Snowflakes clung to Akira’s lashes. His face pale beneath the streetlight’s glow.

“Are you sleeping here tonight?” someone asked him.

“Sorry?” he mumbled, blinking up at the blurry figure.

“You’re always at this bus stop,” they said. “It’s a miracle you haven’t frozen to death.”

Akira stared blankly at their shoulder before glancing behind them. Their car was parked on the curb, and Nugget sat in the passenger seat, wearing an identical frown to…Daichi’s. They’d both snuck on him.

Daichi ran ring-laden fingers through his hair, and settled his gaze on Akira again only once it was collected neatly away from his face. This revealed golden hoops in the arc of his ear, and a stubble peppering the cutting line of his jaw.

“Hello?” Daichi prompted.

“The buses…” Akira’s voice cracked, embarrassing him. “They run late sometimes.”

“Late, you say? I think you mean ‘not coming’.” Daichi straightened, crossing his arms thickly over his chest. “We’ve been eating Donnie’s here for the past hour, and I haven’t seen a single one. You’re not even shivering anymore. Get in the car. I’ll take you home.”

“W-what?” Akira scrubbed his face with ice-cube fingers. “It’s really fine, thanks. My place is – it’s out of your way.”

“How do you know? How would I know, since you haven’t told me the address?”

“I appreciate that you’re –”

“Get in!” Nugget encouraged from the care. “I’ll climb into the back.”

“Oh, thanks, Nugget, but there’s really no need!” Akira called. He knew his cheeks were flushed from the cold and he was dusted with snowflakes, but he couldn’t hide it.

Daichi stepped closer to coax him. “Come on, you afraid I’m kidnapping you?”

He squinted up at him. “Ever heard of stranger danger?”

“We’re not total strangers. You and I go way back.” Daichi glanced at his bare wrist as though checking the time. “Yup, five whole minutes.”

Not to mention, Daichi had tricked him into being locked up in a trunk. He’d done pretty well keeping his distance from Daichi ever since then. He’d realised that if Daichi wasn’t always acting playful and casual with him, it’d be easy to feel a cold terror in his presence. He had an intense gaze that made Akira feel too crowded and seen.

Daichi pressed two fingers against Akira’s temple, mimicking a gun. “Hey, punk,” he whispered. “You’re going to make the Nugget sad.”

“You’re using him to coerce me?” He lifted his chin, acting defiant. “I’m more resilient than that.”

“Oh? There are snacks.”

Akira barely brushed the snow off himself as he jogged stiffly around to the passenger’s seat. He was rewarded with an energy bar from Nugget, while Daichi climbed in, slamming the door shut and blasting the heat. He angled the vents toward Akira, who curled forward to soak in the warmth.

“Th-thanks.” Akira spoke through chattering teeth. He glanced at Daichi, who was already watching him.

Daichi trained his eyes on the road ahead. “Ah, no worries. I’m taking the munchkin home first. If you still won’t tell me your address, then I’ll deliver you back to that delightful bench, but at least you can defrost for twenty minutes.”

He barely lasted six before he fell asleep. He jerked awake when they pulled into Nugget’s driveway, blinking groggily at the lights, and resumed nibbling on his energy bar.

“I’ll be a minute,” Daichi said, keeping the engine running for him.

Daichi hopped out to help Nugget with his backpack and walked him up to the house. The patio lights flicked on, and a tall man stepped out, scooping Nugget into a hug. He was broad-shouldered and handsome.

So that was Daichi’s crush.

Daichi hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his jacket, and Akira could tell he was smiling. When he disappeared inside the house, a pang of loneliness hit Akira. He didn’t know why, when he’d always lived on the periphery like this. It was better not to think about it, to stop picking at the scabs, and get through the night. Then he could run off the cold tomorrow.

He could pretend he mattered.

When he was younger, he often ditched school because he had debts to pay. He was once absent for over a month, until Nomura convinced him to return. Not one teacher, student, or teammate sought him out in the meantime. It was like he’d never existed there at all.

That was probably why he liked enduring people. People like Surya. If Surya changed the number of bracelets he wore, people noticed. Who he spoke to, what he did, how he looked – everyone took note. He was admired and known for his grace, both in beauty and action, and he meant something. He mattered.

After their last conversation, though, Akira was no longer fooled by Surya’s disarming courtesy. Those cutting remarks and flat gaze reminded him exactly where he stood.

Maybe it was his own fault for getting riled like that, but it was because he had absolutely nowhere else to turn. It was playing basketball for a few months, delaying the inevitable, or it was doing gruelling work at Bagri’s for the rest of his life. He wanted to live his dream, however temporary it was, and he was clinging to it.

Otherwise he would’ve betrayed himself for nothing. Selfishly crawling back to the court after Hanseol and Keisuke, when he should know better. Keisuke had invented him and abandoned him, and still he craved being known – somehow thinking it’ll be different this time. That he won’t be forsaken.

He wasn’t allowed to hide himself as well as he’d like, with those videos still circulating, but he could hide enough. He’d do whatever he had to do to continue standing on that court. If that meant studying with his broken brain, then that’s what he’d do.

Maybe he’d also lost his head a little when he’d seen Surya sitting in the stands, watching his game. He’d felt such a surge of ecstasy that it muted everything else, even the feeling of humiliation that had lingered all day.

He didn’t really understand why. He felt mortifyingly drawn to both Surya and Daichi, whose strand of friendship barred everyone else’s. While he made a mess of both his words and behaviour in front of them, he still didn’t want them to send him away.

He also couldn’t fathom Nugget’s father, who was Daichi’s best friend and apparent crush. He’d somehow resisted delving into a deeper relationship with Dachi, who was open to it. Maybe he felt lucky just having Daichi’s unwavering friendship, which extended in all its benefits to Nugget. A child Daichi wouldn’t outgrow just because of his father.

Akira understood the ache of realising someone didn’t love him the way he loved them.

When Daichi climbed into the car, Akira said, “Nugget’s really lucky to have you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

A small smile tugged at Daichi’s mouth. “Thanks.”

The radio played some epic orchestral pieces that failed to re-energise Akira. He dozed on and off as they drove, thankful that the seatbelt kept him somewhat upright. He eventually stirred after what felt like a long time, and realised they were back on campus. He straightened, causing Daichi’s jacket to slide into his lap.

Daichi was outside, leaning against the door as he smoked. He turned when Akira tapped on the window, and ducked inside, brushing some ash from his sleeve.

“It’s close to midnight,” he said. “You still don’t want to go home?”

Akira started to say that he’d make another plan, having forgotten that Daichi already knew he had no phone or way to reach anyone else.

“Well,” Daichi continued, “then I have a couch with your name on it.”

Akira froze. “W-what?”