Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Eijun is aware Okumura doesn't really like him all that much. Sure, the first-year respects his skill as a pitcher, but other than that, the only things Eijun gets from him are glares and sharp criticism on his behavior. It's not always pleasant, but since that's just how Okumura is, Eijun's not really complaining. He still has it better than Miyuki.

Okumura really can't stand him. It's hilarious, really, because Eijun knows just how infuriating Miyuki can be to people — his snide remarks, his shit-eating grin, his devil-may-care attitude — and yet it's obvious that those aren't really the problems Okumura has with him. For one thing, Miyuki is considerably less shitty to these first-years than he was to Eijun himself when he joined. All that captaincy has made him just that much more tolerable, even if not always civil. 

Still, the way Okumura growls whenever Miyuki talks to him has Eijun wondering if something has happened between the two of them that the team's gossip system somehow failed to catch. Miyuki insists he said nothing that could've prompted such a visceral reaction, but Eijun knows how thoughtless he can be sometimes. He's been hurt by his actions more than once in the past. 

"Why do you think it's me who's done something wrong, huh?" Miyuki says, when Eijun brings up the issue with him. "Isn't he just naturally grumpy?"

"Yes, but you're the only one he's so hostile to."

"Who cares, it's not like he's violent about it. Let it go."

Eijun does, but only because he can see Miyuki's about to start sulking. They're hanging out just the two of them — a new addition to their respective routines — and if Miyuki is going to pout and act all disagreeable, the evening will be wasted. They can gossip about Okumura some other time. It's more fun to do that in front of his face anyway.

He keeps quiet for a couple of minutes, thumbing through yet another book Miyuki has assigned the pitching staff to read. It's not half bad, Eijun expected it to be drier, less exciting. Still, right now, it's kind of hard to focus. Miyuki sits right next to where he's sprawled on the floor, going through the scorebook. Eijun's eyes keep straying to him as he waits. Any moment now.

Miyuki sighs, closing the notebook and putting it to the side. He raises his head to the ceiling and closes his eyes as if in prayer. Eijun says nothing. He waits.

"So annoying," Miyuki murmurs, finally leaning forward, hand braced on the floor.

Eijun doesn't even pretend he wasn't watching him, holds his breath when strong fingers reach for his jaw. Miyuki's mouth covers his in one smooth motion, and Eijun smiles into the kiss, already raising on his elbows in an attempt to be closer. 

They've been doing it for a couple of weeks now — making out whenever an opportunity presents itself. He isn't sure what prompted the first time they did it: they were bickering, Miyuki said something teasing, and then, inexplicably, Eijun was kissing him. Upon realizing what he had done he pulled away but Miyuki reached for him right back. It was like a hurricane, that kiss. Eijun had to cling for balance onto the catcher’s body, his knees weak. The strength of Miyuki’s arms around him felt intoxicating.

And now it’s a thing. That they do. Regularly.

Eijun sort of wants to talk about it. But Miyuki might want to stop then, so he doesn't. 

Now he climbs into the catcher's lap, takes the glasses off his nose, then licks into his mouth, bold, greedy. Miyuki lets out a barely there breath, hot between their faces, and puts his hands on Eijun's thighs. They have about fifteen minutes until Okumura comes back from the baths. The third roommate, Kimura, is off doing laundry or something, so he won't be seen for at least another hour or so.

Eijun whines quietly when Miyuki pulls away to mouth at the soft skin beneath his ear. It will be bad if he gets hard now. Still, he tilts his head, giving Miyuki more access, sliding fingers into his hair. This isn't what he envisioned for his first romantic experience. He's not even sure one could call this a romantic experience, to be honest. But it feels nice, it feels euphoric, so maybe fuck whatever it was he used to imagine. That's obviously not what's happening now, he can get over it.

Miyuki’s hold on him is steady, hands sliding over his back. Eijun likes when they kiss like this, bodies slotted together, chest to chest. It makes him wonder if their hearts are beating in sync, the same way their mouths move against each other, tongues sliding together as if in a well-rehearsed dance. It makes sense that they're good at this. Aren't they partners?

It's that thought that makes Eijun halt, lips hovering over Miyuki's, their breaths uneven and hot. 

“Everything okay?”

He nods, their noses brushing as he does so. It's useless to think about it anyway. Miyuki does what he wants, always. And if he wants them to be this now, undefined and sneaking around, then what is there to do but submit? God knows, Eijun won't ever say no to him. 

So he dives back in, he kisses Miyuki again, until his head spins, until they have to part to settle themselves, not looking at each other because if they did, they'd be at it again. 

When Okumura comes back, they're already in different parts of the room — Miyuki in his chair, probably, trying to hide a boner underneath the desk, and Eijun on the floor once again, pillow in his lap and the book on top of it. They barely made it, and his blood is pumping in his ears. 

"You're here again, Sawamura-senpai."

"What? Is that a problem?"

Okumura grunts, walking past him to his corner of the room. He puts his washing supplies on the shelf, takes the towel off his shoulders and hangs it on the back of his chair. Eijun watches him, still ticked at the remark.

"You have your own room, do you not?" Okumura says finally, his voice calm as ever. "It's a lot to deal with you off practice as well as during it."

"Miyuki-senpai doesn't seem to mind," Eijun replies smugly. "In fact, he enjoys my being here!"

They both turn to Miyuki to either confirm or deny, but he just looks at them, unimpressed. Okumura raises his eyebrows in demand.

"I'm not the one who invited him," Miyuki says finally, which is neither here nor there, but Eijun will take it. 

Okumura says nothing, irritation obvious on his face. He's so adorable, you can't help but make fun of him. Eijun wonders how the guy fares at school. Do his classmates like him? Are they put off by his moodiness? Does he even talk to anyone?

"What?" Okumura snaps.

Eijun realizes he's been staring. He shakes his head, biting back a smile. Leave it to the wolfboy to be distracting enough Eijun forgets to panic about the possibility of being caught making out with the captain of the team.

"I don't like the face you're making."

"Eh?!"

As they fall into the usual bickering routine, Miyuki starts laughing, which in turn makes Okumura even more irritated. Faintly, Eijun notices Kimura open the door to the room, then close it without getting inside. Probably a smart choice. 

The evening ends with Eijun pretending to look for the ice box in which Okumura keeps his heart at night. Seeing that the first-year is about to reach his limit, Miyuki finally kicks Eijun out, fingers briefly brushing the nape of his neck.

It’s not a bad conclusion to the night.

***

"You're even more quiet than usual," Taku says, without raising his eyes from the phone. 

Koushuu says nothing, just sort of shrugs, head thrown back against the wall, looking at the sky. He's thinking about the flushed look Sawamura had yesterday as he sat on the floor with his book, the swollen shape of Miyuki's mouth, a little red, and the faint feeling of something Koushuu had as soon as he entered the room. He can't quite put a finger on it but it's there. The suspicion.

His fingers tighten around the scorebook he took from Miyuki's desk this morning. The same one that was lying on the floor yesterday, half a room away from the captain. 

"Don't you think Sawamura-senpai and Miyuki-senpai are awfully close?"

"You mean, like Toujou-senpai and Kanemaru-senpai are close?"

"What?" He turns to look at his friend, taken aback at the implication. "Do you mean—"

"I'm not sure. Maybe. There's like ... a vibe about them, you know?"

"A vibe," Koushuu repeats, his mind working. It's a bit complicated to assess anything when it comes to Miyuki and Sawamura. Whenever either one of them is in the vicinity, he has the urge to chew through his catcher's glove. A very normal reaction to very abnormal stimulants.

Taku gives him a look, then puts his phone away with an exaggerated sigh. Koushuu must’ve been growling again.

“I know it’s useless to tell you to stop antagonizing the captain, but could you at least try and be a little friendlier to Sawamura-senpai?”

“He’s getting on my nerves. How can anyone act the way he does? Is it not embarrassing to let everyone know what’s going on in your head at all times?” 

The expression on Taku’s face is not that of understanding, but rather amusement. It makes Koushuu bristle, and then the bastard laughs . As if Sawamura setting his teeth on edge is a joke of some kind. “You just have different personalities, that’s all. Give it time. You still want to catch for him, don’t you?”

He does, which is the problem. Despite Sawamura’s obnoxious personality, Koushuu is fascinated by him, unable to let go of the idea of them forming a battery together. Sometimes he watches Sawamura on the mound and it's like something in his chest twinges, an alarm going off in his body, responding physically to the presence. It’s … unsettling. 

Taku pats him on the shoulder, still smiling. “At least that’s a change from you going on and on about Miyuki-senpai.”

Koushuu pushes him off the bench. 

The remark sticks with him throughout the day. It’s not the first time this has happened. Taku keeps insinuating that he has a crush on Miyuki, which is ridiculous to say the least. Where did he even get the idea? Koushuu has never once implied that he’s attracted to the other catcher. Yes, he’s obsessed with Miyuki's skills but that's nothing. They're baseball players, this is normal. Taku's just being a dick. 

It's because of him that Koushuu needs some alone time after classes. He walks around the small park area behind the main building, looking for a place to sit and reconnect with nature. It would have been better to go swing his bat or rewatch Seido’s last scrimmage, but he just needs some time away from everyone and he won't get that there. 

Ironically, that's where he runs into Miyuki, talking to some girl. They're standing in a small circle of trees, secluded enough that Koushuu suddenly has thought he almost walked in on his captain making out. 

“It's very flattering,” he hears Miyuki say, “but I'm already taken. They're the person I'm meeting here.”

Oh, fuck. Fuck no. Why.

Koushuu is about to make a run for it, when Miyuki sees him and then so does the girl. There's a long moment of silence during which he contemplates killing himself out of sheer embarrassment. Then the girl lets out a soft “oh” and takes a step back from Miyuki. “I didn't know you were— I’m… gonna— uh.”

Then she walks right by Koushuu and she's crying and this is so not what reconnecting with nature should be like. Miyuki just stands there, a pained expression on his face. Koushuu mutters out an apology, bowing awkwardly for some reason, and promptly walks away. 

Miyuki's words echo in his head. I'm already taken. There's glass breaking somewhere in the metaphorical halls of Koushuu's mind. Miyuki Kazuya, suddenly not just an ideal he's trying to beat. A person. Taken. Meeting girls in secluded places. Huh.

He's so preoccupied with the concept he almost runs into someone on his way out of the park. When he raises his eyes, yet another apology on his tongue, he's surprised to see Sawamura, holding the girl from earlier as she cries into his shoulder. Koushuu vaguely remembers that the two are from the same class. He's probably heard her talk about Sawamura in the stands back in the spring. Now all he can think of is no fucking way .

As if hearing his thoughts, she looks up and, upon seeing him, cries even harder. Sawamura, tactful for once, shoos him away, murmuring something to her. Shifting his fast pace to an actual run, Koushuu contemplates just going to bed and staying there for the rest of the day.

He says nothing to Taku as they walk to evening practice later. When Asada asks him something, he is unable to answer, having not heard the question. Absent-mindedly, he agrees to catch for Kuki after dinner, hoping it might distract him. 

But even as there are balls flying into his mitt with varying levels of success, all Koushuu can focus on is the thought of Miyuki Kazuya having a romantic partner. The guy is a captain of one of the top high school baseball teams in Japan. He’s constantly surrounded by pitchers or swinging a bat somewhere. How did he manage to find time for a relationship?

Koushuu tries to picture Miyuki kissing someone. The way his glasses would smush into his face, the flex of his arms as he’d press another person into his chest, the soft chuckle between their mouths, because of course he’d be chuckling. It's at that moment, as Koushuu feels his breath grow uneven, that he thinks that maybe, just maybe, Taku is onto something. 

***

Kazuya is pretty used to being the center of attention at this point. Even before he was captain of the baseball team, he was still a valuable presence on the field, and people knew that. Today is different, though. He can't quite figure it out, but he catches these stares on himself. It gives him the creeps. 

“Did you murder someone in public?” Kuramochi asks him between classes. “Why is everyone being so weird around you?”

“I wish I knew.” Kazuya turns his head and sees at least three people suddenly changing their postures. “None of them would come up and say anything though.”

As if on cue, a girl walks up to his desk, her expression nervous and shy. Akari-san , Kazuya remembers. They were once stuck doing cleaning duty together. “Miyuki-kun,” she says and he is suddenly scared it's another confession. “I just wanted to tell you that it's okay. If anyone says bad things about you, don't listen!”

Kazuya usually doesn't, but now he's curious. He and Kuramochi exchange confused gazes. “What is okay?”

“That you're dating that first-year! You know, my sister is in the same class as him, and he's actually considered really attractive by everyone.” It still doesn't click, but neither is Akari done talking. “You know, it really sucks that Fujihara told everyone about you two, but I guess, she's really upset you rejected her.” 

As the penny drops, Kazuya can feel his jaw slacken in shock. Yesterday's memories come flooding in: the girl’s hopeful gaze as she followed him out of the school building, having waited until his classes were over, his own urgency to get rid of her as they reached the hiding spot he’s chosen to meet up with Sawamura, and then, out of nowhere, Okumura. The person I'm meeting here , he said. Of course, she'd have the wrong idea. 

“You're dating someone?” Kuramochi asks, while Kazuya is trying to come up with a damage control strategy. “And a first-year, at that?”

“His name is Okumura!” Akari supplies joyfully. “It's weird that you, of all people, are out of the loop, Kuramochi-kun.”

Kuramochi stares at her for a moment, and then bursts out laughing. Out of the corner of his eye, Kazuya can see people flinch at the sound. They must've been eavesdropping. 

“There's— ah. There's no way,” Kuramochi breathes out, as he wipes the tears off his face, “that Miyuki is dating anyone. Let alone Okumura.”

“MIYUKI-SENPAI!” Sawamura crashes through the doorway to the classroom, his eyes wild. Kazuya closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. Should've seen this one coming, really. 

As the whole class stares at him, Sawamura strides to his desk and then drags Kazuya outside, into the hallway and up the stairs. The door to the roof is supposed to be closed for safety reasons, but generations of stressful teenagers keep breaking the lock. Sawamura says nothing the whole way up, and Kazuya begins to wonder whether this is about to be a jealousy triggered makeout session. But then they come out to the roof, and Okumura is there, pacing back and forth. Kazuya is just a little bit disappointed.

“Right. Okay.” Sawamura finally lets go of his shirt. “We need to talk.”

“Why does everyone think I'm dating Miyuki-senpai?” Okumura's voice is a little higher than usual, he's obviously panicking. Frankly, Kazuya expected him to be disgusted at the prospect, so that's already an improvement to the situation. 

