Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first time he started to think about it in depth was one afternoon at the beginning of the summer. He never thought that a regular afternoon after morning training would end up being the start of a domino, which would trigger a new sensation that stimulated every part of him.

Practically all his adolescence was about football and only football, he had neither time nor interest in other things apart from the sport in question or to improve in it.

It was thanks to that sport that he was able to leave the slums of France and become a human being in society. He was rarely interested in anything else, such as the occasional interesting film, book with a catchy synopsis or walking around some tourist site in his city that he was never allowed to visit.

Factors external to the sport he loved were mere temporary interests that he would eventually lose interest in and go on with his life as if nothing had happened.

Like that American film he watched out of curiosity when he found out it was his roommate's favourite film, in which he was quite... puzzled. He doesn't know much about movies, having barely watched a few accounts since he finally got his first laptop and rented DVDs, but he thinks watching a teacher psychologically and physically abuse his students for absolute perfection isn't very pleasant, or entertaining, even if the ending left his skin crawling.

His roommate, at least to him, is a bit of a weirdo, so no wonder he loves it.

He didn't think much of it and forgot about it as time went by.

He continues to focus on his daily routine and training in the team where he plays. Every day following his strict training schedule which he held onto for many years and which he rarely broke. 

Sometimes sleeping less because of his roommate who usually wakes him up in the middle of the night doing anything with his laptop except sleeping. Reason why he had to force him to sleep, threatening that he plans to throw away the few cartons of Japanese junk food he has hidden in his room (and that he knows perfectly well where they are).

Or delaying his stretches because of him, having to comply with any whim his partner wanted, having scored more goals than him. Making Noa have to honour that deal they forged some time ago.

A deal that completely messed up his strict training schedule more than the player did even. At any hour and time of the day they could order the other to do an obligation that did not exceed the limits of decency and dignity of a teenager. For them, not to fall off the shaky ground they walked on day after day and thus not to collapse at each other's feet.

That deal, that somehow he has become so used to it that he doesn't even bother to get irritated anymore if he finds Ego at the entrance of the gym, waiting with his characteristic smile, about to ask to Noa something that would make him want to bite his tongue because of how stupid or outrageous it was.

Apart from that, he also doesn't worry about being out of touch with current events or entertainment, his football career already entertains him enough, so he didn't feel the psychological changes of the frantic phase he was in.

He has matured in comparison to his childhood and knows exactly that if he had been attracted to other people's bodies at that age, it would have been completely normal, but he didn't find it necessary.

He was not at all interested in his teammates' conversations about their girlfriends or whether they got laid in a motel, or how they hooked up with the first girl they met in a nightclub late at night.

The simple act of touching and letting being touched by someone other than himself for the satisfaction and pleasure was enigmatic territory that neither his mind or his body had the ambition to want to taste or fantasise about. Until this summer.

The moment in which he realised that, in which he began to observe with more attention the person who cohabits in their room and lives with such naturalness and disdain that not a single movement he made, sure of himself most of the time, that he would not think that the person sitting on the other bed was studying him from head to toe without any shame whatsoever. And in which, the centre-forward believes, he does it on purpose or was simply oblivious enough to the outside of that screen holding his attention, that the Japanese didn't notice his gaze.

That same afternoon, he was sitting on his bed while keeping his back pressed against the wall to his right, with one leg tensed half-bent and in his hands carrying a book he was reading, but had forgotten about when he lowered it to his lap. The chirping of birds was the only thing that adorned the couple's silent room, a brutal silence, which, because of the heat, Noa was beginning to feel too heavy for his own good.

His vision had become unfocused and he realises that he has been staring too long at a fixed point while wandering in his thoughts. He blinks a couple of times and swallows saliva to try to calm down and continue with his task of reading, which was previously being interrupted by the sound of the sheets moving because of Ego, who was trying to find a comfortable position for his enjoyment. At the slightest movement he hears, Noa becomes restless, uncomfortable and wants to get out and practice, because with every soft sound of fabrics, he can't resist and loses the temptation to look at him.

He shouldn't be doing that. If Jinpachi were to find out, he'd surely throw it in his face and their relationship would become awkward and uncomfortable.

But oh. Lately that was the least of his problems.

