The basketball court below was a blur of bodies and motion. A chaotic melee of elbows. The players surged and collided, their shouts reverberating off the high ceiling.

Above it all, just inside the double doors of the balcony, Daichi stood. He watched the pandemonium with bemusement. His one hand rested casually on the railing, while his other idly spun a key ring around his finger.

Erik brought his mouth close to Daichi’s ear, yelling to be heard over the crowd’s roars. “See, that’s him!”

He tracked Erik’s finger to the little first-year sitting on the bench, drowning in an oversized shirt with the number ‘05’ on it.

So that was Akira Malay, the boy who’d eaten Erik’s paint yesterday morning.

There was nothing remarkable about him at first glance. Not counting the flecks of yellow in his dark hair. It was hard to spot him between his much larger teammates and his coach, who paced up and down the sideline like a feral badger. A haphazard ponytail barely kept his unruly curls from spilling into his eyes, which was a little adorable.

His focus was razor-sharp and locked on the game, almost at odds with his clumsy appearance. He didn’t react at all to the shoulders crushing his or the whirlwind around him.

It wasn’t an outstanding match. Certainly not the type of match that should warrant such a boisterous crowd, but Daichi was willing to admit that he knew next to nothing about basketball. He found it extremely boring, especially when it was obvious who’d win.

However, when there were eleven minutes on the clock and the Little Bears were down by two points, the coach suddenly motioned towards the bench. It was impossible not to notice how quickly Malay shot to his feet, quicker than a firecracker, and hurled himself into the game with a feral grin.

Malay really was short, though, and he looked like a child compared to his beastly teammates. He visibly vibrated with excitement, holding up four fingers towards the Reddens to indicate how many points he’d score off them, which Daichi found funny.

Malay played like an ant avoiding everyone’s feet. He was everywhere yet perpetually sidelined, with his own teammates refusing to pass to him. They impeded him at every turn, but he slipped through the cracks incessantly.

The momentum of the game shifted when one of the Reddens snagged the rebound and flung the ball across the court. Their free player bolted down the open lane, ready to claim another three-pointer, but a hand appeared out of nowhere and stole the ball mid-stride.

And then Malay was jumping.

It was like a springboard existed under his feet. He just launched upward, deaf to Otsuka’s shout and the crowd’s collective inhale.

The ball soared through the air in a perfect arc, sinking cleanly through the hoop. Too high and too smoothly to be anything but pure, unpredictable talent. Nobody could do anything to stop it. All they could do was watch with wide eyes.

The silence shattered the instant Malay hit the ground. The gym erupted into cheers, while a shiver seemed to run through him.

“Half-court?!” Erik roared with glee.

With his big, goofy grin and his hair still a wild mess that stuck out in every direction, Malay looked like a bundle of sunshine. Just visibly happy to be playing on the court.

When the game resumed, it was almost painful to watch him after seeing just how elegant he could be. Every move he made was shadowed by his teammates, who tripped and elbowed him.

The Little Bears were soon slick with sweat and bristling. Their glares fell not only on the Reddens but also on poor Malay, who stuck to his opponent like dandruff. That Redden looked light-headed from running across every inch of the court.

They turned vicious in the last five minutes. They bore down on the Reddens and would’ve overwhelmed a lesser team if they weren’t so disjointed. It was obvious even to Daichi that there was something lacking in the team, and Malay was darting all over the place trying to pick up the slack.

With less than two minutes on the clock, Malay struck again. The ball sailed overhead, yet he seized it there, jumping impossibly high. His body twisted mid-air like a coiled spring, almost painfully, and he threw the ball with all his might. Even as he plummeted, he never once stopped watching the ball.

“An impossible shot!” Erik gushed in a whisper. “What a play.”

Not one of the Little Bears approached Malay to celebrate with him. He climbed to his feet, looking both unsteady and astonished when the buzzer sounded. He dazedly trailed after his team and was lost in their midst.

Daichi exited the gym with a yawn. He had a few hours before he needed to fetch Nugget at Lancing Field. Watching this match was his way of passing the time, letting Erik chat his ear off about it, but he needed to finish his project. He could only procrastinate for so long.

Returning to his studio, he lowered himself onto his torturous stool and picked up his easel. He put his head down to work, and just like that, hours flew by.

“A hard-working man,” Surya hummed sweetly in his ear.

He turned his face, coming nose-to-nose with him. “I’m working so hard I’m crying.”

They both knew it was because he’d forgotten his glasses at home.

“Stop trying to feed them to my couch.” Surya unfurled them and slid them onto Daichi’s face, nearly taking out his eye. “There we go. Now can you tell who I am?”

“I know you?”

Leon briefly popped his head in to greet him. “He’s the pizza man! And you are a terrible friend who’s left me on read for over a week. You don’t deserve me.”

Artists appeared from the woodwork to steal some slices of greasy, steaming pizza, after being holed up here all day. They were pale-faced and severely underfed, and practically fell in love with Leon right then and there.

Surya handed him a can of soda, which he hoped would keep him awake, and leant his hip against the tabletop, looking tired. Well, Daichi probably looked worse even on his good days, but right now he was too pitiful for Surya to pick on.

He reached out and took Surya’s waist, tugging him closer. His fingertips pressed into his hips, firm but lazy, like he had no intention of letting go anytime soon (he didn't).

Surya gazed down at him with some amusement. “Not sure I want to be kissing a corpse,” he whispered, but his featherlight fingers betrayed him, tilting Daichi’s chin upward.

Daichi didn’t bother with a comeback. His mouth met Surya’s, and he melted into the kiss, arching slightly so he could accept more. Spine-tingling heat threaded down his spine, pooling between his thighs, and he groaned softly.

There was the taste of sticky sweetness and pizza, and he hooked his fingers into Surya’s pockets, his quiet thirst spilling between them. It felt like his entire body was set alight, everything raw and electrified.

Then he felt Surya easing away, too shy for his own good, and reluctantly collected himself. He smiled at the burning look in Surya’s eyes. The obvious wanting.

“What about the little guy?” Surya asked, having to clear his throat to speak evenly.

“I find it insulting if you refer to my-”

Surya squeezed his cheeks to get him to shut up. “You know I meant Kenny.”

Daichi froze, utterly horrified. “Oh, shit. Nugget.”