Chapter Text
Sunset burns darker through the tinted backseat window. Blood red and bright gold bleed together, flickering between buildings as the blacked-out sedan growls over the streets of downtown Madrid. Sae stares at the city passing by as he secures the silver watch around his wrist and puffs out a quiet sigh.
“You don’t have to stay long, Sae-kun,” Dabadie says from the passenger seat, “but you do have to go if you want to keep that endorsement deal—you remembered to wear the watch, didn’t you?”
“I’m not an idiot.”
He knows better than to show up to a branding event without repping the very product he’s there to promote—even if tonight’s not really about him. Tonight marks the launch of a new fragrance for the fashion house he’s currently contracted with, and that’s about as much as he cares to know. An overpriced perfume or cologne with a celebrity brand ambassador and a guest list full of air-headed influencers. He’ll get in, show his face just long enough to get photographed, and get out. Anything for the sponsors, right? Money-grubbing adults never change.
“Okay then,” Dabadie grumbles, ignoring the bite in Sae’s voice and shuffling a few papers in his lap. “I have the invitation here, along with the event details. Oooh, ‘Suspended in Time’, what a theme. And it looks like the fragrance is called—”
“I don’t care,” Sae says, his voice quiet but firm. Dabadie should know better than anyone how many events he’s been to just like this in the past six months alone. This won’t be any different, and he’ll forget about it come sunrise.
Dabadie takes the not-so-subtle hint and falls quiet, opting to turn the radio up a notch instead. Sae relaxes in his seat, slides his silver-framed sunglasses onto his nose, and pulls his phone from his pocket. The homescreen—a photo of the beach from back home—is vacant aside from a few automated emails from news outlets covering recent UEFA soccer matches. No texts or missed calls from friends or family, just a headline about Bunny Iglesias’ game-winning goal last week. Great. Just what he wants to see.
Sae can’t help it. He scowls and clicks on the link.
Another fantastic goal by number 19, Bunny Iglesias, to win the match in additional time, no less. That’ll be his third goal of the game, making this his second hat trick of the season. The young forward has been a promising new addition to the FC Barcha U-20 team since his transfer from Madrid last year. The blue and garnet certainly suit him!
A video accompanies the article—the thumbnail shows Bunny, cheeks flushed and hair damp with sweat, smiling and making a triumphant gesture at the camera. Against his better judgment, Sae clicks play.
One of the Barcha midfielders sends a sloppy lob pass toward the top of the box. It’s inaccurate, but regardless, Bunny finds it. He leaps into the air, a full head higher than the defender at his back, traps the ball with his chest, and gracefully turns to fire off a powerful shot. The ball sinks into the upper corner of the net, and the crowd explodes. Bunny’s teammates pat his back and ruffle his hair as the final whistle blows, and when he makes eye contact with the camera, Sae’s pulse jumps.
Quickly, he locks the phone, and Bunny disappears with a click. Sae stares at his reflection in the dark screen and swallows, trying to ignore the rush of blood in his ears.
Of course, Bunny is succeeding—it’s expected. A striker of his caliber is bound to thrive just about anywhere. The article is right. The blue and garnet of FC Barcha suit him. Still, it’s odd and just a touch painful not seeing him in Re Al white anymore.
Sae pockets his phone, opting to stare out the window in the hopes of purging Bunny from his thoughts. Doesn’t work, though. His mind wanders back to him regardless of how hard he tries to fight it. Back to Bunny’s smile after a game-winning goal, or how easily he’d lift Sae in a dramatic hug after the perfect assist. Back to sweating through off-season two-a-days and lying prone side-by-side on the turf. Back to the first time he’d craned his neck to taste Bunny’s lips in the shower after practice—the first time he’d kissed anyone, for that matter. Back to the late nights, the Spanish lessons, the shared secrets and dreams. Back to the fight right before he left. Always back to the fight.
Maybe if you could keep up, I wouldn’t have to leave. Or, maybe if you weren’t so half-baked, you could have come with me.
The more time that passes, the more Sae thinks maybe Bunny was right.
The words are seared into his head. He can remember it all so easily. The weight of falling short. The cold, nasty things he’d said in response. Control slipping through his grasp, the sting of ultimate betrayal, and the effort of never letting any of it show.
It’s been about a year since Bunny transferred to the Barcha U-20 team, and about six months since they last spoke. Sae could pull up their text thread to see the last messages they’d exchanged after the friendly match in the spring, but he doesn’t need to. The memories are still crisp and vivid.
Since the game ended in a tie, we could settle this off the field—whaddya say, Sae? You’ve still got it. You looked good out there.
Sae had left Bunny’s hotel room in the early hours of the morning with mussed bangs, a limp, and one of Bunny’s Barcha t-shirts swallowing his frame.
Bunny, 8:14 AM
Where’d you go? Bed feels empty without you. Come back.
Sae, 8:26 AM
No. This was the last time.
Bunny, 8:28 AM
Right. Almost forgot you were never any good at goodbyes.
Sae bites the inside of his cheek and folds his arms. Fuck FC Barcha. Fuck Bunny. He should really get rid of that damn t-shirt.
“Here we are,” Dabadie says as the car starts to slow. It pauses at the steps of an elegant granite and limestone building. Banners hang outside advertising the current art exhibitions, and the front steps are lined with floral arrangements in shades of blue.
“The event is taking place at the rooftop bar,” Dabadie continues. “And just in time for sunset—how lovely.”
He steps out of the car, and Sae follows. He smooths out the fitted khaki slacks and adjusts the collar of his cream-colored knit shirt. The V-shaped neckline cuts just low enough to reveal a silver chain that lies flat against his chest, and the short sleeves don’t distract from the watch on his wrist. He keeps the sunglasses on until they step into the elevator.
“Oh, also,” Dabadie says as he presses the button to send them to the top floor. “Your flight back to Japan is all set. You’ll fly out tomorrow night, and then leave the day after we get your passport sorted. A quick trip.”
Not quick enough. He’s not sure what aches more—the homesickness he’d felt in the beginning or the dread of having to go back now. He misses a time, not a place—when he was young and naive, and his dreams were still intact. When it was just he and Rin against the world. Nothing is the same now. The loneliness here just follows him home. But there’s no point in dwelling.
