Archive of Our Own

Miyuki tried to comprehend what had just happened, all the paths and winding roads he had taken to end up right where he was, ears ringing and lips bruised from a crashing force. 

He pictured all the decisions he could have possibly made for the front of his t-shirt to be stretched out as it was, fisted and yanked forward to close the gap between him and the human embodiment of the sun, radiant and loud and boisterous, the warmth of it pouring out onto him. He couldn’t quite comprehend it, mind racing a hundred miles an hour, still recovering from the aftershock of what had just transpired.

He was thankful that he was sat down, the stone steps grounding him when his knees experienced a momentary weakness just as the rest of his body, ready to succumb to a siren’s call, falling forward without control. 

The last twenty minutes of his life felt like a blur, unclear and fuzzy around the edges as if just roused from sleep. One second, Miyuki was rounding up some of the first years to get into the canteen, and the next he was right here, mind simultaneously wiped and replaying the same few seconds on repeat. Yet even then, he couldn’t tell how exactly he ended up in this position. Just what steps had he made? Just what had convinced him to go this far in the first place?

Questions that were by no means easy to answer, but not impossible.

He thought back, dozens upon dozens of memories flashing behind his eyes. He dipped his index and thumb under his glasses, rubbing at the bridge of his nose and easing the tension left by the pads. The images were blinding, too bright to handle in his current state, dazed and confused and knocked off-kilter by a hurricane of a person. 

Yet even so, he was unable to force down the twitch of his lips, shaking his head at the thought of the very same boy that had come into his life like a force of nature to be reckoned with, no disregard for the walls and defences built up carefully by Miyuki. 

Barriers which had been peeled back layer by layer, with him being forced to act more like a human and less like a sparky jerk who only had his baseball skill to redeem him. And in between those cracks, it looked as if one person in particular had managed to slip in and wreak havoc to Miyuki's otherwise uneventful life.

Somewhere along the line, he found that presence to be an integral part to his routine. A light at the end of the tunnel, a warmth in the dead of night, a bustling sound which he didn't seem to mind. He just didn't know at what point exactly Sawamura had gone from simply being interesting yet still lacking enough for Miyuki to wholeheartedly - for a lack of better words - care and nurture amidst everyone else, to becoming the only person he couldn't pry his eyes off no matter how hard he tried. Though he also wasn't sure if he had ever really been anything but the center of his attention. It was complicated, after all.

But perhaps it had been the day Sawamura stepped forward to accept the ace number from coach Kataoka, his broad back, the tangible gains of his unrelenting effort, facing the rest of the team. The day he accepted the title and the responsibility which came with it, excited and nervous, but refusing to allow the weight of it to completely crush him. The day he took the next step forward.

Becoming someone to rely on. Someone to trust. 

A sight which Miyuki truly hadn't expected to witness so soon, but one which he had secretly hoped for from the very start. Sawamura, dependable and determined, had gone and proved himself to everyone. And as he stood tall, hands clutching to the fabric number 1, Miyuki felt the strongest urge to reach out, even if just for a split second. Reach out for what, he wasn't certain.

Though, objectively speaking, it had to be long before that. 

Before Sawamura began to cover for Furuya’s unfortunate shortcomings, battling with his own emotions and pride. Before he was really reliable enough to stand his ground on the mound. Perhaps even before he had managed to overcome the yips - a feat Miyuki couldn't have been more impressed by, but to be honest, it didn't come as much of a surprise to him considering how bullish and headstrong Sawamura was.

It probably happened even earlier still; back before he made it to Seido, a thunderous voice calling out someone triple his size with ten times the skill. No control, basically no baseball skill to talk about, but wild in a way which had Miyuki's palm itching from the impact of the ball against his mitt. 

Thinking of it now, Miyuki still couldn't believe how reckless and unfiltered Sawamura had been - still was. 

Maybe that had a part to play in it, really. 

Miyuki had never been all too fond of the larger than life characters, finding their mere presence overwhelming. No matter how talented or hardworking they may be, Miyuki was used to the quiet, to the silence which came when returning to an empty home, his father busy with work, filled only with the background noise of the television. The silence which came on a summer day, not even the faintest gust of wind to ruffle the tree branches. 

And he had been fine with that, content. But then in came Sawamura, dial unapologetically turned to eleven. What should have been a nuisance and constant annoyance instead became a welcomed part of Miyuki's days, always expectant and on the edge of his seat as he awaited the first signs of Sawamura up in the morning. 

Kuramochi frequently grumbled about how energetic the second year could be as soon as he stepped out of his bed, even if he sported eyebags or was sore from a grueling day behind him. Whilst he was complaining, Kuramochi also seemed humoured, infected by Sawamura's idiotic positivity. 

It seemed that Miyuki wasn't the only one. 

But that thought didn't make him feel as good as it should have; his stomach churned and an acidic taste rose up his throat. It was without a doubt that Sawamura had become a staple of the team, but even more than that he became a friend, someone to admire, someone you wanted to take care of, someone that you liked.

And, in Miyuki's case, he was all of that. All of that with extra emphasis on the liked aspect. 

Because Miyuki liked Sawamura - not in the same way he liked Kuramochi who was the closest thing to a best friend he had all his life - but in a way he honestly didn't want to think about. 

Miyuki Kazuya, soon to be nineteen with quite the future ahead of him, didn't do crushes and romance. Ever since he was old enough to realise that it wasn't normal to think about boys the same way his peers would talk about girls, he kept all his feelings to himself, adding yet another outer layer to his shell. He was already considered a weirdo and he didn't need any more beatings just because he swung for the other team.

It's not like it was all that difficult to ignore it, and even though he ended up getting quite the few confessions from girls due to his looks, he always used baseball as an excuse to turn them down, rarely if ever giving anyone a reason to think there was any other reason behind his refusal to give any of the countless girls fawning over him a chance. The fact he hadn't ever experienced anything more than a few celebrity crushes also made it easier.

Though things were undoubtedly different now because, for some ungodly reason, Sawamura had single-handedly broken Miyuki's crushless, affectionless streak. The irony of Sawamura being a pitcher also wasn't lost on him considering a solid 90% of pro league players he developed crushes on back in his younger years were also pitchers. 

Maybe he just had a type.

But then again, Sawamura was the antithesis of everything Miyuki thought he liked. Perhaps that was exactly the reason as to why he felt the way he did about him. Isn't that what people say happens? That opposites attract?

Apparently Sawamura thought so as well if the events of the past hour were anything to go by. Events which Miyuki by no means expected in the slightest. 

It's not like the signs were oblivious. 

Sawamura had always made his presence known, so Miyuki didn't think much of it when the second year spent more time with him - especially now that his pitching was improving by leaps and bounds, wanting Miyuki to catch for him even more or teach him about making calls. 