“Fujihara-san thought I rejected her because of you.” In hindsight, it's pretty funny. This almost makes up for Sawamura not showing up yesterday and then avoiding him until now. 

“But it's— that's—” Okumura looks like he's losing brain cells trying to comprehend the absurdity. His cheeks are turning a cute shade of pink. He turns to Sawamura, exasperated. “Weren’t you with her afterwards?” 

“So?” The pitcher suddenly looks shifty. “She just said he rejected her because he's, eh, taken. How was I supposed to know she meant you? Of course I would've told her it can't be true.”

Okumura throws hands into the air, a gesture that looks weird on him. Frustration doesn't suit his cold aura. It looks almost comical, like he’s an actor on stage.

“Okay, so. Why are we here?” Kazuya asks, finally. “Can't I just say she lied? It's more believable than the fact that I'm dating someone.”

“Actually everyone thinks it makes sense because he's a fellow baseball player as well,” Sawamura mutters. 

“But you were waiting for someone, weren't you? I heard you say it.” At least Okumura has the sense to look embarrassed at having witnessed the scene. He has stopped pacing now, biting his lower lip as he wrings his hands. The wind is tossing his hair every which way. He really does look like a wolf , Kazuya thinks.

“It was just an excuse,” he makes an effort not to look at Sawamura as he says that. There's no way whatever is going on between them can handle the entire school, scratch that, the baseball team gossiping about them. “I didn't want to make it awkward for her.” 

“Well, saying she lied would make it much worse now.” 

“You could… just pretend,” Sawamura says suddenly. Somehow, to Kazuya, that sounds even more stupid than the idea of him and Okumura actually dating. The first-year obviously feels the same way, judging by the deadpan look on his face. “They'll make so much fun of her if they think she was just trying to protect her dignity.”

“You’re kidding, right? Please tell me you're kidding.” Okumura might actually quit the team because of this. He sounds so done with this situation, it wouldn't be surprising if he did. “I don't care if she feels awkward! Me pretending to date Miyuki-senpai is worse.”

Kazuya is almost offended. “Well, frankly, I'm less of an asshole if we do fake it.”

“So you're fine with it?” Sawamura asks, surprised despite the fact that it was his idea in the first place.

“I mean, it's stupid but if it's better for her, then why not.” Kazuya scratches his head and then winces as he remembers the girl's tear-stained cheeks. “I do feel bad whenever I have to reject someone.”

They both look at Okumura, who's standing alarmingly close to the edge of the roof. Sawamura takes a few careful steps towards him, sending a quick glance to Kazuya. Before either of them can say anything though, Okumura turns around, face determined. When his crystal blue eyes meet Kazuya's, there's something new in them. Not unlike the usual challenge, but also, somehow, curious. 

“Alright,” Okumura says, his voice even. 

There is a haunted look on Sawamura’s face that Kazuya doesn’t quite know how to read. It makes him want to go over and take his hand. He doesn’t, of course, just nods to him as if they’re striking a deal of some kind.  

It is a deal, in a way. Kazuya just isn’t sure what the terms are.

Chapter Text

Eijun has been called stupid plenty of times in his life. More than that, he has thought that of himself more than once, too. But what he's done today should probably be considered a new low, even for him. 

When Fujihara explained what happened, shaking with sobs, he was, frankly, at a loss. Some part of him was elated at the thought of Miyuki saying he was taken. Did he mean Eijun? Were they in a relationship after all? The questions tore at him, even as he held the poor girl in his arms. At the same time, he felt guilty. There he was, on his way to yet another makeout session, while his classmate was getting her heart broken by the same guy Eijun was so keen on kissing. Again, seems stupid to feel that way, sure. But you can't help your feelings, you can only experience them.

After the conversation on the roof, all Eijun can think about is why he even got involved in the first place. Was it pity for the girl? Was it hope that Miyuki might come out and tell everyone it's Eijun he's dating? Was it fear of the same thing? 

It's not really a secret that he has a crush on the captain. Like, sure, he doesn't go around, shouting it from the rooftops, but the team knows . The only one who missed the memo was Miyuki himself, which is both a relief and a torture. At least if Eijun got rejected outright, he'd be able to move on. Instead he gets to make out with the object of his dreams and constantly second guess every shred of attention he receives. Great choice, yes, he knows. His brain was taking a vacation and his dick was in charge, sue him.

He spends most of the day either thinking about Miyuki or looking at Fujihara's puffy eyes. Something about seeing her heartbroken and upset makes Eijun feel not quite sympathetic but rather alarmed. He’s not really sure what it is, but it makes him deeply uncomfortable. Luckily, Fujihara, oblivious to the effort he’s put into saving her a lot of trouble, seems to have forgotten about him altogether, what with her friends fluttering around her non-stop. 

“Did you know they were dating?” Furuya asks him on the way back to the dorms.

“Please, the captain never tells us anything, and Okumura basically can’t stand me.” 

“Fair.” And that’s the end of that. It’s weird that Eijun feels so involved in the whole thing and yet he’s not a part of it whatsoever. Except for the part where he is the one Miyuki was waiting for in the stupid park.

They didn’t have a chance to talk after the roof and at this point Eijun isn’t sure there’s a point. It’s not like Miyuki and Okumura are actually going to do stuff anyway. In the meantime he and the captain can keep up the … kissing. Shouldn’t be much of a problem, right?

The team’s reaction is very predictable: they swarm both catchers in the cafeteria, bombarding them with questions and jokes. Okumura endures in stony silence, ignoring everyone, even though it's obvious he's uncomfortable. Miyuki, as he's wont to do, takes everything in stride, like the gossip is a compliment, and maybe it is. Everyone knows Okumura hates him, and the fact that he got the first year to actually date him is considered an achievement of sorts. Now he almost looks smug.

“Better be careful, Kimura,” someone shouts. “You might walk in on something nasty!”

“Bold of you to assume he’s the only one in danger,” Miyuki shrugs. 

“Right, didn’t she catch you two in the school courtyard?”

“Gross!”

“Way to go, Okumura!”

Eijun tries to divert the attention as best as he can, desperately so. He scolds the captain for being irresponsible, then tries to nudge everyone away from the first years’ table (poor Asada is barely breathing as he’s jostled around). People accuse him of being jealous, of acting obnoxious, but Okumura looks less stressed now that Eijun has taken over the brunt of it by acting as the team’s punching bag and Miyuki simply slips away at some point. That’s what you call a success.

Haruichi gives Eijun a knowing look but says nothing. He won’t get involved. Eijun doubts anyone would, even if they did suspect something was wrong. Usually it doesn’t bother him. Today it makes him feel rejected and lonely. 

This is what happens when your life stops revolving around baseball. 

Which is why Eijun ends up doing towel drills after dinner. Alone, in the dark, where no one can bother or distract him. It’s therapeutic, really. He keeps each movement precise and powerful, his body relaxed, fingers tight around the towel. In front of him is an image of Miyuki’s crouching form. Eijun dreams of it sometimes: far away from him, unreachable because of a black chasm between them. His throws never make it home. 

The thought makes him tense and the swing goes wild. Eijun throws the towel down in frustration. 

“Sawamura-senpai?”

He jumps in place, startled by the sudden noise, and then slips on the grass, landing straight onto his ass. As if the day couldn’t get any worse. When Eijun looks up, it’s Okumura standing there. His face is neutral, no shade of apology in the expression. 

“You scared the crap out of me!”

“You should be more aware of your surroundings,” Okumura counters, nonetheless offering him his hand. Eijun takes it, letting the guy pull him up.

“Well, you shouldn’t creep up on people!”

Okumura says nothing, just watches him, blue eyes luminous even in the dark. Then he bends down to pick up the towel and shakes it to get off any possible dirt. “What were you doing?” 

“Something the coach showed me during my first year,” Eijun explains. “It’s supposed to help me maintain my form as I pitch. I’ve been too focused on the way I grip the baseball.”

“Huh. Show me.”

Eijun does, a little self-conscious under Okumura’s intense gaze. It doesn’t come off the right way, for some reason, so he swings it again. It feels better the second time.

“You're tense.”

“That's because you ruined my concentration!”

“Didn't look like you were concentrating much, what with all the towel throwing.”

“Why are you here?” Eijun snaps, irritation itching at his composure. Okumura and his inscrutable motives. It's impossible to figure him out. 

“Miyuki-senpai canceled today's class. Too much excitement.”

“So you're what? Just walking around?”

Okumura shrugs, eyes dropping to the ground. Eijun wonders if it feels awkward living in the same room as Miyuki after what's happened today. Did they at least talk about it? Work out a strategy? 

“Why did you suggest it?” Okumura asks suddenly, his face half-hidden by white hair, half-obscured by the blue shadows of the sun fallen behind the horizon. “Are you and the girl that close?”

“I don't have to be close to a person to sympathize with them.” Eijun frowns at the implication. He doesn't like searching for reasons to be kind. He just is. “Have you ever had your heart broken, Wolfboy?”

Okumura thinks about it, which probably means that he hasn't. Eijun doesn't begrudge him the soul-searching though. After a moment, the first year shakes his head, then adds: “Not in the way you mean. It was baseball-related.”

Of course it was. 

“Well, neither have I.” Eijun shrugs, looking away, searching the darkness around them for something. “But I looked at her, and it seemed” like a premonition “as if the world was breaking under her feet.” He turns to meet the ice-blue gaze. “Baseball is always bigger than just one player. But when you get your heart broken, you're on your own.”

The look on Okumura's face is the same he had when Eijun quoted Miyuki’s words about catcher-pitcher relationship to him. Like he didn't expect Eijun to have such depth. It’s gratifying to see this surprise, to let Okumura know his derision for him is misplaced.

“Come on. Since you have all this free time, you can catch for me.” 

The evening slips away in almost successful pitches and passive-agressive exchanges. For some reason, Eijun feels comforted by that, so much so that he’s grinning by the end of it. Okumura doesn’t return the sentiment and looks away quickly, as if hurt by the sight. 

For some reason, Eijun isn’t offended by it just this once.

***

Koushuu is in over his head. He’s been stared at enough even before this whole thing. It didn’t feel that violating though. Now it’s like something vital about him is exposed. At least no one in his class feels comfortable enough to actually try and talk to him about everything. 

He considers going over to Taku’s classroom and dragging him away from the school hallways during lunch, when none other than Miyuki shows up at his desk. He’s completely relaxed, his face casual, even as the whispers around them grow shameless. Koushuu is dumbfounded, unable to say anything. 

“Let’s go have lunch.” Miyuki raises his hand, showing him a paper bag with, presumably, food inside it. “Did you forget?”

It’s a nice touch, the question. Someone giggles at the implication of them having a standing lunch date. Koushuu can feel his shackles rising, but he says nothing, opting for a simple nod. He stands and gestures for Miyuki to lead the way. 

People stare as they walk by. It’s not even because they’re both guys, at least, Koushuu doesn’t feel like it is. The drama of it all seems to be the main thing that attracts everyone’s attention. He watches Miyuki walk through all that as if he was born for it. Maybe that’s what it’s like to be the star catcher-captain of a baseball team like Seido. You learn to roll with the punches. Koushuu can’t imagine himself doing the same, and it frustrates him.

They go to the roof again. This time they aren’t alone: there’s a lonely kid, sitting with a bento box in his lap, and a noisy group of third-years, one of whom nods at Miyuki in greeting. It’s frankly concerning that they’re all allowed to hang out here. 

They sit on the floor, their backs to the maintenance booth. Koushuu is very aware of the distance between their shoulders. It’s both too big for two people who are supposed to have lunch together and not enough for him to feel normal. 

“I don’t bite, you know,” Miyuki says, unwrapping his paper bag. “You don’t have to sit so far away. It’s suspicious.”

Koushuu rolls his eyes, but moves a little closer. Miyuki offers him a wrapped onigiri and, for a moment, he just looks at it. He didn’t expect to actually have lunch now and with this unexpected company it feels like if he eats anything, it will just go back out. 

Finally, Miyuki sighs and just pushes the onigiri into his hands. 

“Relax, I won’t poison you. We’re boyfriends, remember?” Koushuu tries not to flinch at the word but judging by Miyuki’s chuckle it’s all in vain. 

“Why did you want to eat together? It’s not like we really have to put up a show, they’ll think what they want either way.”

“I just thought you’d want a break from everyone staring at you.”

It’s very considerate of Miyuki to care, uncharacteristic even. Koushuu hasn’t been around for that long but he never thought of the captain as the kind-hearted type. Reliable on the field, sure. Not this, though. 

He can’t bring himself to say thank you. 

“Heard you and Sawamura practiced together yesterday.” It might be Koushuu’s imagination but Miyuki almost sounds careful as he says that. “Are you getting used to his pitches?”

“There are too many variables.” It’s a pain in the ass. It’s also fucking fun. He doesn’t mention any of it. Not to this person. “Sometimes he just gets too excited and the pitch doesn’t work.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Sawamura, alright.” When Miyuki laughs, there’s no mockery in it, just fondness. “At least he’s always on brand.”

Koushuu feels it like a jab, another reminder that Miyuki is better, than he’s been at it longer, that Sawamura trusts him with all his volatile throws. He tears the wrapper on his onigiri and sinks his teeth into the rice. 

“Pipe down with the aura, will you,” Miyuki chides. “I’m not sure what you have against me, but if we’re to make this relationship believable, you have to stop acting like I’m your enemy.”

“Why are you even entertaining this? Do you really care if people think you’re a jerk?”

Miyuki doesn’t answer him, his mouth full. Koushuu watches him take out a bottle of juice and take a sip. It’s unclear whether he’s taking his time while coming up with an excuse or simply a very slow chewer. 

“I don’t, actually,” Miyuki says finally. “To be honest, I just thought it’d make it easier on me if everyone thought I was in a relationship. I get a lot of confessions, and it’s tiring.”

“Huh.” Makes sense, honestly. Even the people in Koushuu’s class talk about the baseball team’s hot captain.

“Don’t you have to deal with it yet?”

“Why would I?”

“I mean, um.” Miyuki gestures at him vaguely. “You’re attractive. And your looks are unconventional in a flattering way.” Koushuu, to his horror, feels himself blush at the simple casualness with which the words are dropped in his lap. 

“That’s not—”

“Ask Kominato. He’ll tell you what it’s like. Just wait until your first official game.” There it is, the sadistic gleam in Miyuki’s eyes. 

“They’ll learn to back off,” Koushuu scoffs. 

“Well, now that you’re dating the team captain, they definitely will.” Ugh, he’s probably right. “Why did you agree to this, anyway?”

