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Kazuya had refused to open the curtains today. For once, Eijun hadn’t pouted about it. It was a childish habit—probably a Pavlovian response Kazuya had developed as a kid when bad weather almost always meant no baseball—but Kazuya didn’t care. When he was in a foul mood, the last thing Kazuya wanted to do was look out at the grim, grey outdoors and feel worse, no matter how much Eijun lectured him about the benefits of natural sunlight. As if they didn’t get enough of it during practice already.
It was cold, dark and miserable outside their apartment. The unusually cold winter weather had settled in fiercely and was not leaving any time soon. It was snowing too. But it wasn’t the nice kind that Eijun often liked to drag Kazuya out into and play around in for hours like he was a little kid and not a professional athlete pushing thirty. It was the kind of snow that settled in grey slush on their doorstep and did the impossible of making baseball not fun.
So today Eijun was perfectly happy to spend their new years eve closed off from the rest of the world with Kazuya. They huddled under the kotatsu together, Eijun idly playing with Kazuya’s hand under the futon as Kazuya browsed his phone. He was feeling innumerably better.
Kazuya smiled as he felt Eijun slump into him, his face resting half on the table and half in the crook of Kazuya’s arm. He was humming along softly to the music he’d insisted on putting on in the background as they’d eaten dinner. It was the so-called ‘Kazuya and Eijun’s Amazing Christmas playlist’ that Kazuya had contributed a grand total of two songs to—under duress—compared to Eijun’s twenty-three. The vibrations from Eijun’s humming rumbled pleasantly against Kazuya’s arm. He put his phone down and ruffled Eijun’s hair gently.
“Don’t fall asleep here,” Kazuya said. “You’ll get a neck cramp. Again.”
“Hmmm… I’ll be fine. Not sleeping. Just resting.”
“Sure, sure…”
Kazuya continued to run his hands through Eijun’s hair, twisting a small section carefully into a curl around his fingers and letting it go again. Eijun tapped out a rhythm on Kazuya’s palm in time to the song as it faded out.
The next song started and Kazuya perked up. It wasn’t usually on the playlist, but it sounded familiar.
“I know this one,” he said to himself absent-mindedly.
Eijun’s tapping stopped. His fingers stilled on top of Kazuya’s.
“Yeah…” Kazuya murmured. “Wait. Isn’t it one of your favourites?”
Eijun made a noncommittal sound against his arm. Kazuya ploughed on.
“It is, isn’t it? Oi,” he nudged Eijun with his elbow. “Come on. I’m right aren’t I? Eijun? Are you doing the thing where you make me feel like an old man for not knowing something really popular?”
That at least got a small snort out of him.
“I’m not,” Eijun said, voice muffled against the fabric of Kazuya’s sweater.
“Okay,” Kazuya said, not quite convinced. Eijun’s hand slipped from his and Kazuya’s brow furrowed. “So am I right then? It’s been one of your favourites since forever. Since we started dating. I remember.”
At that, Eijun tilted his head to look at him, dislodging Kazuya’s hand that had still been nestled there.
“You remember?”
“I told you I did! I just don’t remember the name. C’mon, help me out. It's driving me nuts.”
“Do you remember? ”
“I just—!” Kazuya exhaled sharply and the puff of air ruffled his slightly-too-long bangs. He pushed them irritably off his face along with his glasses to rub at his eyes. “I just said I remember.”
“It was one of my favourites,” Eijun said as though he hadn’t spoken. Kazuya frowned. His glasses slowly slid back down his face as he stared at Eijun.
“Then why is it on the playlist?”
“Drop it, Kazuya.”
“It didn’t used to be there.”
“Because I still like it! It’s just not my favourite anymore.”
“Eijun…”
Eijun had turned his face back down towards the table. Kazuya gingerly put his hand back into his hair. Eijun only stiffened for a moment before relaxing, which Kazuya took as the go ahead to continue. He started running his fingers through Eijun’s hair again.
“What’s wrong?” Kazuya said quietly. “Hey,” he fumbled around for Eijun’s hand under the futon and squeezed it. “Tell me.”
Eijun sighed heavily and turned back again towards him.
“Do you remember that Christmas Eve when we were at that party? At Kuramochi’s?”
