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The sun filtered lazily through the thin curtains of the apartment, throwing pale golden lines across the wooden floor. Kaiser stirred first, not because of any alarm or schedule, but because the weight on his chest shifted. His lashes fluttered open, revealing a mess of black mop pressed against him, strands sticking out in different directions, breathing slow and even.
Isagi was still asleep, chest rising and falling with each peaceful breath he took.
Kaiser stared for a long moment, utterly undone. Every time he thought he’d gotten used to mornings like this, the truth hit him again: he was hopeless. Absolutely, irredeemably down bad.
He tightened his arm slightly around Isagi, careful not to wake him, and allowed himself the smallest grin. “You’re ridiculous, Yoichi,” he whispered, voice husky from sleep. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”
Isagi shifted but didn’t stir, one hand curling instinctively against Kaiser’s hoodie. They had fallen asleep on the couch last night after a match replay marathon—Isagi insisting he needed to “study movement patterns,” and Kaiser pretending to care, when in reality he was mostly watching Isagi’s furrowed brows and the way his lips pursed when he disagreed with a commentator.
Truth to be told, Kaiser was being a little bitch when Yoichi suggested this match replay marathon because Isagi could just watch “all my match highlights,” which Kaiser insisted upon until Isagi pulled out his secret weapon and called him “Micha”
Now here they were, tangled on the too-small couch, Kaiser’s neck sore and his pride nonexistent.
Kaiser should have been used to it by now. But being in love with Yoichi Isagi was not something he could treat like routine. It was a constant storm inside him, disguised under his usual smirk and banter. Out there, in front of the team, he teased and poked fun, calling Isagi “Bastard” just to watch the flush spread across his cheeks. In here, in the safety of their own little space, Kaiser wanted nothing more than to hold him until the world stopped spinning.
Isagi stirred again, finally blinking awake. His eyes, heavy with sleep, darted around in confusion before settling on Kaiser. For a brief second, his face softened completely, vulnerable in a way few people ever saw.
Then, predictably, the scowl.
“You’re awake already? And staring at me? That’s creepy.”
Kaiser chuckled, unbothered. “You say that, but you look very comfortable drooling on me.”
“I wasn’t drooling!” Isagi sat up abruptly, swiping at the corner of his mouth just in case. Kaiser caught the motion, leaned back, and laughed until his chest hurt.
“You’re insufferable,” Isagi muttered, cheeks faintly pink, but he didn’t move away from the couch. He just shifted so he could stretch his legs out across Kaiser’s lap, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Kaiser looked down at the weight of them, then up at Isagi’s face. His grin softened, almost fond. “Good morning to you too, love.”
Isagi’s ears turned red instantly. “Don’t call me that.”
“Why not? It’s accurate.”
“It’s embarrassing.”
“Mm,” Kaiser hummed, leaning back and draping an arm over the couch. “That’s why it’s fun.”
Isagi glared at him, but his lips twitched like he was fighting a smile. That small tell — Kaiser lived for it.
The morning unfolded with the quiet rhythm of routine. Kaiser made coffee while Isagi rummaged in the fridge for breakfast. It wasn’t glamorous — just eggs, toast, and whatever fruit was around — but Kaiser thought it was perfect. He leaned against the counter, watching Isagi fumble with the pan like he wasn’t secretly one of the deadliest strikers in the league.
“Careful,” Kaiser teased, sipping his coffee. “You handle the ball better than the spatula.”
“Shut up. At least I try,” Isagi shot back, flicking his wrist a little too hard and nearly losing the egg entirely. He groaned. “Cooking isn’t exactly my skillset, okay?”
Kaiser’s lips curled. “Good thing you have me, then.” He strode forward, effortlessly taking over, brushing against Isagi’s shoulder as he did. “Step aside, Bastard. Watch and learn.”
“You’re the bastard,” Isagi muttered, but he didn’t fight it. He leaned against the counter, watching Kaiser cook like it was the most natural thing.
Kaiser cracked the eggs with one hand, showing off just a little, earning a roll of Isagi’s eyes. But Kaiser caught the faint smile tugging at his mouth. Victory.
Domesticity suited them, even if Isagi wouldn’t admit it out loud. The kitchen filled with the smell of sizzling eggs, the faint sound of the city outside, and the occasional clink of mugs. Kaiser slid a plate in front of Isagi with a flourish, like he’d just presented him with a five-star meal instead of a simple breakfast.