With a ding, the elevator doors open. The rooftop is packed with guests and staff alike, but despite the crowd, it is beautiful. Vases filled with lush bouquets dot the tables and wrap around the edge of the rooftop, stark against the golden splash of sunset. Guests dab their wrists with testers and order drinks from a bar in the corner—cocktails inspired by the three main notes of the fragrance: bergamot and spices, floral violet and iris, and sweet vanilla.
Sae slips through the crowd toward the edge of the roof. People acknowledge him with hushed words and nods to their friends, but he ignores them all. From the railing, the view of Madrid isn’t half bad. The sun has nearly disappeared, leaving the sky tinged pink in the afterglow. Streetlights start to flicker on, and the late-summer breeze turns crisp, raising goosebumps on the bare skin of Sae’s arms. He probably should have brought his jacket, but he left it at home, as if he could fend off the cusp of autumn with stubbornness alone.
The end of summer always feels this way—bitter, lonely, a little sad. The whole world around him seems to lament the turning of the season, too. Leaves turn brittle, and the air starts to bite. Even the sun starts disappearing earlier, days that used to stretch on and on suddenly cut off at the knees. He’s never been good with change. And fuck, Bunny’s probably right—goodbyes aren’t really his thing either.
Sae sucks in a deep, tired breath and turns back to the party. A nearby table displays vial testers and photos from the advertising campaign. Product shots feature a collection of beveled, translucent, blue bottles with the name inscribed on the front: L’Heure Bleue. A small, white ten-pointed star marks each bottle in a different location as if tacked on as an afterthought.
A group of people lingering at the table finally steps away, and another photo comes into view. Sae has to do a double-take. This ad has the fragrance bottle overlaid with a portrait of a man. His white hair is coiffed but messy, and a cross-shaped scar stretches over his nose and under his eye. It’s fucking Bunny.
Sae blinks as if the image will change, but sure enough, Bunny is still staring back at him when he opens his eyes again. In the photo, Bunny wears a periwinkle suit jacket that nearly matches the expanse of sky behind him. Like the bottle, the sky is dotted with a single star.
“I know what you’re thinking,” someone says behind him, “not my best, right?”
Sae’s breath catches in his throat. He doesn’t need to look to know who the voice belongs to.
“I tried to tell them to go with a different shot, but,” Bunny shrugs and steps to Sae’s side, “what do I know? I’m just a footballer.”
Sae turns to face him, brows pinched in a scowl. He tries to keep his voice even and unbothered. “Of all the offers you receive, you just had to choose an endorsement deal with the same brand I represent?”
The corners of Bunny’s eyes crinkle, and his lips spread in a smile. “It’s good to see you, too, Sae.”
He looks good. It’s annoying. The shirt he’s wearing is slate blue with a subtle shimmer that catches the waning light as he moves. The material isn’t sheer, but it’s light and thin enough that Sae can see the outline of his body underneath. A few buttons are left undone, revealing the dip of his collarbones and the top of his chest, and like the star on the bottle, a single pearl stud dots his ear.
Sae promptly slides his sunglasses back over his eyes, determined not to let Bunny catch the way his gaze lingers. He can feel Bunny’s eyes on him, and the quiet between them is tense, swollen with things left unsaid for too long. But Sae would rather die than speak first.
Finally, Bunny forces a smile and breaks the silence. “You want a drink?”
“No–”
“Yeah, you look like you could use a drink.” Bunny takes a few steps toward the bar and tosses a wink over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I still know what you like.”
Sae clenches his jaw as he watches Bunny leave, before turning toward the railing again. This must be some sort of sick joke. Attending the launch party for a fragrance using his ex-teammate/friend/fuck buddy— whatever you want to call him—as the poster boy. He ought to chew Dabadie out for not warning him.
Sae chances a quick glance over his shoulder. Bunny is casually leaning against the bartop while a pretty girl behind the bar shakes a tumbler with one hand. Sae can’t hear what he says from here, but the bartender laughs, leaning closer as she pours his drink. Bunny beams, cocking his head and making eye contact as they continue to flirt. He looks happy—and maybe he really is—but Sae has seen enough of those forced, tight-lipped smiles to know better. He still looks lonely.
Sae would be lying if he said it isn’t a little comforting. Maybe that makes him a bad person, but he doesn’t care. Seeing Bunny genuinely changed and carefree, while he still feels like this, would be horrible. It would feel too much like losing.
“Here ya go.” Bunny approaches Sae, two cocktails in hand. He offers the one garnished with a dried orange slice. “Figured out of the three signature drinks, you might like this one best.”
Sae wordlessly takes the glass and brings it to his lips. He’s never been much for alcohol. He can count on one hand the number of times he’s been drunk in his life. But right now, a light buzz sounds nice, if not necessary. The cocktail is citrusy and just a little sweet. The liquor is something strong that burns on the way down and makes his nose scrunch. Hard to stomach but harder to put down—kind of like Bunny.
“Not bad, huh?”
“Don’t you have other things to be doing?” Sae sneers. “Instead of bothering me.”
Bunny doesn’t let Sae’s tone get to him. “No way. I’ve always got time for bothering you.” He leans against the railing, and their shoulders almost touch. “So, how’s Re Al?”
“Great,” Sae answers automatically. “Never been better.”
It’s a lie—the game isn’t the same since Bunny left. Their connection on the field was indisputable. No one (aside from Rin) had been able to keep up with him like that, receiving every pass with ease and capitalizing on the slimmest goal-scoring chances every time, all while making it look far too easy. Sae had grown so accustomed to forcing those around him to raise to his level, up the tempo to his playing speed. But Bunny was different—Sae both hated and admired him for that. Nobody pushed him like Bunny could.
“Hmm, I doubt that.” Bunny smiles cheekily.
“I don’t need you to believe me.” Another lie, but Sae prides himself on not letting it show. “And your performance at FC Barcha has been average at best. They weigh you down. You’re scoring, sure, but the gameplay is boring. Tepid.”