His mind never wanders and he continues to watch him from top to bottom every time they come back from training, in the locker room, the small beads of sweat forming a layer of moisture on Ego's pale skin and how his muscles flex every time he takes off his shirt and can see his back clearly and without any cloth covering it. 

He glances sideways, as he too removes his shirt, at the bare nape of Ego's neck and thinks that a reddish mark would look beautiful on his skin, he runs his eyes down his worked back delighting in how, despite his slender body, he can see the curve of his waist and thinks he could wrap his hands around it with ease. And he continues to gaze unashamedly at his lower back and backside, where he realises he has been gawking for far too long.

Noa swallows and mentally slaps himself. 

He shouldn't be thinking about that.

The heat in the room is affecting him and he feels it all over his body. 

He pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes in an attempt to concentrate on the interesting book that was recommended to him, again. He loses interest after a few pages, though, another rustling of cloth and the soft squawking of a bird.

He can't take it anymore.

He lifts his face and deliberately watches the boy in the other bed. His body is stretched out and relaxed as his elbows rest on the mattress so that he can write on the laptop in front of him, which is propped up on the pillow. 

He recognises what is playing on the screen as he sees the protagonist enthusiastically playing the drums, not expecting that in a few minutes a chair would be thrown at his head.

Lately, at the height of summer, his gaze was not only focused on his impassive, twisted face.

He remembers how he first felt when he saw that he did not directly show his interest in overcoming it, even though it was now one of his main objectives, the reserved way of observing and reading it as if it were an open book, which his whole body reacts to noticing his eyes on him but ignores as if it were any other stimulus or outside activity and goes on with his life with indifference.

Whatever time and time of day, wherever Ego and the reflection in his glasses were, he would not let his guard down either on or off the field. Or at least that was what he promised himself within days of meeting him, where he had not become accustomed to his ambitious personality and peculiar grin from ear to ear when he came up with an idea to crush an opponent. 

Or how his deep black eyes could swallow him up like a bottomless pit when they met during matches, where at that moment he knew perfectly what his next move would be. A disinterested face with dark circles under the socket of his eyes, which always had the habit of looking at him in detail.

He hears, again, a friction of fabrics and looks at Ego's profile fixed on the screen, as he watches him fiddling with the cable of the headphones.

There was something that made him uncomfortable. No, there was something that attracted him.

He was impulsive, he shouldn't have opened the lock, but he wrestled with the key in the lock for too long and opened it. 

And he may have fallen into the sin of the forbidden fruit and discovered his inner self.

His instinct defeats him and he guides his eyes all over Ego's body with a hungry gaze, as if he wants to devour him with his eyes, he feels his sanity begin to crumble to pieces and his desire for the new increases. He watches as his torso is covered by a loose-fitting tank top, enough so that he could see traces of his skin if Ego moved his arm. He delights in being able to perfectly see his back arched by the position, how much further he could go. And he notices, from so much movement, that his shorts cling to his thighs and ass too gracefully, too appetising for his self-control, and he can see his form perfectly. He feels his clothes are tight and the sweat is still bothering him.

Slim body but with just enough muscle from football training.

He would run through his head the way he moved off the field, how his legs would flex and relax as he sat, how his neck would move with such elegance as his face would look at him with such arrogance that oh, how he would want to ruin him. How his leg crossed over the other as he crossed his exercised thigh over the other when he sat down and how he can see his abdomen tighten as he stretched. The single thing his mind keeps replaying over and over again is the feeling and the thrill of wanting to ruin it, of wanting to have it for himself.

And he realises that he hasn't longed so much to have something in a long time.

Since he was a child he has not been able to have anything or anyone by his side because of the conditions in which he was born, destined to struggle to survive in street life and used to seeing and touching his interests through a glass case, he is not and was not cruel enough to steal something that was not essential to live, so at the end of the day, he would separate himself from the case and come back to reality.

He watches as the film playing on the screen cuts to the scene of the car accident and sees the protagonist exit the vehicle bloodied to return to the conservatory. Bad time in the film to be thinking about that.

The scene didn't matter, though. He bites the inside of his cheek anyway, having been fantasising for almost half the film. 

He clears his throat having let his imagination run free as he looks at the car, Ego doesn't react as he doesn't hear him. Thank God for that.

