#also yea yuusona sneak peek :) heehee

[distant-velleity]

Keep Your Eyes on Me

Summary: At a certain person's invitation, Chrysos goes to watch the Basketball Club's last game of the season. Word count: 1.2k A/N: oh my god okay so. imagine this is like post-book 6 bc i read somewhere that basketball season (at least in the big leagues) ends around march-april? anyway this is what becomes of the barrettes from the other fic lol Tagging: @thehollowwriter (lmk if you want me to stop tagging at any point)

-

It’s because Azul’s on bedrest and someone ought to watch Floyd, Chrysos tells himself as he takes a seat on the gymnasium bleachers, not just because Santiago asked me to come. And then, of course, I only obliged because…

He stops that train of thought firmly in its tracks, pursing his lips so hard that they become pale. 

The circumstances under which he was asked were like this—

When Chrysos approached the TA’s usual table, only Ace and Santiago were there. Sitting side-by-side, they appeared to be discussing something.

Chrysos stepped closer to listen in.

Unaware, Ace continued to snicker and tease Santiago:

“Come on, just ask! Then, you’ve got a clear path to a date after the game—”

Face flushed, Santiago glanced over his shoulder and hissed at Ace, “Shut up!”

“Huh?” Ace looked back too, locking eyes with Chrysos. He grinned and elbowed Santiago, eliciting a squawk-like yelp.

“…What’s going on?” Chrysos finally asked, sitting down next to Santiago with his breakfast tray.

Somehow, Santiago’s face reddened even more. “Nothing—”

“Good ol’ Iago here,” Ace interjected, unbearably smug, “has something to ask of you.”

Chrysos tilted his head, imploring the two to go on. A sort of interest, a teasing curiosity outweighed his consideration for Santiago’s dignity (which, honestly, could stand to take a few hits).

“Ace, you bastard…!” Santiago gritted his teeth, flustered. He earned another elbow in the side for his troubles. “Fine, fine!” he conceded, turning and trying (read: failing) to meet Chrysos’ eyes. “Our last basketball game of the season is tomorrow. I—If you have time, can you come and watch… please?”

The little please caught Chrysos off-guard, leaving him speechless for a few moments. “Sure,” he said automatically before he could really consider his answer in depth, eyes trained on Santiago’s nervous tics. Rough, sun-tanned fingers fiddling with his earrings; one foot tapping repeatedly against the ground…

“Great!” Ace stood up and slapped both of them on the back, startling Chrysos out of his reverie. “Nice sitting with ya, lovebird and lovefish. I’m gonna go find the other pairs of lovebirds now. Have fun!”

His parting words left both Santiago and Chrysos sputtering angrily.

“Jeez…” Santiago shook his head, feather-like bangs trembling. “Can we just agree to ignore whatever nonsense he’s spewing?”

“Please,” agreed Chrysos, trying to ignore the odd feeling in his chest.

—and just thinking about it makes him embarrassed, heat rising to his cheeks. The worst part is that he can’t stop thinking about it. Can’t stop thinking about the look on Santiago’s face, can’t stop thinking about the fact that he was willingly invited to something so important to Santiago, that they’re sharing something like this…

Chrysos is frustratedly messing with one of his curls when Yu sits down next to him.

“Hey, Chrysos,” says the TA. “Do you usually go to these games?”

And isn’t this an interesting sight? 

Why would the TA, who normally has nothing to do with sports, be here…?

Oh—that’s right. Floyd had been bragging about how he got Yu to agree to coming all of the previous night. While Chrysos was stewing in dizzying emotional confusion, no less. 

Talk about rubbing salt in the wound…

Chrysos shakes his head. “Normally it’s Azul or Jade who comes to chapero—celebrate Floyd.”

“Oh. So nothing to do with Santiago?”

Yu’s amused tone makes Chrysos grimace and almost subconsciously look to the side, where all the players are gathered on the sidelines. Having front-row seats makes it all too easy for him to spot Santiago and Floyd, the former of whom offers him a nervous, trying-to-be-confident grin. The barrettes Chrysos bought for him are slightly askew, leaving strands of red-blue hair dangling over his expressive eyes.

His appearance is so rough, imperfect. A professional amateur at home in his environment.

It’s endearing.

…And just as quickly, Chrysos banishes that thought to a section of feelings to be considered later.

Instead, he admits, “He invited me.” 

“As I thought,” Yu remarks matter-of-factly while waving to an overly eager Floyd. “Santiago probably wants you to watch him at his best, whether he’s come to terms with it or not.”

“I could tell,” replies Chrysos under his breath, tugging his curls closer to his face with an uncharacteristic shyness. “If that’s what he wants, then that’s what he’ll get.”

Soon enough, the whistle blows, an auditory signal piercing the whole gym. As Santiago walks onto the court to face off against the white-uniformed RSA players, he adopts that usual expression of his again—an easy, cocky smile, paired with a sharp two-fingered salute.

Don’t go looking for Rielle right now, Santiago’s eyes seem to declare, shining bright like liquid gold under the gymnasium lights. Watch our team. Watch me. 

And watch him Chrysos does, focused on him for the whole game—from start to victory.

-

Chrysos is standing off quietly to the side when Santiago, in all his athletic afterglow, steps out of the gym. The merman almost blends in with the crowd when he keeps to himself, but Santiago spots him instantly and walks over.

“Hey,” he greets, voice layered with both ragged exhaustion and inextinguishable excitement. 

Chrysos nods to him. “Congrats.” He glances up and frowns—it’s been bothering him the whole time, but…

“Something up?”

“Lean down for a moment.” When Santiago immediately does as he says, Chrysos reaches up and gently unclips the barrettes pinning back Santiago’s bangs, matted with sweat, before brushing his hair back and refastening the pins. He steps back to admire his handiwork. “There.”

Santiago is quiet, wide-eyed when looking back down at him. It seems that’s all it takes for Chrysos to realize the intimacy of their situation.

“…Anyway,” Chrysos forces out immediately, hands flying to a folded position behind his back as if he’s been shocked, “good job. During the game.”

“Y—Yeah, you think so?” Santiago preens under the praise, eager to change the subject. “I think I did way better than usual today.”

Chrysos can’t help it; he snickers at the other’s expense, relishing how normal this is. “I’d hope so. If you lost to RSA today…”

“I wouldn’t,” argues Santiago with immediate passion. “Not in the final game. And definitely not with you watching,” he adds, a little more softly. 

Unsure what to say to that (and what to do about the strange fluttering in his gut), Chrysos rolls his eyes with no small amount of playfulness. “You smell,” he comments bluntly. “Go take a shower and change.”

“Yes sir,” is Santiago’s mock-sober response in Chrysos’ own voice. He drops the facade immediately, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Can I expect a reward when I get back?”

“Maybe.”

Santiago lights up, because, at least between the two of them, a maybe is as good as a yes. 

“But shower first,” insists Chrysos, pushing Santiago by the shoulder in the direction of the locker rooms. It elicits a warm chuckle from the beastman.

“Alright, alright, I get it. I’ll wash myself off already.” Santiago turns and winks at Chrysos, doing unseemly things to his heart. “See you in a few.”

It takes everything in Chrysos’ body to not stammer. “...See you.” He watches Santiago walk off, gaze trained on the damp back of his basketball jersey. At least, until Yu comes over and stands next to him.

“Nice work, lover boy,” Yu says sincerely, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Shut up.”