Kazuya did remember. It had been ten years ago when he and Eijun had just started dating. Kuramochi had hosted a small Christmas Eve party at his college dorm as a freshman, much to his regret, as it had turned out not so very small and became more of a Seido reunion party than anything resembling a Christmas celebration. And no—as Kazuya had made sure to point out to Kuramochi at the time and many times since—the one sad, limp piece of tinsel above the door frame did not a Christmas party make. This was especially true when it had been torn down barely half an hour into said party and repurposed as a crown on top of a long-suffering Chris-senpai’s head.
But the party had been fun. Which was high praise coming from Kazuya, a self professed party pooper. This fact also left him even more confused as to why Eijun had brought it up now. Eijun loved parties, and Kazuya was sure Eijun had been having fun that night too.
Wracking his brains and coming up short, Kazuya pushed Eijun’s bangs off his forehead softly to look him in the eyes better. Eijun was staring intently at him.
“What about it?” Kazuya said.
He knew at once that he had said the wrong thing when Eijun withdrew his gaze and set his head back down on the table again with a resigned sounding sigh.
Kazuya gritted his teeth. He hated disappointing Eijun more than anything. And after dating for nearly eleven years, Kazuya really thought he should be better at not doing it by now. In fact, it happened so infrequently these days, that Kazuya had naively convinced himself that this kind of upset was behind them, back in the past when he’d been a dumb teenager still figuring himself out, never mind other people or relationships. Eijun was his best friend, his partner—both on and off the field. Kazuya should be an Eijun expert by now.
And yet, something as simple as a forgotten song had left him swinging at air.
“It doesn’t matter,” Eijun mumbled into the table. “It’s stupid. It was so long ago now.”
But Kazuya wasn’t going down that easily.
“Eijun, tell me. Please.”
“It’s really not a big deal.”
“Upsetting you is always a big deal to me. You know that.”
“I’m not upset,” Eijun raised his head. His cheeks were tinged red and he sounded sheepish. “I just feel like an idiot for letting it get to me when it was so insignificant to you, that you don’t even remember.”
Kazuya’s heart sank.
“I promise that’s not true,” he said, pressing his weight closer into Eijun’s frame. “There'll be some other reason I forgot.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I did drink a lot that night. That much I do remember. And you know how much of a lightweight I was back then.”
“Are. Are a lightweight—”
“Oi…”
“—that part has not changed, Miyuki Kazuya.”
Kazuya opened his mouth automatically to protest, but there was a hint of a smile now playing on Eijun’s face which was a delicate progress that Kazuya would loathe to ruin.
Eijun sat up properly at last, and despite the dampened mood, Kazuya watched with a mixture of affection and amusement as Eijun appeared to steal himself in a manner similar to how he geared up for a pitch. It was a wind-up so familiar to Kazuya from his usual vantage point in the catcher’s box, that if he closed his eyes he could see it play out in front of him without even looking at Eijun: a head tilt to the left, jaw clench, shoulder roll, a glance downwards and then back up again. Back at Kazuya. Looking at him with a heat in his eyes that still left Kazuya trembling every time even now.
“You were a bit drunk I suppose,” Eijun started in a musing tone, “but I didn’t think you were that … urgh!” He made a frustrated sound and pushed his hands into his hair, pulling at the strands.
Kazuya said nothing. He quashed down the instinctive reaction to start overthinking wildly about how badly he could have possibly screwed up all those years ago without ever knowing, and demanding that Eijun tell him right now exactly what had happened. For if there was one thing Kazuya had learnt over the course of their relationship, it was that, although Eijun frequently spoke his mind—loudly, often, and with very little scruples—there were many things he took to heart and kept there. It had been a lesson in patience for Kazuya over the years, learning when to push and when to fall back when it came to coaxing free those deeply embedded, tender parts of Eijun.
“Everyone was dancing,” Eijun mumbled into the quiet of their living room. His words caught on the dying refrain of the song that still played softly in the background.
For some reason, that was enough to evoke a small flash of memory within Kazuya.
“Everyone is dancing, Miyuki-senpai!”
“We were all so happy,” Eijun said. “A lot of us were drunk and dancing. You were drunk, and it was my first time seeing you that way. It was funny. You were whinier than usual.” Eijun snorted and if it were any other time, Kazuya might have protested, but it was hard with his heart feeling as though it was lodged in his throat.
“I remember thinking how unfair it was that you were a mess, but still so handsome and so… pretty.” Eijun covered his mouth with his hand as he spoke, a light blush on his cheeks. Kazuya felt his own face heat in response, his anxiety momentarily forgotten as he marvelled, not for the first time, over how Eijun could still reduce him to a blushing fool even after years of being together.