Because he wanted to prove to himself what he felt was some twisted admiration. Because Taku got into his head and so did Miyuki, with his smirks and his captainly concern, always tripping Koushuu into the same feeling of inadequacy. Because now that Miyuki suddenly appears to him as more than a rival to beat, he needs to see what he’s all about, this person worthy of leading pitchers like Sawamura and Furuya. 

“It would’ve been more of a burden to explain everything. Too dramatic.”

Miyuki doesn’t look like he believes him. Koushuu continues to eat his onigiri. When he’s offered the juice bottle, the same one Miyuki just drank from, he declines, face red once again. The idea of putting his mouth around the same place the other catcher did is almost enough to make him choke on his food.

He ends up walking Miyuki back, mostly because the third-years are on the floor closest to the roof rather than out of politeness. Kuramochi sees him through the doorway, raising his eyebrows in surprise. Koushuu pretends he doesn’t notice.

“Thanks for lunch,” Miyuki says to him with a wink. “See you at practice.”

Then he raises his hand to ruffle Koushuu’s hair. It was probably meant to be an affectionate gesture, but it comes off condescending and fake. Koushuu flinches away growling, but Miyuki just laughs. This one thing makes the entire thing look playful, as if they’re flirting. 

It’s not unlike the way he is with Sawamura-senpai , the thought comes uninvited. Koushuu brushes it away. He bows awkwardly and leaves as fast as he can, hoping to erase the entire lunch break from his mind.

That hope is in vain as Taku pries the details out of him as soon as they see each other after school. Apparently Kuki — the snitch — saw him and Miyuki walk out of his classroom. Okumura refused to talk about it before, but now he spills the entire ordeal to his friends, starting from his unfortunate walk-in on the ill-timed confession and down to the hair ruffle. 

Taku has that annoying knowing expression on his face that makes Koushuu want to kick something. Then he makes the mistake of mentioning Sawamura, and the expression turns amused. 

“You really like catching for him, huh?”

“I don’t. Or rather, it’s both.” Taku gives him a look that lets Koushuu know he’s not making any sense. “I mean. It’s enjoyable because of his skill. It’s frustrating because I don’t have enough of my own to help him improve. I’m barely capable enough to catch his pitches.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself.”

“ He could probably do it when he was a first-year,” Koushuu grumbles without even thinking.

“Well, Sawamura-senpai probably didn’t pitch like that when our captain was a first-year.” 

“Taku.” 

“What?”

“Stop trying to be helpful.” Koushuu gets an eyeroll for that, but he also gets peace. Taku being able to clock his every emotion is both a blessing and a burden, and today it’s the latter.

He spends the rest of the day wondering if it’ll be easy to read the state of Sawamura’s pitching during the game as it is to read his moods, usually written on his face. He wants to ask Miyuki about it but then sees him chuckling at something and doesn’t want to be anywhere near him.

This entire thing will drive Koushuu nuts.

***

Sawamura’s avoiding him. 

He’s not even being subtle about it — when Kazuya asks him to stay after the pitching staff meeting, he just babbles some inane excuse about doing his homework and disappears. Neither does he join the usual crowd for the baseball theory lesson in the evening. Later Kimura says he saw the pitcher running with his tire. Kazuya ignores the stab of annoyance. 

They haven’t really talked this week, and it’s surprising how affected he is by that. It’s not like he enjoys Sawamura’s noise that much, unless it’s against his mouth maybe, or when Kazuya can tease him, which is almost always. Either way, the absence of the pitcher in his life is … notable. 

He invites Okumura to lunch once more, just to piss off Kuramochi who has no idea what’s going on but doesn’t believe they’re actually dating. Seto, apparently let in on the secret, joins them on the roof, since he and Okumura were supposed to hang out together. Hanging out with two first-years feels a little weird but then Seto asks a bunch of questions about Kuramochi and Kazuya has a wonderful time spilling embarrassing stories. Okumura interrupts a couple of times, reminding him that the questions were about his abilities as a shortstop. Seto enjoys it both ways.

It’s the funniest thing ever — Okumura’s friend actually likes Kazuya. It’s unclear whether he’s being a kissass or just knows how to have fun. Either way, they’re vibing hard . Okumura is so grouchy about the whole encounter, Kazuya does the same thing he does to all his displeased kouhai s (they’re unlikely to hit him which can’t be said about, let’s say, Kuramochi) and throws an arm around his shoulders. The guy flinches at the sudden contact but doesn’t pull away as if he’s being tested on the endurance of annoying upperclassman behavior. Seto teases them about the PDA and then he and Kazuya both burst into laughter. Okumura looks close enough to push them both off the roof. The expression is priceless. 

Before they part — this time near the stairs — Kazuya, feeling on a roll, squeezes Okumura’s hand and gives him his most obnoxious grin. Next to them, Seto tries to restrain his cackling, looking as if he’s about to pass out. His friend doesn’t seem to share the sentiment as he snatches his hand away, cheeks red. Kazuya sends Okumura another one of his winks before turning to go back to the classroom. 

Someone’s walking out the door, just as he’s about to walk inside, so they crash into each other. Kazuya grabs the person by the shoulders to keep his balance and suddenly, for the first time in days, he’s face to face with Sawamura. He can feel his body reacting instantly to the pitcher’s closeness — a small twist behind his ribcage, a slight hitch in his breath, a barely-there flex of his fingers around the familiar shape of those shoulders.

“I’m sorry, I was just— Oh.” Sawamura finally looks up and sees who he ran into. He shivers, which would be barely noticeable if only Kazuya wasn’t familiar with all his reactions. “I, uh, came to see Kuramochi-senpai.”

“Sure,” breathed out rather than said.

“I need—” a jostle of limbs “—I need to go. Class is about to start.”

Kazuya drops his arms, suddenly aware of everyone watching them. The bell rings, as if summoned by Sawamura’s plea. It feels symbolic somehow and Kazuya feels a weird panic rising in his chest. Before the second-year leaves, Kazuya leans back into his space, nose brushing the shell of his ear: “Play catch with me after practice?”

Sawamura turns, eyes dropping to his mouth. He doesn’t answer, just steps to the side and then speeds into a run to get to his class. 

Kazuya thinks about their interaction for the rest of the day: the warmth of the other’s body against his, the surprised look in Sawamura’s brown eyes, the way he licked his lips after looking at Kazuya’s. The thoughts are a swarm of emotions, they leave him jittery, almost excited. It feels horrible. 

The only thing that distracts him is, as usual, baseball. Something is still off about Furuya’s pitching, and it frustrates Kazuya that he can’t figure it out. He’s being patient, though, hoping the second-year will solve it himself in time. Hopefully, before the team falls apart without an ace to properly lead their plays. Sawamura is two places over, with Kariba catching for him. He's too far for Kazuya to see anything without turning away from Furuya. Maybe that's for the best.

By the time practice is over, the last of his good mood has disappeared. He carefully packs away his catching gear, making a mental note to wash it later. His body isn’t quite tired, it’s dull, his energy not spent but evaporated. 

“I thought we were gonna play catch?”

Kazuya almost forgot, except it's all he's been thinking about for the whole day. He raises his head to see Sawamura standing next to him, pitching glove in hand. His face is blank, but the tense line of his shoulders betrays the nerves.

“How much did you pitch today?”

“About 30, I think.” 

He's lying, Kazuya knows. Kariba always indulges him for a little longer than necessary, unless they have a game coming up. The count is probably closer to 40. 

“Yeah, maybe not today.”

“But you—”

“Come on.” Kazuya stands, not listening to all the complaints. What he did forget is that Thursdays are bullpen days. And the problem didn't occur to him during practice.

Now he leads Sawamura to the other training field, enjoying the view of the setting sun. They have about an hour before dinner starts. The atmosphere would be romantic if only his companion wasn't sulking after being refused what is, according to him, his only joy in this life. So dramatic.

They reach the dugout — the one that's usually occupied by the guest team — and go inside, then to the back room there. Kazuya drops his bag next to one of the benches, then turns to watch Sawamura follow him inside and close the door. 

They crush into each other like a car wreck in the making. Sawamura grips his face in both hands, glove thrown on the ground, feet stumbling as the two of them rock from the impact. Kazuya grasps at the lean waist, thoughts going at fast speed, going wild, turning liquid. The lips moving against his are hungry, insistent. He opens his mouth for the hot slide of Sawamura's tongue, welcomes it inside, letting out an actual growl.

It's unbelievable that he once thought he'd be able to stop this. Right around the third time Sawamura touched him Kazuya decided this had to be stopped. The thought left his head just like any other when he felt Sawamura breathe into his mouth, soft noises tearing out of his chest. Kazuya has been unable to stop craving those sounds ever since. It's not unlike an obsession — this desire to search them out dogging his every action when Sawamura was near. 

They fall onto one of the benches, Kazuya's back banging against one of the lockers. His hands run over Sawamura's thighs, which are caging his own, before tugging them forward, until the pitcher's weight fully settles onto his lap. It feels like a puzzle piece fitting into place.

Sawamura leans down to mouth at his jaw, teeth grazing the skin, then lower, leaving bites down his neck. Kazuya sighs contently, adjusting their hips against each other. He can feel himself getting hard, can feel Sawamura stiffen against his thigh as well. They should slow down. This isn't the place and this also shouldn't be their first anything. However easy it could be: his hand sliding down into Sawamura’s pants, them grinding against each other or even—

Kazuya has to force himself to stop thinking. He tugs on the brown locks, tickling his chin, until Sawamura raises his head, ready to be kissed again. So pliant, it makes Kazuya want to do unspeakable things. 

“Would I be stupid if I said I missed this?” He breathes out without thinking.

Sawamura pulls away, a strange expression on his face. For once, Kazuya feels out of his depth, completely unsure of what the pitcher thinks or wants. But his body responds to Kazuya's as if it's the most natural thing in the world, like they're supposed to be this way — entangled, intertwined. That has to count for something, right?

“It's me who's the stupid one, Captain. Don't mix it up.”

Before Kazuya can try and guess at what it means, Sawamura is already on him again, and then, nothing matters but the way they slot against each other, urgent and lost to the world.

Chapter Text

“Come on! I really, really need this.”

“No.”

“I’ll do your laundry for a month!”

“You literally came to school wearing a still wet shirt because you can’t use the dryer.”

“UGH! I’ll borrow the new manga volumes from Fujihara-san?”

Kanemaru doesn’t decline right away, so Eijun must’ve hit the bullseye. He brings out the puppy eyes as well, desperate for the notes from today’s class. Yesterday was a little more exciting than usual, and he couldn’t fall asleep, body still tingling after meeting with Miyuki before bed. Naturally, he dozed a little during his History class, but it was just a little! He woke up as soon as he heard the words “this might be on the test, hope you were listening”. Hence, his current begging.

“I need the last five,” Kanemaru says, still reluctant.

“YOU HAVE MISSED THE LAST FIVE?” 

“TOO LOUD, IDIOT!” Eijun gets a whack on the head. Their classmates ignore both outbursts, having dealt with them for two years by now. ”I’m saving money for a new mitt.”

“I’ll buy you one!”

“You’re broke, Sawamura. Don’t think I don’t know. Just get me the volumes. And I won’t be helping you with the next two tests, no matter how much you ask.”

“You are so cruel, Kanemaru!”

At least he got the notes. They’ll be enough for the next test, and Kanemaru will forget about the promise until the one after that. For once, Eijun doesn't feel ditched by the goddess of luck and generously considers sharing these notes with Furuya, who probably slept through the lesson as well.

There’s a commotion behind him, and when Eijun turns, he sees Okumura standing in the doorway, already growling a little as people gawk. Fujihara is not here, which is great, but her friends are staring daggers at the first-year, so Eijun rushes through the desks and the chairs, without even knowing why.

“Wolfboy! What are you doing here?” 

“I came to drop off the scorebook.” Okumura shows it to Eijun, then raises it higher to get someone's attention. Furuya comes over, either not noticing or just ignoring everyone gawking at them. “As I promised, senpai.”

“Thank you, Okumura.”

“But we haven't had any games lately.” 

“It's from Spring Koshien. I wanted to compare it to the last couple of scrimmages.” 

Eijun blinks, taken aback for a second. It's not surprising that Okumura is putting in the effort to get to know the pitchers and their strategies. It's just that usually he's so aloof that it's easy to forget that he's here for baseball and, like most of them, only wants to get better. 

“Oh. You're actually really cool, aren't you?”

“That's— What?” Okumura looks at him, like he's grown a second head. 

On the other side of class, Eijun notices Fujihara's high ponytail as she walks through the other door, he grabs the first-year by the arm and drags him outside, into the hallway. Furuya is left inside, already occupied by the scorebook. Just to make sure, Eijun walks to the stairs, still tugging Okumura behind him until they turn the corner and are out of view.

“What are you doing?” Okumura chokes out. 

Eijun finally looks at him, after making sure Fujihara is actually inside. He doesn't really know why it's so important that she doesn't see him and Okumura talk. Everyone knows they're teammates. Still.

His train of thought halts as he's realizing how close he is to Okumura, his hand pressing him into the wall, white hair brushing Eijun's chin. He can feel the rise of Okumura's chest underneath his palm with each breath. It's weird. 

“Senpai?” 

“Uh, sorry.” He jerks his hand off and takes a quick step back. “Didn't want Fujihara-san to see us.”

“Do you like her?”

“Eh?!” The question gives him a whiplash. There's a blush, barely noticeable, on Okumura's face. It's distracting.

"You seem to be really worried about her. I just wondered.”

That's because Eijun feels guilty for what Miyuki said to her. Even if, technically, it had nothing to do with him. Had the two of them been caught in that park, it would've been so much worse. Okumura's taking the whole gossip around his love life thing much better than Eijun would. 

“I just—” he grasps for an answer “it was my idea. That you and Miyuki-senpai let everyone think what she saw was the truth. I don't want to make it more complicated than it already is for you. Plus, I told you, I can sympathize with her.”

“You're much less self-involved than I thought,” Okumura muses, straightforward as always, the crystal blue shine of his eyes warming Eijun’s face.

“What's that supposed to mean?! I'll have you know—”

“Don't ruin it.”

Eijun pouts, once again slighted by the other’s attitude. But there's a small quirk of Okumura's lips, a barely there smile. It feels like an achievement. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen the boy smile before. Not that they’ve spent that much time together. Now looking at the subtle twist of his lips, Eijun thinks that if they tried, Okumura might not be so annoyed by him all the time. Maybe he’ll learn to like all the things he now hates. The imagined prospect of that future makes Eijun smile back.

