Work Text:
~*~*~*~
Light touches, hidden glances, mumbled words of affection covered behind pranks and laughter and sneaky comments were how it all began.
Slowly and steadily, not only the teammates around them realized the behavior of their loud-mouthed pitcher and the merciless catcher, dancing around one another like fireflies on a warm summer night – they were golden, brown and orange, eyes shining and burning with passion that made their battery so deadly. Fierce, ruthless and strong. They were like the sun and the moon, so different but then again so similar in all their unlikeliness.
Miyuki and Sawamura were like the two sides of a coin. Completing one another without realizing the other one was at their back since they were focused on their own way forward. It was until their jokes went far enough for Miyuki to casually seek Eijun's proximity that the latter started to get more aware of the body pressed against his, the warmth around his neck, the breaths on his face and the humming words the catcher sang into his ear like that is a normal thing to do. It was until Miyuki realized the red blush and the look on Sawamura's face, somewhere between lost, irritated and – comfortable?
On more occasions, Eijun spent his free time either running extra laps around the field or laying on his bed in silence which caused Kuramochi to blink at him in discomfort, ruining his concentration on his homework to the point where he turned around and let his eyes rest on the younger boy's face that was distracted and thoughtful. The shortstop sighed in resignation while throwing his pencil across the desktop, cursing under his breath that he had to admit that somewhere deep down he had to worry about two idiots at the same time.
„Oi, Bakamura. Stop sulking already and get your ass up“, he threatened but to no avail – the pitcher didn't move an inch which caused Kuramochi to lose his short temper and jump on top of his bratty underclassman, pulling him into one of his famous headlocks. „You little bastard, who are you to ignore your senpai!“ Though, when he realized the younger boy barely fought back, he stopped, alarmed, and glanced down on his brown haired roommate. A sigh escaped those trembling lips of Eijun, he looked distressed and nervous and – weak. Another worried flash of unease crossed Kuramochi's eyes as he let go of his fellow teammate, brought some distance between them and stared at his roommate, golden eyes downcast to the ground as if he didn't even realize that his senpai was talking to him.
„Oi. Seriously now, what is wrong with you, stupid.“ The other one's head snapped out of his daze, meeting the shortstops gaze that was looking for something to give him a clue as to why the loud-mouthed boy wasn't – well, loud any more. In a flash, the worrisome expression was washed away by a huge smile so contrary to the shadows clouding Eijuns loud and cheery nature that it made something in Kuramochi's stomach twitch. „Ah, I'm sorry Kuramochi-senpai!! I was just thinking!“, the pitcher beamed a little too cheerfully at him, and the older boy couldn't help himself but to click his tongue in annoyance before he answered with a low „You shouldn't push yourself so much, Bakamura, or you'll hurt yourself“.
At this, he earned a more honest scowl from a now furiously shouting Sawamura and he felt relieved; but Kuramochi was far from being that easily deceived, something was wrong with the southpaw. His face now shifted into a pout as he flopped down onto his bunk bed. Something was gleaming in his eyes, and the shortstop was close to literally choke it out of him since he knew a very certain catcher was at fault for his roommates behavior, and hell, he wouldn't let their stupidity ruin things more than this.
***
When things started to go into the direction of openly messing around with the pitcher, Kazuya felt his nerves arching and his heart racing, because yes, in the end, this boy of sunshine and a too big heart was frail, easily stumbling and falling but no matter what, he got up again, brighter and stronger and Kazuya did wonder if anything could ever break him. But he then met Sawamura, crumbled and numb, like a hollow shell, burned out, his golden eyes merely shimmering like cold metal and it frightened him to think that even someone like the pitcher could fall apart one day.
At the end of the day, it wasn't him to save the southpaw but Chris, almost like returning a dept - it wasn't Kazuya who was able to light the fire in his underclassman's chest again but nonetheless, it felt like he himself was burning just as well. So he let himself get burnt in the radiance of Sawamura, surrendering and maybe it was the thrill of it all, seeking the younger boy's reactions which never failed to surprise him, a pleasant wave of excitement that rushed through his body, up his spine and made him smirk, gleaming with confidence and amusement.