His reading already forgotten and discarded, the only thing he had with him was the insufferable July heat and his imagination overflowing like an open tap (with no intention of closing).

He tries to concentrate on something else, like the discomfort he began to feel the moment he was debating between the morality and naturalness of his actions, whether he should really let it pass as something natural or something more hidden and concealed, not wanting to leave its shelter. 

He stretches out his flexed leg, leaving his calf untouched by the mattress, as he let it go, he realised how tense his muscles were. Without his discomfort disappearing, he flexes his other leg and rests his arm on his knee. He doesn't know exactly what he was trying to do, but he lets his body take control while he pays attention to the other body.

He shouldn't be doing that. 'I shouldn't be looking at him like that.'

But it was as if his body was deciding for him and putting the consequences aside, wanting and desiring him from afar, with no intention of stepping over the glass barrier that separated them. Habits are slow to fade.

A child who wants a sweet. An egoist who wants the jackpot.

And he lets his imagination and the heat cloud him, feels a little stinging and tingling go through his skin until it bristles the back of his neck, at the same time as he feels sweat beading on his forehead.

He bites the skin of the thumb of the arm resting on his knee, intending to direct his attention to the pain of the finger being bruised and not the growing discomfort that was increasing with every sight, sound or thought about Ego that sat in the region of his shorts. Which he wished was not visible (if he kept thinking about it, it would definitely become visible).

He would have to do more research on the issue to understand what he was experiencing, the change of mentality towards another's body, towards Jin , that he had put aside since the beginning of his adolescence until that moment, or rather, until barely a year of sharing a room with Ego.

Going to train now is good idea.

He runs his hand through his hair and looks down to under Ego's bed, notices he has three boxes of new instant noodles. Those weren't there before. Determined, he stretches his legs out and gets up from the mattress, leaving the closed book between the sheets. He takes a look at the flexed back beforehand to see where it was in the film to deduce how long it had been since they had settled into the room. 

The protagonist was playing his drum solo at full speed while being watched by the orchestra director (and potential sociopath), barely minutes left before the end of the film. He returns to his task and bends down to the floor to pick up the junk food while Ego is engrossed in the end of the film, practically gawking and marvelling. 

He notices that as he notices how the skin on his thighs was completely bristling from excitement.

He picks up the pots and holds them, pressing them to his chest with the help of his arm, stands up quietly and turns towards the door of the room. 

'I could freshen up when I leave the room, it's like a sauna,' thinks Noa as he grabs the doorknob to get out of there. 'Someday I'll pay the shop assistant not to sell this food to Jin.'

He opens the door, and just when he thought he would finally be free from that suffering, he feels a tug on his shirt backwards. Bewildered, he turns his face towards the weight he felt on his shirt and finds the person who was at the bottom of the list of people he wanted to see that afternoon (but he knew perfectly well that it was him).

He doesn't say anything, stares impassively into the dark eyes he wouldn't want to get lost in, waiting for something. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the end credits of the film playing on the bedside computer. 

"Where are you going so suddenly?" The silence of hours ago is broken by Ego's question. "What are you carrying in your arms?"

Noa doesn't answer right away, thinking whether to say an excuse or the truth.

"I'm going to cool off in the bathroom, I'm pretty hot," he replies. "I'm also going to throw some rubbish away."

The grip doesn't release, indeed, he feels it pull harder as he notices how the collar of his t-shirt was beginning to tighten around his neck. He pushes the noodles away from Ego's sight.

"Noel."

"No, it's bad for your health."

Noa keeps contradicting each and every one of Ego's arguments for him not to throw the packages away, ending up with a barefoot Ego chasing him through most of the building trying to take them away.

They end up in front of a large dumpster in the dining room, where a cleaner is waiting nearby to do her job and throw the balls away. Noa throws them away after ignoring Ego the whole way and he resentfully clicks his tongue and goes back to their shared room muttering words in Japanese that he doesn't understand.

As he was about to speak to the worker, he sees Ego turn around in the doorframe and vocalise a few words, staring at him with that look of his that made him uneasy as a foggy night in the city, he gives his typical smile that makes a shiver run through his body and leaves.

He understood perfectly what he said and a thrill welled up inside him, clinging to his branches with such pressure that he suffocated.