Miyuki accepted Sawamura by his side during meals, walking together to and from practice, and even in his room when the pitcher stayed behind after everyone else left to just read or - on the increasingly more common occasion - study, muttering to himself in the process. If it were anyone else, Miyuki would have probably found it too much, but it was Sawamura so for some reason it felt right.

For some strange, baffling reason, Miyuki found it easy to let Sawamura in, even if he himself did not realise this until much later. 

Snarky and cold as he could be, it never deterred Sawamura. In fact, it seemed to intrigue him even more, trying to crack the catcher open like a clam, searching for the pearl he was certain was there. 

Maybe it was just baseball, or maybe it was more; Miyuki couldn't say for certain if there was anything more to him than the baseball, as depressing as that may sound. But perhaps that was enough for Sawamura and his one-track mind. 

Something must have shifted, Miyuki just wasn't a hundred percent sure when. Sawamura's personality didn't make it easier to discern when he went from being all up in Miyuki's business solely because that's just how he was to being all up in Miyuki's business because he wanted it. Because he wanted Miyuki. 

Maybe it had simply been a hallucination - very vivid one, but still a hallucination. That seemed more plausible than Sawamura having feelings for him - ones which were strong enough for him to spring forth, bursting at the seams as he took Miyuki by surprise, his kiss knocking the wind right out of Miyuki's lungs.

He chuckled, low and airy, hanging his head between his spread legs, left foot bouncing with remnants of the adrenaline pumping through his veins. The corner of his eyes caught sight of a blue can, its contents spilled out along the stone stairs.

It wasn't every day that he got ambushed like this.

But then again, Sawamura had always been full of surprises.

Miyuki found Sawamura sitting outside the gates to the dorms, head tilted back and looking up at the sky, still too light out to make out any stars. A drink from the vending machine was next to his thigh, the small can precariously close to the edge of the stone step, one slight movement on the pitcher’s part and its contents would have spilled all over the ground.

He looked calm, engulfed in his own little world. 

Miyuki stopped and stared, the warm hues of the setting sun giving Sawamura's tanned skin a radiant glow, delicate and warm. It was an unusual thing to see him like that, peaceful in a way that seemed like a rare occurrence. Even on the mound when he was in his best shape, Miyuki had never witnessed this level of tranquility from the second year.

Curiosity a nagging itch at the back of his head, Miyuki bit the bullet and surged forward, hands shoved in his pockets as he approached Sawamura at the steps. He kicked a few loose pebbles on his way, the soft sound of them tumbling along the gravel alarming Sawamura of his presence.

The pitcher glanced towards Miyuki, expression pinching momentarily before he directed his attention at the picturesque sky, warm pinks and oranges overpowering the last slivers of blue. 

“You're gonna strain your neck if you keep doing that,” Miyuki pointed out, one foot on the first stone step. “Is it really worth it?”

“It's pretty,” was Sawamura's simple response. 

The catcher snorted, shaking his head with mild disbelief. “You're uncharacteristically muted right now, are you sure you're not an imposter?”

At that, Sawamura huffed, lips jutted out in a severe pout. “Miyuki Kazuya!” He called out, putting an end to his cloud gazing. 

The man in question laughed, leaning his body weight forward on his bent knee. “There it is. You had me worried for a second.” His easy smirk had Sawamura worked up in the blink of an eye, setting something bright and dangerous inside Miyuki - a fire which only Sawamura's presence was capable of igniting. 

“Are you here just to tease me?” The second year asked, the frown on his face bordering on cute. At least Miyuki knew he wasn't the only one who thought so after hearing at least half the team to some extent cooing about Sawamura. So thinking he was cute wasn't something all too absurd. 

“If that's what you want?”

“That's not what I want!” Sawamura retorted, returning to his standard volume. “I've had enough of that today,” he added, the words muttered through another pout. 

Miyuki let out an airy laugh, climbing up two more stairs to reach Sawamura, swiftly sitting himself beside the pitcher. He was careful to avoid the can in between them, going as far as to pull it back once he was sitting down. It was heavy, closer to full than empty. 

“We won the game though,” Miyuki said, tilting his head to the side. “And your little humiliating blunder eased the tension. A very ace thing to do,” he added, the edges of his words tinted with teasing. “Took the other team by surprise too.”

With a full body exhale, Sawamura shook off Miyuki's attempt at riling him up. He was getting better at that. Unfortunate.

“How come you're out here anyway? Isn't this prime tire lugging time?”

Sawamura shrugged. 

The catcher clicked his tongue. “Not talkative today, are you?” If it had been any other day, he might have poked a bit more, stoking the fire. But as things stood, the shift in mood felt fragile and tender; he didn't want to push things too far, especially when he had no idea what was running through Sawamura's head. 

They played a good game, the momentum of beating Inashiro keeping them strong in their first game on the big stage. Sawamura played well, carrying the team on his back in ways Miyuki wasn't capable of, using his enthusiasm to motivate the rest of them. It was awe inspiring to experience, Sawamura proving himself over and over again in Miyuki's eyes. 

Even if he had a few rougher pitches, slightly too high here and there, Miyuki was still left speechless throughout the game, feeling every ounce of Sawamura's dedication and will with the pitches which landed comfortably in the catcher’s mitt. 

Miyuki just hoped that Sawamura didn't suddenly get crushed by the expectations placed on his back. 

Hopefully he would be back to the regular after some rest, maybe even acting weird like after the Ichidaisan game where he had a random outburst directed at Miyuki for no apparent reason, but that would be it. Miyuki would prefer that over a complete breakdown. Not that he honestly expected one in the first place; if Sawamura had done one thing over the past two years, it would be proving just how resilient he was, mentally and physically.

Miyuki stole a glance at the second year, Sawamura's attention caught on a drifting cloud. 

“Fine by me.”

He accepted the silence which followed, just about making out the faint noise of the team laughing and talking from inside. They were probably watching a recording of their game, analysing it as Miyuki knew he should be doing. That was what he was meant to do and what he had fully intended on getting to before he noticed Sawamura out here all by himself.

Maybe he also needed a moment of peace.

Miyuki closed his eyes, leaning back on his hands as he faced the sun, copying what Sawamura was doing next to him. From the outside it probably looked comical, the battery acting like a pair of sunflowers, chasing after the last rays of sunlight. Maybe Kuramochi would have laughed at them for it too, but Miyuki didn't mind at that moment. 

And so they remained, a comfortable silence wrapping its arms around them. Miyuki took in a deep breath, relaxing his shoulders before finally sitting upright. He joined his hands at his front, thumb running over the bump of his knuckles. 

When he looked back at Sawamura, the second year was just as he had been a few minutes ago, basking in the sun, expression unreadable. Maybe a few months ago, Miyuki would have been concerned about the blank look on his face, but now he knew better. This was Sawamura calm and reflective.

“Are you gonna head inside any time soon?”