“I’ll let the numbers speak for themselves,” Bunny says, sipping his drink.
“I saw your last goal from the PXG match the other day,” Sae continues. “Your midfielders still can’t pass for shit.”
Bunny snorts. “I make due, though, don’t I?”
“Is that all you’re aiming for? ‘Making due’?”
Bunny looks at Sae for a moment before forcing a smile and shaking his head. It seems like he wants to say something, but ultimately decides not to.
“It’s a good thing you’ve got this side gig then,” Sae jerks his head back toward the party. “Who needs to be the best in the world when you’ve got a perfume deal, right?”
“Who says I can’t do both? Who says I even want to do both?” He leans closer, forcing Sae to meet his eyes. “Besides, that’s some big talk coming from someone who hasn’t signed with a Premier League team yet.”
Sae’s brows pinch. “Neither have you.”
Bunny hesitates. “Sure. Not yet.”
He’s leaving something out, but Sae doesn’t press. “Well, there you go. Talk to me when you’ve signed a pro contract. Until then, I guess you’ll just keep nipping at my heels and poaching my sponsors.”
Bunny barks out a quick laugh. “As much as I would love playing your puppy, it’ll be a little hard to ‘nip at your heels’ when I’m representing Spain and you’re forced to go back to play for Japan.”
Sae pockets his sunglasses and faces him with a glare.
Bunny smiles. “Yeah. Bummer that we’re not any good at long distance, huh?”
The air between them pulses. Sae watches Bunny’s eyes drop to his lips, expression unreadable—like he’d be satisfied with leaning in for a kiss or throwing a punch. Sae’s not sure what would be worse.
“You’re like a fucking cockroach,” Sae hisses. He forces his focus back to the skyline and sips his drink. “Bothersome, disgusting, and impossible to get rid of.”
Bunny laughs again. “Hey, you came to my party, remember? If anyone is still buzzing around, it’s you–”
“Trust me, I’ll be leaving as soon as I’m able. And, if I’d known this whole thing was for you, I wouldn’t have come.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” Bunny says into his drink. “You’ve never turned down an opportunity to see me before.”
Sae nearly vibrates with rage. The worst part is Bunny’s right.
Bunny gives Sae’s shoulder a comforting pat. “Awh, c’mon. Just a friendly joke.” He cocks his head, and his next words come out just a touch softer. “Believe it or not, I’m glad you came tonight.”
Sae shrugs out of his touch. He sounds so genuine, but it’s always hard to tell with Bunny. It’s safer just to assume the worst—that the words are empty, just another attempt to get under his skin and come out on top. Because, if he actually means it—
“Well, since you’re here, you might as well try it.”
Sae blinks. “Try what?”
Bunny mumbles under his breath irritably before straightening up and taking Sae’s glass from his hand to discard it beside his own. “The fragrance.” He doesn’t wait for an answer before taking a few steps to the table full of testers. He comes back holding a sample-sized tin with a pat of wax.
“What are you doing?” Sae folds his arms and takes a step back as if he’s being approached with a weapon instead of a perfume sample.
“My job,” Bunny says, gently opening the tin. “L’Heure Bleue—or, the blue hour. Like right now.” He gestures to the horizon. “Twilight. When the sun is gone but night hasn’t fallen yet, and the sky is just, well…blue.”
Bunny touches the wax, warming a bit of it between his fingertips. “The guy who came up with it said it was his favorite time of day. The suspended hour, he called it, when ‘the night has not yet found its star’. Kinda cheesy, but I get what he means.”
He holds out his hand and steps closer. Sae quirks an eyebrow, focus flicking between Bunny’s face and his open palm like a skeptical stray cat.
Bunny smiles softly and rolls his eyes. Gently, he takes Sae’s hand, encouraging his arm out and away from his chest. “It’s supposed to be nostalgic,” he says, flipping Sae’s arm around and lightly rubbing the wax over the pulse point at his wrist. “Sensual,” he continues, moving to Sae’s inner elbow. “A little romantic, I think,” he finds Sae’s eyes and slowly reaches to brush his fingertip over the sensitive spot behind his ear. “But what do I know?”
Heat crawls up Sae’s neck. He feels it settle over his cheeks, across the bridge of his nose, and on the tips of his ears. Bunny’s too close. His hand lingers by his face, fingertips bumping his nape and thumb brushing the cut of his jaw. He can smell the perfume now: powdery, floral, subtly spicy. It smells—
“It smells good on you.”
Bunny’s voice is low and syrupy; Sae scowls until he drops his hand.
Bunny looks at Sae like he can see right past the clenched jaw and pinched brows, past the anger and annoyance to whatever he’s trying to hide underneath it. Even after all this time, he probably can—it’s fucking annoying.
“What?” Sae starts, voice flat. “This little move didn’t get you anywhere with the bartenders or the socialites, so you figured you’d try it on me?”
“No.” Bunny smiles and cocks his head. “Why? Is it working?”
Sae glowers, but he can’t hide the deep flush that’s settled on his cheeks. “If the goal is to make me inclined to hit you, then yes.”
“There it is!” Bunny says triumphantly, leaning his elbow on the railing and holding his cheek in his palm. His lips spread in a dopey grin as he stares. “I missed that face.”
Before Sae can think up a comeback or silently kick himself for letting his mask slip, Bunny gives the railing a light slap and straightens up with a sigh.
“Well,” he starts, “duty calls. As much as I’d love to stay and catch up all night, I gotta go make the rounds.” He pauses for a moment. “Are you still gonna be here when I’m through?” His voice is softer than usual. “Or are you gonna skip the goodbye again?”
Sae’s chest tightens, but his expression remains calm and unbothered. “I’m here for the brand —”
“Of course.”
“—You’re not the only one with business here tonight.”
“You’re right, it might look bad if you leave too early,” Bunny says, his thumb grazing Sae’s watch, “so guess that means you’ll have to stay for at least a little longer. Gotta keep those sponsors happy, right?” He leans closer, until his nose brushes Sae’s hair and his lips are at his ear. “It’s okay—I won’t tell anyone you’re really staying for me.”