Noa releases the air from his lungs that he has been holding and bids the lady a polite farewell.

He leaves the dining room towards the corridors, with too many thoughts and facts that are scattered everywhere. A cold shower was tempting.

He returns to his room to pick up a towel and some new clothes. Ego wasn't there. 

'Where did he go? Did he go training or something?' 

Ahh... The main one of his problems had no one else to be his roommate and teammate. And Noa knows that problem grew and strengthened somehow as time went on.

He gets to the bathroom and undresses, heading for a single shower so that the water would get him into a position to think properly and refresh him, at least for ten minutes thinking about how nice the water was and not about him.

The water runs over his body incessantly and all Noa does is look up at the showers' floor. 

But he can't avoid replaying in his mind the images of Ego stretched out on his bed watching the film. What if he had sat down, what if he hadn't moved so much? The first questions a person asks themselves tend to be innocent and unthoughtful, until he overthinks to the point of wondering what he would have looked like in his uniform, what he would have looked like in his bed.

His body throbs and is repulsive. Ego's words in the dining room come back to his mind.

A sharp thud sounds, Noa's fist hits the wall in front of him.

«If that's the way you want to play Noel, let's see who ends up begging who.»

His mind doesn't hesitate for a moment to draw whatever meaning there was from those words.

He may have fallen into a tough game to come away with the victory. And it may be his undoing.

Chapter Text

A week had passed since then.

He and Ego hadn't exchanged many words, if it counted to ask the other for something or to pass the ball to him. Though he didn't notice much difference either, if he compared like any other day, the two of them weren't much for communicating after all.

One could say that everything was going as usual, their communication problem didn't interfere on the playing field, even if almost every time they played, just by looking at each other's faces, they already understood what the other would do and how they would have to react to create a combination or a chemical reaction, as Ego used to say.

So-so... if it weren't for the fact that those thoughts were still there, in his head, invading him like a wave crashing into a cave, infecting his mind like a tick that clung to him until it consumed his entire memory. Remembering that scene over and over again, at any time of the day when he should be concentrating on other things than him.

For the next few days after that situation, Ego didn't show any signs of dislike or discomfort towards him, so Noa assumed that he simply hadn't noticed and didn't take it seriously. And he wanted to get on with his life without further ado, Noa tried. 

He tried, but as the sun beat down on his training area and the human body reacts to the high temperatures, Ego's skin became shiny and Noa is absorbed, watching the sweat running down his neck and face as he passes the ball to him. 

When he kicks the ball and scores a goal after running at full speed and playing at his high level, expending his energy, causing him to start gasping and wheezing as he tries to get air. As he runs his hand through his fringes to wipe away the sweat, as he lifts his training shirt to his face to dry. Forcing Noa not to look. For his dignity and decency, for contradicting the undeniable attraction he felt, with a pitiful tingle running through his body.

He tries to forget about it and focus on football, because he had already researched on the internet the symptoms he had to find out what was wrong, and although he read the possible answers, he decided not to pay much attention to it and continue as if nothing was wrong. Because they were answers he refused to accept.

Sometimes wandering in his thoughts was the best option to distract himself. Specifically when it came to stretching or training individually, because then his mind would ignore anything outside his little bubble, and he would let his body go into automatic mode, doing his daily routine of workouts that he knew by heart. The same list of stretches that Ego had helped him create... Looking for and timing the perfect movements for his body to adapt correctly.

 He likes to follow that list to the letter.

And he doesn't like other people interrupting him while he's doing it.

"Can you help me with my stretches?"

Until that moment.

"Sure."

Fuck.

During the few years they have been in the same team, he could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times Ego asked him for help with his stretches, he used to do them by himself, because in his words: 'I don't want other knuckleheads to mess up my exercises' or in other words, for other people to enter his personal space and touch him. He knows how Ego hates to be touched without his permission.

The same reason why he has been the only one to help him those few times, such as to force and intensify his warm-up and flexibility exercises or to put on his neuromuscular bandages when he had muscle injuries.

So he shouldn't be anxious.

"Push—" Noa hears Ego's instruction, which pierces through his ears to his nerves. "Okay, good."

Kneeling on the artificial turf in the corner of the field, Noa was working his concentration harder than ever, in just thinking about putting his hands on the dorsal of Ego's back and pushing as far as his flexibility could take him.