Kissing Sawamura one day behind the dugout, chill evening air lingering on the baseball field that would soon to be swallowed by the night, was just the same – all excitement and a rush of blood to his head, warming him, making him even more reckless, a spark of desire in his eyes enough to burn the catcher completely and he knew that once they would return to the dorms things would change forever but right there, right then, it wasn't any of his concerns since he was about to melt in the light reflecting in brown messy strands of hair, caressing sun sun-kissed skin and freckles that were like stars to the sun that was in his heart, captivating and overwhelming and when Kazuya simply gave in to the force of nature in front of him, bare and wild, leaned in again to brush his lips against the pitchers, he was too far gone.
Somewhere, something in the back of his head fought against the consequences, calculating what would come out of this, the chances of breaking the other with just one action or a word, of affecting the team's performance and it was then brought to the surface, with a flinch it hit him what it meant to be the captain and first-string catcher. He gasped for air, taking a step back and for the first time since forever, it was like he was outplayed, like he was trapped because he didn't expected to fall for the boy with the glowing spirit, the selfish southpaw, pitcher through and through, demanding, greedy, so so entrancing and Kazuya simply wanted to turn around and flee because this was suppose to be a game, right? Not – not something where he could lose like this, not to Sawamura of all people. Because Miyuki Kazuya never let his guard down, never forgot his responsibilities or lost his focus.
But just in that moment, as if the other boy felt those thoughts pouring out of him, there was a hand grabbing his, soothing and reassuring and the catcher knew so well that he didn't deserve this, but entangling his fingers in brown locks again, a hand on his neck to pull him closer, lips and tongue tasting and roaming, licking into his mouth with all the pure curiosity and eagerness that were Sawamura's very existence, he thought that maybe, he wouldn't lose.
Later that day, he was sure that Kuramochi gave him a warning glare but the shortstop didn't push the matter any further, his hands seemingly full with Sawamura's overflowing loudness he had to endure.
Still, the warning remained.
It basically just happened along the way, or so it felt. For everyone to casually accept the thing between them, whatever it was in the beginning, quietly understanding and knowing or simply expecting or interpreting things into their behavior around one another, on the field and off. Everyone kind of stayed silent but it was obvious to everyone that something had changed. That the dance they were doing had come to a halt, changed direction into something more. That's how it went most of the time, slowly building up a relationship out of the pieces of friendship – though more teammates than friends, really - and somehow, they were happy.
Days between baseball practice and schoolwork, upcoming matches and exams, juggling between duties and barely existing free time; but they were happy sharing those little moments, chasing each other around the field, laughter resounding loud enough for everyone else to hear, sharing drinks in the evening when they would meet up next to the vending machine, sneaking away from cleaning duties to hide behind the equipment shed like lovesick teenagers. All the light touches, hidden glances and mumbled words of affection still like bonds between them, maybe a little less light or hidden or mumbled but all the more affectionate and meaningful.
They were happy once graduation rolled around because "Just one year and you'll be back there catching for me, right?" and "Yeah, I will wait for you to chase after me", tears were kissed away, pledges and promises moaned against hot skin that night and everything seemed perfect and right.
~*~*~*~
There was longing in both of them, a shadow in the back of their minds clouding their vision. There were memories, old and new and either way, they were painful and hard to remember. There were voices and silence, staring and closed eyes, and both were equally giving away the hurt of returning to a life that did no longer include the other one.
At some point, they grew used to each other like a daily play, every breath of air, it was natural before they knew and maybe this was the fatal thing about it – growing aloof of one another, falling apart while growing closer, in opposite directions; they were heading the wrong way, at some point, they went wrong on a path that held no sympathy for mistakes, misfortune, hopes or dreams. When they realized that their cheerful laughter only became dull and hollow shells, only filled with expectations none of the other could have met; when they realized that there was something ahead waiting for them which none of the other could give; it was then that both were met with the reality of love, of life and responsibilities. There was no way backing out of this, as much as they wanted to avoid it.