The pitcher reluctantly craned his head back down, eyes level with Miyuki's. “Later,” he replied. “It's nice out.”

Miyuki hummed in acknowledgment. 

And finally, whatever had been on Sawamura's mind spilled out at last. “Five more games left,” he said, making it clear where his mind had been all along. 

“Way to sound sad about it,” Miyuki mused, picking at some dirt beneath his nails. “You'll be able to play baseball after the tournament as well, you know? Seriously.”

“Not with you though,” Sawamura pointed out, his words sending an abrupt shock down Miyuki's spine. He stilled, body tensed up at the genuine disappointment palpable in Sawamura's utterance. 

It took him a second too long to recover, flustered and unsure how to respond to such sincerity. He cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders, acting as nonchalant about it as he could. “Wow Sawamura, are you complimenting me? You're gonna make me blush.”

At the catcher’s lighthearted response, Sawamura exhaled, lips down turned into a vivid frown. 

Miyuki swallowed the lump in his throat, the serious air surrounding Sawamura uncanny. 

The second year relaxed again, turning away from Miyuki to instead look down the steps, the gate to the dorms seeming further away than it really was. He slouched forward, crossing his arms over his chest, elbows digging into his thighs. 

“I wanna keep playing with this team even longer,” he admitted, his voice softened around the edges. Miyuki liked the cadence of it like this, finding something within it that always got lost whenever Sawamura turned the volume up a notch. So, as he was still getting used to it, Sawamura came swinging once more with a “I wanna keep playing with you.”

And Miyuki wasn't an idiot; he knew that Sawamura had followed him around, begging for him to catch his pitches ever since he stepped foot in Seido. But to hear the second year confess his desire to keep on going with him, singling him out among the rest of the team, left Miyuki's mouth dry, fingertips heavy. 

“But you're graduating soon. Probably going pro, too.”

Miyuki clicked his tongue. “That's the plan, yeah,” he admitted, thinking of the countless offers he had received already from eager scouts - some begging him to join the university level league, whilst some offered contracts in professional teams. 

He had lots to consider with an ever shrinking time frame, his mind still not entirely set on where to go next. But he knew the general direction, and that was onwards. Wherever that may be.

Irked by his response, Sawamura grumbled and tightened the hold around himself. It was amusing as much as it was endearing.

The catcher sighed, leaning forward to try and get a better look at Sawamura's disgruntled expression. Childish. 

“What, scared I'm never gonna catch for you again once I go pro?”

“Yeah!” Sawamura replied, back shooting up straight, the volume of his voice breaking the otherwise serene moment they found themselves in. There was now a spark behind his eyes, chestnut hair falling over them, the length a clear indicator he needed a cut even though Miyuki thought it suited his boyish looks. “You'll probably drop off the face of the earth!”

“That wouldn't be good; you can't play baseball in outer space,” the third year joked, his comment only making Sawamura more riled up. 

“I won't let you, Miyuki Kazuya! You're gonna keep catching for me.” He jabbed his finger against Miyuki's chest, making direct contact with his sternum, prodding at it repeatedly. 

The catcher laughed, wrapping his hand around Sawamura's own to push it down. “Do I get a say in this?” 

“You know you want it too,” Sawamura retorted with unwavering confidence. 

Whatever placid state he had been in a minute ago was long gone, fired up all of a sudden. Sawamura's mind truly operated in ways Miyuki could never come close to comprehending. At least it was thoroughly amusing.

“I do?”

“Don't sound so surprised, you bastard!”

“That's bastard- senpai to you, thank you very much.”

Shameless brat. 

Either way, those words were lost on Sawamura who instead continued as if Miyuki hadn't spoken at all. “We're partners, right? You said it yourself.”

So he had.

And he had meant it.

But there was only so much time they had together. As thrilling as forming a battery with Sawamura had been, the unfortunate fact of the matter was that there were only three years of high-school at their disposal. There was very little either of them could do about it.

“I don't think they'd let me stay another year,” Miyuki stated, trying to make light of the situation despite the tightness in the pit of his stomach. “Even if I fail all my exams. Besides, I don't plan on slowing down for you.”

“I know that!” Sawamura exclaimed, cheeks dusted a subtle pink, his determination at the forefront. “I'm gonna get even better, Miyuki Kazuya! And you'll catch for me then, too!”

Stumped, Miyuki stared at Sawamura.

A beat. Then two.

And he laughed. First light, a mere chuckle. And then it grew.

He laughed hard enough to bend over, clutching at his stomach from the force of it. The sound came out uneven, a hiccough interrupting him. “Ahh,” he uttered breathlessly, wiping the wetness that had accumulated in his eyes. One hand remained at his side, clutching the fabric of his henley. 

Sawamura frowned, the tips of his ears red. 

It wasn't as if Miyuki found Sawamura's words absurd. If anything, they made him happy - a type of glee he wasn't used to. It wasn't quite like the sheer joy he felt upon winning a game, the thrill of perfectly hitting a pitch out of the park. The happiness was different. Similar, but warped. 

Pulling himself together, Miyuki tilted his head back. “Good. Then I'll be waiting,” he said, setting the challenge for Sawamura. “I'm expecting nothing but the best from you, alright?”

And then something shifted. 

Miyuki physically felt it - a cracking of electricity in the air, loud in his ear, bright behind his eyes. His heart lurched forward in anticipation - for what, he wasn't certain. But it became harder to take in a breath, his body reacting in ways it hadn't before, slowed and heavy. 

Sawamura looked at him - looked at him properly - with those perfectly expressive eyes, amber the closest thing to pure gold Miyuki had ever come to witness. They were large as they stared right into Miyuki, boring a hole right through him, seeing something deep in him that he had perhaps done his best to keep hidden. But not well enough apparently.

For a split second, Miyuki could see the hesitation in Sawamura's faint movements, the way he halted after barely inching closer. Yet whatever it was that held him back wasn't strong enough to restrain him. It took nothing more than a curious raise of the eyebrows from Miyuki for the second year to fist the front of his t-shirt, yanking him forward as he lurched towards Miyuki, the distance between them vanishing in the blink of an eye.

It didn't fully process with Miyuki until Sawamura's lips found his, crashing down like a network hurling down from space. There was little finesse and care, the force knocking the air out of his lungs. Eyes wide open in shock, the catcher was frozen in place as Sawamura kissed him.

Because he was kissing him.

Sawamura was kissing him.

The thought repeated in Miyuki's mind like a broken record, the needle jumping up and down and never going forward. No matter how many times he came to realise what was happening, he would be surprised over and over again, never truly allowing it to settle in. 

Soft lips against his own, a foreign sensation. There was a hint of something sweet and tangy - the fizz of a soda left abandoned by his side. Miyuki never liked the drink, but now that he got a taste of it on Sawamura, he was intrigued. Hooked. His own lips were chapped, picking at the skin whilst reading over plays - a bad habit of his he needed to fix. Sawamura's were nicer, smoothed with an aloe lip balm.  