He gives Sae’s hip a light squeeze before pulling away. Sae’s stomach flips and twists, and he tries to fight off the sparks between them with a cold scowl aimed right at Bunny. His brows pinch and his jaw clenches, but he can feel his resolve slipping.
“Damn,” Bunny says, backpedaling. “It really does smell good on you, by the way.”
Sae barely resists the urge to flip him off, instead choosing to find his drink and take a large swig. Believe it or not, I’m glad you came tonight. Bullshit. The only reason Bunny is happy to see him is because he has an opportunity to rub one of his accomplishments in his face.
Sae sneaks a peek over his shoulder. Fresh drink in hand, Bunny is smiling while a woman greets him with a kiss on each cheek. She’s pretty—dark hair, full lips, bright eyes, and a brighter smile. Her hand is still on Bunny’s forearm. It makes Sae’s nose scrunch more than the alcohol. Fuck Bunny. Fuck the blue hour. The fragrance doesn’t smell that good, anyway.
“Oh, Sae-kun,” Dabadie says as he approaches, eyes on the drink in Sae’s hand. “You’re enjoying yourself, then?”
“Wouldn’t say that.”
“Right. Well, come along. There are some folks you should at least say hello to before the night is over.”
Sae sips his drink and falls into step beside Dabadie. As much as he hates playing show pony, he knows it’s part of the job, at least for now.
He glances across the rooftop, and this time, Bunny is staring back. He’s wearing that same smile and barely listening to whatever the girl at his side is saying, like he’s got much more important things to focus on.
Sae sucks his teeth and tries to summon a scowl, but can’t quite get it to stick. So, he looks away. Surely, the heat on his face is just from the setting sun, and the knots in his stomach are just from the cocktail. There’s no other reason. And if there were, it definitely wouldn’t be because of Bunny. Right? Right.
**********
After shaking hands with too many people, Sae finally retreats to the corner of the bar. His second drink is near empty—just a few melting ice cubes and one last swallow of liquor. He can feel the alcohol warming his skin and dulling his sharp senses just enough to be noticeable. Tipsy, but not drunk. Honestly, he doesn’t like it much. Not only is alcohol terrible for the body, but it makes him feel off-balance—not quite out of control, but losing his grip. Like he might say or do something he’ll regret later. And, speaking of, here comes that ‘something’ right now.
All smiles, Bunny waves as he moves toward him through the crowd. Soft pink has settled on his cheeks, dusting the jagged scar that stretches over the bridge of his nose. A few stray strands of hair hang in his face. He doesn’t look messy or disheveled, just the right amount of casual and carefree.
Sae’s heart hiccups, a single beat out of place. It’s quick enough for him to brush off or pretend it never happened. So, he does just that.
“You’re still here,” Bunny lilts, far too pleased with himself.
“Shut up.”
“Oooh,” Bunny coos, settling too close. “Make me.”
“Don’t look at me like that. It’s pathetic.”
“Look at you like what?”
“Like you think you’re winning.”
“Is that all you care about? Winning?”
Sae shrugs. “What else is there?”
“Fair enough,” Bunny leans closer. “But, getting you to stay even just a little longer feels like winning to me.”
It’s light-hearted, but seems so damn genuine—Sae hates it. Hates how it takes him back to simpler times when they’d been teammates, not rivals, and friends, not…whatever this is now. A pang of loneliness echoes in the hollow of his chest, and he wonders if Bunny feels it too.
“I already told you, I didn’t stay for you.”
Bunny tilts his head. “You sure about that?”
The bastard looks way too smug, but Sae can’t think of a comeback that will stick.
“Ah, the man of the hour!”
Sae and Bunny both pause. A man with an expensive-looking camera hanging around his neck smiles at them, oblivious to what he has just walked into.
“And the Itoshi Sae. Could I get a picture?” He raises the camera lens to gesture toward the horizon. Soft, pale blue brushes the cityscape, hanging on against the darkening sky. “ L’Heure Bleue and all—it’s the perfect timing.”
Bunny recovers quickly, plastering that stupid smile on his face. “Sure thing!” He scoots closer to Sae and wraps an arm around him. “ We’d love to.”
Sae stiffens like he’s holding back from biting. “Don’t–” he starts, voice barely more than a whisper. ‘ Don’t touch me’ sits on his tongue, but he doesn’t finish the rest. Bunny is warm against his side, and his large palm slides over Sae’s shoulder to rest gently against his lower back.
The photographer ushers a quick, graceless thank you and lifts the lens. Sae doesn’t smile, but he does lean into Bunny’s side. The hand on his lower back lingers even after the flash pops and the camera shutter closes.
After another quick thank you, the photographer hurries off. A few other partygoers crowd toward the bar, and Bunny faces Sae to let them pass. Nearly chest to chest, Sae can feel warmth radiating through Bunny’s thin shirt. He’s close enough to catch a whiff of Bunny’s skin mixing with the perfume, and eye level with the scars that run across the sliver of his exposed chest.
“Hey.” Bunny’s voice cuts above the music and the chatter. “Come with me.”
“What?” Brow furrowed, Sae stays rooted in place even as Bunny tugs on his hip.
“There’s a second bar down there,” Bunny cranes his neck and points to a staircase at the far end of the terrace. "It’ll be a little quieter.”
Sae looks at the semi-private section of the rooftop. It’s a little secluded and near-empty aside from a few staff behind the bar. His focus flicks back to Bunny, eyes narrowed like he’s looking for any ulterior motives.
“Please,” Bunny pushes. “Talking to all of these people makes me want to die. I just want a breather.”
“Then go yourself.” Sae swallows. The words don’t come out as strong as he’d hoped they would.
“You’re telling me you’d rather stay at this crowded bar full of clout-chasers and businessmen than go have a drink with me?”
“I would rather juggle a soccer ball across a field of hot coals than go have a drink with you.”
Bunny pouts. “C’mon, I’m just in Madrid for one night, humor me a little.”
Sae rolls his eyes and sucks his teeth. “You’re insufferable.”
“Is that a yes?”
Sae puffs out a sigh and pushes past Bunny. “Fine.”