“Can I catch for you today?” 

The question lacks Okumura’s usual intensity. It’s not the challenge of tricky pitches that leads him to ask it. For today, it’s an offer of company. Eijun finds himself nodding without thinking, still struck by the new horizons.

“Sure.” 

Okumura nods shortly, then departs, leaving him to stare at a wall in contemplation. 

Catchers always manage to throw Eijun off his guard. He remembers the first time he talked to Miyuki, both of them suddenly a team, a battery, like a match lit in a single swipe. Then Chris and the hidden force of his love for baseball, dulled under the monotony of each day. Okumura, on the other hand, was a sudden blow to Eijun’s pride, disrespectful and defiant for no apparent reason. He’s still a mystery but maybe, just maybe, they’ll be yet another battery for the ages.

It's a comforting thought for Eijun, who's spent most of his life adored and loved by his friends. For him, sharing a connection with teammates is as obvious as the need to breathe. And after meeting Miyuki, forming a battery became the center of it. 

He just hopes he has it in him to guide Okumura through, when they come to it.

***

“You seem to be going through your three bowls much better.”

Koushuu blinks up from his tray to see the captain grinning at him. Asada, sitting across from him, seems to be startled as well. Miyuki barely ever interacts with any of the first-years, usually busy with the core members of the team. There’s also simply no reason for him to be here, and it sets Koushuu on edge immediately.

“Didn’t know you were so concerned with my meals, Miyuki-senpai.”

“Aw, don’t be so grumpy.” He pulls out a chair next to Koushuu and falls into it, as if sprawling on a couch. Asada begins to eat much faster, probably afraid to witness whatever it is everyone thinks Koushuu and Miyuki do when they’re alone. People can be so gross. “I just wanted to check on you, see how the first string practices agree with your stomach and all that.”

Koushuu tries not to roll his eyes and instead takes another piece of meat into his mouth. He chews slowly, feeling Miyuki’s eyes on his face, cursing whoever came up with the stupid meal plan. He feels like a pig being stuffed for slaughter. 

“You know, I also hated eating so much during my first year. Literally couldn’t stomach it.”

“That’s … encouraging.” 

“You’re so insincere, it would be funny if I wasn't feeling hurt.” Despite the words, his tone is teasing, which isn’t helping with the food, because now Koushuu feels nervous for some reason and it makes him even more nauseous. He is also very conscious of Asada almost choking on the last of his rice. 

“Your ego seems to be very easily bruised.” 

Miyuki smirks at that, a wolfish grin that makes him look every bit the rakish star catcher everyone is obsessed with. Koushuu imagines him, dashing and confident, flirting his way into someone's life. He tries not to think that, at this moment, for all intents and purposes, he is that someone.

“I–uh. I’m done.” Asada pipes in, chair screeching as he stands up. “So I’m gonna go. Kuki’s waiting for me.”

Koushuu nods at him, letting the guy off the hook. They usually leave together after every meal, sometimes with Taku, if he has nothing better to do. But today, well. He can't make Asada stay through this . 

Once they're alone, Okumura raises his eyebrows in question as he stuffs his face with yet more food. The bowl seems to be bottomless, just like Miyuki's amusement. 

“I meant it, I wanted to check in on you.”

“I’ve heard Zono-senpai call you an inconsiderate boyfriend, as well as captain, before dinner.”

“Ah.” The captain’s expression turns sheepish. “Well, it’s not like anyone will know about this, other than Asada. So this can still be considered altruistic.”

As if on cue, the door opens, a loud voice preceding the owner: 

“OKUMURA, QUIT STALLIN—” 

Sawamura walks inside, pitching glove in hand, and halts as soon as his eyes fall on Miyuki. Koushuu is, once again, struck with a feeling that he’s missing something. It’s a normal thing for him to feel outside of things unless it’s baseball, but here, now, it’s frustrating. Like an itch under his skin, unreachable and inexplicable.

“Miyuki-senpai?”

“Came to check up on Okumura too?” There’s a change to his expression, not quite the rise of tension, but a shift of it. Still the rakish star catcher, but somehow softer. The sight makes Koushuu’s heart stutter.

“He’s supposed to catch for me after he’s done.” Sawamura strides over to them and leans on the table. “I got tired of waiting and came to hurry the process.”

“Huh,” Miyuki looks between them, taken aback slightly. 

Koushuu says nothing, just slowly raises another piece of meat to his mouth. Sawamura narrows his eyes at him, catching the deliberately slow pace of the chewing. “You’re doing this on purpose!”

“I’m just eating,” he replies innocently after swallowing. He has half a bowl of rice left with two more pieces of meat.

“Let him be,” Miyuki chides, hand suddenly on the back of Koushuu’s chair. Their knees bump together. “Your pitches can wait.”

“He’s the one who asked me!”

“You’re too pushy, moron.”

“Works with you, doesn’t it?”

Koushuu listens to them bicker over his head and feels a kind of calm come over him instead of the usual annoyance. It bothers him that he might’ve gotten used to their noise but maybe that’s a good thing. Desperate times and all that.

“I’m done,” he says just as Sawamura is about to increase the sound levels. “Come on. I’ll need to get my glove.”

All three of them go back to the room, which seems excessive, but Sawamura was too impatient to wait for him at the training area and Miyuki needed to get his bat. Koushuu is just glad that Taku isn’t here to witness this. His jokes have been too much lately, especially after he realized Koushuu started buying the same juice Miyuki always drinks. 

They part at the edge of the dorms with Miyuki awkwardly hovering for a second. 

Sawamura offers for him to stand in the batter’s box, but he declines.  

“I'd hate to shatter your confidence,” is his reasoning, followed by a wink. Koushuu squeezes the catcher's glove in his fingers. Seeing this expression, aimed at Sawamura, of all people, is like a stab of deja vu. He, once again, files that away for later. Just as he does the blush on Sawamura's cheeks, even as the pitcher grumbles while calling the captain all kinds of names.

Koushuu’s patience wears thin as they go through the usual rotation of pitches. It’s not that Sawamura is distracted per se, it’s more that he’s focusing on something that only he can see. 

“Let’s call it a day.”

“What?! Why?”

“You’re clearly not throwing to my mitt, so I don’t see the point of me being here.” He stands up shaking off the tension in his legs. Sawamura, first thrown off by his sudden decision to stop, now looks guilty.

“At least five more.”

“Is that because of what Miyuki-senpai said earlier?” Koushuu would always rather skip to the chase and not waste time bargaining. “Because he was definitely teasing.”

“That’s still true, though.” It’s the pitcher’s tone that makes him pay attention.The defeat in it. He never expected Sawamura, of all people, to sound like that. “He’ll never acknowledge me at this point.”

Koushuu knows the feeling. The need to prove yourself to Miyuki Kazuya. It’s a compulsion, if not a delusion, and the fact that right now he can see the same frustrated determination in Sawamura’s face is both a shock and a comfort. 

“He will,” Koushuu promises. Both to himself and to Sawamura. To Miyuki, as well, maybe. “Provided you throw to the mitt with everything you have instead of picturing him constantly knocking you down.”

Their eyes meet and he can see the gold in Sawamura’s shine through. 

It is the same drive that’s currently making his own heart race. The same look you have on your face as you dive forward and your hand finally touches the home plate.

***

Kuramochi pries the truth out of him on a Saturday afternoon as they’re swinging their bats before the fielding practice later. It’s not that important really, except that Kazuya is once again the butt of the joke. But at least he doesn’t have to be careful with what he says around Kuramochi anymore, which is most of his time.

“I had a theory that Okumura was just pretending to date you, so he could find out your weakness and destroy you or something.”

“You’ve been reading too much of Sawamura’s shoujo mangas.”

“Oh, don’t even mention it.” Kuramochi leans on his bat as he rolls his eyes. “He was in a mood yesterday and spent hours explaining the plot of his favorite read to Asada.”

“Your room sounds like fun.”

“ Our room? Yesterday Kimura said he refuses to go back to yours whenever you and Okumura are in there together.” 

Kazuya swings his bat a little harder than needed and loses his balance. The almost-fall is followed by the usual cackling from Kuramochi. “What is he on about? Me and Okumura aren’t doing anything! And shut up.”

He does stop laughing, but there's still a shit-eating grin on his face, which Kazuya is pretty sure he learned from him — Kuramochi's own smirks are usually more punk-like.

“Yeah, he just growls at you while you hover over his shoulder rambling, I've heard.”

“He's just funny to rile up.”

“You're like a kid pulling on a girl's pigtails.”

Kazuya lets out a chuckle as he sits down on the grass. “If the girl looked like she was going to bite my head off maybe.”

Kuramochi plops down next to him with a grunt. For a moment, they both watch Sawamura, Asada and Okumura run on the field with their tires. Kazuya isn't sure why, but the three of them have been doing these drills together quite often lately.

“He and Sawamura seem to be getting along at last.”

“Yeah. Okumura asked to catch for him the other day,” Kazuya shares, for once enjoying the gossiping, since it's not about him and on the topic he's been obsessing over for the past few days. “Saw Sawamura afterwards and it was like he was high on sugar.”

In fact, he almost tackled Kazuya, going for a kiss. They met behind one of the sheds, where Sawamura almost climbed him like a tree, eager and excited. When asked why he was so chipper, he just shrugged, barely pulling away from Kazuya's lips. I had a good practice were his words. Seeing him so happy gave way to a fuzzy feeling in Kazuya's chest, which was then followed by a stab of jealousy he hadn't expected.

“First Furuya and Yui, now those two…” Kuramochi claps him on the shoulder. “I think you're losing your grip, man.”

“It's good that the kids can occupy each other,” Kazuya sighs theatrically. “Gives me space to improve on my own.”

“Gross, don't call your fake boyfriend a kid.”

Sawamura shouts something, turning back to the first years, and ends up stumbling over his own feet and then face planting into the ground. Kazuya winces while Kuramochi laughs and shouts for the pitcher to watch where he's going. 

“Sawamura called your name in his sleep.”

“What?” Kazuya can feel his entire body stop, all of his organs just freezing inside of him, standing still in attention.

“Your name. Can you imagine?” Kuramochi chuckles, seemingly unaware of the effect his words have. “I asked him about it when he woke up and apparently he had a dream about you turning into a werewolf and hunting him for food.”

Kazuya laughs it off, jokes about kinky pitchers and their wild imaginations, even as he breathes a sigh of relief. Kuramochi might enjoy his secret about not dating Okumuraz but he probably won't approve of Kazuya sticking his tongue down Sawamura's throat on almost a daily basis. When he puts it like that, it becomes clear that maybe the two of them should slow down.

Or maybe speed it up in another direction. Because all Kazuya wants to do now is to stroll down to that field and talk at Sawamura until his cheeks burn, getting his hands on him in the process, too. He wouldn't care about the first-years watching and would even appreciate the chance to see the look on Okumura's face at the obvious lack of propriety or something like that. Maybe Kazuya would also bother him a little. Okumura seems to be warming up to his wily tricks. The thought makes him smile. 

“That! That right here!” Kuramochi pokes him in the cheek painfully. “Since when do you smile like that ?”

“Get your hands off my face,” Kazuya huffs, slapping the offending hand away. “And I’m smiling normally.”

“Exactly! You never do that.”

He rolls his eyes pushing Kuramochi to the ground. That leads to a scuffle, which only stops when Zono runs over with his bat, booming about them acting like children. Kazuya slips out of Kuramochi's headlock, fixing his glasses and getting in one last push for good measure. Practice starts soon anyway, as Zono helpfully reminds them, so they should probably go change. 

Kazuya dodges that one but Kuramochi’s words make him think carefully about the past few weeks. Has he been happier than usual? He thinks of lunch breaks spent on sunlit roofs and secret rendezvous, of breathless kisses and blushed cheeks. The team’s motivation is as high as ever and the only thing that sort of bothers him is the upcoming golden week, what with him leaving for the all-star game at Inajitsu. It’s all a whirlwind of him having an actual high school experience and a life full of baseball. 

So maybe he is. Happy, that is. Everything seems to be steady, even if not quite figured out. Koshien waits, and that’s what Kazuya wants to focus on. He keeps thinking that even as he spends the entire fielding practice barely taking his eyes off a certain pitcher. Even as, to his surprise, he notices Okumura’s gaze which is for once not filled with furious determination, but with something almost distracted. 

Koshien, yes. Probably, with the two of them keeping Kazuya on his toes — one on the mound to surprise him and the other in the dugout hungry for his spot. Happy.

Huh.

Chapter Text

Okumura is no more friendly than he used to be: still telling Eijun off for being loud or expressing emotions, constantly annoyed by his antics, always stone-faced even when faced with an objectively funny joke (even Haruichi laughed at that one!). Still, there’s something different about him now, and Eijun can’t quite figure out what it is.

They spend much more time together now that Okumura has joined the first string. It’s either practicing in the bullpen or running with tires afterwards, sitting together during Miyuki’s classes, even exchanging notes. Eijun isn’t surprised to enjoy it, he’s just glad they’re finally learning to coexist. If you can call this weirdness between them coexisting. 

It’s like Okumura has fallen into his gravity and is now a steady presence in Eijun’s orbit. 

He is there when Eijun turns to look for a towel, already handing him one. He’s always close enough to catch Eijun by the elbow whenever he stumbles, which happens constantly. He’s even, inexplicably, nearby when Eijun feels lonely. Okumura is everywhere somehow, with his reliable, constant companionship. It’s confusing.

What do you want? Eijun wants to ask. Is that what your friendship is like? Ever present and yet detached? 

And then he runs to Miyuki, falls into his arms and wonders if this thing between them is also an incomplete one. The thought makes him wilt, turns him desperate. 

It bothers Eijun that he only gets people in halves. Miyuki, neither a boyfriend nor just a teammate. Okumura, not really a partner but somehow completely in sync with him. He thinks of his closest friends left in Nagano, thinks of Kataoka apologizing for relying on him. Eijun’s entire life is a mismatched puzzle of people he can’t seem to get it right with.

“Why are you moping around?” Kuramochi asks as he kicks the bed.

“I’m not moping,” Eijun answers without looking away from his manga. 

“All you do is read love stories as you lie in bed.”

He's been trying to avoid thinking too much. So whenever he's free of baseball, Eijun makes sure to have something else to keep his brain occupied. Something that doesn't include wolves or guys wearing glasses. 

“That's not moping,” he says stubbornly, finally looking at his roommate. “And I can do what I like during my free time!”