The pitcher took good care of himself now that Miyuki thought about it. To think even his lips were looked after. 

And Miyuki was thinking of his lips again. Lips which were pressed against his mouth in what was less of a kiss and more of a forceful press. Sawamura's hand was gripping tightly onto the fabric of Miyuki's henley, stretching it out more and more with every second, adding it to the pile of all the other shirts left loose at the front from incessant manhandling.

He wondered if it was Sawamura's first kiss.

It was his. Not that it mattered.

But it did. 

From all the possibilities, Miyuki didn't hate this - having Sawamura be his first. Not if it was him. Not if it was Sawamura, loud and bullish, determined and bright, filled with enough optimism and faith for an entire team. 

If Miyuki had to pick someone, it would have probably been Sawamura. He could try to deny it all he wanted, but deep inside it was crystal clear that he cared about him just that bit more than he did about anyone else - a funny thing considering the little time he had really known him. 

If only they had another year.

“I wanna keep playing with you.”

He could comprehend the weight placed behind those words, mirroring it within his own heart. It wasn't just a baseless, reckless, wish. It was selfish. It was desperate. It was filled with emotions too delicate to speak of out loud. 

“I wanna keep playing with you.”

It said enough.

Sawamura was burning hot, the embodiment of the sun and everything good. The summer had never felt quite as warm as it had since Miyuki had met him, nor did the days seem as bright. And there he was, kissing him as if it were so easy. 

Miyuki couldn't believe it.

Yet he welcomed it.

Finally, the overwhelming pressure keeping him still as a stone statue crumbled away. Miyuki relaxed, his eyes closing as he leaned into Sawamura, reciprocating the kiss because he wanted it.

Because he wanted Sawamura and all of the strings attached. 

Because “I wanna keep playing with you” meant something to him too. 

He wanted to be there at every step of the way; to be by his side to watch him flourish, being the one to help draw out the potential he had seen in him the first day they met. Miyuki had failed to do so numerous times, blaming his own shortcomings as a catcher - as a partner. But they could still do more. They could still be more.

Because “I wanna keep playing with you” was a shared desire.

And then Sawamura pulled away. Abruptly.

As if struck by lightning, the second year jolted back, amber eyes wide, face flushed pink. The hand gripping onto Miyuki's t-shirt loosened as they made direct eye contact. Miyuki still felt Sawamura's lips on his - the firm pressure against him, steady and grounding whilst his mind felt like floating away. 

“Ah- I- Ah-” Sawamura's voice came out in broken stutters, no coherent words forming on his tongue. It was funny - endearing even - if not for the fact that he looked like he knew he messed up.

Miyuki didn't know how to respond. 

What to do? How to not scare him off like a wild animal?

The catcher never got a chance to figure out an answer to those questions when Sawamura quickly stood up, breaking all contact with Miyuki. He shot up straight, his expression a mixture of embarrassment and sheer horror. A deer caught in headlights, Sawamura looked down at Miyuki, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, only choked and broken out noises coming from him.

Not that Miyuki was much better, face flushed, eyes wide, lips swollen from the brute force at which Sawamura had crashed against them. Still, he wasn't as panicked as the second year seemed to be, instead more baffled than anything. 

“I-” Sawamura continued, gaze flickering between Miyuki, the ground and the path back towards the dorms. Finally, in a moment of clarity, his face blanched and he bowed. “This Sawamura Eijun must leave!” And that was all he said before sprinting it down the steps, leaving behind him a trail of kicked up dirt from the speed at which he kicked his legs. 

It only really hit Miyuki that he was running once Sawamura was already by the gate. Nevertheless, he still tried to stop him. He stood up, his careless hand knocking the blue can down the steps, its bubbly contents spilling across the stones as the aluminium clattered down along the path. The slight fizz was audible behind the rhythmic pounding of Miyuki's heart, loud in his ears. 

The second year vanished, dipping inside the building as if he hadn't just knocked Miyuki's world off kilter. Two years worth of emotions, slowly stirred and left to simmer, were all at once poured over him, seeping deep into his bones where they lingered. 

Bewildered, Miyuki stared out into the empty space in front of him. 

He waited a second, then two, then that turned into a prolonged minute in which nothing made sense, the ground beneath his feet uncertain. Any second now, he was certain the earth would swallow him whole and spit him right back out. 

There was an itch in his bones, a ringing in his ears. Every inch of his body felt alive, buzzing and thrumming, yet still so heavy. He was being torn apart, crushed and elated, horrified and filled with utter glee. His body didn't feel like it belonged to him at that moment, too much going on, too many thoughts and worries and images swirling in his mind. 

A young Miyuki falling in love with baseball, the dreams of a future in the major leagues, a life of doing what he loved. Uncomfortable whispers behind his back, suspicious gazes, the crestfallen faces of the girls he rejected. A bruise here, a cut there. The number 2 entrusted to him, heavy on his shoulder as the catcher, the cleanup, the captain. A team behind him, believing in him. 

Sawamura right in front of him, bright eyes locked with his as he stood on the mound, right where he belonged. 

And then it all became Sawamura; him lifting Miyuki up by the front of his t-shirt; Sawamura yelling across to him from the dugout, the other side of the field, the mess hall, his bedroom, the bullpen. He saw him in places where he hadn't even been, picturing what it would be like if things had been different - if they had met before. He saw him in the future too, up on the mound just like now but completely different.

“I wanna keep playing with you.”

He wasn't the only one.

And for reasons unknown to Miyuki, the extent of those words cut far deeper. 

But Sawamura had run off, leaving Miyuki in deafening silence, hating the suffocating quiet.

Hot, summer air against his skin dulled his senses. Miyuki clenched his fist, slowly but surely regaining control of his own body. Blunt nails dug into the palm of his hand, the sudden jolt of pain snapping him out of his daze. He looked around, aware that he was standing alone, nobody there to see him. 

The can caught his eye again and just like its contents, a bubbling laughter spilled out of him. Slowly and surely, airy and filled with sparks of surprise, sheer bewilderment and a buoyancy that, coming from him, bordered on concerning, filled the muted summer air. He laughed to himself, a strained and elongated “eh” passing his lips amidst the humoured exhales, punched out of him just as abruptly as Sawamura's kiss which had short-circuited his brain.

And that's when the laughter became more riddled with something heavier - a realisation that, up until that point, had been shoved aside for another day. 

Sawamura had kissed him, and Miyuki wanted it.

He wanted it so badly that he found himself trying to kiss Sawamura back.

Miyuki's calloused fingers went to his lips, brushing across them, the contact nothing quite as what he experienced during the kiss. He pulled them away and glanced down at his hand - the same hand with which he caught all the pitches thrown his way. 