“We’d only been dating a few months, but I was already so proud that you were mine. You were my boyfriend. I wanted to tell everyone—show everyone—how amazing you were. Show them that you were my amazing, ridiculous, handsome boyfriend. And then this song came on. It was my favourite song.” Eijun licked his lips. “So I asked you to dance with me.”
Oh god.
And suddenly Kazuya could remember everything. Everything. In excruciating detail. Right down to the smell of the half drunk beer he’d had in his hand and the flushed, happy expression on Eijun’s face as he’d asked Kazuya the question.
The sound of his own voice as he’d replied.
“I’m not dancing, Sawamura.”
He had been nineteen and an absolute idiot. Self conscious about their new relationship and displaying any sort of PDA—despite all of their friends knowing and supporting them. Too prideful to admit that he couldn’t dance. Too stupid to realise that none of that had been what was actually important.
“Miyuki Kazuya! It’s my favourite song! Come and dance with me!”
“Eijun…”
Kazuya felt around for Eijun’s hand again under the futon. Eijun’s eyes were glassy. He rubbed at them angrily.
“Stupid…” Eijun muttered, letting Kazuya squeeze his hand once more. “I don’t know why I’m getting this upset over something this small from so long ago. I don’t know why it mattered to me so much at the time.”
“It’s not stupid,” Kazuya said. “It’s not stupid, Eijun.”
“I’m not dancing, Sawamura.”
“Why not?”
“I hate dancing.”
“It’s not proper dancing!”
“I don’t care.”
“You don’t have to be good! Look! Everyone is terrible and drunk. We’re just having fun. Come on!”
“I’m not dancing with you, Sawamura.”
Kazuya knew now why he didn’t remember clearly. Because he had spent the rest of the night drinking and trying to forget the look on Eijun’s face after he’d said those words. And until this moment, it had worked. Until this moment, he had only remembered the good parts of that night. Now all he could recall was the flash of hurt that had passed over Eijun’s face and the wave of confusion and guilt he’d felt for not truly understanding why.
And he’d been angry. Angry because why couldn’t Eijun accept that he didn’t want to dance? Why was it so important that Kazuya danced with him when Eijun had so many friends who were already there dancing around him?
It made sense now why Eijun didn’t know how drunk Kazuya had actually been that night. Because most of Kazuya’s heavy drinking had come after Eijun had decided to avoid him for the rest of the party. The last Kazuya had seen of him, he had looked happy dancing with everyone else. Then Kazuya had shut himself away in Kuramochi’s bedroom, drank more, and then thrown up spectacularly in Kuramochi’s trash can.
When Kuramochi had found him, Kazuya vaguely remembered pleading with him over and over not to tell Eijun as Kuramochi grudgingly helped clean him up, laying Kazuya down on his bed and pushing back his sweaty bangs to put a cold compress on his head. It seemed that Kuramochi must have kept his word, because the next day Eijun had acted his normal self.
Kazuya had also been none the wiser.
At the time, all he had remembered was waking up the next morning in Kuramochi’s bed with Eijun sitting on the edge of it beside him. Kazuya had looked up at him blearily, an odd ache in his chest as Eijun’s eyes searched his own. Eijun had been strangely silent as he’d placed a glass of water on the bedside table and pushed it towards Kazuya, gaze never leaving his.
As they’d both sat in silence, Kazuya had been overcome with the feeling that he should say something, but had no idea what. He’d opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again just as readily, his mind drawing a blank.
Then there had been a warm weight on his torso. Kazuya had looked down to see Eijun carefully resting his palm over Kazuya’s chest. Over his heart. He recalled the sensation of Eijun’s steady pulse through his wrist and how it had resonated with his own. The gesture—though he hadn’t known what Eijun meant by it—had filled him with an extraordinary sense of relief.
Kazuya had reached out slowly and placed his hand on top of Eijun’s in response.
“Good morning,” he remembered saying in a voice dry and rough from his terrible decisions.
“Good morning,” Eijun had responded with a small smile. “You really are a lightweight huh? Kuramochi said you barely had a couple of drinks before he had to put you in his room to lay down.”
Kazuya had not remembered.
But he did now.
“You remember what you said to me then?” Eijun said in a stiff voice, and Kazuya could tell he was trying his best not to let his voice waver. “It really… it really hurt my feelings.” Eijun’s hand had loosened his grip on his, but Kazuya clung on.
“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” Kazuya said, unable to keep the pained sound from his voice.