“Why do I bother,” Kuramochi mutters, leaving him to it. Eijun notices Asada, sitting behind his studies and gives him a small smile before coming back to his reading. 

He's being normal. Kuramochi is the only one to notice anything anyway. All Eijun needs is a little romance in his life. Something good to occupy the empty spaces baseball simply can't cover. He would rather spend all his time practicing but he knows that might make it worse both because it's more noticeable and because it might put a strain on his body. With the golden week coming up soon, he has no wish to exhaust himself. See? Not only normal but also healthy. 
 
He even takes walks! Granted that it’s only one and happens the next day: he ends up going with Fujihara to the bus station, carrying the manga tomes she let him borrow for Kanemaru. Still, he’s socializing and being helpful to society! 
 
Fujihara looks much better now that some time has passed since the ill-timed confession. But even now Eijun can’t look at her without remembering the heartbreak he witnessed. He faces that image of her as if she’s a mirror of his future self and that scares him. He can't stay unflinching at the thought that this is what it leads to — Eijun himself, alone, left behind, with Miyuki moving on to his bright future. How long till the expiration date on the fun? Will he never get the hand-holding and the romance, the actual love?

She asks about Miyuki, of course. Tentatively, carefully. Is he happy? Was he upset when the news came out? She feels very sorry. Eijun doesn't tell her that Miyuki always stays unbothered. Doesn't explain to her the shitty personality or the nasty pranks. He knows himself enough to understand: if she hears him talk about Miyuki, she'll see right through it. 

The same reason Eijun doesn't discuss him with Okumura. Feels damning to give this part of himself away. 

As if conjured up by his thoughts, the first-year shows up across the street, leaving the 7/11 store, plastic bag in his hand. Before Eijun can decide how to pretend he didn’t see him, the bus pulls up to the station, cutting off his view. He passes the tomes to Fujihara, bows in thanks once again and says his goodbyes. Once the bus is gone, so is Okumura. Eijun isn’t sure whether he’s relieved or upset.

He turns at the intersection to head back to the dorms and is startled out of his wits when he sees Okumura at the edge of the trees lining up the sidewalk.

“For god’s sake!”

“Sawamura-senpai.”

“WHY ARE YOU HIDING?”

“If Fujihara-san saw me, you’d start panicking.” The way he says that makes it seem like the most obvious thing in the world. “Why were you…?”

Eijun is a little bit tired of Okumura assuming there’s something going on between him and Fujihara. He just gestures for the catcher to follow, rolling his eyes. They fall into step like two cogs slotting together. Their hands brush briefly, the bag in Okumura’s crinkling as if in warning. 

“What did you need at the store?”

“Taku wants his candy,” Okumura answers, completely deadpan, which makes the whole thing even funnier. Eijun snickers.

“What are you, his errand boy?”

“I lost a bet during lunch when Miyuki-senpai showed up.” They walk up the stairs to the main gate, and Eijun freezes mid step at the mention of the captain. 

“Eh?” 

“I said he has better things to do than hang out with us again but Taku insisted he’ll—”

It shouldn’t be a surprise that Miyuki and Okumura hang out. It shouldn’t make Eijun feel left out. But it does, it makes him feel excluded and then he forgets to watch his feet, and he misses the step, and Okumura is too far to catch him with his usual wolf-like reflexes. Thankfully he doesn’t break his face on the stone, but he does land on his elbows and knees.

Okumura is there in a second, helping him up. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He definitely skinned one of his knees. There are scratches on forearms, but at least not on his palms. He hisses in pain. 

“Come on. I have a medical kit in my room.” 

Okumura doesn’t let go of him and Eijun can feel the warmth of his arms through the thin cotton of his shirt as they walk. It’s not like he's limping or anything, his right knee hurts only a little, but there’s a worried look on Okumura’s face that makes him swallow the protests. It’s cute that he cares about something silly like Eijun getting his arms scraped.

Once inside, Okumura gestures for him to sit on his bed — that’s a first — and goes to his desk, leaving the bag on the floor. While he searches for the kit, Eijun unbuttons the cuffs on his shirt, noticing the blood spots on white fabric. The scrapes themselves are not that bad though, at least compared to the mess on his knee, which he sees after pulling up the right pant leg.

He’s about to poke it with his finger just to see if it hurts when Okumura is there, slapping his hand away and sitting himself on the floor. Eijun is about to say that there's no need to fuss, he can handle it, but then he's struck with a sight of Okumura at his feet and the words get stuck in his mouth. He watches the guy open the bottle of antiseptic and pour it onto a cotton pad before touching the small gashes with it. He dabs the wound a couple of times, unbothered by Eijun's noises of pain. 

The pant leg is about to slip, so Okumura raises his free hand to hold it in place. His touch is pleasantly cool, and Eijun tries not to shiver at the contact. As Okumura changes the cotton pad for a fresh one, Eijun can't stop staring at his face: the way his hair fall onto his forehead, the flutter of white eyelashes, the straight line of his nose, his lips—

Okumura presses the pad a little too roughly and Eijun yelps. 

“Sorry.” He does not sound sorry. “You should really be more careful when you're… outside.”

“I got distracted!”

“You always do.” Okumura leans closer to see if everything is clean, his breath warm on Eijun’s knee and it's too intimate, too much. “You should leave it open for a time. I'll do your arms next.”

He moves the leg to the side as Eijun tries to ignore the brief brush of already warmed fingers against the soft inside of his knee. That's not the worst part though — Okumura moves further, leans on Eijun's thigh with his elbow, already looking at the scrapes on the forearms. 

This time the pain works for Eijun: it helps keep him distracted from Okumura basically lounging between his knees. On top of that, he smells good. It's either his deodorant or his soap, Eijun doesn't really care at this point, but it’s so fresh, a little earthy, too. Before he even knows it, he’s leaning in closer. Okumura raises his eyes from the arm bent awkwardly between the two of them. His fingers tighten around Eijun’s wrist.

They both stay locked in each other’s gazes. Okumura opens his mouth — to take a breath, to say something, it’s unclear — but the door opens and they flinch away from each other. 

It’s Miyuki, because of course it is, and he looks puzzled for a good moment before his eyes drop to Eijun’s knee. “What happened?”

“I fell.”

Miyuki walks over to the two of them, dropping his bag on the floor, as Okumura finally switches to Eijun’s other arm. It stings just a little, much less noticeable over the burn in his cheeks. Miyuki puts a hand above his knee to get a better look and oh god can people please stop touching him this is fucking ridiculous—

“How did you even manage to fall like that? Are you five?”

Eijun shoves him in frustration, so that Miyuki somehow ends up sprawled right next to him on the bed. He maneuvers himself into a better position, hugging a pillow he fell onto to his chest.

“He constantly falls,” Okumura plugs in. “That is surprising.”

“That’s the first time I actually fell!”

“Stop moving.” Eijun gets a painful jab in the thigh. “The only reason you fell this time around is because I was too far away to catch you like I always do.”

“That’s not true!” It is true. Miyuki laughs at him, knowing that as well. Bastard.

“Please leave my pillow alone,” Okumura says to the captain, finally done with Eijun’s arm. “And get off my bed.”

Miyuki doesn’t, of course. Instead he takes Eijun’s wrist, tugging it closer to take a look. Eijun has a sudden image of him laying his tongue flat against the assortment of scratches there. He feels hot. Then Okumura takes his knee with both hands to put a bandaid on the wound there. Eijun is going to hyperventilate. 

“It’s not that bad,” Miyuki says finally, dropping his hand.

“Yeah, the one on his knee is the worst one.”

Before either of them touches him again, Eijun jumps to his feet, unable to stay in this room any longer. He thanks Okumura for his help hastily and then leaves, not even bothering with his shoes, just picking them up in his hand. 

When he walks into his own room, just in his socks, with both sleeves rolled over to his biceps and one pant leg still stuck above his knee, Kuramochi laughs so hard he falls from his bed. Typical.

***

Koushuu is out of control. 

He understands that during practice when he automatically reaches to straighten the sleeve of Sawamura’s jersey. Taku looks at him from across the field where he’s evening out the dirt and shakes his head the way he does whenever Koushuu is being obtuse. For once, the reaction is justified. Sawamura himself doesn’t even notice the gesture, occupied by his conversation with Furuya. 

Koushuu takes a step back from both pitchers and tries to focus on Kataoka’s speech. It’s batting practice for today, which is good. Hitting something with a bat sounds like exactly the kind of thing he needs to get through the day. 

There’s been this weird energy between him and Miyuki ever since the day Sawamura scraped his knee. It doesn’t feel like Koushuu has done anything wrong, but it’s discomfiting nonetheless. Then, right before practice, Miyuki caught him staring as he was putting on his uniform and Koushuu didn’t even realize he was doing that until their eyes met. See? Totally out of control.

Practicing with the first string is a whole other level, so at least that is enough to take his mind off things. There’s excitement burning through him when he thinks about actually getting to play in a couple of days. The golden week has been going so well and he can’t wait to test himself against the best teams in the nation, despite the fact that he’s still feeling far behind the rest of the first string players. 

Then he watches Sawamura stand on that mound, his figure backlit by the sun, and his hand itches for the mitt. The way baseball is intertwined with whatever it is he feels for the pitcher makes his chest swell with emotion. He catches Miyuki’s eye across the field, but the bubble doesn’t pop. Koushuu’s world tilts precariously at the realization. 

Later, when Taku asks him what’s going on as they’re hanging out in his room, Koushuu doesn’t really know where to start. Nothing makes sense in his head and he’s not sure it will when said out loud. 

“Remember we talked about … the vibe?”

“Is this about you and Sawamura-senpai or you and Miyuki-senpai?” Taku gives him his most punchable smirk. “Or about the two of them together?”

“I hate you so much.”

“Yeah, yeah. Get to the point.”

So Koushuu does, painstakingly going through the whole mess: the warm glow in his chest when he watches Sawamura pitch, the way Miyuki is haunting his thoughts with his obnoxious laugh and casual touches. He mentions how weird Sawamura is about Fujihara and the way his voice faltered when Koushuu mentioned hanging out with Miyuki. From there on it’s about how there’s no actual reason for Miyuki to have lunch with him (happened four times in the last two weeks, does he not have friends?) and the look the captain had when he entered his dorm room and saw Koushuu between Sawamura’s thighs. By the end of it, Taku looks ready to pray for strength. 

“So you’re infatuated.”

“I’m going insane,” he groans, running his fingers through his hair.

“Same difference.” Taku pats him on the shoulder consolingly, which is in no way helping the situation. “Don’t glare at me like that, there’s not much I can tell you, Koushuu. You either make your move or you suffer.”

“How do I make a move in this situation? What would I even say to either of them?”

“Well, I guess, you suffer then.”

Koushuu beats him with his own pillow until Taku kicks him really hard to the shin. The two of them have done this dance too many times. By the time Kanemaru shows up, they’re sprawled on the floor simply exchanging half-assed insults.

“You guys spend way too much time together.” 

“I know, right?” Taku complains, and now it’s Koushuu who kicks him.

“By the way, Okumura, the captain was looking for you.” Of course he was.

“Do you know why?” 

“Something about the pitchers, I think. I heard Sawamura's name mentioned.” Not really an indicator of anything when it comes to Miyuki but sure. 

“Right. The meeting room?”

“The indoor facilities.”

Taku sends him off with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows, to which Koushuu reacts by flipping him off. The talk they had didn't help the situation in the slightest but at least hanging out together has released some of the tension he's been holding in. 

By the time Koushuu finds the captain, he's in the middle of strategy talk with Yui. It's all the usual deal: remember the team is there to back you up, don't let the pitcher pressure you into bad calls, and so on. Miyuki seemingly tries not to come across as too cocky by saying the team might fall apart without him, but it doesn't need to be stated because it's glaringly obvious. Koushuu is surprised he's less annoyed by it and more determined to show they as catchers can be trusted with the team. Doesn't matter that Ono will take the brunt of it, as Miyuki keeps reassuring them. 

Yui leaves immediately after they're done, amped up by the talk, already set on searching out Furuya, but Koushuu stays, transfixed by the thought of finally getting to play in a first string game and against one of the best teams in the country at that. 

“Don't overthink it,” Miyuki says, his voice warm. “If you do get to play, make sure to enjoy it.”

Enjoy it. He'd have to be good enough to actually have fun though. 

“Are you going to enjoy the all-star game?”

“What would be the point of going if I weren't?” Miyuki chuckles, and Koushuu is surprised by the unguarded shine of his smile. “I’m really looking forward to it actually. Plus, it's a good opportunity to look at Mei and his pitches.”

There's an ugly feeling curling in Koushuu's stomach as he realizes Miyuki must mean Narumiya. Inashiro’s ace. Mei.

“Have you ever played with him before?” He watches Miyuki lean against the stack of mats and moves closer to join him. Their shoulders don't touch but it's a close call.

“No. But he invited me to join Inajitsu, the last addition to his perfect court or something.” The way he says it, with a dismissive air, as if it’s nothing, as if he wasn’t offered a battery with one of the best pitchers of his generation on a golden platter. Koushuu isn’t sure whether he’s impressed or appalled. 

“And you said no?”

“It would’ve been boring, I think.” He smiles again, this time with an almost manic gleam in his eyes. “Now I can lead the team that will defeat the best pitcher in the country. Wouldn’t you choose a challenge over an easy path?”

Koushuu looks at him, the person who’s proven to be that challenge for him in more ways than one, and hates that he agrees. He thinks of Sawamura and his fiery eyes, how his pitching will only grow better and Koushuu will need to work harder to catch up. Miyuki watches him as if he can read his mind and it’s exhilarating to share this understanding with him.

“Anyways, I don’t think I’d give up this team for anything.” As he says that, his eyes turn amber lit by devotion, determination. Koushuu can see himself follow this person to the end, right to the sun-scorched Koshien field. “You’ll soon understand why.”

“I think I already do.”

The feeling of connection between them grows taut, thrumming with something unsaid. He wants to grasp at it as much as he wants to leave it be. Koushuu wasn’t made for this, he doesn’t know the rules.

“Why did you choose Seido, Okumura?”

“Because of the pitchers.” And because of the one who leads them. “I wanted to see what it takes to handle players like that on the mound.”

Miyuki looks delighted with that answer. His hand brushes Koushuu’s as he reaches for his glasses and takes them off to wipe the lenses with his shirt. His bare face looks vulnerable, Koushuu can’t stop staring at it. 

“Have you always known Sawamura-senpai will go this far?” People try not to mention it, the aura of an ace he carries, yet everyone felt it during the last game he pitched. They were all a little surprised, but was Miyuki?