This sensation was also overtaken by Sawamara; his pitches weren't the same as Furuya’s or Kawakami's, so vivid that Miyuki could still clearly make them out, a ghost's touch in the palm of his hand, lingering just as the kiss on his lips did.

Overwhelmed, Miyuki sat back down, making heavy contact with the stone step. He landed with a groan, staring out blankly at the open gate. 

And he just sat there, alone with his thoughts.

◇◇◇

“I thought you died out there,” were Kuramochi's greeting words as Miyuki finally entered the mess hall, eyes briefly skimming the heads of everyone present. “What took you so long?”

“Can't a man enjoy some fresh air without being hounded for it?” Miyuki had arguably spent too long sitting outside doing nothing but going through a mental breakdown caused by none other than Sawamura. Still, it wasn't as if he had vanished for hours on end. It wasn't all that uncharacteristic of him. 

Kuramochi retorted with a sceptical raise of the eyebrows. “Sawamura's been back for ages,” he pointed out, the mere mention of the pitcher’s name sending a cold shiver down Miyuki's spine. Thankfully Kuramochi didn't catch onto it. 

“And what's that got to do with me?” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants, feeling his palms getting sweaty. He really wasn't having it easy right now, forced to act as if nothing had happened when a part of him wanted to slam his head against a wall and scream. “I'm not his babysitter.”

“You were with him though.”

And now: a sense of dread.

“Huh?”

“Outside,” Kuramochi replied, the end of his words tinted with growing irritation. “I saw the two of you chatting.”

“As people do. You know, I am capable of holding a conversation, Kuramochi,” Miyuki said, doing a good job at sounding as teasing as he usually did. 

“God you piss me off,” Kuramochi muttered, earning a laugh from the catcher.

Thankfully Kuramochi didn't have any further questions for Miyuki. They sat down by some of the other third years. Nabe pulled out the seat next to him for Miyuki, wanting to briefly run over their previous game and discuss their next one.

And then Sawamura was mentioned. 

Instantly, it became obvious that something was wrong.

The second that Sawamura was called over, his demeanour shifted. Before that, he had been watching over a recording of the game, all whilst chatting (and arguing) with the other team members - mainly Okumura. That much was normal. But then, as he shuffled over to the third years, he was twitchy and nervous, avoiding any eye contact with Miyuki. 

Kuramochi noticed in a split second.

Still, Sawamura did his best to answer Nabe and hold a relatively normal conversation. Though something was definitely off about him, none of the third years bar Miyuki and Kuramochi saw it as anything to be worried about, merely writing it off as yet another odd quirk of the pitcher.

But of course, Kuramochi wouldn't let it go so easily. 

Once Sawamura was dismissed and he returned back to his own group (Okumura loitering around them, much to Miyuki's amusement), Kuramochi yanked the catcher by the back of his henley to pull him closer. 

“What did you do?” He asked, gruff voice low in Miyuki's ear. 

“I've done many things, Kuramochi; you'll have to be more precise than that.”

“Don't get smart with me, asshole,” the shortstop retorted. “I'm talking about Sawamura. The hell did you do to have him acting all weird?”

“Isn't he always on the weird side?”

“I'm talking even weirder,” Kuramochi pointed out. “He's been avoiding you like the plague - which I don't blame him for, but it's also not entirely like him.”

“Uncalled for.”

Kuramochi glared at him, huffing. 

Nabe caught the two, furrowing his brows in confusion. Miyuki shrugged dramatically, mouthing a “he's gone a bit crazy” to which Nabe simply exhaled and turned around, but not before uttering a “you probably deserve it anyway.”

“So what did you do?” Kuramochi continued with his interrogation, tugging harder on the fabric of his shirt so that the neckline cut into Miyuki's throat. 

The catcher groaned, slipping two fingers beneath the hem to prevent himself from being strangled whilst nobody around him seemed to care.

“It's always my fault in your eyes. How typical,” he uttered with a dramatic roll of the eyes. “What makes you think I did something? If anything, isn't he the one with no filter?” Miyuki asked, finally getting his friend to let go of him. Perhaps murdering the team captain and catcher in broad daylight so close to their next game wasn't a great idea. “Grade A idiot and all that.”

“Maybe,” Kuramochi mused, leaning back in his seat, folding his arms over his chest. “But you're acting way too normal. Or at least you're trying to.”

“I think I'm acting as I usually do.”

Kuramochi shook his head. “You're not.”

Well, that wasn't entirely unexpected; if anyone could pick up on Miyuki's oddities, it would be none other than Kuramochi. Something, something, best friends or whatever. 

Aware that Kuramochi wouldn't drop it, Miyuki exhaled and fixed the glasses resting on the slope of his nose. “It's nothing you need to concern yourself with,” he admitted. “I was going to talk to him later anyway.”

Sceptical, albeit curious, Kuramochi raised his eyebrow in question. “Really?”

“Really,” Miyuki assured, glancing over to where Sawamura was, met with nothing but the back of his head. “It'll be a problem if he's like this in the next game,” he added.

Figures Sawamura would rush head first into something without thinking it through properly. What was he honestly expecting to happen? Or had he really not planned the kiss at all? Truth be told, it did seem extremely spontaneous, heavily reliant on the strange atmosphere which fell upon them. If not for that, Sawamura would have probably done nothing as drastic. 

It would have been far simpler that way. 

Perhaps so.

Yet funnily enough, Miyuki was glad Sawamura kissed him. Even if it meant it in one way or another flipped his entire world upside down, knocking him completely off kilter to the point he wasn't entirely sure if he was still on earth. Certainly, the realisation that Sawamura had some form of feelings for him - feelings which Miyuki also clearly reciprocated to an extent - gave the catcher a lot to consider. Present and future, all the unknowns ahead of him. 

A terrifying concept, but one which for some reason didn't frighten him as much as it should have. 

Not whilst Miyuki could still feel their shared kiss on his lips.

“Well then you better fix it,” Kuramochi said. “If he's still acting weird by the time he's back in our room I'll come find you so I can strangle you myself.”

“Noted.”

◇◇◇

Sawamura definitely tried to weasel his way out without Miyuki seeing him. But no matter how hard he tried, the catcher wouldn't make it so easy for him. As soon as he spotted Sawamura making an attempt to sneak out, bidding farewells in a voice far too quiet for him, Miyuki knew it was his time to move as well. 

Kuramochi had left already and so had the other third years. Miyuki had been the last one to stick around, all because he needed to talk with Sawamura before the day was over. 

When the second year stepped foot out of the canteen, probably thinking his departure went unnoticed by Miyuki, the catcher got out of his seat and followed after him. He kept a few steps behind, giving Sawamura enough space to lull him into a safe sense of security. 

It wasn't his plan to seem like a creep, but this was also the only way to go about this without scaring Sawamura off. Whilst Miyuki was fast, he wasn't Sawamura who ran far more than anyone else, still lugging his beloved tire around as part of his workout routine. If Sawamura ran now, Miyuki might have no chance of catching up with him.