The music fades as they make their way down to the lower level of the rooftop. It’s quieter, calmer. Sae would be lying if he said he didn’t prefer it. He finds a spot on the railing while Bunny orders another drink. The crisp breeze raises goosebumps on his arms, and when Bunny joins him, shoulder to shoulder, he’s thankful for the warmth.
Bunny sips his drink and holds it out. Sae rejects it with a shake of his head.
“Really?” Bunny teases before bringing the cocktail to his lips again. “I guess you have always been a bit of a lightweight—hey, remember that night in Berlin, after the tourney?”
Sae winces. “I try to forget.”
“You had at least a little fun, admit it.”
“No. Everyone kept stepping on my toes, and whatever drinks you kept ordering tasted like shit. And my ears were ringing for hours.” It’s safe to say the club scene was not for Sae.
Bunny laughs. “Yeah, you really wanted to go home. Why did you let me drag you into so much shit all the time?”
“I don’t know,” Sae says. He does know, deep down, but maybe if he lies to himself for long enough, the truth will fade into nothing. “At least we actually got into that club, unlike—”
“Okay,” Bunny starts defensively, “I really thought that bouncer would take my ID. It was a foolproof plan.”
“I told you it wouldn’t work—”
“Well, at least it was close by so we could just walk back to the dorms after.” Bunny rubs his thumb through the condensation on his glass and sneaks a sidelong glance at Sae. “I think that night still turned out pretty fun.”
Sae tenses and his face heats. He can remember that night easily—they’d gotten to their room, sweaty and red-faced from the jog back. When Sae had stripped and stepped into the shower, Bunny followed at his heels. They’d fucked slow and lazy, Sae palming the wet tile and stretching on his tiptoes while Bunny draped over his back. I’m glad we didn’t get in—this is way better than the club, Bunny had panted into his ear. Twenty minutes later, they were both in sweats, Taxi Driver was on the TV, and Bunny was snoring softly, head in Sae’s lap and long legs stretching over the arm of the couch.
Sae shrugs. “Don’t remember.”
Bunny smiles like he doesn’t believe him, but thankfully, he doesn’t press. “I bet your new roommate isn’t as fun as I was,” he teases.
“They didn’t assign me a new roommate.” Sae keeps his eyes on the skyline.
“Oh,” Bunny says, a touch surprised. “Do you like living by yourself?”
No. It’s the only time Sae has ever had a room to himself. At home, he had Rin, and up until a year ago, he had Bunny. Coming back to his half-empty room at the dorms is foreign and lonely. It’s never felt less like home.
“It’s fine,” Sae says. “At least I don’t have to clean up after you anymore.”
“Hmm,” Bunny hums, “I got an apartment in Barcelona. It’s just me. I don’t think I like it.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have left, then.” The words don’t have as much bite as Sae had hoped.
Bunny just nods. “Yeah. Maybe.”
The honesty makes Sae’s stomach twist.
Bunny leans against him, their shoulders bumping just barely. He’s warm and solid, and this time Sae doesn’t pull away, even though he knows he should. Stubborn, he keeps his eyes straight ahead, focused on the steadily darkening horizon. The soft blue has faded, replaced with a shade much deeper, and as if on cue, a faraway star appears.
“The blue hour’s over,” Bunny says with a sigh. “Well, ‘til dawn at least—that counts, too. Bummer the party can’t keep going until then.”
Sae hums. Though partying until sunrise sounds like a nightmare, there is something a little sad about this being over. Melancholic and heavy—tonight is on its deathbed just like the end of summer. Sae’s never really been one to live in the past or the future, but if he could bend time like so many people wish they could, it’d be to stay right here. In the blue hour, suspended for just a little longer. Caught before night falls, summer ends, and Bunny has the chance to leave again.
The outside of their hands bump innocently. The brush of skin-on-skin makes Sae’s heart leap into his throat, but he doesn’t pull away. He lets Bunny’s fingers nudge his, like he’s determined to win this game of chicken, and when he returns the pressure—his pinky finger slipping under Bunny’s—it’s purely strategic and not because of how good it feels to touch him again after last time.
Last time. Rough and hasty, their post-match hotel hookup was fueled by unspoken anger and unsettled competition. They kissed hard enough to bruise and fucked like they were running out of time. None of it helped, though. Sure, the pent-up rage was momentarily burned off, but without it, Sae just felt empty. He still feels that way—heavy despite the hollow ache in his chest.
This time, the touches are softer. Tentative and gentle, like one wrong move could ruin everything.
Sae meets Bunny’s gaze, searching for something that will piss him off—it’s usually not hard to find. It doesn’t work this time, though. His red eyes have never looked so blue.
“Sae—”
“Don’t.”
“I—”
Sae’s chest tightens, but before Bunny can finish whatever he was going to say, the rhythmic slap of loafers over cobblestone interrupts him.
“Ah, Sae kun!” Dabadie chirps as he approaches. “There you are.”
Sae can feel Bunny stiffen beside him as they each tug their hands back to a safe distance.
“I have them bringing the car around—we can go. Oh, Mr. Iglesias,” Dabadie pauses, “good to see you’re still doing well.”
“Right back atcha.” Bunny gives a lazy two-finger salute, but can’t summon the level of cheeriness he usually can.
“As I was saying,” Dabadie continues, addressing Sae, “we can go now.”
“Oh.” Sae swallows. “Good.” He answers on autopilot but can’t get his feet to move. “I’ll meet you in the lobby.”
Dabadie offers a curt nod and leaves the two boys in silence. Sae watches him go, determined not to look at Bunny—he’ll just make things harder than they have to be. He has a knack for that.
“Well, congrats on the party,” Sae says. “Good night.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and follows after Dabadie without so much as a glance in Bunny’s direction.
“Hey,” Bunny closes the distance between them and grabs Sae by the shoulder. “Shit, you really are horrible at goodbyes. At least let me walk you out.”
Sae relents with a nod and lets Bunny guide him through the thinning crowd toward the elevator. His palm brushes the small of Sae’s back, gently keeping him close.
The elevator doors open with a soft whoosh, and Sae steps inside and promptly presses the lobby button. Bunny follows at his heels. Noise from the party fades to nothing as the doors close, leaving them in silence.
