𝙂𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙇𝙪𝙘𝙠 𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙢 | Nagi Seishirou x Reader

10

You can't stop thinking about the way you'd argued with Nagi that day; even as you have your little chats with him over text, you feel as if something has changed within your relationship with him.

He'd said he wasn't mad at you, and you believed him.

Then why do things feel so off between you two?

Suddenly you're becoming too preoccupied to read his texts, or Nagi's too tired to respond to yours, and calls become far less exciting than they used to.

It's been three days since the incident, and you're eating dinner with your dad when you hear your phone ring from your bedroom upstairs.

You decide to ignore it- if it's Nagi, then he's probably not going to talk much, anyways. It's been becoming his habit lately to be on call with you, yet never say anything; he just speaks to his friends off-screen, leaving you to listen idly to their conversation and ignore the pang in your chest as you wish so desperately that you could just be there with him, that you could experience what he is and make sure he doesn't pull away from you.

It's too taxing on your heart to see him, so you decide you're better off not seeing him and poke at your noodles with your chopsticks in hopes that he'll give up and stop dialling.

He does. You're relieved.

But then the ringing starts again, and your father peers at you over the rim of his glasses. "You sure you don't wanna answer it?"

You scowl. "What happened to no phones at the table?"

"Yikes. Don't take your breakup out on me, darling. Not my fault."

Your eyes narrow at him, and you throw down your chopsticks. "We didn't break up."

He raises his palms in a placating gesture. "My bad, my bad. At least go put your phone on silent or something, please?"

"Since you asked so nicely." You retort before getting up from your seat with clenched fists and gritted teeth, each step towards your bedroom and your damned phone getting heavier and heavier.

Sure enough, it's him. His contact photo illuminates your phone screen; you'd set it to a photo you'd taken of him one day in the summer, where you'd caught him off-guard with ice cream around his mouth and your handbag slung over his shoulder as if it was his own.

"Smile, Nagi!" You'd yelled, taking a snapshot in an instant.

His grey eyes had widened in shock, his mouth falling open as he realised what you were doing. He'd hurriedly wiped the ice cream off his face with the back of his hand, but it had been too late- you'd already captured the memory and saved it as his contact in your phone, despite his protests.

You gaze down at the photo now mournfully as you move to silence the call.

It stops buzzing a minute after that, and you immediately feel bad- but why should you?

This is all his fault; you'd just been worried on is behalf, and all it took was one mention of Reo and he'd blown up in your face. How was that your fault? Last time you'd checked, him and Nagi had been best friends, so excuse you for being none the wiser.

The phone rings one more time. That photo of Nagi with his ice cream moustache pops up once more, but this time you can't resist the urge to answer it, sitting down heavily on your bed.

"Hi." Nagi says, and he's absolutely breathless, panting and gasping for air.

You're immediately concerned. "Nagi? Are you okay?"

He dismisses your worries with a shake of his head, still panting slightly, his hair dripping with sweat. The camera shakes in his hands as he struggles to hold it steady, so he just places his phone onto the ground and leans over it, still in his training uniform.