Isagi stared down at it. “…It’s just eggs.”
“Yes, but they’re Kaiser eggs. The best kind.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“You said that already.”
They ate in companionable silence, Isagi occasionally making snide remarks, Kaiser soaking up every second. To anyone else, it might have looked boring or toxic. To Kaiser, it was everything.
When Isagi finished, pushing his plate away with a satisfied sigh, Kaiser leaned his chin on his hand and studied him openly.
“What?” Isagi asked, wary.
“Nothing.” Kaiser’s grin was lazy, but his eyes were warm. “Just thinking about how lucky I am.”
Isagi froze. “Don’t say stuff like that out of nowhere!”
“Why not? It’s true.”
Isagi’s blush reached all the way to his ears. “You’re unbelievable.”
Kaiser reached out, fingers brushing Isagi’s. “And you’re mine.”
Isagi looked like he wanted to argue, but instead, his hand stayed there. Just for a moment. Kaiser thought he could live off that moment forever.
After breakfast, Isagi pushed back from the table and stretched with a yawn that looked far too endearing for Kaiser’s sanity. His hoodie rode up just a little, revealing a strip of skin above his shorts. Kaiser nearly choked on his coffee.
“Yoichi,” he said dramatically, clutching his chest. “You’re trying to kill me.”
Isagi blinked at him in confusion, then followed his gaze and tugged his hoodie down with a scowl. “Don’t be gross.”
Kaiser laughed, unabashed. “I’m not gross, I’m appreciative.”
“You’re impossible.”
“And yet, here you are,” Kaiser replied smoothly, standing to gather their plates.
“Still living with me, still putting up with me, still looking devastatingly cute first thing in the morning.”
Isagi groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Why did I ever agree to this?”
“Because deep down, you adore me,” Kaiser sang as he rinsed the dishes. “Don’t worry, I’ll carry your secret love for me to the grave.”
“Secret—?! I do not—!” Isagi’s voice cracked, and Kaiser smirked, satisfied. That flush across his cheeks was more delicious than the breakfast they’d just eaten.
The rest of the morning passed in their typical half-bickering, half-soft rhythm. Kaiser put on music while he cleaned up, humming along in an annoyingly perfect pitch. Isagi sat on the couch scrolling through match stats, pretending not to watch the way Kaiser danced dramatically with a dishtowel.
At one point, Kaiser flopped onto the couch beside him, damp hair from a quick shower, the faint smell of citrus shampoo lingering. He leaned his head on Isagi’s shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“You’re heavy,” Isagi muttered, but didn’t push him off.
“You’re warm,” Kaiser countered, shifting closer. “Perfect pillow.”
“You’re insufferable.”
Kaiser smiled against his shoulder, unbothered by the repetition. He would take “insufferable” if it meant staying this close. And he knew “insufferable” was Isagi’s word for "I'm so hopelessly in love with you and will put up with everything you do”
Isagi eventually sighed and tilted his head so it rested lightly against Kaiser’s. It wasn’t much, but to Kaiser, it was a victory worth celebrating. His heart thudded wildly, though he kept still, afraid to break the fragile peace.
Moments like these were rare. On the field, they were rivals, teammates, competitors pushing each other to the brink. Out here, in this little bubble of domesticity, Kaiser allowed himself to simply love. No masks, no bravado—just quiet affection.
“Hey,” Isagi’s voice broke the silence.
“Mm?” Kaiser murmured.
“You’re… weirdly quiet.”
Kaiser chuckled softly. “Just enjoying the moment.”
Isagi blinked, caught off guard, before his gaze darted away. “…You really say the cheesiest things.”
“Only because you deserve them,” Kaiser whispered, softer than he intended.
Isagi’s breath hitched, but he didn’t move away. If anything, he leaned a fraction closer.
The knock at the door startled them both. Isagi jerked upright, nearly throwing Kaiser off balance.
Kaiser groaned, already annoyed. “Who dares ruin our bliss?”
“It’s probably Ness,” Isagi said, standing to answer. Sure enough, Ness appeared, arms crossed and eyebrows raised the moment the door opened.
“Kaiser,” Ness said flatly. “Training starts in an hour. Don’t tell me you forgot.”