“Sae,” Bunny starts, suddenly, his voice soft and a little sad, “listen, I—”
“Whatever you’re going to say, just don’t,” Sae cuts him off, afraid of where this conversation is headed. “There’s no point.”
“I know things aren’t great between us right now, or whatever,” Bunny shrugs. “But I really am glad you came tonight.”
The words make Sae tense. He scowls at Bunny, but it’s no use. Bunny’s eyes drop to Sae’s lips again. This time, it looks like he only wants one thing, and Sae has had just enough alcohol to think about giving it to him.
“I mean it,” Bunny says. He slides his hand across the back of Sae’s neck, fingers brushing the hair at his nape and thumb bumping his earlobe. It’s gentle and so damn fond.
“Don’t touch me.” The words come out barely a whisper, and they’re hard to take seriously when he’s just leaning closer to Bunny’s side.
“You sure that’s what you want?” Bunny asks quietly.
No. But admitting that would feel like admitting defeat. It doesn’t matter, though—Sae doesn’t have a chance to answer before the lift lurches to a stop and the doors open with a ding. He steps out of Bunny’s touch. He mourns it as soon as it’s gone.
“Sae-kun,” Dabadie says as he spots them across the lobby. “Are you alright?”
Shit. Sae can feel his face heat. His heart is beating too fast, like he’s just finished a set of sprints, and his stomach is twisted into knots, tangled somewhere between nervous and excited—it’s the same sensation that used to wash over him when stepping onto the field for an important match. He almost forgot how good it feels.
“Why wouldn’t I be alright?” Sae spits. Dabadie knows better than to ask again.
“Well, the car’s here. C’mon. We can go over your schedule for next week on the way back.”
Suddenly, he’s desperate for more time. Fuck. He’ll probably regret this later, but—
“You go,” Sae says, his voice surprisingly even. “Take the car. Bunny’s going to give me a ride home.”
“What?” Bunny and Dabadie ask in unison.
Sae looks between the two of them like they’re both idiots. “Was I not clear?”
Dabadie balks, eyes blinking rapidly as he tries to make sense of Sae’s instructions. Bunny, on the other hand, stands up a bit straighter, bottom lip caught between his teeth like he’s trying to keep himself from smiling. He sneaks a playful look at Sae before his eyes find his toes again. Sae nearly rolls his eyes—he’s so bad at playing it cool, it’s embarrassing.
“Right,” Dabadie says, clearing his throat. “Well, have a good night. Don’t forget, your flight will be at—”
“I know.” Sae cuts him off swiftly.
“Right,” Dabadie repeats. He gives the boys one last look before offering a small bow and heading for the exit.
Sae can feel Bunny’s eyes on him. “What?”
“That was a little presumptuous of you, wasn’t it?” Bunny teases.
“No,” Sae says, firm and flat, “not really.”
Bunny laughs, crowding against Sae again.
“It’s just a ride,” Sae says, eyes flicking to Bunny’s hand grazing his hip. “Just to say goodbye. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”
“Mhmm,” Bunny hums sarcastically.
“Tch, now who’s being presumptuous?”
Bunny innocently holds his hands in the air. “I didn’t say anything.”
Sae rolls his eyes, but Bunny ignores it, instead draping an arm around his shoulders and leaning closer. He sighs. It’s casual and comfortable, so Sae lets it happen.
“I still don’t think Dabadie likes me,” Bunny chuckles. The words brush the top of Sae’s head.
“Anyone with good judgment wouldn’t like you.”
“Well, what does that say about you, then?”
“Nothing,” Sae says, looking Bunny square in the eye. “I don’t like you, either.”
Bunny smiles at Sae and shakes his head, like he’s used to the attitude and can see right through it. Sae slides out from under his arm and heads for the door before his mask can slip and Bunny can call him on it.
“Now, are you going to take me home or not?”
**********
By the time they make it out to the street, the sky is dark, and Bunny is buzzed. Not drunk, but tipsy enough that his manager can tell.
“Bunny, are you listening?”
“Of course, I am. I’m always listening.”
Bunny smiles, and his manager’s brows pinch in annoyance. But, instead of scolding him, he launches back into whatever managerial nonsense he had been firing off before—okay, Bunny hadn’t been listening, but whatever. He has more important things on his mind.
While his manager prattles on, Bunny sneaks a glance over his shoulder. Sae is following at his heels, pretending not to notice Bunny’s eyes on him. It’s cute. His cheeks are flushed pink from the cocktails, but otherwise, he still looks put together. His clothes are crisp, his gait is controlled, and his teal eyes are heavy-lidded and seemingly bored. Even his short bangs are still well-styled despite the breeze. But, that’s Itoshi Sae for you—perfect, as always. Or, he’d like you to think so, at least.
Slyly, Bunny rests his knuckles against the small of his back and begins to open and close his fist in a ‘take my hand’ motion. He can’t help but smile when Sae notices and meets his eyes with a scowl. Bunny sticks out his tongue, and Sae swats his hand away, cheeks just a tad redder than before.
“Bunny,” his manager says, as they stop by the curb. “Would you rather go over your upcoming schedule now or when we get back to the hotel? There’s a lot of housekeeping to be done before you go to—”
“Always so on top of it—guess that’s why you got the job, huh?” Bunny tries to keep his tone mostly playful, but there is a slight edge to his words. “Can’t we just talk about it at the airport or something?”
“Of course,” his manager says, just a touch perturbed. He looks between Bunny and Sae once more before nodding. “Have a good night.”
Bunny offers a tight-lipped smile and rolls his eyes as soon as his manager disappears back into the building. He can feel Sae staring at him, and he meets his gaze haughtily.
“What?”
“Busy, huh?” Sae asks. “With what?”
Bunny’s eyes flick from Sae’s face to the sidewalk between them like he’s looking for the answer in the cracked concrete. He swallows. Being pulled up from the reserves to play for FC Barcha should be something to brag about. He should be excited to get back to Barcelona, sign the contract, and officially go pro. So, why isn’t he? He’s been avoiding the question since he got the offer. The spark of excitement he used to feel when stepping onto the pitch is dull now. And saying it out loud—to Sae, of all people—would make it all feel way too real.