“No.” Another smile, this one fond. Koushuu’s mental catalog grows longer with each minute. It’s fucking embarrassing. “He’s always full of surprises. Like no one else I know.”

Miyuki turns to face him, glasses back on his nose, elbow placed on the mat. It puts them closer together and Koushuu wills himself not to move away. Somehow it’s easier with Sawamura, who’s presence pulls him in like a magnet. With Miyuki, it’s friction, an assortment of chemicals setting off fires in his head. Lately, Koushuu can’t seem to make himself put them out.

“But you’ve noticed that as well, haven’t you?” Miyuki’s knowing gaze is yet another spark. “Sawamura and the way he dazzles people.”

Koushuu is caught. Read like a book before even getting to the batter’s box. He flexes his fingers and takes a breath. You either make your move or you suffer.He either goes for the home run or he strikes out looking.

“Yeah, I have.”

When Koushuu leans forward, Miyuki’s hand is already reaching for his face. Their lips slide together with far more surety than a first kiss needs. Maybe it’s been a long time coming: Miyuki’s palm on his neck, the way he sighs into Koushuu’s mouth, almost content, the blunt press of his glasses between their faces. Koushuu reaches for his waist, pulls him closer, barely comprehending what he’s doing. The ground tilts as Miyuki licks against his lips, gently, as if asking permission. 

Koushuu pulls away. Takes a step back, his mouth tingling. Reality hits him like a train as he watches the dazed look on Miyuki’s face. He was not ready to do this. Taku was just talking out of his ass, and Koushuu listened, because Koushuu wanted to, he wanted the green light to do this, to reach for the kill, to swing for the pitch and bring it all home. 

Now he looks at Miyuki and thinks of Sawamura, understands that maybe, for once, he’s in over his head. He opens his mouth to apologize or to confess, but nothing comes out. So instead, he leaves. Turns around and walks away, stumbling, his head spinning. Then he’s running, breaths still uneven after the kiss. 

As the night air brushes against his flushed cheeks, Koushuu feels like he’s trying to wake up from a fever dream, not knowing whether it was a nightmare.

***

Frankly, Kazuya should’ve seen this coming. Not that Okumura would kiss him maybe, but that Kazuya would kiss him right back, reach for him first even, transfixed, Sawamura’s name still on his tongue, like honey coating his mouth. He should've known. 

He feels like a jerk, is the thing. 

Yes, he and Sawamura aren't officially dating. But they're something and, while Kazuya can’t speak for Sawamura, he won't lie to himself by denying that he wants more, that they were more right from the start. And yet, he doesn't feel guilty about kissing Okumura. It was like one of his strategies finally working on the rival team’s batters, without him even realizing he was setting up a trap. It felt satisfying, not to mention the fact that the kiss itself was good.

Except now, he has to tell Sawamura, and probably explain how he’s in love with him, but also that Okumura makes him feel like there’s so much more to want. How would you even go about a conversation like that? 

Kazuya, whose entire brand is to mostly let shit work itself out, is in a pickle. In a jar of pickles even, because he remembers Okumura's pale face and the look of absolute panic in his eyes, and that will also require some figuring out. Why did he even run? Kazuya reciprocated the kiss, didn't he? The rest should've been easy. For Okumura, at least. 

But then he remembers what he said before the kiss. Thinks of the skinned knee and gentle touches applying the bandaid. Breaks down all the times he's seen Okumura by Sawamura's side. 

Right. 

Kazuya looks at the ceiling above his bed, knowing that the bunk across the room is empty, that it's only Kimura and him here, and tries to come up with a way not to fuck this up. Luckily (or not, depending on the angle), he leaves for the training camp the next morning. Zono and Kuramochi see him off, but Sawamura is surprisingly nowhere to be seen. Kazuya is both relieved and disappointed. 

Okumura left the room as soon as Kazuya woke up and did that in such a hurry that Kimura, who took to ignoring any interactions between his roommates, asked him whether everything was okay. Kazuya, groggy and barely awake, just shrugged it off.

Now he says goodbye to his friends and feels guilty again, leaving things as they are. He asks the guys to keep an eye on Okumura. While Zono pats him on the shoulder and calls him loverboy (he has no idea), Kuramochi just raises an eyebrow, a curious expression on his face. 

“Focus on your game, Captain.”

“I will.”

If there’s one thing that will never leave Kazuya no matter who he kisses, it’s baseball. The excitement fills him as everyone gathers at Inajitsu's training field. He tried not to talk about it too much because when has he ever, but this is one of the best opportunities he could’ve gotten and it’s fucking awesome. 

So what if he spends his time watching Mei's blond hair a little too long? The color isn’t quite right, anyway. Closer to gold, when it should be a colder shade. The other Inashiro players start looking at him suspiciously at some point, so he has to stop staring.

As the practice continues, Kazuya still catches other things though — the wrong shade of blue, then a pitching form that isn’t quite what he’s used to, an unfamiliar, different aura on the mound as well. He makes all these notes to himself distractedly, barely even conscious he’s doing that. It’s not like he has time to actually comprehend it since they made him play first baseman. It’s stressful.

When Kazuya makes it back to Seido at the end of the day, he’s exhausted. Playing against college guys is no joke. People crowd him as he walks to his room. Okumura walks away as soon as they see each other and even Sawamura stays back while everyone else asks questions. Kazuya wonders if he missed a chapter but he also doesn’t have the energy for anything other than a bath and a crawl to his top bunk. 

He spends some time with Kuramochi instead, just to find out how things have been with the team. They sit down near the vending machines as Kuramochi updates him on what's been happening. Apparently, Okumura was paired up with Sawamura in the bullpen today and things were awkward. And while yes, they’re usually rocky because Okumura is a bit too straightforward and Sawamura is fragile when it comes to harsh criticism, but something was different today. If Kazuya’s theory about Okumura is true though, that shouldn't be surprising. 

He ruminates over the thought as Kuramochi describes the batting practice and the way everyone was unimpressed by the captain's absence. It’s a wonder they're friends, really. In exchange, he describes details of the practice at Inajitsu, mentions everyone who was there and the ways in which they had improved. As he speaks, he gets excited again. Some part of Kazuya just wants to get to bed so that he can wake up and leave for tomorrow's game already. The plan is unfortunately thwarted:

“Now that we're done with that, loverboy, why don't you spill the beans.”

“About what?” 

“About why Sawamura suddenly avoids your fake boyfriend like the plague.”

At that Kazuya sits straighter, suddenly more interested in whatever Kuramochi has to say. He leaves for one day and suddenly things are happening.

“Avoids him?”

“Yes. He ran away after practice like his ass was on fire. Okumura actually looked sick.”

“That's… fucked.” Did he tell Sawamura about the kiss? Did he confess and got rejected? “And what do I have to do with that?”

Kuramochi snorts, obviously not fooled by whatever indifference Kazuya tried to shove at him. “You suddenly ask me to keep an eye on Okumura and that's the same day something between him and Sawamura, of all people, goes wrong. Obviously, you fucked up somewhere.”

“And how am I affecting Sawamura in this scenario?”

“Miyuki.” Kuramochi looks at him as if Kazuya’s completely transparent. Maybe he is. “You do know how he feels, right?”

“I don’t— What?”

“Dude.” Ugh. “He has a crush on you. Like, I’m pretty sure he’s head over heels, it’s surprising he was functional after the news about you and Okumura broke out.”

The information doesn’t exactly feel new but Kazuya’s struck with it as if he’s never actually thought about it. Sawamura is in love with him. Sure. Fuck. His heart is about to break out of his chest.

“You know what? Never mind.” Kuramochi slaps him on the back a couple of times, not at all helpful. “You’re so hopeless.”

Kazuya mumbles something to him instead of goodbye, barely registering where he’s going. He walks to his room, then to the baths. The hot water doesn’t help with the clarity of mind, but maybe that’s for the best. His thoughts blur together. The slide of Okumura’s lips on his overlaps Sawamura’s soft breaths in his mouth, the challenge in blue eyes against the dare burning gold in the brown ones. He has to work this out before he goes crazy. 

Kazuya, still fresh from the baths, catches him coming back from the field. Reaches out from behind the corner and grasps his wrist, which, in hindsight, isn’t the best idea because it almost earns him a whack on the head. He ducks and takes hold of the other wrist as well, shushing the loud yelp in his ear.

“It’s me. Hey, relax. It’s Miyuki.” He traces soothing circles against the pulse points with his thumbs. 

“Fucking hell,” Sawamura swears, breathing a sigh of relief. “Warn a guy before grabbing him, dammit.” 

Kazuya chuckles at that, his own body relaxing at their proximity. They haven’t been alone in days, he hasn’t realized how much he missed it. “I’m sorry. Just thought the element of surprise might help.”

“Help?” Sawamura, suddenly aware of Kazuya’s hands on his, takes a step back, tugging himself free. 

“With this.” Kazuya gestures at the distance between them. “Wasn’t sure if you were avoiding me.”

“I wasn’t. I wouldn’t!” 

“You’re a horrible liar.” Sawamura flushes, looking away from him, and even though he looks cute, Kazuya feels a little hurt. His arms reach for Sawamura again but freeze in the empty space between them. “I need to tell you something.”

“I know. It’s okay.”

“Huh?”

“It’s about Okumura, right?” There’s a nervous energy in his voice, and Kazuya can see him fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt. “I saw you guys yesterday.”

“Ah.”

“I wasn’t eavesdropping or anything! You were just talking and I didn’t want to interrupt and then— Uh.” Sawamura takes a breath, his lower lip trembling. Kazuya wants to hug him. To touch him, to reassure. “Anyways. I understand that you would— that the two of you—”

“Hey, wait. No. Sawamura, listen.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does. Come on,” Kazuya touches his hand. “I don’t want this to end, okay? You and I, we—”

“You opened up to him.” There are tears in Sawamura’s eyes, and oh, this hurts a lot. Something is splintering in Kazuya’s chest. “You told him about Narumiya-san and how excited you were to join the all-star team. We barely ever talk about anything other than my pitching or where we’ll be making out next.”

“But that’s—” True. He’s right, and Kazuya is an idiot. “I just never thought we’d need anything other than baseball.”

It sounds weak and it sounds half-assed. Because the truth is, Kazuya didn’t even think there was a problem there. They enjoy each other’s company, they make a great battery, the kind that could win the national title for the team, and he is so stupidly infatuated with Sawamura and the heart he always wears on his sleeve, he never thought that he should also be showing his.

Now they stand here, and Kazuya doesn’t know what he can offer, what he can do, other than utter a soft, quiet: “I’m in love with you.” 

Sawamura is already turning away, though. He’s wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand, and Kazuya isn’t even sure he’s heard him over all the sniffling. Everything inside his head is on full alert, trying to find the words, the touches that would work, but Sawamura is too far, the distance between them stretching, bridges falling.

“Eijun.”

“You just like kissing me. Now you can do that with Okumura as well.”

Sawamura leaves him there and he doesn’t look back. Instead of his hand, Kazuya touches the wall cracks behind his back and wishes he could fold himself inside.

Chapter Text

The thing about expecting the worst is that you aren’t surprised when it all goes to shit. The other thing is that you still feel fucking horrible. 

So Eijun wakes up with a feeling of resignation and not with the hope that the last two days were a dream. He dresses himself and goes to join the morning practice, he acts phony in front of everyone because that’s what’s expected from him and he tries really hard not to think about Miyuki. Today he’s starting against Seiho, and there’s nothing that can stop him from doing his best. 

That’s when he sees Okumura in the periphery of his vision and remembers that it’s him who’ll be catching Eijun’s pitches. This unsettles him all over again. Hopefully, they’re still in sync even if things aren't exactly going smoothly.  

It was Okumura who started acting weird in the first place. Eijun was pretty happy pretending like he hadn't seen anything but then Wolfboy showed up to practice, suddenly awkward and distant, and Eijun, despite himself, felt betrayed. Not because Miyuki kissed him, but because— well, he still doesn’t really know why.

Okumura was supposed to be stuck in his orbit. Eijun got used to that thought. Even as he was standing there, back to the wall, eavesdropping on Miyuki spilling his feelings to someone who was not him, what made it easier was Okumura saying Eijun was the reason he had come to Seido. Well, not in exactly those words but it was Eijun he asked Miyuki about. 

Miyuki, who he then kissed.

It doesn’t matter. 

He can’t stay still during the game against Yamamori Academy. Okumura keeps his distance, even though they do talk — all baseball-related, business as usual. Little Seto is looking at them with a pained look on his face, while the rest of the first-years are too preoccupied to pay attention to anything other than the game. Eijun leaves halfway through, already looking ahead to their match against Seiho.

“I'll see you at the mound then,” he drops to Okumura. He doesn't wait for an answer. 

It is unthinkable that once upon a time Eijun felt he would be satisfied with anything less than what Seido could offer. As he walks to the mound, the news of their defeat in the previous game coating his thoughts in grim determination, he remembers that first day — Miyuki and his laugh, that stupid hat he wore, the way he talked about baseball, like it was something more than just a game. A piece of art, created by two partners. What a sap.

Their streak might be ruined and he might never kiss Miyuki again, but he will not be the one unable to look into his captain's eyes tonight. He'll lead the team with his pitching, like a true ace would. Kataoka's words, said to him before he set off for the mound, echo in his head. I'm counting on you, Sawamura. It was stated in front of the entire team that he was someone to rely on. 

Now he watches Okumura's face, notes the tension in his jaw, wants to smooth it out with his fingers like an accidentally folded page corner. Coach has just said Okumura has the skill to play on the first string, he shouldn't be this nervous. Not with Eijun pitching into his mitt. 

So he reassures Okumura. Makes him take a few breaths. Reminds him how lucky he is to be playing in a game like this as a first-year. Then he looks into the clear blue waters of his eyes and tells him that he trusts his calls. 

Okumura watches him as if Eijun gave him something other than the best of himself, as if he offered not a partnership but the entire world. Eijun thinks of Miyuki and how he said that baseball could be all they needed, and now, here, seeing Okumura's expression, he understands. Maybe he understood even then.

As they face that first batter and Eijun follows the pattern of Okumura's calls, feels the phantom of Miyuki's presence on the field, he is hit with just how much he wants to bring the team this win. Not just because of what it will mean in the long run, but because he wants to see himself and Okumura make it work, form a battery that could take the game.

