3
From then on, Isagi had a new friend.
And this new friend was very, very patient in teaching him French.
Every afternoon, Hugo would come over to the Isagi household, armed with picture books and flashcards that Iyo had bought. He would sit with Isagi on the living room couch, pointing to objects and slowly pronouncing the French words.
It was an exercise in patience, truly.
"Isagi, no..." Hugo said, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"It's Bonjour."
Isagi tilted his head at his friend, who was now face-palming with a deadpan expression. The little sprouts of hair on Isagi's head seemed to twitch with concentration, but the result was the same as always.
"Bion-jure?" he tried again, stretching the syllables in all the wrong places.
To no avail, Isagi Yoichi had failed miserably once more.
"......"
Hugo stared at him for a long moment. The word was one of the most basic French greetings. They had been practicing it for three days straight. And yet, somehow, Isagi's tongue refused to cooperate.
Isagi has a long way to go to learn French, Hugo thought, sighing internally.
But even so, he couldn't bring himself to be truly frustrated. When Isagi looked up at him with those wide, earnest blue eyes, clearly trying his best, Hugo's irritation melted away.
"Again," Hugo said patiently. "Listen carefully. Bon-jour."
"Bon... jour?" Isagi repeated, slower this time.
A spark of hope lit in Hugo's chest.
"Better! One more time."
"Bonjour!" Isagi said, and this time, it came out almost correctly.
Hugo's face broke into a genuine smile.
"Yes! That was perfect!"
Isagi's face lit up like the sun breaking through clouds. He clapped his hands together, delighted by his own success.
"Bonjour! Bonjour! Bonjour!" he chanted, bouncing on the couch cushions.
Hugo laughed, reaching out to steady him before he toppled off.
It was small progress, but progress nonetheless. And Hugo found that he didn't mind the slow pace at all. It meant more time spent with Isagi, more afternoons filled with the younger boy's infectious energy and bright smiles.
One afternoon, about two weeks after the Isagis had moved in, Hugo decided it was time to introduce Isagi to his childhood friend.
Julian Loki lived a few streets away, and he and Hugo had known each other since they were toddlers. Their mothers were friends, and the two boys had grown up playing together, though their personalities were quite different.
Hugo was calm, observant, and reserved. Loki was bold, confident, and endlessly energetic.
As they walked toward Loki's house, Hugo noticed Isagi growing quieter with each step.
"Isagi?" Hugo asked, glancing down at the smaller boy.
Isagi was clutching his Noa doll tightly, his knuckles white. His steps had slowed, and he was gradually positioning himself behind Hugo, using the older boy's body as a shield.
"Yoo-chan, arrête de te cacher, il ne va pas te manger..." Hugo said, his voice gentle.
Yoo-chan, stop hiding, he's not going to eat you...
Isagi peeked out from behind Hugo's back, his expression uncertain.
"Comment en être sûrs ?" Isagi replied in his broken French, his voice small.
How can we be sure?
Hugo sighed dejectedly, though a small smile tugged at his lips.
The little sprout is shy now, but why was he so bold when they first met? Hugo thought, remembering the way Isagi had run up to him, grabbed his hand, and touched his face without a moment's hesitation.
He even hugged me immediately! And now he's hiding from meeting one new person?
Though Hugo was slightly annoyed, he couldn't help but smile to himself. Thinking back, he must have had a certain charm that made Isagi lower his guard with him. The thought warmed his chest.
"It's okay," Hugo said, reaching back to gently pat Isagi's head. "Loki is nice. I promise."
They arrived at Loki's house, and Hugo rang the bell.
The door swung open, and there stood Julian Loki.
He was a year older than Hugo, with dark skin that glowed in the afternoon sunlight, brown-golden eyes that sparkled with curiosity, and short black hair in a clean buzz cut. He was slightly taller than Hugo, with the lean, athletic build of a boy who spent most of his time running around outdoors.