“I’ll tell you later.”
Sae snorts. “Later? What makes you think there will be a ‘later’?”
Bunny takes a step closer, bouncing on his feet. “Oh, c’mon, Sae.” He cocks his head. “I think we both know where this is going—”
“I told you, this is just a ride home.” Sae folds his arms and deliberately looks down the street like he’s suddenly very concerned about where their car is.
Bunny rolls his eyes. He lightly touches Sae’s hip before sliding his palm over his lower back. “Will you quit playing hard to get?” His breath brushes the shell of Sae’s ear. “You know how much I like that—”
A sharp elbow jabs into Bunny’s ribs just hard enough to make him wince.
“Time and place, you shitty rabbit,” Sae growls, warily looking around at the few other people on the sidewalk.
“Fine,” Bunny smiles. “Later, my hotel room.”
“I’m not going to your hotel again,” Sae hisses. “I’m going home.”
“Alright,” Bunny says, raising his hand to wave at the black SUV pulling up to the curb. “It’s been a while since I’ve been back to the Re Al dorms, but that’s alright with me—”
“Bunny—”
“I’ll just come in and grab that shirt you borrowed last time. Y’know, my coach was pissed that I ‘lost’ my practice jersey, had to get a new one—”
“I threw it out,” Sae says as Bunny opens the back door and nods for him to get in.
The words prick Bunny’s pride just enough to be painful. He forces an exaggerated pout, and Sae rolls his eyes.
“Stop making that face,” Sae says before sliding into the backseat.
Bunny just pouts harder as he crawls in after him.
Politely, Bunny tells the driver the address for the Re Al club housing. Even just saying the street name has him feeling nostalgic.
“We’ll drop you off and then I’ll be out of your hair,” Bunny says, slapping a palm on Sae’s knee as he relaxes in his seat. “Promise.”
He gives Sae’s leg a quick, gentle squeeze. He can feel the heat of his thigh through his slacks. It’s nice. He waits for Sae to shift out of his touch, but the rejection never comes. Sae won’t look at him, but he won’t push his hand away either. So, Bunny leaves it there for another beat before finally pulling away.
The cabin fills with low pop music from the radio and the crunch of pavement as the car pulls onto the road and starts the familiar path back to the Re Al dorms. Each street passes in a whir of lights and snippets of music leaking from restaurants and bars. The closer they get to the clubhouse, the more personal the streets of Madrid feel, packed with memories from the past few years that feel like a lifetime ago.
“It’s kinda weird being back,” Bunny says, watching the buildings whiz by. “Y’know?”
Sae doesn’t answer, but Bunny sneaks a sidelong glance just quick enough to see his Adam’s apple bob. He has to suppress the urge to reach for him again, to offer a comforting squeeze, or an affirming touch to quietly say ‘I feel it, too.’ He’s not even sure what it is, but he’s sure they’re thinking about the same things with each familiar building they pass.
Like the Japanese restaurant Bunny had taken Sae to for his birthday his first year here. You seemed a little homesick. Sae had complained—The food isn’t even that good, besides, celebrating my birthday is childish— but Bunny had seen the way he tried to hide his smile on the way back to their dorm that night.
Or, the art museum where they’d had that charity event. Sae looked so cute in his pressed slacks and suit jacket—he’d looked even cuter after Bunny wrinkled his button-down by pulling him into the coat room for a steamy kiss. Sae had pushed him away and pretended to be annoyed, but his hand had stayed on Bunny’s thigh under the table through dinner.
Further down is the pharmacy where paparazzi had caught Bunny filling his new prescription just last year. Sae had snatched the brown bag from his hand, loudly thanked him for picking up his medicine, and glared at the photographers before turning on his heel. Once they’d put a few blocks between them and the flashing cameras, Sae had handed Bunny back the bag. I don’t know why you care if people find out you’re taking these—the pills are supposed to help you feel better, right? So, fuck those guys.
For a moment, that blue hour ache is back. Tonight is slipping into the past so quickly. Sae already feels like a ghost despite sitting right beside him. And fuck, maybe this really is the end—maybe Sae was right to sneak out of his bed without a goodbye. Maybe he was right to throw away his t-shirt and get rid of the last piece of Bunny he had left. They’ve both let this drag on for far too long now, anyway.
Still…Bunny would like to linger here a little longer.
“You, uh,” Bunny starts, softly. “You didn’t really throw my shirt away. Did you?”
He watches Sae stiffen in his seat before turning to look at him. Sae has always been good at hiding how he truly feels, but Bunny can tell the mask is slipping. He stares at Bunny with a forced scowl and just a hint of sadness in his eyes. It looks like he wants to say something, but can’t find the words.
Bunny forces a smile. “It’s alright, it doesn’t matter, anyway.”
Just as he’s about to turn back to the window, Sae grabs his hand. Gently, he places it back on his leg.
Bunny’s eyes widen for a moment, but he doesn’t waste any time. He slides his palm over Sae’s knee, higher this time. His fingertips brush the inside of his thigh, and he draws lazy circles on Sae’s slacks with his thumb. It’s familiar. Comfortable and nostalgic.
Sae folds his arms and turns away to look out the window. Anyone else might be turned off, but Bunny is used to this by now. That’s just who Sae is. Since the first time they met in the Re Al locker room, Sae has been aloof, cold, and painfully blunt. Getting him to participate in any team bonding beyond watching back game footage or talking about upcoming matches was like trying to score from midfield with Iker Casillas in front of the net—damn near impossible, but still fun to try at.
And try Bunny did. Sae’s prickly exterior did nothing to deter him. Bunny poked and prodded at his mask, looking for cracks he could squirm through to whatever lies underneath that cool, edgy exterior. You know I’m the number one striker on this team, right? Lucky you—got a front row seat to see me conquering the world. Hope you’re alright with finishing second. Sae met every jab with a scowl and, if Bunny really got under his skin, a few rude remarks. It became their little routine, and the more they played together, the more they bickered, and the more they bickered, the closer they got (not that Sae would admit that.) It was fun—well, to Bunny, at least. Plus, Sae looked so damn cute when he was angry.