They sit in the dugout side by side after that first inning, not really speaking but somehow completely in tandem. Okumura watches him from the corner of his eye, careful, contemplative. Eijun reaches out to put a steadying hand on his knee and feels Okumura go completely still underneath the touch. They watch their teammates strike out one after the other — to be expected, really, Seiho are no joke — and say nothing. Eijun feels his heart hammer in his chest. When they’re up for defense again, Okumura covers his fingers with his own and squeezes them softly before standing up. It’s Eijun’s pitching hand and it tingles as he ascends the mound. He feels invincible. 

And even when he starts throwing balls, when the sweat stings his eyes and the batters begin to look smug as they reach the plate, Eijun still thinks he can make it. Okumura asks for a timeout and then he’s there, trying to figure out his state, and Eijun can’t help it — he feels it, the emotion rising in his chest, unbound even by the sore spot in his heart left by Miyuki.

“We’re in this together, partner.” Let’s see this through, Wolfboy.

Eijun knows the words have hit the spot by the way Okumura hides his face from him. It feels dangerous, whatever this is, and he likes the challenge of it. Once this is over, while the adrenaline still rushes through his veins, Eijun will think that maybe all of it is just that easy. Then he'll remember Miyuki's soft voice offering him the one thing he's wanted all this time and wonder if he could ask for more.

But for now he stands on the mound, baseball in his hand, feeling the pressure of the game, and he takes a deep breath. 

***

Koushuu breathes out, trying to keep his composure. He can tell that the other team is already reaching their grabby hands for a run or two. Sawamura is tired, sweat glistening on his forehead. He's been going all out from the start, and now it's catching up to him.

The thought of failing him with his calls is unbearable.

But so were the last day and a half of trying to keep his distance, filled with confusion and self-doubt. Sawamura hasn’t been his usual self either, and that sets him on edge. Koushuu was surprised to realize he now knows what Sawamura being fake is like. Even more surprised at how much it upset him to see the pitcher act this way. It’s unclear what the reasons are but Koushuu can’t make himself approach him and ask. There’s too much going on in his head. He doesn’t want to do or say anything stupid.

Having Miyuki away at Inajitsu has been a blessing. Yesterday evening Koushuu stayed out watching past games until his eyes hurt, just to avoid running into him in their room. The memories of that kiss have overtaken his every thought, both because he wanted to do it again and because he wished it didn’t happen. Koushuu can’t avoid this forever but this weekend has given him a reprieve. He isn’t really sure from what, but he took this opportunity to take a break from Sawamura’s closeness as well. He thought it might somehow help him get his feelings straight, whatever that means in a situation like this one.

But now that Koushuu is looking at the lone figure in the center of the field, the only thing on his mind is how to get them both through this. Because the entire game Sawamura, for whom this match is crucial in going for the ace number, has been trying to make it easier on his catcher, on the whole team. There’s no ego to his pitching.

All Koushuu wants is to be worthy of his trust. 

Unbidden, Miyuki comes up in his thoughts. For once, not only because Koushuu compares himself to him and feels inferior, but also because he wants to look the captain in the eyes tonight and tell him about their win, describe all the ways Sawamura shone on the mound, explain how Koushuu is unable to stop thinking about either of them, even as the game tightens its hold on all his other instincts.

For that, of course, he needs to help Sawamura get back into his rhythm. He calls for a time-out. As everyone gathers around the pitcher, Koushuu feels something akin to pride kindle in his chest. Earlier, when Sawamura talked to him before the first inning, there was a gratifying feeling of being looked after. Koushuu doesn’t really bother with seniority when it comes to baseball but at that moment he felt the comforting presence of someone reliable trying to take care of him. And now the team is responding to that in their own way — by believing in his skill. 

So Koushuu tries to do the same. He comes up the mound, leaning closer into the pitcher’s space, and tells him they’re gonna go with his strongest weapon. Because that’s what an ace does: he pulls the team forward.

“If you die, we all die,” he says, dramatic just like Sawamura likes it. “And I won’t let you die alone.” Koushuu watches him take it in, wants to hold onto that feeling of complete understanding between them. He hates to admit it but maybe Taku was right because there’s no way he can keep these feelings of his locked away. 

So as they finish that inning, unfaltering, relentless, Koushuu tries to envision a future where he can make it work somehow. With Sawamura, dazzling and dauntless, in front of him, everything seems possible. Even something as inconceivable as explaining how while Koushuu was kissing Miyuki, he still imagined the gold of Sawamura’s eyes and the sound of his voice. 

Once they’re back in the dugout, Koushuu fusses around with the ice, waving everyone away. Suddenly, it’s like everyone wants to bask in Sawamura’s shine, offering him water and towels, and it grates on Koushuu’s nerves. He tries not to seem too aggressive as he pushes people away, shoulder wrap full of ice in his hands. Judging by the look Kanemaru gives him, he’s not very successful. 

When Sawamura turns his grin on him though, none of it matters. Koushuu forgets to breathe for a moment, dazed with the joy in it, but then flushes red when Sawamura starts to take his clothes off. He lets Koushuu secure the wrap around his shoulder, while cheering for Kuramochi who’s been called in as a pinch batter. There’s heat emanating from his skin, which shouldn’t be distracting but it is. 

“Thanks.”

Koushuu raises his eyes to see Sawamura watching him intently from under dark lashes. It’s a struggle to remember they aren’t alone. As the sounds of the game come through — Kuramochi got that hit on the first pitch — Koushuu realizes his fingers are still lingering on the hot skin. He drops his hands, lower lip between his teeth, and sits next to Sawamura, turning his gaze to the field. Their knees touch, and Koushuu doesn’t move his away, leaving them connected as they watch their team get that win. 

“We make a great battery, don’t we?” Sawamura says to him when it’s all over. Seiho have already left the premises and everyone else is at the dorms by now, so they’re alone as they are leaving the field. Koushuu came back for his gloves. Sawamura, evidently, came back for him.  

“We do,” he confirms, mouth dry for some reason. His fingers tighten on the gloves in his hand as they rise up the slope. He stays close, out of habit, in case the other stumbles again. 

“I knew we would.” Sawamura has a crooked grin on his face. Koushuu’s heart picks up its speed as he restrains his own smile. The setting sun makes Sawamura’s skin glow bronze, lovingly framing his form, shadowing the hollow of his throat. Koushuu wants to press his lips there, lick the salt off in a sweep of his tongue. He's staring, he realizes. He doesn't stop.

“Sawamura-senpai.” It's easy, he can do it. The pattern of his breathing is breaking into uneven chunks, but it's fine, it's easy. He licks his lips before finally— 

“Do you want to kiss me?”

Koushuu freezes, words stuck in his throat. Of course that's how it would go with Sawamura. No playing coy or flirting, just a straightforward question. So unlike Miyuki with his teasing and subtle cues. There's only one answer, of course. When it comes to Sawamura, no matter how much Koushuu tries to fight it, it's always a yes. 

As he nods, their eyes locked together, there are voices coming from the gates to the dormitories: Miyuki is finally back.

Koushuu watches the look on Sawamura's face at the realization and wills his heart to be still.

***

Kazuya wishes his heart would stop trying to beat a hole in his ribcage. 

The whole ride from the station he kept thinking of seeing Sawamura again and trying to come up with a way to fix things. Anxiety tied knots into his chest every time he thought about the words he said and the easy way they were dismissed. But if Sawamura got upset over him and Okumura, that means he wants Kazuya back, right? And it might not seem like much, not when he still can't get Okumura's soft lips out of his head, but it's something to work with. 

As he gets out of the car, the first thing he sees is the two of them watching him from up the hill. His traitorous heart is in a fit over how close they are standing to each other. 

But first comes the team. 

So Kazuya lets everyone swarm him, patiently tells them to give him some fucking space, for the love of god , then directs everyone to meet at the dining room in five minutes. He goes to change his clothes and spends most of those five minutes just standing with his head against the door of his closet, trying to get his shit together.

The thrill of the game is still somewhere in his veins, and it’s a good thing he’ll have to talk to the team because he wants to share the experience with someone who is not stuck-up Inajitsu players he shared the train ride with back from the stadium. Most of all, Kazuya wants to tell Sawamura and have him ask his stupid questions about Mei’s pitching. He wants to hear him babble on about the game he pitched against Seiho and watch him get reprimanded by Okumura about all the same things for the umpteenth time. The only thing stupid about all that is how much Kazuya craves it.

He’s a little surprised when they tell him their winning streak is over. Worse than that, Ono got injured during the game against Yamamori and that’s a big blow. They need every bit of skill they have, and the experience and reliableness of another third-year catcher is not a thing to dismiss. Still, he’s a little bit excited because it probably means Okumura will get on the roster. They catch each other’s eye just for a moment.

He tells them about Mei and his change-up, lets the tension settle in the room and the determination in everyone grow stronger. The summer is almost here, his last one with this team. He wants it to be as long as possible until it ends with Seido taking the championship title. He needs to watch Eijun pitch with the pride of the team behind his back on that mound he’d left so abruptly during spring. Kazuya wants to be the captain that will lead them to that victory.

As everyone starts to disperse, eager to hit the gym or go swing their bats, Kazuya waves Ono over and questions him about the pitching staff. He almost grins when he hears of Sawamura and Okumura making it through their seven innings unscathed. Kuramochi leans over to tell him how Sawamura’s energy has overtaken the team. How he saw Haruichi fidget in place, wishing he was on that field. Kazuya feels a pang in chest. His hand is itching for the catcher’s glove.

How do you move past telling someone you’re in love with them and them walking away from you? That’s the trump card, there’s no more to offer. It’s not like Kazuya is going to give up, but he doesn’t know how to recover from this. 

He watches Sawamura talk to Aso over a throw to the home plate as Okumura waves away Kuki’s excited praises. They keep throwing glances at one another, somehow always at the same time, and Kazuya wonders what they were talking about when he arrived. It seemed important. He thinks back to when he and Sawamura were walking the same path, also at sunset. He hopes he’ll get to do that again, maybe this time holding the pitcher’s hand.

“Earth to Miyuki.”

“Yeah?”

“I asked if you were going to go swing your bat with us again,” Kuramochi claps him on the shoulder, “but I can see that you have other things on your mind.”

“I— what?”

“Whatever it is, don’t fuck it up, okay?”

Kazuya already has, is the thing, but he nods anyway. It’s comforting to have someone rooting for him blindly. Maybe he should be telling things to people more often. He looks at Sawamura who seems to be avoiding his gaze and resolves to start there.

Since Sawamura doesn’t look at him any longer than necessary, Kazuya takes the moment to take Okumura aside and tell him to bring the pitcher over to their room. It's a bold move but has there ever been any other ones in his repertoire? Kazuya allows himself a self-satisfied grin as he looks into Okumura's eyes. The first-year growls at him in his usual manner, but Kazuya shrugs it off. He can growl all he wants as long as it's Kazuya he's growling at. 

Back in their room, he busies himself with going through his gear and folding laundry. His mind whirrs in a constant loop: Sawamura and his courage, the same one that would let him get his heart broken by walking away from Kazuya and his inadequate ways, Okumura and the challenge of getting his affection, the intoxicating thrill of getting proof of it, of getting near and challenging him right back. Kazuya wishes he was good with words or better, at least, than what is going to be a very disjointed onslaught of I-do-not-know-what-I’m-doing-but-neither-do-you-so-maybe-fuck-it.

They come knocking, which is very considerate of them, albeit unnecessary since one of them actually lives here. Kazuya lets them inside, shutting the door and putting his back to it. Part of him is a little worried about either of them just straight up walking out as soon as he says whatever it is he’s about to say. 

For a minute they’re all just hovering there, awkward, silent.

“We should sit,” Kazuya suggests finally. He drops down right at the door. 

Okumura sits on his bed, wary but obedient for once, but Sawamura stays standing, leaning against the same closet Kazuya did barely an hour ago. Maybe they really are a match made in heaven. The thought makes him want to beat his head against the door. 

They’re too far away from each other. Kazuya takes a breath.

“Thought we should clear the air,” he says. “First of all, Sawamura and I are… well, we've had something going on for a while now. Mostly making out in secret, I guess.”

Okumura's lips fall open but no sound comes out. Kazuya watches him piece it all together, letting the information settle. He doesn't want to see Sawamura's reaction. He's a little afraid of it, if he's being honest.

“And he, uh, saw us kiss.” Okumura pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes closed, his expression pained. Kazuya keeps pressing on. “And I wasn't being a dick on purpose, I swear. I just really like you, apparently.”

Sawamura stands straight at that, and Kazuya finally looks at him. As their gazes lock together, relief floods in, like a wave bringing their ship home. Because there, in Sawamura's eyes, Kazuya sees his own hope kindling.

When he glances back at Okumura, the first-year is looking at the floor, hands squeezing his knees. White strands cover the expression on his face. If Kazuya were closer, he'd push them away maybe. Someone else needs to say something right now .

Instead, Sawamura starts pacing back and forth. The silence is very out of character for him, but he clearly can’t make his brain function. Kazuya is about to open his mouth and say something himself when Okumura reaches out and catches Sawamura’s wrist, stopping him in his tracks. 

“You need to stop this. It’s annoying.”

“This is your problem right now?! My pacing?!”

“It’s not like you’ll walk to the answer.”

The exchange is so them that Kazuya can’t help but let out a fond chuckle. Both turn to look at him with matching expressions of irritation, but then Kazuya smiles at them, and as he does so, something in his chest loosens, until he feels more laughter bubble up his throat, head dropping down and shoulders shaking. 

As he hears Okumura’s familiar growl and Sawamura’s usual insults to his character, Kazuya finds the feeling of freefall over, replaced by the triumphant feeling of stepping onto the home plate.

Chapter Text

It’s the day after getting a win against Seiho and Eijun should still feel giddy about the game. He should be thinking about his pitching or about his form or about the ace number.

Instead, if he does think about the match, then it’s Okumura’s blue eyes locked on his that come to mind. If he thinks about becoming the ace, he thinks of whether it will get him Miyuki’s acknowledgement or, at the very least, more of his time to catch for Eijun.

What a bother. 

Yesterday, after they got Miyuki to stop laughing — Eijun ended up picking him up from the floor and shaking him into it — Okumura reluctantly offered his own feelings, also to both of them, which left Eijun blinking and speechless over the wreckage going on in his head. It is one thing to almost think about this. It’s another to stand there, both catchers looking at him expectantly, and try to comprehend the possibilities laid out in front of his heart.

When he asked how this is supposed to work, Miyuki just shrugged and said that they can figure it out. Okumura, visibly dissatisfied with the answer, still nodded. Eijun watched the matching resolve in their eyes and realized that he doesn’t have it in himself to let this go. The sweet pain in his chest felt like a sign of fate. He said that they could try. Now he sees Miyuki approach his desk, smiling almost shyly, and feels utterly unprepared for what that means. People are staring.