He knows Ego's game inside out, from all the times he's watched him play and train, from all the times he's replayed games over and over again on the team's DVDS player. The use of dribbles and moves where the individual's flexibility was important to the success of the plays.

And the times when he helped Ego in the past, in those same drills they were doing, Noa didn't think about the possibilities that Ego's flexibility could achieve. Or the possibilities that Noa's mind would go crazy just seeing Ego's flexed back, being pushed by his hands (he ignored the fact that his hands were touching and managed to hide his entire lower back).

Even if he wanted to, he couldn't see Ego's face because he was behind him, pushing, watching as Ego stretched his arms forward between the space between his legs spread in a V-shape.

Silence reigned, accompanied by soft gasps of annoyance from the Japanese and the sound of the artificial grass being touched. Training in the hot summer sun was not at all healthy for them, he feels it stinging on his exposed skin and knows that he is most likely going to get burnt because of it.

The first coach's order was uncomfortable and irrational; if he wanted his players to do their best in the next game, he wouldn't be training them on a pitch where the shade was almost non-existent.

From the corner of his eye he sees a couple of teammates approaching the adult, he thinks it's to postpone training to the afternoon, where the sun wouldn't be burning so much.

But, while part of him wished the trainer would take the deal so he could get out of there and do his training in the gym, another part of him felt unconcerned about the high temperatures and the possibility of a burn on his skin. 

He could handle it.

Although if the temperature remained this high and the sun's rays continued to sting his skin, it would be unbearable, even with a cool or energy drink. Could it be because of the humidity? Maybe that's the problem with sweating without even having been out in the field for more than fifteen minutes.

"...Noel, Noel! " complained Ego, snapping Noa out of his thoughts. "Stop leaning all your weight on my back, you'll break me!"

'Ah.' Noa blinks and guides his eyes to both his hands, realising he was pressing too hard, putting his weight unconsciously on top of Ego, who was arching his back with an uncontrollable shudder, trying to support him. Noa notices how his legs had flexed in pain and how the back of his neck was more exposed as he bent his head. 

"Sorry, I was in my thoughts." Says Noa in a monotone voice, as he releases the pressure from his hands. "It was unintentional."

Ego rejoins as he rubs his back with his hand. He turns his face and looks at him with an annoyed expression.

"What are you thinking about?" Ego asks with a frown. "It's useless to me if you're distracted."

He looks deliberately at Ego's irritated expression. A shameless thought wanders through his mind, Ego's annoyed face could cause him any emotion but intimidation.

"In tomorrow's game, the team has a formidable defence." Noa excuses himself with the first thing that came to mind. "We'll have to combine in some way to overcome them."

Tomorrow's game. A friendly game to prepare for the French league, which will start at the end of July.

"Ah, well, that team is no big deal anyway." Ego turns his face to the front and prepares his arms to repeat the stretch. "They have a fragile mentality, easy to destroy."

Noa understands the move and puts his hands on Ego's back again, this time without pressing as hard.

"You think so?"

"Obviously, it's similar to the Japanese football mentality, disappointing."

Noa hums in response and continues with his duty.

He knows that at each interval, he has to be pressing for at least a minute, so during that period of time, his eyes decide to watch the muscles of Ego's thighs tense from the force exerted.

Just when he thinks there would be another long minute in silence, a serious voice unmutes him.

"But... In watching the occasional game of theirs, I noticed how some players were limping off the field, or star players who weren't on the field due to injuries from recent knocks." Explains Ego. "I get the feeling that their ideal of victory is to get it at all costs, using aggression and violence if necessary."

"If the referee is not bought, he will give a yellow card for aggression." Noa replies. He decides to push a little more, bringing his chest closer to Ego's back. "Uhm, unless they do it off the field."

"Exactly."

Ego rejoins back up at the end of the set time of the stretch, makes slight movements in his neck before turning to Noa and dropping his back to the grass.

Noa knows what the next exercise is and the modesty of his thoughts deteriorates as he realises how close their bodies will be.

He decides to take a deep breath in and out, moving towards Ego's prone body. He watches as he flexes his right leg and lifts his left leg in the air, expecting Noa to catch it and lift it towards him.

