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hot

The sun hung high in the sky, beating down with its relentless summer heat, but the wind carried a cool breeze that made their run bearable—pleasant, even. Birdsong filled the air, and the rustling of leaves rushed by them as they ran beneath the trees, dappled sunlight flickering across their path. Day felt the familiar burn in his legs as he pounded the pavement in a steady rhythm, and he leaned into it, relishing the feeling. His lungs expanded with each deep, steady breath, carrying in the scent of grass and sun-warmed earth. It felt good. Alive.

Nolan pulled ahead, his long strides effortless as he loped along. Glancing back, he shot Day a teasing grin, eyes glinting in challenge. “Eat my dust, sunshine,” he called over his shoulder. Oh, it’s so on! Day gritted his teeth and surged forward, pushing himself harder.

When they finally slowed to a stop by a park bench, they were both panting and flushed from exertion. Nolan groaned, bracing his hands on his knees. He sucked in deep breaths before straightening with a huff.

“You kept up better than I thought you would,” Nolan panted, hands on his hips. “I underestimated you.”

“Hah, you overestimate yourself,” Day shot back, breathless, grinning at Nolan.

Nolan scoffed. “And yet, here you are, still trailing behind me like a lost puppy.” He grabbed the hem of his singlet, flapping it against his skin. “Shit, it’s hot.” Before Day could respond, Nolan reached back and peeled off his soaked singlet in one smooth motion.

Day’s brain stuttered. Whatever comeback he had fizzled out before it even reached his tongue.

Nolan was…built. Not in an over-the-top, showy way, but lean and honed—the kind of muscle that came from practical, consistent effort. He vaguely remembered Nolan saying something about being a swimming coach. His chest was broad, his stomach taut, and his obliques dipped sharply down his hips, sliding past his waistband. A light sheen of sweat covered his skin, catching the light, tracing over the definitions of his toned frame.

Day didn’t intend to stare. And yet.

Nolan grabbed his water bottle and tipped it back, guzzling it down with obvious satisfaction. Day tracked the movement of his throat, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed with each swallow, following the bead of sweat that slid down the curve of his neck and onto his heaving chest.

Day’s mouth was suddenly dry.

“Fuck, yeah,” Nolan exhaled loudly, swiping the back of his hand across his mouth. “Nothing better than ice cold water after a run, huh, Day?”

Day snapped out of his reverie so violently he almost tripped over his own feet. He hastily wrenched his gaze away, directing his attention to his shoelaces which were of sudden great import to him.

“Y-yeah! Totally” he agreed shakily, his face burning. He crouched down, fingers fumbling with his shoe like he’d forgotten how knots worked. God, was he just leering at Nolan? What the heck was he doing?

Before he could spiral any further, something cold nudged against his knee. He jolted, glancing up only to find Nolan holding out another water bottle, brows raised in mild amusement.

"Go on, have a drink,” Nolan said. “You must be thirsty. We really ran a ton."

Day took the water, avoiding his eyes. “Thanks,” he mumbled, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip, ignoring how his hands felt slightly unsteady.

Meanwhile, Nolan kept talking—something about their pace, about how they’d probably set a personal record with that last sprint. He was completely impervious to Day’s spiralling.

Day made a noise of assent and took another gulp of water, hoping the cold would cool off his brain.

Get a grip, get a grip, get a grip.

And then Nolan stretched, arms raised high above his head, abs flexing with the motion.

Day choked on his water.

Nolan glanced at him, leaning in. “You good?”

“Fine! I’m fine!” Day sputtered, his voice an octave too high. He waved Nolan away, avoiding his gaze as he coughed and cleared his throat violently, ignoring the burning sensation in his nose. He did not want Nolan any closer than he already was. “Just uh, went down the wrong pipe,” he croaked, his face still hot.

“Jeez, you’re such a klutz,” Nolan teased, but his tone was warm. “Be careful.” He gave Day’s hair a gentle ruffle.

“Yep, that’s me,” Day agreed weakly before taking another careful sip of water.

Fuck.

As Nolan returned to cooling himself, Day stared hard down at his shoes, cheeks burning. His heart was pounding a mile a minute, and not because of the run. It wasn’t fair. He was trying desperately not to slip back into those thoughts. Not again.

Why did he have to be so hot?

#rei writes #noday #noday v2 #this could honestly work in v1 too though it's meant to be v2 #Nolan's definitely not that muscled in his teenage days though #Day has always had the hots for Nolan #try as he might to deny it #He really #really doesn't want to be attracted to Nolan after their history #but he can't help himself. All his careful curation of thoughts destroyed by the flash of abs.

hot