he yawned in your ear, all of his weight along your back and shoulders. you shifted him up with a grunt. his arms draped over your shoulders, his legs on your hips. he was half asleep as you carried him on your back away from the field in where you practiced.

you had everything handed right to you. your parents were extraordinarily rich, literally millionaires. of course, that put you in position as one of the popular kids. yet you were never truly accepted yourself around these people. you had to act as someone different—someone meaning like your parents. stuck up, wealthy douchebags without a care in the world. you wanted to find purpose, a meaning for yourself.

you had found soccer. soccer was something you could solely treasure—like a metal. yet everyone you had talked to found your dreams childish, stupid, worth throwing away. one day, you had found nagi. it’s a surreal blur on how you became close, but he’s the teammate you rely on. he plays with you, you can be yourself around him.

he’s painfully lazy though. he found most basic chores to be a hassle—including walking and eating. you were his boss, so he listened to you. you could be yourself with him without being judged.

“mm.. thanks for carrying me..” he grumbled a tired yawn in your ear, his eyes shut serenely.