"In any case the match is played here, I don't think I've got the balls to do it. Ha!" Ego lets out a short laugh as he finishes the sentence and his characteristic grin widens.

Noa doesn't respond. Not paying the necessary attention to his words. 

Because, the only thing he is concentrating on, is how his rough fingers sink into Ego's smooth skin behind his knee and on the one of his heel, Noa's body was pressing the leg he was stretching towards Ego. 

Automatically, he places Ego's leg on his shoulder for more comfort.

"Whatever, stay there and put more pressure on it, I can take it." Ego commands, his left leg tense and exerting force on his muscles, resting comfortably on the french's shoulder.

Noa's head stops working for a few seconds, as if some gears have rusted out. He wants to blame it on the sweat and heat as the fabrics of his clothes felt too tight for his body (knowing they were fitted with compression). And how it played against him as he overthought Ego's words, how Ego's delicious tone of voice drove him crazy.

His left hand, which was squeezing the back of Ego's knee, deliberately reaches down to touch his thigh and presses against it, feeling the warm touch of skin bathed in the sun's rays, while his right hand does not let go of his ankle.

As always, he stares at Ego's face, waiting for a reaction or sound that would indicate he would pull away from the pain.

There isn't. And he realises that Ego's flexibility had actually improved.

"Let's play as usual and make the deal," Ego lets out a sigh and brings his arm up to his face, the back of his hand lingering on his forehead. "And... I have an idea about that."

Noa doesn't flinch, however, a source of heat bubbling up inside her and he gives Ego his undivided attention. Noa can't see his eyes as they are hidden by his hand, but he can feel that sense of eccentricity he was giving off. Noa wonders how this idea could be a trick that could turn him against himself and end up ruining him. Putting a coin in a slot machine and waiting to hit the jackpot, the distrust of knowing it's rigged and that he'd end up losing.

But back then, Noa was just a teenager with a curiosity and a desire to understand his rival more. Even if that would lead to falling into a rat trap set precisely at the right moment to catch its prey.

"What idea?" asks Noa.

"Let's do something, just in tomorrow's match to try it out," Ego begins to explain. Noa completely forgot the way his fingers were clinging to Ego's skin tightly, that piece of skin began to redden. "Normally, in our little competition, we average two to four goals a game, beating each other with a one goal difference."

Noa doesn't respond. Not that Ego expected an answer either.

"Let's break the limit rule." Ego finishes. He moves his arms away to the grass, letting Noa see his intense black eyes framed by his rectangular glasses and smiles. "Whoever scores a hat-trick in the match, can order whatever he wants to the other."

Something inside Noa begins to crack and break like an avalanche, he tries to look nonchalant, tries not to take his eyes off Ego. His hand, which was resting on Ego's ankle, caresses that piece of skin with his thumb. And a glint in his eye appears, like two gold bars.

"Why so suddenly?" Why just when I'm going crazy just looking at you? Doesn't say Noa, wondering why Ego, so averse to physical contact, who hates being ordered around by others, was proposing something so tempting to their team's centre-forward.

"Fun," replies the Japanese. "What would you order me to do if you won? Because I'm pretty clear on what I'd have you do."

Noa never really discussed it with himself. Because he never thought he would get it, until now.

"So? Do you accept the devil's bargain?"

He could.

"Just a hat-trick? You could make it more complicated."

Ego lets out another laugh and turns his face slightly to the left, not taking his eyes off his rival's. Noa almost smirks at his response.

"Don't be such an arrogant shitty-french, I'll take that as a yes." Ego replied. "Get ready to be on your knees in front of me, you egoist."

The phrase should have been intimidating, but Noa took it as a further challenge to his collection, to bend Ego to his will.

"Ah, also, take your hands off my leg, you're going to leave a mark on me." 

A mark. 

He parted his lips slightly and shifted his gaze to Ego's thigh, stretching his leg further to see it perfectly, he saw how the skin surrounding Noa's hand was pigmented a light reddish. He pulled his hand away from Ego, with a feeling of guilt in his gut for the future bruise that would form, the part where Noa's palm covered, Ego's pale colour began to dissolve and blend in with the reddish border.

Noa had left a mark on Ego.

Notice how his body reacts to being able to rest the skin from the strong grip. The thought of Ego having a mark on him brings up that feeling again.