“Because I felt bad,” Eijun said with a sigh that appeared to relax his whole body, a burden finally lifted. “As soon as I woke up the next day, I felt bad for pressuring you so much.”
“You shouldn’t have felt bad,” Kazuya said with a grimace. “I was being an ass and you know it.” Eijun shook his head with a scowl.
“It was silly. Selfish. I wasn’t thinking of you, only about a dumb fantasy I had about dancing with my boyfriend to my favourite song. What is it you like to say—?”
“Stop it—”
“Too much romance manga.”
“Eijun.”
Eijun looked at him fiercely.
“It’s okay,” Eijun said. “The past is the past right? I know better now. We both know better now. How to talk to each other properly and all that. We were just kids. And it was just a song. Just a dance.”
“It’s not okay! I ruined your favourite song!”
“You didn’t ruin it.”
“I did! I was being a tactless moron and hurt you.”
“And I was being too pushy! You’re allowed to not like dancing, Kazuya. I shouldn't have tried to force you.”
“But I still hurt your feelings and never apologised. That’s not okay.”
“You didn’t know—”
“I should have.”
Because it was so obvious now. So easy to look back as a grown man and see that it wasn’t about the dance at all. It wasn’t about the song either.
Kazuya stood up as the next song in the playlist began to play. Eijun looked at him curiously as he skipped the playlist back to Eijun’s song.
“What are you doing?” Eijun said softly as Kazuya turned back around.
“Making it up to you,” he said, voice firm. He held out his hand to Eijun. “Come on.”
Eijun stared at him suspiciously.
“But you don’t like dancing,” he said.
“I know, but I'm also not a stubborn kid anymore. Plus, with you as my dance partner, how bad can I possibly be?”
A slow grin began to spread across Eijun’s face. He gripped Kazuya’s hand and Kazuya pulled him to his feet. Tugging Eijun closer by the hips, Kazuya brought their foreheads together.
“You’ll have to lead,'' Kazuya said. “I don't know what I’m doing.” Eijun laughed.
“Like I'm not used to taking you in hand by now, Miyuki Kazuya.”
So Eijun took the lead, gently taking hold of Kazuya’s right hand in his left and repositioning the other on his shoulder. He took hold of Kazuya’s waist with a warm grip in his right hand and began to move them slowly to the beat.
Their heads still inclined, Kazuya could see the way Eijun’s expression transformed up close as they swayed back and forth together. Eijun’s blissed out smile and the happy blush high on his cheeks left Kazuya choked up, throat burning. God if only his younger self could have known that this was the face Eijun would have made if they had danced together that night. Kazuya would have never said no.
“I’m sorry,” Kazuya whispered into Eijun’s ear, emotion breaking in his voice. “I’m sorry.” Eijun rubbed Kazuya’s lower back and squeezed his hip.
“Thank you,” he whispered back, nuzzling his nose along Kazuya’s jawline affectionately before planting a series of soft kisses on his cheek.
He’d been such a fool. Kazuya curled closer towards Eijun’s warmth, burying his face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in. The scent of home. Dancing was good. Dancing with Eijun was wonderful.
Eijun was humming along again as he swayed them around the room, and the vibrations against Kazuya’s chest pulled forth the forgotten lyrics from his mind.
Kazuya lifted his head and mumbled the words of the song against the shell of Eijun’s ear. He felt Eijun’s smile grow wider against his face.
“You know the words?”
“Of course I do. It’s your favourite song.”
Eijun embraced him hard.
“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah it is.”
As the last verse started to fade out, Eijun pulled back from his embrace a little to look at him warmly. His hands came up to Kazuya’s face, cupping his cheeks. His thumbs brushed over Kazuya’s sideburns and the evening stubble that had begun to grow on his chin. Eijun’s hands slid down to cradle the back of Kazuya’s neck, playing with the soft hair at his nape before coming to rest on his shoulders.
And then his palm was on Kazuya's chest. The last few bars of the song floated serenely through the air around them. Kazuya’s heartbeat thrummed along with the steady rhythm, and he was sure he could feel Eijun’s pulse match his own through his fingertips.
The sudden crackle of fireworks outside made them both jump, ringing in the new year with dull booms and tinny whistles.
Kazuya put his hand on top of Eijun’s.
He wanted to say something, but ‘Happy New Year’ wasn’t right somehow. Wasn't enough.
“Good morning,” Kazuya said instead. Then he watched as recognition slowly dawned in Eijun’s eyes. He smiled brightly at him.
“Good morning, Kazuya.”