So he stayed behind until he believed the opportunity to be right.

That moment turned out to appear soon enough; Sawamura stopped by the vending machine, punching in the number for his drink, watching it be slowly dispensed. He picked it up, grumbling beneath his breath as he did so. It was the same drink from before, the contents of the blue can soaked into stone stairs. 

Miyuki took a step closer, then another, until finally he stood right behind the second year.

“Try not to waste this one too.”

Sawamura jumped, flipping around, his back now towards the vending machine. “Miyuki Kazuya!” He exclaimed, lacking the usual force behind it as it was now subdued by a nervous twitch. 

“That would be me, full name and all,” the catcher confirmed, glancing down at Sawamura's hands gripping the blue can before looking back to his face. “So you do know who I am; I was starting to get worried.”

The second year opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, unable to day anything of substance to Miyuki. 

“Not going to say anything?” Miyuki asked, arms folded over his chest. “You know, it's rude to not only kiss someone out of the blue, but to also run away after.”

Finally, Sawamura managed to find his voice. “I did not!” He argued, loud as always. 

“Which part? The kissing or the running away? Because I'm pretty sure you did both.”

“No!” Sawamura replied, tanned face seemingly more red from a furious blush. “I didn't- it wasn't a-” He paused, eyes widening with a bright idea, the light-bulb above his head a tangible thing. “I tripped!”

“Tripped?” Miyuki questioned, finding himself more baffled than amused at Sawamura's bullshit excuse. 

“Yes, I tripped! That's what happened,” the second year confirmed.

“Right… You tripped whilst sitting down?”

Forgetting that one slight detail, Sawamura froze up. But he still tried to walk himself out of it with the brute strength of his will.

“I lost balance. It happens!”

“So why did you pull me down?”

“Leverage!”

Honestly, Miyuki had to give it to Sawamura: he really did have the ability to spout utter nonsense. Too bad nobody would ever buy it. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you're a terrible liar?”

The second year huffed, nostrils flared and cheeks rosy. No matter how hard he tried, Miyuki wouldn't let him get out of this so easily. 

“So?”

Sawamura shifted his weight from one foot to the other, eyes flickering to the side in an attempt to plan out his escape route. But before he could scuttle away, Miyuki ensured that he wouldn't be able to move. Making a show of it, Miyuki caged Sawamura between his extended arms, hands firmly planted against the vending machine. 

“W-what are you doing?” Sawamura asked, a mixture of shock, horror and even some annoyance. As if he had a right to be annoyed after pulling that stunt earlier. 

“You'd think that with all the shoujo you read you'd know what a kabedon is,” Miyuki replied, shuffling closer as Sawamura backed further away, his back making contact with the vending machine. “Why’d you do it?”

“I told you I tripped!”

“Do you like me?”

Profusely red, Sawamura shook his head with enough force to potentially make it fall off. “Never! You tanuki!” 

“You’re getting worse with your insults,” Miyuki mused. “But can you be honest at least once? Do you like me?”

It would be much easier on Miyuki if he knew for certain what Sawamura's feelings for him were. Whether he acted out of pure instinct, or if there was more to their kiss. It would make Miyuki's next steps more concrete as well. Depending on what the second year said, there was still a chance that Miyuki could cut his own feelings at the bud, even if the truth of the matter was that that bud was closer to a flower in bloom than a young seedling.

Somewhere along the line and completely unbeknownst to him, his feelings had blossomed. 

But if he had to stomp them out to spare himself the pain and hassle, he had to do it now. He just needed to know for certain.

He had a future ahead of him - a future which would be made even more difficult if he allowed his emotions to grow. But a future which wouldn't be doomed by it. Not if he put in the effort. 

So he looked down at Sawamura, serious and expectant, the faint hum of the vending machine and the unsteady breaths exchanged between them the only sounds audible. The pitcher swallowed, the tip of his tongue poking out to wet his dried lips. Miyuki still felt Sawamura's lip balm on him. 

The second year clenched his jaw, averting his gaze from Miyuki. “Are you gonna make fun of me?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you're a jerk?”

Miyuki clicked his tongue. He couldn't argue with that sound logic. Still, he didn't come here just to tease the pitcher. 

“I'm asking you because I want to know the truth,” he admitted. “And I'm not going to make fun of you. I also won't tell anyone. I just wanna know why you kissed me.”

Finally getting somewhere, Sawamura exhaled, slumping against the vending machine in what had to be a sign of defeat. With the courage that he could muster, Sawamura looked up to meet Miyuki's eyes, brow set firm and a fighting flame lit behind large pools of amber. 

When the silence between them lingered still, Miyuki kept quiet. If Sawamura wanted to take his time, then he'd let him.

And then, like an asteroid making impact with the ground, Sawamura spoke. “I like you,” he confessed, words spoken softly but with enough force for Miyuki to feel it in his chest, blown back and breathless. “I mean, I came to Seido because of you, you jerk. I didn't like like you then, but it just happened,” he continued, rambling more and more as he went on, laying his heart right out in front of Miyuki who could have very easily trampled all over it. 

Not that he would do that.

“Because for a senpai you're really mean and you say things that can hurt others, and you constantly call me an idiot and all that,” the second year said, a slight yet noticeable twitch to him. “But you're also nice when you don't even try. And I like playing baseball with you, and I want to play with you in the future as well.”

“Oh… wow…”

“And I know you don't feel the same so at least let's forget all about this and move on like nothing ever happened. Got it, Miyuki Kazuya!”

Well, at least he had it in him to call Miyuki by his full name. It seemed that he got over his nerves now that he got that load off his chest. 

“Why would I ever do that?”

Taking that as to mean that Miyuki wanted to tease him, the second year flared up again, huffing and fixing his posture to stand straight. “Have I said that you're a jerk yet? Because you are!”

“Yeah, I think you mentioned that in passing,” Miyuki mused casually. Seeing as Sawamura wasn't running away, he pushed himself off the vending machine, no longer caging the pitcher between his arms. He raked a hand through his hair, brushing loose strands from his face. “And have I ever mentioned that you're an idiot?”

Sawamura glared at him, earning a faint, bemused chuckle out of the catcher.

“You know, if you hadn't been so busy running away, you might have noticed that I was kissing you back, idiot.”

Upon hearing that revelation, Sawamura's expression changed completely. It was comical with how drastically it shifted, morphing from.pure annoyance to an expression so dumb and shocked that Miyuki had no other option but to laugh, the sound kicked out of him. 

He tried to keep it in as best as he could whilst Sawamura pieced himself together slowly, a film reel playing in his head, replaying the events of the last few hours. Once he landed on the scene with their kiss, his eyes widened and a furious blush spread across his entire face.

Cute.

“Miyuki Kazuya!”

