𝓑𝐑𝐀𝐙𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝓟𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐊 𐬹 𝓫𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝓵𝐨𝐜𝐤

𝓒𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝓕𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 ★ 𝓽𝐡𝐞 𝓴𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝓪𝐧𝐝 𝓽𝐡𝐞 𝓹𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐭

Akira should be sleeping, but here he was wide awake lying in the middle of the pitch. Shirtless, surrounded by footballs and covered in a thin layer of sweat. His team's final match against Team Z was in less than 24 hours, he should be resting but with a body running on adrenaline and a mind thinking at a hundred miles per hour, sleep was hard to come by.

So he turned to firing shot after shot at the empty goal, drilling himself to the point he now found himself in. Flopped on the floor, so dazed he hadn't realised another person had walked onto the pitch.

Barou didn't sleep much, sleep was for the weak and he would much rather be training than lazing around unconscious in a bed that wasn't even comfortable. But to his surprise he didn't seem to be the only one, now the red-eyed teen wouldn't lie and say he hadn't taken to Akira.

Something about him drew him in, he was like him a cut above the rest forced to be among the unworthy and his match against him proved it. Though he couldn't understand why he defended those three idiots he called teammates so much, he would rather die than admit those feelings were jealousy in disguise.

Akira felt his spirit leave his body when he opened his eyes to see Barou standing over him like some killer in a 90s slasher film. "Oh, hello," the curly-haired boy said, sitting up to look at the Team X player "Hello" the spiky-haired teen greeted as the two stood in silence for a moment.

"Wanna train together?" Barou's question truly did take Akira by surprise, under the impression that he hated him for beating him in their previous match. But he agreed anyway, as the two spiralled into a session of gruelling yet enjoyable training, pushing each other to the limits and then some. As they struck explosive shot after explosive shot into the goal, all the tension from before melted away leaving a pleasant atmosphere.

After a while, Barou too decided to forgo his shirt, silently wanting to show off his physic to Akira. Who was built like a Greek god, with a slim waist, toned arms and back, washboard abs, and defined pecks. He looked like he belonged on the cover of a sports magazine soaking wet and dressed in swimwear. Now that was a pleasant thought.

"Good shot!" The bronzed teen said patting the other's shoulder as another shot rifled into the net, handing him a bottle of water which Barou gladly accepted. "Thanks," the red-eyed teen said trying desperately to hide the blush that coloured his cheeks.

"Your final match is tomorrow right?" Barou asked looking to the curly-haired teen who gulped down water like a man in a drought, watching intently as he was bewitched by his bobbing Adam's apple. "Yeah," the golden-eyed boy said as he lay down on the grass.