And he has a little reminder that he always marked his belongings when he lived in the slums of France.

"Sorry, I didn't realise." Noa apologises, carrying Ego's leg back to the grass.

Ego leans on his forearms and flexes his leg, stretching out the previously flexed one, shifting position.  

"Am I going to have to throw a cymbal at your head to get you to concentrate? Or would you prefer a chair?"

Noa senses Ego's sarcasm, and decides to deflect the question.

"Jin, that's from a movie."

"Yeah, but I could do it, if it would lead to me getting you to concentrate and do it well."

He lets out a sigh.

Noa wants to know him more. And he is intrigued to know that part of Ego that he is hiding.

"Yes, of course I know."

Noa continued to help Ego for a few more minutes, this time paying full attention to the strength and movements he was using, in order to satisfy his rival.

He was beginning to feel dizzy at times from the sun, how was that even possible? It was too much for them to go on there. Until his head clicked and he remembered the pair of players who had approached the coach to complain about that very issue.

The moment he remembered, he turned his face to where he remembered the players were and heard some clapping coming from the reserve players' benches, an adult voice letting them know that they would delay group practice when the sun began to go down, and where they would practice their next plays and strategies against the opposing team.

As if their prayers had been heard. Noa was more than ready to move back to the rear and away from the danger that came with being so close to Ego.

He turns his face as he hears a muffled groan next to him, Ego was stretching his limbs as he stood up, with a smile on his face, he places his glasses on the bridge of his nose and walks over to Noa. 

As he stands next to him, he rests his hand on Noa's shoulder, who watches as Ego brings his face close to his and stares at him, with that smile.

"I guess thanks, though for next time, you should be more focused on me, don't you think?"

Noa looks at Ego's bowed face, reluctant to any emotion welling up inside him, like a geyser about to explode, gathering all his thoughts and sensations of his closeness and his words to him, waiting until the pressure makes it detonate.

"Next time, I'll be more focused on you."

And it was ironic that the problem with his lack of focus, the problem Ego complained about, the thing that had been eating at him for days now, was the same Ego Jinpachi resting his hand on Noa's shoulder and looking at him as if he saw right through him and knew everything that was going through his mind.

"I hope so."

Ego lowers his hand and starts to walk away from Noa, going for his water bottle lying on the team benches.

Noa watches his body walk away. The feel of Ego's smooth skin soaks into his hands, he wants to touch it again.

He brings the cloth of his T-shirt to his face to wipe away the sweat from the heat and takes his eyes off Ego. 

He has completely forgotten his daily routine, and thinks he should do it in a secluded area. 

Ego leaves the field. Noa looks down at his sore, reddish-coloured thigh.

Noa was heading to his bedroom after completing his daily muscle and cardio workouts, after the events of that morning, his brain began to play tricks on him by replaying and remembering the moments when Ego teased him. Again.

He opens the door expecting the silence and comfort of the room, and having to endure the temptation to stretch out on the bed, while a small fan gives him just enough air to keep him from dying from the heat.

The first thing he sees is the slim body of his rival with his back to him, looking out of the window, a window that was used as a dividing line between his part of the room and Ego's.

His body is wet from the recent shower he had taken, Noa notices this as his black hair is dripping. He stands in the doorway, waiting for Ego's incredible spatial perception to notice his presence.

And it does, as usual.

"Wow, are you done, Noel?" Ego, elongating the syllables of Noa's name.

"Yeah, I'm off to the showers." He replies. He averts his gaze and heads to his wardrobe to pick up a clean towel and fresh clothes.

Ego hums in response, leaning his elbows on the windowsill. Noa feels Ego's overwhelming presence a few feet away. He picks up his things and heads for the door impatiently.

"Noel," Ego names Noa with a hint of amusement in his voice, he notices this and stands in front of the exit. "Don't forget to think about the deal if you beat me."

Noa swears to see Ego's smile on his back and almost falls to looking back. An order if he wins? He goes. Because if he took one more day or one measly moment longer with the temptation to bite into the apple, something inside him would snap in an instant. 

Perhaps, that treat could be the prize he would use to discover and affirm once and for all what that feeling was.

Even if the order he had in mind, it would change the relationship between Ego and him and cast doubt on the morality of his actions.

"No, I won't forget."