“Present,” the catcher replied, thoroughly amused as Sawamura grabbed onto his shoulders, shaking him.

“You like me!”

“That's highly debatable,” he said, raising a hand in argument - a truly futile one, really, but one which seemed to work Sawamura up even more so it was honestly worth it. “But yes, I guess I do,” he confessed in the end, placing his hands on top of Sawamura's, doing his best to stop the pitcher from rattling him around like a salt shaker. 

The touch left a spark, different to any contact they had before. 

Sawamura finally gave up on shaking Miyuki around, instead holding onto his upper arms, muscles flexing beneath the fabric. 

“You like me?” He asked, the realisation sinking in softly. “Like as in like?”

The catcher nodded. 

“Since when?”

“Uncertain,” Miyuki answered honestly. If he had to try and guess… Well, he really couldn't pinpoint the exact moment. It was when Sawamura kissed him that everything fell into place. But up until that point, moments and feelings had been piling up one on top of the other, a great big stack on the verge of collapse. 

He did look back on all the things which had led up to here, but even then, he couldn't confidently say there was a moment that solidified his feelings.

Just as Sawamura said, “it just happened.”

But even then, it had to have started early. 

Maybe even since the first day they met. After all, there had been a pull - a nagging voice at the back of his head, the sole thought that Sawamura was interesting, an itching curiosity to know more about the southpaw. As a first year, he might not have been as amazing as Miyuki hoped him to be, but perhaps it was that burning passion that kept him looking back, waiting to see what Sawamura would flourish into - waiting for him to join him by his side. 

“Is that a good enough answer for you?”

Sawamura shrugged. “It's about what I expected,” he admitted. “You never showed it though! You're as snarky and mean as always!”

“That's simply my charm,” the catcher pointed out. 

And, if he was being honest, he'd argue that he treated Sawamura with a leniency and separate form of affection than anyone else; for one, he let the pitcher get away with far more than he'd let any other second or first year - such as the informal form of address. He also spent more time with Sawamura than he did with most of the team; even if he ended up with Furya in the bullpen for longer, Sawamura would still get most of his time elsewhere. 

Sawamura literally had his own dedicated pillow in Miyuki's room to rest on for whenever he barges into his room to study or annoy Miyuki with his presence! 

There was far more still, such as the fact that Miyuki was more handsy with Sawamura, taking a more hands-on approach with him when showing him the ropes, or like the way he would push him along, a hand on the pitcher's back, guiding him forward. An arm thrown over his shoulder. A whisper exchanged at the mound, faces closer than necessary. Too many instances to count.

“Are you not gonna say anything else now? Or did you not plan this at all?” Miyuki questioned, certain he knew the answer already.

“I didn't think you liked me back!”

Miyuki pressed his hand against Sawamura's mouth to shush him, his voice hiking into the too loud territory. “Turn it down a notch, idiot,” he said, eyes meeting Sawamura's, waiting for a sign that the second year understood his words. He pulled away with a sigh. “This isn't exactly something you go around shouting at the top of your lungs about.” His words came out quiet and heavy with implication. “And you really need to start planning ahead.”

“I-” Sawamura stopped himself, left with little room to argue. “I wasn't going to do anything in the first place,” he admitted. “And then it just… happened. But I thought you'd either tease me about it and let it go, or pretend nothing happened.”

“Yes, you mentioned.”

“But you like me.”

“I feel like this conversation is going in circles,” Miyuki mused, eyebrows cocked upwards. “You're starting to sound like a broken record.”

“Hey!”

“I'm listening.”

The pitcher pouted - probably an elaborate means of taunting Miyuki who was now vividly aware of how soft those lips were.

“You're going pro,” Sawamura continued. “And I never really thought of it until I heard you mention it. I didn't even think I could. So I thought it would probably be easier to ignore it anyway and just let it pass. But you!”

Miyuki chuckled, leaning in closer, revelling in the way Sawamura squirmed. “But I?”

“You're a jerk!”

At that, the catcher laughed, slouching forward with the vibrations in his chest. He breached the thin line between them, tipping the delicate balance Sawamura had worked to establish. And now, they were too close once again. Too close to ignore the lump in his throat, the knot in his stomach. Palms clammy and breath hitching, their eyes met.

And Sawamura pulled him down once again.

Abrupt just as the first time, Miyuki crashed into Sawamura's lips. He stumbled forward from the force at the front of his shirt, bumping his forehead against Sawamura. The second year staggered backwards as well, back making contact with the vending machine once more, steadying the two of them at last.

Even then, their lips remained pressed together, stuck together with a magnetic pull, not quite strong enough to pull away - no matter how disastrous this second kiss was shaping out to be.

Having regained his footing, Sawamura eased off on the forward force he was exerting against Miyuki's lips. The press was softer now. Warm and tender. A touch which left Miyuki with the stupefying realisation that he could grow used to this.

Unbeknownst to him, Miyuki's hands inched forward, finding the pitcher's face, cupping his jaw to draw him in closer as the warmth bubbling in his chest spread outward, burning him from the inside. He fell right into Sawamura's orbit, in no means immune to him. 

Right then, he knew that the flower which had bloomed had grown its roots deep. Even if he tried to cut it or stomp it down, it would be completely in vain. 

Less all over the place, Sawamura leaned forward and - once more shocking Miyuki - gently parted his lips.

So maybe Sawamura wasn't as inexperienced as Miyuki. 

But that was fine. If Sawamura wanted to take the lead, who was Miyuki to deny him the pleasure? 

Unsure but not utterly apprehensive, Miyuki allowed himself to slowly open up. Sawamura seized the opportunity, the hand clutching onto the catcher’s shirt finally leaving the stretched fabric to rest on Miyuki's neck. Miyuki felt the rough calluses against sensitive skin, a mild shiver running up his spine.

He melted into the kiss, not entirely sure what he was doing or if he was any good at it. But he couldn't find a fault in the way Sawamura's mouth felt against him - how it slotted perfectly against his. 

Nothing else mattered. 

Yet all good things must come to an end.

Sawamura was the one to cut their exchange short, snapping back into reality as if an anvil had just been dropped on his head. In protest and disappointment, Miyuki almost let out a sound he was too embarrassed to even imagine coming from him. Instead, he pushed it down and managed to settle on a low hum.

The catcher looked on with confusion riddling his expression. He couldn't tell what had made Sawamura put the kiss to an end - his best bet being that the second year developed a sense of awareness to the outside world and realised kissing out in the open by what was the dorms's main tourist spot was in no way a great idea. If that was the case, then in that moment, Sawamura was smarter than Miyuki who had completely lost himself to his desires, indulging in heat radiating off Sawamura.

“I told Haruichi I'd come see him later,” Sawamura declared, the way he said it coming across as if he was concerned about being a bad friend.

Ah. So no awareness of the outside world. Noted. 