"Hé Hugo, qui est-ce ?" Loki asked, his gaze immediately landing on the small boy half-hidden behind his friend.
Hey Hugo, who is it?
Isagi, who had finally mustered the courage to peek out properly, was stunned.
Wow...
Handsome!
If Hugo was beautiful—with his delicate features, long eyelashes, and elegant grace—then the child in front of him was handsome in a completely different way. Not only did he have pretty, golden-brown eyes that seemed to glow, but he also had an aura that seemed to make him shine. There was a confidence in the way he stood, an easy smile on his face that made Isagi's heart beat a little faster.
Without thinking, Isagi darted out from behind Hugo.
He ran directly toward Loki, his small legs carrying him swiftly. Before either of the older boys could react, Isagi grabbed Loki's hands, bringing them close to his chest as he looked up at the taller boy with sparkling eyes.
"Un ami?" Isagi asked eagerly, mixing his few words of French with hopeful gestures.
A friend?
Then, remembering another word Hugo had taught him, he pointed to himself.
"Nom?? Isagi. Nom??"
Name??
Loki, who had been suddenly grabbed by this tiny, energetic stranger, accidentally lost his balance. He hadn't been prepared for the sudden tug, and his feet tangled beneath him.
With a startled yelp, Loki fell forward.
Isagi, still holding Loki's hands, was pulled down with him.
Both of them tumbled to the ground in a heap.
For a moment, everything was chaos—limbs tangled, the thud of bodies hitting the grass, a shared gasp of surprise.
And then, silence.
Isagi, who had landed on top of Loki, became even more baffled when he felt something soft pressing against his lips.
His eyes widened.
Oh my goodness...
He accidentally kissed him?!
Isagi's brain short-circuited.
The soft sensation on his lips was unmistakable. Their mouths had pressed together in the fall, a brief, accidental brush that lasted no more than a second but felt like an eternity to Isagi's panicking mind.
His face erupted in a furious blush, red spreading from his cheeks to the tips of his ears and down his neck.
"Ah—!!" Isagi scrambled backward, pushing himself off Loki with flailing arms and legs. He stumbled to his feet and immediately ran back to Hugo, hiding behind his friend's back once more.
His hands flew to cover his mouth, his eyes wide with mortification.
He kissed him! He kissed a stranger! His first kiss! Gone! Just like that!
Loki, still lying on the ground, blinked up at the sky for a moment.
Then he slowly sat up, his hand coming up to touch his own lips.
How odd...
His fingers brushed against his bottom lip, where the sensation still lingered—a soft, fleeting warmth.
Can a boy have such soft lips?
Loki's golden-brown eyes drifted toward Isagi, who was now completely hidden behind Hugo, only the top of his head with its two little sprouts visible.
Who is this kid?
Meanwhile, as Loki sat on the ground contemplating the softness of Isagi's lips, Hugo's expression had undergone a complete transformation.
His dark eyes, usually so calm and gentle, had darkened considerably. His jaw was clenched, his hands balled into fists at his sides.
He had planned to introduce his friend to the child he had grown so fond of over the past two weeks. He had imagined a nice, peaceful afternoon where they could all play together.
But instead...
HIS FRIEND TOOK HIS CRUSH'S FIRST KISS?!
The thought roared in Hugo's mind, irrational and furious.
First kiss! The first kiss! That was supposed to be—!
He cut off his own thought, not even wanting to complete it. His face was burning, though whether from embarrassment or anger, he couldn't tell.
Hah...
FAKE.
Fake friend.
Without a word, Hugo stepped forward, grabbed Isagi's wrist, and pulled him out from behind his back.
Isagi looked up at him, still flustered and confused. "H-Hugo...?"
Hugo didn't answer. Instead, he brought the sleeve of his own shirt to Isagi's mouth and began wiping it vigorously, as if trying to remove a stain.
"Wha—Hugo!" Isagi squirmed, confused by the sudden action.