Kaiser waved a dismissive hand. “I didn’t forget. I was just prioritizing more important things.” He shot Isagi a pointed grin.
Ness rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t fall out. “You’re unbelievable.”
Isagi looked between them helplessly, clearly wishing the ground would swallow him whole. “I’ll get ready,” he mumbled, disappearing toward the bedroom.
Kaiser smirked at Ness. “What? Jealous?”
“Of being whipped? No thanks,” Ness scoffed. “But you could at least try to act professional outside of this… whatever this is.”
Kaiser placed a hand over his heart. “This, Ness, is true love.”
Ness made a gagging noise and left.
When Isagi reappeared, dressed for training, Kaiser was still lounging on the couch like nothing had happened. He looked Isagi up and down slowly, his grin lazy. “You know, you look even better in the uniform when it’s wrinkled from me making you late.”
Isagi threw a shoe at him. “Shut up and move, we’re going to be late.”
Kaiser laughed, catching the shoe midair with ease before tugging it on himself. “Fine, fine. Let’s go, Bastard.”
Despite the banter, the walk to training was comfortable. Their shoulders brushed occasionally, and every time it did, Kaiser felt that familiar spark—the reminder that, rival or not, teammate or not, Yoichi Isagi was his everything.
He glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. Isagi was frowning in concentration, probably thinking about drills already. Kaiser smiled to himself. He might spend his whole life teasing Yoichi, but the truth was simple: Kaiser was hopelessly, stupidly in love.
And he wouldn’t change a thing.
By the time they stepped onto the pitch, the air had shifted. Gone was the quiet warmth of their apartment, the teasing softness of shared breakfast and stolen moments on the couch. Here, under the sharp glare of the sun and the expectant eyes of their teammates, they were no longer Micha and Yoichi at home—they were Kaiser and Isagi, strikers, rivals, forces crashing against each other.
The drills started simple enough. Passing patterns, speed runs, basic tactical maneuvers. But the moment Kaiser’s eyes met Isagi’s across the field, something electric snapped between them.
“Try to keep up, Slow bastard,” Kaiser called, smirking as he darted forward with the ball.
“Tch—don’t get ahead of yourself,” Isagi shot back, cutting across with a burst of speed that made Ness swear under his breath. His timing was sharp, his read of the field flawless. He anticipated Kaiser’s angle before Kaiser even took it.
Kaiser felt the thrill surge through him, sharp and addictive. This was why he loved him — not just the boy at home who blushed when called “love,” but the predator here, eyes burning with ambition.
“You’ll have to do better than that if you want to steal my spotlight,” Kaiser taunted, twisting his body to flick the ball behind him with a heel touch. Isagi, however, was already there, intercepting with a snap of his foot.
“Got you.”
The clash of their shoulders reverberated like thunder. Neither of them held back. Kaiser shoved forward, grinning even as the impact jolted through his bones. Isagi shoved back, gritting his teeth, eyes locked and blazing. For a moment, they were tangled in a raw battle of wills, the ball dancing precariously between their feet.
“Don’t think you can just waltz past me you german asshole,” Isagi hissed, his breath hot with effort.
Kaiser’s grin only widened. “I wouldn’t dream of it. I’d rather bulldoze through you.”
Their teammates groaned from the sidelines. “Do they ever chill?” one muttered.
“Not with each other,” another replied.
Isagi managed to knock the ball loose, sprinting down the pitch with explosive speed. Kaiser followed instantly, chasing him like a shadow, every stride echoing with challenge. When Isagi shot for goal, Kaiser lunged to block, nearly colliding with him as the ball slammed against the keeper’s gloves.
They both froze, panting, inches apart. Their foreheads almost touched, sweat dripping down their temples. The tension was so thick their teammates held their breaths.
Kaiser broke the silence first, his grin sharp, eyes alight. “You’ve gotten faster.”
Isagi smirked back, just as wild. “You’re slower, getting tired already?”
It was an insult, but Kaiser’s chest burned with pride. This was what made Isagi irresistible — he wasn’t afraid to bite back, to shove him down, to challenge him at every turn.
They reset for the next drill, both of them breathing hard but buzzing with energy. Play after play, they clashed, sparks flying with every collision. Isagi’s spatial awareness cut through Kaiser’s flair like a blade, while Kaiser’s creativity forced Isagi to think faster, sharper, harder.