“Thinking of others when you're kissing me? How rude,” Miyuki teased, taking a small step backwards, leaving enough space between them for reasonable doubt. “And to say it to my face too. Heartless.”

“I- wh- Miyuki Kazuya!”

The catcher laughed, shaking his head at Sawamura's flustered outburst. That just made the second year frown, cheeks puffed. 

“Jerk.”

“Maybe,” Miyuki mused. “But you want to kiss this jerk, so that really just makes you an idiot,” he added, his logic perfectly sound. “Though I suppose that can't be helped.”

And what did it say about Miyuki that he wanted to kiss Sawamura?

“You'll have to work on that - the kissing I mean, I fear your idiocy can't be helped,” the catcher continued in jest. He caught a speck of blue in the corner of his eyes, smirking as he snatched the can right from Sawamura's grasp. As the pitcher gasped, brows furrowing, Miyuki waved the drink in his face. 

“Hey, give it back!” Sawamura demanded, trying to snatch his drink back. Miyuki, using the few centimetres he had on Sawamura to his advantage, raised it above his head, snickering as Sawamura did his best to pry it out of his hands.  “You don't even like that one!”

Miyuki moved back, one step, two steps, Sawamura giving up his pursuit after the third. He offered a lazy shrug. “Maybe I like it now. Have you considered that?”

The second year huffed in defeat. 

“Now, I'll get going,” Miyuki said. 

As fun as the past few hours have been, and as much as he would like to kiss Sawamura again, he quite frankly needed a moment to collect his thoughts. He also didn't want to risk doing something stupid out here in public. He just needed a moment. Or two. Or a lot of moments spent in a peaceful, uninterrupted silence.

“Huh?”

“Did you go deaf? I said I'm going.”

“No I- Just like that?”

The corners of Miyuki's mouth twitched up into an amused grin. “What, were you expecting me to loiter around here the whole night? I got what I came for, so now I'm going.” 

“Hey y-”

“Don't keep Haruichi waiting,” Miyuki interrupted, his smile fond - too sappy for him really, but he wasn't about to fight it. “You can yell at me all you want tomorrow.”

“But what about… Is this fine then?” Sawamura asked, gesturing between himself and the catcher. His expression softened, open and vulnerable. 

This referred to them. To the shift in their relationship. To the new path which had unwound right in front of their feet.

Miyuki wanted to laugh at the question, finding it ridiculous given everything leading up to now. But he held back, realising that he needed to grace this moment with an air of sincerity from his side. 

“Yeah,” the catcher replied, feeling a giddiness in his stomach as he offered his simple response. “More than fine.” Since it was mutual, Miyuki could make it work. In the end, not much would change anyway between them - they were quite far gone already. Plus the added bonus of kissing was nice. Miyuki didn't mind the kissing. 

“Oh. Right. Cool.”

Sawamura's endearing loss of words earned a chuckle out of the catcher. “Cool,” he echoed. “Now I should really get going; you should too. And try to get a good night's sleep, okay?”

“Yes, captain!” Sawamura stood straight on command, saluting Miyuki like a soldier. It was stupid and endearing. Stupidly endearing. To think he liked that idiot. 

God, he really liked that idiot.

Miyuki slowly started moving backwards, still facing the second year as the distance between them grew. “And you better not try to pitch anymore for the day. If you do, I'll make sure you sit out the next game. Got it?”

“Miyuki Kazuya!”

“That's not an answer,” the catcher pointed out in a sing-song voice. “Don't think this changes anything, okay? No special treatment.”

“But-”

“Ah ah ah,” Miyuki interrupted, waving his finger at the second year. “No talking back to your captain.”

Sawamura huffed. “I take back every nice thing I said about you!”

“You mean like when you called me a jerk?” He asked, pressing Sawamura's buttons for his own twisted amusement. It probably wasn't a good idea to rile the pitcher up, but in Miyuki's defence, Sawamura made it extremely easy to do so. “And a bastard. And mean.”

“I said nice things too!”

“I can't recall,” the catcher mused. “You'll just have to tell me another time.”

“That's not happening, Miyuki Kazuya.”

“It will if you still want me to catch for you,” Miyuki stated, hooking his index beneath the pull tab of his drink, opening the beverage with a faint hiss and clink. He didn't give Sawamura a chance to protest before he spun on his heel, back facing the pitcher. “Goodnight!” He ignored whatever Sawamura hurled his way, instead heading back to his room where he still had quite a bit to review and prepare for their next game.

As he walked, he did so with a pep in his step, brimming with a light giddiness which honestly left his mind up in the clouds for the entirety of the walk. He didn't even realise when he made it back to his room, making it there on autopilot.

The drink he had stolen from Sawamura was just as bad as he remembered it to be, but instead of finding it completely revolting, it brought glimpses of Sawamura behind his eyes. Flushed cheeks, golden eyes, soft lips. He chased after those memories, taking sip after sip until the can was completely empty. 

“No special treatment” was what he said, but the truth of the matter was that he couldn't hold himself to that. The reality of the situation was that Miyuki would fold. Easily, actually. If just two kisses had him acting like a complete fool, who was he to say he could hold himself back?

It was ridiculous to think he could do it, and even more absurd to realise he thought he could seriously go on and pretend nothing had happened if Sawamura's own feelings hadn't mirrored his own. As if he could ever stop this feeling - so deeply rooted, engraved in his heart. 

Sawamura had unlocked something in Miyuki - a side of himself he didn't even know existed. A side which wanted far more than he was used to. A side which craved attention unlike any other, starved of it, desperate.

Miyuki sat at his desk, game notes laid out in front of him, an empty blue can pushed to the side. He could barely focus on the stats in front of him, the numbers and letters a nonsensical jumble as he could only think of one thing - of one person. 

Pathetic.

Miyuki was truly pathetic.

“Heh,” he exhaled, slouching forward in his chair, folding his arms over the desk and resting his head on them. He let out a quiet, airy laugh, attracting Okumura's attention to himself. The first year already thought he was acting weird from the moment Miyuki stepped foot inside the room, his eyes giving that much away. 

But what was Miyuki meant to do but laugh at his own fate? At how whipped he was - wrapped around Sawamura's finger without even realising it. 

So no special treatment, but Miyuki still stuck by his side the next day, getting his hands on Sawamura one way or another - either an arm thrown over his shoulder, a hand on his back, ruffling his hair or leaning in close to whisper in his ear. He stole another kiss when nobody could see it, his heart skipping a beat as if it were the first time all over again.

In their next game, they gave it their all with Sawamura up on the mound, his unwavering faith in Miyuki's mitt, his calls, and the team behind him giving him strength.

No special treatment, but Miyuki did all he could to draw out the best pitching yet out of Sawamura, because “I wanna keep playing with you” couldn't be a dream which ended right here. After all, they still had more ahead of them as a battery.