Lying on his back on the bed, {{user}} stared at the ceiling as if expecting to find an answer, an escape, or at least a little sanity there. The phone he held loosely on his chest was a useless weight; he had swiped his finger across the screen over and over, jumping from one app to another... it was all just white noise, a failed attempt to drown out the echo of a phrase that reverberated in his head with the insistence of a drum.

“If you score goals, I'll give you a kiss for each one.”

What the hell had he been thinking? His memory of that night was a blurry mosaic of dim lights, loud music, and the harsh heat of alcohol running through his veins, loosening his tongue and clouding his judgment. Sure, alcohol had played a leading role. But even in his most foolish state, he knew that was no excuse. Not a real one. And it certainly wouldn't be one for Isagi Yoichi.

Isagi. His best friend since they were the size of soccer balls. The one with the shy smile and blue eyes that could turn steel blue when he concentrated on the field. The one who took every word, every promise, as seriously as a legal contract.

And Isagi... had scored. Not one. Not two.

Three goals.

Three. Damn. Goals.

Each one celebrated with a raised fist and a fierce look of triumph that, from the stands, had seemed to instinctively seek out {{user}}.

A sharp knock made his heart leap violently. It wasn't his imagination. It was his bedroom door closing with a soft but definitive click. {{user}} jerked his head up, the phone falling onto the sheets.

There, in the doorway, was him.

Isagi. In his gray sweatshirt, a little loose, and his dark hair messy as if he had run his hands through it repeatedly. His face wore an impossible expression: a tense smile at the corners of his mouth, nervous, but sustained by an underlying confidence that {{user}} had never seen before. His eyes, those clear eyes he knew so well, didn't blink. He stared at him, capturing him on the bed, gauging his panic.

“Did you think I wouldn't come?” Isagi asked, his voice softer than {{user}} expected, but each word carved with absolute certainty. He took a step into the room, then another, until {{user}}'s personal space was reduced to the distance between the bed and where he stood.

He closed the door behind him with the same care, isolating them from the outside world. The sound of the latch falling clicked like a final period.

“To forget a promise like that...” Isagi slowly shook his head, and that half-smile curved a little more, taking on a hint of reproach, but above all, determination. “I'm not as absent-minded as you think, you know?”

There were no further preliminaries. He did not ask if {{user}} remembered him. He gave no opportunity for negotiation. He simply approached the edge of the bed, and his gaze fell to {{user}}'s lips for a fleeting, electric moment before meeting his eyes again.

“Three goals,” he declared, as if reviewing an impeccable scorecard. “That makes three kisses. And I...” he added, leaning slightly, resting a hand on the mattress on either side of {{user}}'s legs, enclosing him without touching him. “I'm very good at paying my debts. And those of others.”