Hugo wiped Isagi's lips with determined intensity, his movements sharp and focused. His dark eyes were fixed on the task, his expression unreadable.
Isagi's lips were red from the friction when Hugo finally stopped.
There, Hugo thought, a possessive satisfaction curling in his chest. Clean. Like it never happened.
He dropped his hand, still not looking at Loki, who had risen to his feet and was watching the scene with an amused tilt of his head.
Loki brushed the dirt off his clothes, his golden eyes flickering between Hugo's stormy expression and Isagi's bewildered one.
Then, Loki did something unexpected.
He walked over to where Isagi was standing, still partially behind Hugo, and crouched down to the younger boy's level.
"Hey," Loki said softly, his voice gentle. "Don't worry. It was an accident, right?"
Isagi peeked at him from behind Hugo's arm, his blue eyes still wide with anxiety. He understood a few words—enough to know Loki wasn't angry.
"You're not... mad?" Isagi asked in his broken French, his voice small.
Loki smiled—a warm, easy smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.
"Mad? Why would I be mad?" He tilted his head, pretending to think. "It was my fault for losing my balance. You just wanted to say hello, right?"
Isagi nodded slowly, some of the tension leaving his small body.
Loki reached out and gently patted Isagi's head, his hand warm and large against the younger boy's soft hair.
"It's okay. No harm done."
Isagi felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes—not from sadness, but from relief. He had been so afraid that this beautiful, shining boy would be angry at him for what happened. But instead, Loki was being kind.
"Thank you," Isagi whispered.
Loki's smile widened. He noticed the doll clutched in Isagi's arms—a Noel Noah doll, well-loved and slightly worn.
"Ah, you like football?" Loki asked, pointing to the doll.
Isagi's eyes lit up. "Yes! Football! I love football!"
His excitement temporarily overcame his shyness, and he stepped out from behind Hugo to show Loki the doll properly.
"This is Noel Noah! The number one striker!" Isagi declared proudly.
Loki examined the doll with interest. "Noel Noah, huh? He's good. But personally, I think strikers should be faster."
Isagi tilted his head. "Faster?"
Loki nodded, a confident glint in his eye. "Speed is everything in football. If you're fast, no one can catch you. You can just run past everyone and score."
Isagi considered this, his little brow furrowed in concentration.
Hugo, who had been standing silently with his arms crossed, finally spoke. "Technique is just as important as speed," he said flatly. "Speed without control is useless."
Loki looked up at his friend, a teasing smile on his face. "Oh? Are you jealous, Hugo? Because the little one came to me first?"
Hugo's eye twitched. "He didn't come to you first. He literally fell on you by accident."
"Still," Loki said, rising to his feet and brushing off his knees. "It was me he grabbed. Me he wanted to be friends with."
Hugo's fists clenched again. "He grabbed you because he was excited. He hugged me first, when we met. He touched my face."
Loki raised an eyebrow. "Touched your face? How intimate."
"It wasn't—!" Hugo started, his face flushing.
Isagi watched the exchange with confusion, his head swiveling back and forth between the two older boys. He didn't understand everything they were saying, but the energy between them had shifted into something competitive.
"Um..." Isagi interjected hesitantly. "Are you two... fighting?"
Both boys paused and looked down at him.
Loki was the first to recover, his expression softening. "No, no. We're just... discussing."
"Debating," Hugo corrected stiffly.
Isagi looked between them, then smiled brightly. "You're funny."
Loki laughed, a rich, warm sound. "I like this kid."
Hugo's expression soured further.
Loki, ever the energetic host, decided to take them to a small field nearby where he often played football.
"Can you play?" Loki asked Isagi as they walked.
Isagi nodded eagerly. "Yes! I play in Japan! I score many goals!"
Loki grinned. "Then show me."
They reached the field—a patch of grass between two rows of houses, with makeshift goals marked by bags and stones.
Loki kicked a ball to Isagi. It came fast, much faster than Isagi was used to.
Isagi tried to trap it, but the ball bounced off his foot and rolled away.