To the others, it looked like chaos, two egos refusing to yield. To Kaiser, it was intimacy. Their rivalry wasn’t separate from his love — it was part of it. Every shove, every taunt, every duel was another thread binding them tighter.
During a scrimmage, Ness tried to pass to Kaiser, only for Isagi to intercept cleanly, darting past him with brutal precision.
“Oi!” Kaiser barked, sprinting after him.
“Don’t fall behind now!” Isagi shot over his shoulder, grinning like a devil.
Kaiser’s heart stuttered even as he cursed. That grin—that fire—it was intoxicating. He closed the distance with a ruthless slide, stealing the ball back at the last second. Isagi yelped, half-annoyed, half-thrilled.
“Cheap move!”
“Effective,” Kaiser retorted, springing up to dribble past him.
The whistle finally blew, signaling the end of practice. Both of them were drenched in sweat, jerseys clinging, breaths ragged. Their teammates gave them wide berths, muttering about how exhausting it was to watch the two of them go at it.
Kaiser jogged toward the bench, grabbing his water bottle. Isagi joined him seconds later, dropping beside him with a heavy thump. They sat in silence, gulping water like their lives depended on it.
Eventually, Isagi leaned back, tilting his head toward the sky. His chest heaved, hair plastered to his forehead, eyes narrowed against the sun. Kaiser turned to look at him, and the world slowed.
That same boy who had cursed at him, shoved him, and fought him tooth and nail on the field—here he was, looking almost serene.
Kaiser chuckled softly. “You’re ridiculous.”
Isagi cracked an eye open. “What now?”
“You spend two hours trying to murder me on the field,” Kaiser drawled, smirk tugging at his lips, “and you still look beautiful after.”
Isagi groaned, tossing his empty bottle at him. “Shut up, Kaiser.”
Kaiser caught it easily, laughing. But when Isagi stood and offered him a hand, Kaiser took it without hesitation. Their palms pressed together, calloused and firm from years of chasing the same dream.
And Kaiser thought — yeah. Rival, teammate, lover. He’d take every version of Isagi Yoichi and cherish them all.
The locker room after practice was always loud, but today it was louder. A dozen voices overlapped — complaints about sore legs, jokes, grumbles about drills. But underneath it all, there was one constant: the never-ending chatter about Kaiser and Isagi.
“Seriously, do those two ever not try to kill each other?” one of the midfielders muttered as he peeled off his cleats.
“They’re psychos,” Nagi agreed. “Like, are we sure they don’t actually hate each other?”
“They don’t,” Ness said flatly from his locker. His tone was calm, but his expression screamed annoyance. “Believe me, if Kaiser hated him, it’d look very different.”
“Then what is it, huh?” someone pressed.
“It’s…” Ness paused, lips twisting. “…complicated.”
Across the room, Kaiser leaned back casually, towel draped around his neck, hair damp from the showers. He caught Isagi’s eye from a few lockers down and smirked, deliberately lifting his shirt to wipe his face, showing off toned abs.
Isagi threw a roll of athletic tape at him. “Put your shirt on, idiot.”
The locker room erupted in laughter.
“What’s the matter, Yoichi?” Kaiser purred. “Distracted?”
“Disgusted,” Isagi shot back, glaring as his cheeks betrayed him with a faint flush.
Kaiser’s grin widened. He didn’t need a scoreboard to know he’d won that exchange.
Ness groaned audibly, burying his face in his hands. “You’re both exhausting.”
“Don’t lump me in with him,” Isagi protested.
“Yeah, Ness,” Kaiser added smoothly, “Isagi’s only exhausting on the field. At home, he’s very cuddly.”
Isagi choked. “KAISER!”
The entire room froze, then exploded with whistles and cheers.
“Wait, at home?”
“Cuddly?!”
“ISAGI???”
Isagi looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole. “I—he’s lying! Ignore him!”
Kaiser leaned back smugly, basking in the chaos. “They’ll believe what they want, Bastard.”
“You’re dead, you fucking loser” Isagi muttered, lunging for him. But Kaiser only laughed, catching his wrist effortlessly. Their teammates watched with a mix of horror and fascination, like they weren’t sure if they were about to witness a fistfight or a marriage proposal.
Kunigami, passing by with his duffel, shook his head. “You two are insane.”
