have sweet dreams, [name]."

You nod, not wasting any more time walking into your room and the door closes shut behind you. Yukimiya stands still for a couple more seconds, staring into the blank wall—before he shakes his head and starts to walk away.

He doesn't get too far before something shining underneath bright white lights catches his eye. It is plastic-y and there is a long pink keychain attached to it—he saw it a second earlier. Your ID card. He isn't sure exactly how you managed to drop it—even more, without either of you noticing—perhaps you two were just so caught up in your own world you hadn't even noticed.

Whatever it was—Yukimiya walks back over and picks up the card. He pauses for a moment, then swipes the card across the scanner and it opens immediately.

He walks into the room—sandals making contact with the soft carpet, and he's pleasantly surprised at how nice your room smells, like a sweet perfume—and looks around for you. The room is completely silent—no rushing water, or rustling of clothes, or even the low hum of music—there is nothing but low breathing.

At first, he mistakes it as his own—but then he realises there are also a quiet kind of snore coming from a bed in the corner. He peers closer, and he realises it's you. You're sleeping.

You had not changed, and he doesn't think you even took off your makeup—still clad in your windbreaker jacket and with your hair tied up uncomfortably, you managed to fall asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow.

You sleep so comfortably and soundly atop your covers—even with all these uncomfortable things on you. Yukimiya squeezes his eyes tightly shut and places a hand on the lower half of his face.

The sight is so cute it almost drives him mad.

He cautiously peers down at you through slitted lids—heart rhythmically bumping in the cage of his chest. The room is so silent that he can hear such a sound. It is uncanny.

Yukimiya does not know why, but he walks forward—placing your ID card on your bedside table. He looks down at you, staring at your sleeping expression for a moment—then, he bends down into a squat, now at eye level with your face.

He reaches down and tugs a thin woollen blanket over your sleeping figure. It was surely not warm nor cozy within your clothes—but he decided against trying to take your jacket off for fear of waking you. This was the least he could do.

Yukimiya does not say a word (it's not all that surprising, given he was practically alone in your room), but he does not break (presumable) eye contact, either. Your lashes flutter so soundly across the smooth expanse of your cheek and your lips are slightly parted with soft snores coming out of your mouth.

A flush crawls up his neck.

Yukimiya's body moves before his mind has a chance to catch up. His palm makes contact with your cheek—it is burning hot while his hand is cool to the touch—and he leans forward to place a kiss on your forehead. The minimal, yet affectionate gesture makes this feel all so domestic. You do not stir one bit.

[name]...

It's ridiculous that you're this adorable.

Somebody like you believing in me...

It's the most amazing feeling in the entire world.

He pushes his glasses up a little before he places one last kiss atop your forehead—a small chuckle escaping him soon after. "Sweet dreams, [name]."

He stands back up and, with as light steps as possible, makes his way to the doorway. He steals one last glance over his shoulder at you, and with a pretty grin, he turns off the light and steps out of the room—leaving your sleeping form inside.

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