"Ah..." Isagi chased after it, retrieving it with a sheepish expression.
Loki jogged over. "You need to cushion it. Soft touch. Like this."
He demonstrated, gently trapping the ball with the inside of his foot and bringing it to a dead stop in one fluid motion.
Isagi's eyes widened. "So smooth!"
Loki grinned. "Your turn."
They spent the next hour practicing. Loki taught Isagi how to control the ball, how to change direction quickly, how to shoot with power and accuracy.
But every time they did a drill that involved running, Loki would zip past Isagi like a gust of wind, leaving the younger boy gaping.
"You're so fast!" Isagi complained, his face scrunched in a pout. His little sprouts of hair drooped with disappointment.
Loki laughed, jogging back to him. "I told you. Speed is everything."
"It's too fast!" Isagi whined. "Super duper fast! I can't catch you!"
He crossed his arms, his pout deepening. It was utterly adorable.
Loki felt something warm bloom in his chest. "Okay, okay. I'll go slower."
From the sidelines, Hugo watched.
He had been observing the entire session, sitting on a low wall with his arms crossed. His expression was carefully neutral, but inside, a storm was brewing.
Look at them, he thought bitterly. Laughing together. Playing together. And that pout... Isagi never pouts at me like that...
He watched as Loki gently corrected Isagi's shooting stance, his hands on Isagi's shoulders, guiding him.
He's touching him again.
Hugo stood up abruptly.
"I'll teach him," he announced, walking onto the field.
Loki looked up, surprised. "What?"
Hugo moved to stand beside Isagi. "You're going too fast. Your style is all about speed, but Isagi needs to learn control first. I'll teach him."
Isagi looked up at Hugo, confused but curious.
Loki's eyes narrowed. "I was doing just fine."
"Were you?" Hugo's tone was mild, but there was an edge to it. "He still can't trap a fast ball."
"That takes practice," Loki countered. "He's improving."
"He'd improve faster with proper technique."
Isagi, sensing the tension, stepped between them. "Um..."
Both boys looked down at him.
"Can... both teach?" Isagi asked hesitantly, using his limited French. "Hugo teach control. Loki teach speed. Both!"
He looked up at them with hopeful blue eyes.
There was a long pause.
Then Loki laughed. "Fine. Team teaching."
Hugo reluctantly nodded. "Fine."
For the next hour, they took turns. Hugo worked with Isagi on ball control—soft touches, trapping, turning with the ball. His teaching style was patient and methodical, his hands gentle as he adjusted Isagi's posture.
Loki worked on speed—short sprints, explosive starts, changing pace. His style was energetic and encouraging, cheering loudly when Isagi managed to beat his previous time.
By the end, Isagi was exhausted but exhilarated. His face was flushed with exertion, his clothes grass-stained and sweaty, but his smile was radiant.
"Again! Again!" he demanded, bouncing on his heels.
"Later," Hugo said, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe Isagi's forehead. "You need rest."
Loki produced a small pouch. "I have ice cream money. Let's go."
Isagi's eyes went as wide as saucers. "Ice cream?!"
They walked to a small ice cream stand near the park. Isagi bounced between Hugo and Loki, his energy seemingly endless despite the hours of football.
"Choose," Loki said, gesturing to the flavors.
Isagi stared at the display, overwhelmed by the choices. His finger hovered over one, then another, then another.
Hugo watched his indecision with fond exasperation. "The strawberry is good."
"The chocolate is better," Loki countered.
Isagi looked between them, then at the display. Finally, he pointed decisively. "Vanilla!"
Both older boys blinked.
"Vanilla?" Hugo repeated.
"It's safe," Isagi said wisely. "You can't go wrong with vanilla."
Hugo and Loki exchanged glances, then both laughed.
They got their ice creams—strawberry for Hugo, chocolate for Loki, and vanilla for Isagi—and sat on a bench overlooking a small pond.