Reo, sitting nearby, smirked. “Nah, it’s kind of entertaining. Like a soap opera we didn’t ask for.”
“More like a car crash,” Chigiri muttered under his breath.
Kaiser released Isagi’s wrist, still grinning like a devil. Isagi huffed and turned away, tugging on his jersey like it could shield him from the snickers around the room.
Later, during cooldown stretches, the banter didn’t stop.
“Isagi, you need to stretch deeper,” Kaiser called across the mats, voice dripping with innuendo. “You’ll cramp up later if you’re too stiff.”
“Shut your mouth before I throw this resistance band at you.”
“I’d like to see you try, love.”
“Stop calling me that!”
The others exchanged looks. Someone muttered, “They’re unbearable.”
“Unbearable, but… kind of inspiring?” another admitted reluctantly. “Like, no one pushes each other harder than those two.”
It was true. For all the chaos, their rivalry raised the level of everyone around them. The intensity they brought, the way they challenged each other, the refusal to let the other win easily — it infected the whole team, driving them to match that energy.
Noa finally barked at them to shut up and focus, but even then, Kaiser couldn’t resist sending Isagi smug glances. And Isagi couldn’t resist glaring back, lips twitching despite himself.
By the time they were dismissed, everyone was buzzing with relief. A few players joked about starting a betting pool — whether Kaiser or Isagi would finally break first and admit whatever that was between them.
Kaiser, of course, already knew the truth. He just wasn’t in a rush to share it. Watching Isagi stumble through the line between rival and partner, annoyance and affection — it was too much fun.
As they packed up to leave, Kaiser slung an arm around Isagi’s shoulders, ignoring the immediate groans from the rest of the team.
“You’re heavy, did you not follow the meal plan?” Isagi grumbled, trying to shrug him off.
“And you’re mine,” Kaiser murmured back, just loud enough for him to hear.
Isagi froze, ears red, before muttering, “…Idiot, stop saying shit like that in public.”
Kaiser smirked, satisfied. Rival on the pitch, softness off it. That was their balance. And he wouldn’t trade it for anything.
By the time they trudged back into their apartment, the fire from training had dulled into heavy exhaustion. Isagi dropped his bag just inside the door and collapsed face-first onto the couch without a word.
Kaiser shut the door behind them, amused. “What happened to all that energy, Bastard? You were ready to kill me an hour ago.”
“Mmph, shut up,” Isagi groaned into the cushion.
Kaiser chuckled, toeing off his shoes before crouching beside him. Up close, he could see the strain in Isagi’s calves, the faint twitch in his thighs. He reached out and poked his leg. “Cramps?”
Isagi turned his head just enough to glare. “Don’t poke me.”
“Fine,” Kaiser said easily. “I’ll fix it.”
Before Isagi could protest, Kaiser tugged at his ankle and swung his legs onto his lap. Isagi yelped, pushing himself up on his elbows. “Hey— what are you— ”
“Relax, Yoichi.” Kaiser’s voice was calm, almost tender. “You’ll thank me.”
He pressed his thumbs into the tight muscle of Isagi’s calf, slow and firm. Isagi’s words died in his throat, replaced with a shaky exhale.
“…That feels good,” he admitted grudgingly.
Kaiser smirked. “Of course it does. I’m amazing at everything I do.”
“Don’t ruin it,” Isagi muttered, closing his eyes again.
Kaiser fell quiet after that, focusing on easing the knots in Isagi’s legs. He worked methodically, hands warm and steady, feeling the tension melt away under his touch. Isagi’s breathing evened out, his body sinking deeper into the cushions.
For Kaiser, it was bliss. To touch him like this, to take care of him, to see him let down every wall — it was more intoxicating than any goal or victory.
After a while, Isagi cracked one eye open. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
Kaiser blinked, caught. He hadn’t realized he’d been gazing at him so openly. “Because you’re beautiful.”
Isagi’s face flamed instantly. “You—! Don’t just—!” He buried his face in his hands. “You’re insufferable.”
Kaiser laughed, leaning back but not letting go of his legs. “You say that a lot, you know.”
“Because it’s true.”
“Mm,” Kaiser hummed, fingers tracing light circles against Isagi’s shin. “And yet you’re still here. Still letting me touch you. Still blushing like crazy.”
Isagi peeked through his fingers, scowling. “Shut up.”
