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42 A MODEL AND A SLEEPYHEAD

His head is tilted to the side like a confused owl, "[name]. Missed you," he mumbles, voice low, and he crashes into your arms—as if his whole body weight has suddenly become too much for him to carry. You instinctively wrap your arms around his hard torso (it's always instinctual with Nagi—you just can't seem to say no) so that both of you don't collide with the ground.

"Nagi..." Your voice is as low as a whisper, and he moves his head back from over your shoulder to peer into your eyes, blinking innocently. Too innocent, you deem, especially considering what had happened just a few nights ago. You can't say you've seen Nagi Seishiro the same way since.

A yank on your shoulder catches your attention—stolen away from the snow-haired man—and you whip your head around so fast it nearly stings. You don't expect to see Rin with his fingers gripping the skin on your shoulder, but you do expect to catch the blatantly annoyed face he makes at you.

"Don't waste time doing stupid stuff like this. You're just going to hold us up," he unintentionally sasses, making you roll your eyes—but you agree. You push Nagi away from your hold, something that makes his eyes widen out of their lazy rest in surprise.

"You have a game," you remind him—and his lips part slightly in realisation as though he had forgotten, but you wouldn't put it past this lazy genius. He rolls his shoulder back, stretching out his neck with a groan.

"A total hassle," and you snort at his comment.

Soon, the doors make a loud noise, and simultaneously, each team's three chosen members walk into the room. On your team—an abnormally tall player, Igaguri, and Aryu—who still shines just as brightly as you remember. On the other side, with Yukimiya and Nagi, are some guy with a large fro, Gagamaru and Reo.

You can't say you weren't a little disappointed to see him there.

But it was no matter. You would get through it anyway—it wasn't like you were planning to pay too much attention to the purple-headed heir in the first place. Rather, your eyes were drawn elsewhere—a certain brown-haired boy with sharp visors replacing his softly rounded lens.

The whistle chirps loudly in your ear—very effectively knocking you out of your trance-like state—and you take that as your cue to go and take your seat. You speed-walk across the field and towards your metal bench—your safe haven—and plop your bag down on the grassy floor.

You aren't alone—of course, you aren't—you're acutely aware of a presence beside you. You turn your head—to find she's already staring, and without an ounce of shame, she smiles wide, "Hey, [name], right? Cute thing you got going on. Like your hair."

You gulp thickly, thinking about what to reply with. "Thanks. I... like your hair too..."

The silence that swallows you whole is excruciating. She breaks it with a laugh, a lovely sound that falls from her lips and bounces off the steel walls around you, "Haha! You're so awkward."

You, once again, do not know how to reply. So you nervously laugh along—indirectly proving her point—and turn your head away once you're sure she's stopped looking. Each of the players lines up—already in position, and the whistle chirps, the kick-off officially beginning.

Reo and Nagi immediately begin with a one-two-passing dynamic with each other, and for a moment, it feels just as it did back when they were still as close as they once were. Reo sends a beautifully curved pass over towards Nagi—who is rushing forward for it at that very moment—but it is suddenly cut off by a large, looming figure over the field. The tallest high school player—you're sure he has to be at least 2 metres tall—headbutts the ball away and lands on his lanky legs.