Isagi ate his ice cream with enthusiasm, getting it all over his face in the process. Vanilla smeared across his cheeks, his nose, even a dab on his forehead.
"You're a mess," Hugo said, though his voice was fond.
He reached out with a napkin to clean Isagi's face, but before he could—
Loki leaned in.
His tongue darted out, licking a smear of vanilla ice cream off Isagi's cheek.
Isagi froze.
His entire face turned the color of a ripe tomato.
"Mm," Loki said, leaning back with a thoughtful expression. "Vanilla is good after all."
"I—you—he—" Isagi stammered, his brain short-circuiting.
Loki grinned, his golden eyes sparkling with mischief. "You had ice cream on your cheek. I was just helping."
"You could have used a napkin!" Isagi squeaked, his voice cracking.
"But this was faster."
Hugo, who had been sitting frozen with a napkin in his hand, was seeing red.
He...
He licked him.
He licked Isagi's face.
His grip on his ice cream cone tightened.
First the kiss, now this. What's next? Is he going to propose?
His strawberry ice cream, forgotten in his hand, began to melt. The pink liquid dripped down the cone, pooling around his fingers.
This is fine, Hugo told himself, his smile fixed and terrifying. Everything is fine.
Beside him, Loki watched Hugo's expression with barely concealed amusement.
Oh, he's angry, Loki thought, thoroughly entertained. Very, very angry.
Isagi, still blushing furiously, had buried his face in his hands. "This is not how I imagined my first week in France going..." he mumbled in Japanese.
Hugo's hand tightened.
Crunch.
The sound of breaking wafer filled the air.
Isagi looked up to find Hugo's ice cream cone shattered in his grip, ice cream oozing between his fingers.
"Hugo...?" Isagi asked, concerned. "Your ice cream..."
Hugo looked down at the ruined cone in his hand, then back up at Isagi. His expression was perfectly calm, his voice steady.
"It's fine. I wasn't hungry anyway."
Beside him, Loki snorted, barely containing his laughter.
Isagi looked between the two of them, completely bewildered.
French people are so strange, he thought, deciding to focus on his own ice cream before anything else could happen.
Loki, still grinning, reached out and ruffled Isagi's hair. "You're fun, petit. We should play again tomorrow."
Isagi's face lit up. "Really?!"
"Really," Loki confirmed, ignoring the death glare Hugo was sending his way.
Hugo pulled out another napkin and began wiping Isagi's face—this time before Loki could get any ideas.
"You have ice cream on your forehead," Hugo said stiffly. "How did you get ice cream on your forehead?"
Isagi giggled. "I don't know! It just happened!"
Hugo's expression softened despite himself. "You're hopeless."
"Hopeless?" Isagi repeated, not understanding the word.
Hugo shook his head, a small smile finally breaking through his irritation. "Never mind. Just... stay still."
He carefully wiped the remaining ice cream from Isagi's face, his touch gentle despite his earlier frustration.
Loki watched the scene, leaning back on the bench with his arms crossed behind his head.
This is going to be interesting, he thought, a competitive fire lighting in his golden eyes.
Hugo has good taste.
He glanced at Isagi's bright smile, at the way the afternoon sun caught in his blue eyes and made his hair shine.
But I don't lose.
That evening, Isagi went home with a full stomach, tired legs, and a heart full of happiness.
He had two friends now.
Two very strange, very pretty, very competitive friends.
As he lay in bed that night, hugging his Noa doll, he replayed the day's events in his mind. He liked both of them they always treated him with softness and care.
His face grew warm again.
France is weird, he thought, burying his face in his pillow.
But... I like it.
Outside his window, the French stars twinkled in the night sky, and somewhere in the houses nearby, two boys lay in their own beds, thinking of a certain blue-haired sprout who had turned their world upside down.
And in the morning, they would all meet again, and play even more soccer!
Also it seems that french people tend to be very touchy and intimate. Isagi wonders if that is the culture here..
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Loki is such an opportunist...
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