Kaiser’s grin softened. He tugged gently until Isagi toppled sideways, and before he could protest, Kaiser settled beside him, one arm sliding around his waist. Isagi huffed but didn’t move away, his body fitting against Kaiser’s like it belonged there.
The quiet of the apartment wrapped around them. Outside, the city buzzed faintly, but here, it was just the two of them—the warmth of the couch, the hum of the air conditioner, the rhythm of their breaths.
Kaiser pressed his face into Isagi’s hair, inhaling the faint scent of shampoo. “You know,” he murmured, “I think I like this version of you best.”
Isagi tilted his head just enough to look at him. “What version?”
“The one who lets me see him like this. Relaxed. Real.” Kaiser’s voice dropped, soft and earnest. “The one who trusts me.”
Isagi’s lips parted, surprise flickering across his face. Then, slowly, he relaxed again, turning so his forehead rested lightly against Kaiser’s chest. “…You’re such a sap.”
Kaiser smiled, brushing his fingers along Isagi’s arm. “For you? Always.”
They lay there for a long time, tangled together in silence. The kind of silence that wasn’t empty, but full — of comfort, of unspoken words, of everything they couldn’t bring themselves to say out loud on the field.
Eventually, Isagi’s breathing evened out, his body heavy with the pull of sleep. Kaiser pressed a feather-light kiss to his hair.
“Sleep well, love,” he whispered.
And for once, he didn’t care if Isagi heard it.
Kaiser didn’t bother turning on the lights. With Isagi tucked against him, drowsy and pliant, he shifted just enough to grab the remote off the coffee table. The TV blinked to life, casting the room in a soft glow.
The noise stirred Isagi, who blinked groggily. “…What’re you doing?”
“Keeping us entertained,” Kaiser said lightly, scrolling through options. “Unless you’d rather fall asleep on me.”
Isagi yawned, nuzzling deeper into Kaiser’s chest. “That’s not… a bad idea.”
Kaiser’s heart gave a painful lurch. He swallowed, covering it with a teasing grin. “Careful, Yoichi. You say things like that, and I’ll think you actually like me.”
“Shut up,” Isagi muttered, but his voice was too soft, too warm to carry any real bite.
Kaiser picked a random movie—not that he cared what it was. The plot blurred into background noise, the flickering light painting shadows across Isagi’s face. Kaiser found himself watching him more than the screen. The way his lashes fluttered as he fought sleep, the way his lips parted slightly with each steady breath.
God, he was beautiful.
Isagi stirred again, sensing the weight of Kaiser’s gaze. “…You’re staring.”
“Guilty,” Kaiser said without hesitation.
Isagi groaned, hiding his face in Kaiser’s hoodie. “Stop.”
“Never.” Kaiser’s arm tightened around him, pulling him closer. “You should know by now — I can’t look away.”
There was a beat of silence. Then, muffled against his chest, Isagi muttered, “…You’re so embarrassing.”
Kaiser chuckled, resting his chin on top of his head. “And yet, you’re still here. Which means you like it.”
Isagi didn’t answer, but the way he curled in tighter against him was answer enough.
Minutes stretched into an hour. The movie played on, forgotten, as the apartment filled with the gentle hum of the TV and the even sound of their breathing. Isagi’s body grew heavier, his fight against sleep long lost.
Kaiser, though, stayed awake. He brushed a hand slowly up and down Isagi’s back, savoring the warmth pressed against him. His chest ached with something too big to put into words.
On the field, he could spin any story, control any narrative with his flair and arrogance. Here, though, there was no mask to hide behind. Just the raw truth: that Yoichi Isagi had ruined him completely.
He whispered it into the quiet, just for himself. “I love you.”
Isagi shifted in his sleep, mumbling something incoherent, and Kaiser smiled. Maybe one day he’d say it while Isagi was awake. For now, this was enough.
The credits rolled eventually, the room going dark again. Kaiser didn’t move. He couldn’t. Not when Isagi’s breathing was steady against him, not when his arm was draped possessively across Kaiser’s middle like he belonged there.
Kaiser leaned down, brushing his lips softly against Isagi’s temple.
“Goodnight, Yoichi.”
For once, he felt no need to add a joke, no desire to tease. Just quiet, overwhelming love, spilling out into the stillness of their little world.
And if sleep came to him slower that night, it was only because he wanted to hold onto the moment for as long as possible.