Even now, turned away, like letting Bunny touch his leg is doing charity work, he still looks so damn beautiful. The slope of his dainty neck and the sharp cut of his jaw. The faint freckle near his nape, and the sliver of smooth skin exposed by the deep neckline of his shirt. His well-manicured fingertips peeking out around his bicep, and the pink tips of his ears. Bunny stares like he’s looking at a piece of art that should be roped off with velvet stanchions and put behind a ‘Do Not Touch’ sign.
“We’re here,” the driver says as he slows the car to a stop.
Bunny blinks, and sure enough, they’re parked outside the Re Al dorms. It’s over too soon.
Sae hesitates before opening the car door, and Bunny’s hand finally slips from Sae’s thigh as he steps onto the sidewalk.
An assortment of goodbyes flip through his mind like pages of that letter he never sent right around this time last year. Eventually, the words turn stale on his tongue, just like everything else they’ve left unsaid.
Sae looks at him, hand still on the door handle. “Well? Are you coming in or not?”
The words are flat and unenthusiastic, but Bunny knows it’s about as close to an invitation as he’s going to get. His heart swells with relief and excitement, but he swallows it, determined to match Sae’s indifference like it’s a competition.
“I don’t know,” Bunny sighs, dramatically. “It’s kinda late, I should probably just head back.” He smirks. “But if you want me to come in, then sure, I’ll stay for a little.”
“I don’t care what you do,” Sae deadpans. “You were the one who wanted to come over.”
“Uh, you’re the one inviting me in right now—”
“Out of pity—”
“Hey, that’s just rude—”
“And obligation—”
“Eh, I don’t think that’s it.”
Sae scowls as Bunny gracelessly slides across the backseat.
“Next time,” Bunny starts, stepping onto the sidewalk to look down his nose at Sae, “you can just say you want me to come in. There’s no shame in it.”
Sae’s eyes flick to the driver, who is politely minding his own business in the front seat, but can most definitely hear everything they’re saying.
“Just, hurry up,” Sae says under his breath. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, turns on his heel, and heads toward the building.
Fuck, he’s so cute when he’s angry.
Bunny grins triumphantly, gives his driver a quick goodbye, and jogs to catch up. When he does, he slings an arm around Sae’s shoulders—they walk this way until they reach Sae’s room.
“Shoes,” Sae says as he unlocks the door and steps inside.
“Yes, Mom ,” Bunny quips, toeing off his loafers to leave them beside Sae’s. The door swings shut behind him, and he sighs as he looks around.
It really is weird being back. There’s the worn couch where they used to fall asleep side by side during movies, and the meticulously organized tea selection on the counter in the kitchenette. The fridge is adorned with magnets from various countries they visited for away games and tournaments, and a few framed photos perch alongside the television on the entertainment center: a team photo from a few years back, and a faded, weathered picture of a much younger Sae and his little brother in matching uniforms.
It’s homey and nostalgic, but it’s different. A few things are missing. Like Bunny’s rabbit-shaped pillow that used to live in the center of the couch, or the mug from his merch release he’d always leave on the counter. Even the post-win photo of Sae on his shoulders that used to sit alongside the others is now nowhere to be seen.
Bunny peeks around the corner toward the bedroom. From here, he can see Sae’s slippers at the foot of his well-made bed and a book beside the lamp on the nightstand. His closet door is open, revealing a selection of button-downs, cardigans, and jackets, and his Re Al branded duffle bag sits empty at the bottom.
The other half of the room looks abandoned. An empty closet, bare walls, and a mattress without any bedding. It’s as if Bunny never lived here—any evidence of their time as roommates scrubbed away like dirt from a worn jersey.
The pain takes Bunny by surprise. Maybe he’s the only one still hanging onto whatever they used to share. Maybe Sae really has moved on, and maybe he’s a fool for thinking otherwise. He’s always been good at seeing past Sae’s mask, but maybe this time there’s nothing there to find. Maybe he really is alone.
“I’m just gonna freshen up,” he mumbles.
Sae doesn’t turn around from where he is filling up his electric kettle at the kitchen sink, so Bunny slips into the bathroom.
He leans his back against the closed door and puffs out a sigh. Fuck. It’s probably best just to make a quick exit. Plaster a smile on his face, make some excuse, and get out. Try not to think about Sae on the way home and focus on making the switch to playing professionally. It makes him want to die.
He finds his eyes in the mirror. He looks tired and just a little intoxicated. Any spark of life is dull now—faded, fleeting, and dark blue. It’s too bad. For a moment, things had felt better. But he should know by now that feeling always passes.
With a sigh, he straightens up, fixes his shirt in the mirror, and washes his hands. When he turns around, he freezes. Hanging from a hook on the closed door is a pair of sweats and a familiar blue shirt. Tentatively, Bunny grabs the crumpled shirt and holds it up for a better look. A large, white number nineteen takes up the back, and right above it is ‘Iglesias’ in matching, white text.
Bunny shakes his head. The only thing Itoshi Sae is better at than soccer is hiding how he truly feels.
Relief washes over him, and pride blooms in his chest. He brings the shirt to his face and inhales. All he can smell is Sae. The sweetness of his shampoo, and the musk of his skin, like he’s been wearing this shirt to bed every night for the past week. The thought makes Bunny’s heart ache in the best way.
Through the closed door, he can hear the squeak of a cupboard opening and the clink of two mugs being pulled down from the shelf. The water in the kettle is starting to bubble, and for a moment, Bunny wonders if Sae still has—
“Honey?” The sound of a drawer opening accompanies Sae’s muffled voice.
“Thought you didn’t take honey with your tea,” Bunny calls back.
“I don’t,” Sae answers. “But I still know what you like.”
The unsaid words are loud and clear, and Bunny bites his lip to keep from smiling. Gently, he hangs the shirt back where he found it, fondly fixing the sleeves and smoothing the wrinkles before reaching for the door handle.
For a moment, things feel like they used to. Warmth spreads through Bunny’s chest, and though he knows this feeling won’t last, he can’t help but hope the sun hasn’t set on them just yet.