“I thought we could talk, just the two of us.” Eijun ran away, needing to think, right after they all nodded at each other, unsure of what to do next. “If you’d come up on the roof with me?”

Eijun nods, closing the book he was reading without marking the page, and follows him silently. As they exit the classroom, Miyuki reaches for his hand, loosely slots their fingers together. Eijun’s every sense stays focused on that point of contact. Physical touch has always been a thing Miyuki turned to, always preferring actions to words, closeness of bodies instead of minds. It occurs to Eijun that it must be difficult for someone like that to communicate with a pitcher with signs over the expanse of a baseball field.

He barely remembers the hallway and the stairs, people staring, the door opening. The roof, for once, is empty of other people. Miyuki stops right in the middle, then turns to face him, both of them still holding hands.

“You didn’t let me apologize yesterday. So I wanted to do this now.” Eijun watches the serious expression on his pretty face, fails to remember anything but the press of Miyuki’s lips against his. “In the end, you were right, I wasn’t open with you. Not about my feelings nor the little things two people would share with each other when in love.”

He keeps saying that word. Love. Everytime he does, Eijun’s heart skips a beat. 

“So I’m sorry. For that and for kissing Okumura back without talking to you first. I promise to share more of myself with you, in whichever way you want: baseball or not. Hopefully I’ll be a better boyfriend than I am a make-out buddy.”

His charming smile, the shape of it. Eijun is weak before it. Would give anything to always have it aimed at him. It’s a sickness. He should check in with Okumura to see if their symptoms match as everything else seems to.

“Did you know that he was… uh. That he had a crush on me?”

“I had a feeling.” Miyuki smiles crookedly, which shouldn’t be this attractive at all. “The way he looks at you sometimes. How close you stand together. It’s surprising I wasn’t jealous, really. I usually am.”

The wind picks up and Eijun shivers. He steps a little closer, looking down at their hands, biting his lip. The thought of Miyuki being jealous, of him taking this thing between them seriously while Eijun tried as hard as he could to be casual, makes it all seem silly. 

 “I felt left out,” he blurts out finally. “When I heard you two talk. I just couldn’t really explain it to myself. It was very… confusing.”

“Everything about you is confusing, Sawamura.”

Before Eijun can decide whether that was yet another veiled insult, Miyuki leans in and brushes their noses together, as if asking permission. The gesture is so tender, so unlike the usual confidence of his ways. Eijun turns his head and lets their lips brush. It starts off soft, gentle. Then Miyuki reaches for his waist, presses them together, and the kiss turns hungry, making Eijun remember just how long it’s been since the last one. Barely a week, maybe. Still too long. 

“I missed you,” he says, right into Miyuki’s mouth. If only this wasn’t the middle of the day and they weren’t at school. If only Okumura— “Is Okumura good at this?”

Miyuki laughs, burying his face in Eijun’s shoulder. His body is warm, solid.

“Eijun, I swear—” Another fit of laughter. His name on Miyuki’s tongue is the rightness of a baseball in his hand, the fittingness of it. “Don’t you want to know it yourself?”

“Answer the question!”

“He’s alright. Less practiced than either of us are.” They kiss again, Eijun brushing his tongue between Miyuki’s lips before pulling away. “Much less.”

“You looked like you enjoyed it though.”

“That was because it was him. More about the guy than his kissing skills.” 

Eijun is laughing too now, and the way Miyuki looks at him, it’s like a promise of the summer to come, filled with triumph and happiness. They’ll get to play together and challenge each other and tug Okumura in, entangle him into it until he gives up his frowns and brooding. Now that he thinks about it, Eijun has never heard the sound of his laugh. 

They’ll put this wrong to right soon enough.

***

“You’re fucking with me.”

“If there’s anyone being fucked with, Taku, it’s definitely not you.”

They’re sitting on the grass hill, done with the cool-down drills. Dinner is still an hour away but the thought of eating makes Koushuu feel sick. Summer training camp is just around the corner and according to Kanemaru it’s going to be hell on earth. Koushuu isn’t sure he’s going to survive it.

“Well, that’s miles better than what you’ve expected, right?”

“Yeah, but that’s just— that’s insane.” He still can’t wrap his head around the idea of dating two people, let alone the two being Miyuki and Sawamura. It’s complicated enough having crushes on both. It’s a nightmare to like them. It’s exhilarating to have them like him back. 

“Life’s insane, Koushuu.” Taku sighs, tilting his head like a mother to her silly naive child. “And I think you’re winning it so far.”

And he’s probably right. 

So far it doesn’t feel like anything, though. He and Miyuki have already shared the weird tension before yesterday, so there’s nothing that Koushuu hasn’t been through before. The only new thing was Miyuki brushing their fingers briefly on his way out to practice. And even that might’ve been an accident. As for Sawamura, there wasn’t much time to talk during the team’s morning run. At some point the pitcher turned around, flashing him a bright smile, and Koushuu stumbled almost face planting into the packed earth. Embarrassing but nothing new.

“Just letting you know, if you ever ditch me to hang out with your boyfriends or something, I’ll shave your head in your sleep.” It’s a good thing he always has Taku to bother him out of retreating into his head. Koushuu rolls his eyes.

“Weren’t you the one complaining we spend way too much time together?”

“Yes, but now you’ll spend all your time making heart-eyes at Sawamura-senpai or hate kissing Miyuki-senpai into shutting up.” Koushuu shoves him onto the grass and is about to roll him down the hill with his foot, when someone sneaks up on them.

“Did someone mention kissing me?” Miyuki leans over his shoulder, and Koushuu can smell the fresh scent of deodorant he uses. It’s distracting. 

“No.”

“Ah, right. It was hate-kissing, my bad.” He flops down next to them before bumping fists with Taku either in greeting or in solidarity over Koushuu’s annoyance. He should’ve never let them talk to each other. Miyuki ends up sitting too close, his thigh pressed flush against Koushuu’s and arm placed behind his back. “I don’t mind, by the way.”

“You can ask Sawamura-senpai then.”

“Oh, we’re more about passionate making out.” Taku suddenly looks like he’s about to retch. “You’ll learn though.”

Koushuu drops his eyes to Miyuki’s lips, remembering their kiss. Yeah, passionate sounds about right. The thought of getting hands-on experience makes him shiver. The idea of getting to see Sawamura and Miyuki doing the same has Koushuu flushing red. Hormones, all of it is just hormones. 

“And that’s my cue to leave,” Taku says, standing up and shaking the grass of his uniform. “See you at dinner, guys. Please don’t traumatize anyone in the vicinity.”

Koushuu watches him leave, murder in his eyes. Miyuki leans closer, puts a cheek on his shoulder. The sun is beating down on them and it’s hot, but the gesture sends a different kind of warmth through Koushuu’s chest. This is new, this is… scary. He tries not to move, but then Miyuki pulls away, watching his face.

“Do you actually mind the PDA or is it the way you mind Sawamura’s obnoxious laugh?”

“What’s the difference?” Koushuu gauges the distance between their faces, counts the amount of times Miyuki’s eyes dart to his lips.

“Well, one of those you actually like and the other one you might like if I do it right.”

“Your smirks are obnoxious enough, I think.” 

Miyuki laughs and nudges him with his shoulder until he breaks into a smile. And that’s when it does feel like winning, them sitting together in the grass, flirting and almost kissing. Koushuu lets his knuckles brush Miyuki’s knee, remembering Sawamura’s touch on his. 

“We should play catch tonight,” Miyuki suggests out of nowhere.

“You mean all three of us?” 

“I was actually thinking it might be fun to do it just the two of us and then have someone tell Sawamura, so that he comes over and I get to tease him until he does the shutting up thing Seto mentioned earlier.”

“You two must be the most exhausting people to date each other.” Koushuu shakes his head, finally turning away. The wind picks up, blowing the fringe away from his face. The summer is right around the corner, and they’ll soon be fighting for their place at Koshien. The only thing on his mind should be getting on that roster. Instead, it’s this. 

“I mean, it’ll be worse for you.”

From Miyuki this sounds like a promise. A challenge, maybe. Koushuu feels a hunger rise in his heart. There’s a shout, and when they turn to look, Sawamura is waving at them from the field, still half-naked, an ice wrap around his shoulder. He starts jogging toward them, obviously not planning on putting on a shirt. Maybe it’s not a bad idea to annoy him.

Koushuu doesn’t stop to think, just turns back to Miyuki, grabbing his chin, and kisses him full on the mouth. He hears Sawamura exclaim and catches Miyuki’s surprised noise with his tongue. They won’t be the only ones catching him off guard and bringing in chaos. The thought also feels like winning.

***

The practice for the next couple of days is brutal, so playing catch is out of the question. It’s like they are raising the intensity in preparation for the summer already. Kazuya can barely move his limbs. Okumura is almost comatose. So they invite Eijun over, who is, of course, somehow still has energy. Luckily, Kimura is off with his family as Kazuya had used up his monthly privacy favor (they each get one free) for his confession.

Now he lies sprawled on the floor with his head in Okumura’s lap, listening to Eijun talk about that manga he’s reading, the plot of which is even more ridiculous than what the three of them have currently going on. When Kazuya first reached for Okumura’s hand to tug him off his bed, it was like trying to coax a kitten into your lap. If said kitten also growled at you. 

“Don’t wanna?” Kazuya asked him innocently, hand on his thigh. Okumura frowned at him but relented. Now he has his fingers in Kazuya’s hair, tugging slightly. Eijun watches them, biting his lip, as if not sure whether he wants to join or not miss the view. 

Kazuya enjoys calling him by his first name in his head. He likes the way Eijun blushes, when he says it out loud as well. He wonders if he’ll get to call Okumura by his at some point. 

“And then they kiss but it’s, like, in the middle of the goddamn forest, full of hunters!”

“This werewolf seems too stupid to have survived for so long,” Kazuya drawls, catching hold of Okumura’s free hand to play with his fingers. They seem reluctant to cooperate, especially after Kazuya tries to bite at them lightly. It’s a work in progress. 

“Which is why he needs her so badly!” Eijun grins triumphantly, as if that’s what he’s been leading up to this whole time. He even claps his hands like a child

“Ah, is that why you need two boyfriends then? To keep you up and about?”

That gets Kazuya a kick to the shin, but also Okumura’s small smirk, so it evens out. They bicker some more until Eijun sits on him either in an attempt to strangle him or as part of foreplay, Kazuya isn’t too sure. He’s having a wonderful time being an asshole to his boyfriend either way. 

Okumura visibly checks out of the conversation, so much so that even Eijun notices and starts snapping his fingers in front of the first-year’s face. Kazuya loses hold on Okumura’s hand as it moves to slap away Eijun’s. 

“So do they end up dead?” 

The question is so sudden Kazuya raises his face to him. Okumura didn’t seem like he cared about the story at all, but the curiosity in his eyes now is quite real. Eijun looks surprised as well, but pleasantly so. There’s a twinkle in his eyes as he shakes his head. Makes Kazuya want to kiss him. 

Which is exactly what Okumura does. 

With all the jokes Kazuya made to Eijun about kissing practice, it’s embarrassing how it’s neither of them who have initiated anything for the past three days. Well, in truth they haven’t done anything at all, except for having a lunch date once. Kazuya has been going mad over being anywhere near them. Now he watches Okumura move his mouth against Eijun’s and his own lips tingle. Seeing people kiss over your face shouldn’t be this hot. Their joint hands rest on Kazuya’s chest, right over his heart, which races with the realization that this is really happening.

He can’t believe he thought he was happy before this was real. 

Now he reaches for the shape of Eijun’s hips over his stomach, runs his hands over the strong thighs. He waits for them to pull away, eyes hazy, half-lidded. Then Kazuya pulls Okumura down by the collar of his t-shirt and licks Eijun’s taste off his lips. Every muscle in his body feels like lead, but right now, with these two on him, it all fades away. 

Before this, a year ago or so, when the confessions wouldn’t stop coming, Kazuya briefly entertained the idea of never dating at all. When people keep telling you they like you, hoards of them, you can’t help but feel that maybe something’s wrong with you if you can’t like any of them back and you’re also really bad at offering any consolation about it. Back then, love felt like a thing he would watch from the outside. 

When Eijun first kissed him, it was a possibility.

Now, it feels like a goal.

“Will you tell me what's with you and Fujihara-san now?” Okumura asks out of nowhere. Kazuya, whose world is still spinning from the kiss, comes back to reality and realizes the question wasn't for him, but for Eijun.

“Are you jealous, Wolfboy?”

“Yes.” The answer is immediate, like the information is inconsequential, and Okumura just wants to get to the point.

“First of all, wow,” Kazuya says to him, raising up on his elbows. “Please tell me when it's me you're jealous about, this looks like fun. Second of all,” he turns away from the eyeroll to Eijun, “what's that about you and the girl who confessed to me less than three weeks ago?.”

“It's nothing.”

“Oh, I'm sure Okumura wouldn't make a big deal out of it if it was.”

“I felt guilty because I thought you rejected her for me.” Eijun doesn't look at him, but somewhere on the floor. “And then I just— I couldn't stop thinking about how we're not even dating and if I told you I liked you, you'd just—”

“Wait, you like me?”

“No. That was a hypothetical.”

Kazuya tugs him down to plant a kiss on his cheek, smiling his stupidest, sappiest grin. Okumura, watching them, looks as if he’s stunned, either by their casual intimacy or by Eijun’s answer. There’s a faint blush on his cheeks. Finally, he opens his mouth:

“So you really were just being a good friend.”

“Exactly! But it’s cute that you were jealous. Just never assume I’m fooling around with Furuya, please. That’s just gross.”

Kazuya rolls his eyes, arm sliding around Eijun’s hips again, and then catches Okumura’s gaze. He sees a familiar feeling in them, the fond exasperation of liking someone at once ridiculous but also wonderful. For Kazuya, this is what it’s been like for the past god-knows-how-long. Now he shares this with someone equally weirded out by their feelings. It’s gratifying.

“—and if there’s someone to keep an eye on, it’s the pretty boy catcher over here.”

“Sure. Just don’t forget to blink.”

When Eijun tackles him this time, Okumura can’t avoid being tugged into it as well. Kazuya hears him let out a soft laugh once he’s cuddled between the two of them, their arms and legs tangled. The sound of it is like a breath of relief he takes after finally getting a hit. 

Something in Kazuya’s chest expands, his heart probably, to include this new reality into his world. He’ll have to figure it out as he goes. But then again, everyone does.