This isn’t an easy feeling, not at all. Nagi can’t bring himself to accept it, no matter how much his emotions claw at him, refusing to stay hidden. You’re his friend. That’s all. Just his best friend. Nothing more. So why, then, does it feel like his chest is tightening every time you pass the ball to him? Why do his palms grow clammy every time your fingers graze against his? Why does his heart seem to race when he locks eyes with you for too long? He tries to ignore it, but it’s undeniable—there’s something there, and he doesn’t know how to make it stop.

He’s not gay. He can’t be.

His mind fights the thought like it’s some sort of sin, a betrayal to who he is. He’s the cool, laid-back player—someone who relies on talent, someone who’s never had to deal with things like this. He doesn’t even know how to define it, how to deal with it. His team would never accept it. He’s one of Blue Lock’s star strikers, the one with the natural skill to take him all the way. The last thing anyone expects is for one of their top players to be some soy-boy, someone with feelings for his best friend.

Nagi wishes he could push it all down, pretend it doesn’t matter. He wishes he could say these feelings don’t bother him, but they do. They bother him more than anything else about himself. The anxiety, the confusion—it's always there, lurking beneath the surface. He tells himself it’s shameful. That he shouldn’t feel this way. Not about you. Not about any man.

But here they are—benched, watching Rin’s team take the field. The game is still going, but Nagi’s mind isn’t on it. His body knows what’s happening before he can stop it. He feels the familiar slickness of sweat building on his palms, the heat creeping up his neck, the blood rushing to his cheeks. His heart thuds, a little too fast, a little too loud. Why is he like this? Why can’t he just focus? He shouldn’t be feeling this way, especially not now, not in front of you. Not when everything’s so complicated.

He can’t be doing this. Not with you. Not ever.