Some people might say it was a slow progress of living and drifting apart – but Eijun would deny that until the end. It wasn't like that. He was still looking into the same face he grew to love, the face that gave him a teasing smile, that provided warmth and safety and home – he was still standing in front of the person, the man he loved. But there was silence. Dreadful, heavy silence like the air was trying to choke him, extending his lungs to no avail because there was no more air left in the hard grip of nothingness that was covering them like a blanket made out of steel and iron. In a moment of dread, there came nothing from that boy he tried so hard to understand. To look behind his walls and façades and his teasing and his dishonest smiles and grins, gleaming eyes that were too bright and lifeless when he paid a closer look – like a broken man, far too old looking and strained for those young, childishly features that were Miyuki's face.
Eijun had tried his best to support him, to help him but there was nothing Miyuki wanted help with. It was something the younger boy couldn't understand, couldn't handle – the fear of being unable to reach out to someone, to help someone who doesn't want any help, who doesn't even realize he could need this warm helping hand the pitcher was holding out for him to grab and get up; his hand was left empty and cold instead, waiting for hours, days and weeks and he thought he would freeze in the cold that came over his heart and his mind; shivers of feeling a helplessness in his bones and an emptiness in his core. It became too much. With every touch, every word and teasing, every little thing that felt so wrong for his racing heartbeat, the ache in his chest increased and the blood in his veins turned into ice.
He couldn't do it – pretend, that walls were made to be torn down by his hands. That after years of constructing them they would crumble under his golden heart and Eijun knew he was no cure for this thing called experience and memories of nothing but solitude and isolation; that maybe he had to realize that his attempts of reaching out to his boyfriend were in vain. It was this little realization that corrupted his heart, made it hard for Eijun to fall asleep, tossing and turning around in his bed, burying himself under blankets and pillows to shut out the world that made him feel like he was lacking something. A lack of understanding, maybe, a lack of empathy even if he was told to be emotional and honest and understanding, but – what good was it if he couldn't feel it in this very moment? The reason why Miyuki couldn't just let him in, let himself be hold close.
Love was easy to describe, a fluttery feeling, devotion, desire, trust and warmth. The hardship from loving too much, from trying too hard to be there and keeping the other save and comfortable, was more difficult. But the hardest thing to explain was the desperation of loosing this feeling, holding onto things that were drifting away, out of reach, further until they were a memory.
From time to time, Eijun would wonder if he would have stopped trying so hard at some point if he wouldn't feel his racing heartbeat whenever Miyuki glanced at him or shoot him one of his shitty smiles, his excitement almost beyond the thrill of pitching. But he knew, something about the upperclassman was taking his little amount of clear mind away, his patience maybe or his will-power, even though he was so stubborn – the catcher broke into his mindset and crawled under his skin far too easily. Anywhere, Eijun would have followed him, closely behind to see his footsteps, his back so close to reach out and touch the soft fabric of the white jersey that displayed the proud number '2', covered in dirt and sweat from all the hours of hard training and determination. He would have followed that back anywhere, until the pitcher blinked and found himself staring into an empty path in front of him – the number '2' printed on white fabric, messy brown hair nowhere to be seen any more.
Even more times, Miyuki would wonder if he would have stopped running every single time Sawamura would open up the catchers shell with a warm gentle smile. But being honest with himself for once, he knew exactly that he couldn't turn his eyes off that brilliant figure in front of him, that beamed at him in all his pure joy and enthusiasm and liveliness, things that Miyuki could only envy from afar; maybe he didn't realize that he ended up staring at the burning force that Eijun was for too long, when he was suppose to embrace it. And it was the sudden lack of warmth, of burning skin that made him wake up, being surrounded by cold that was tearing him apart with claws as freezing as ice.
The catcher was used to the loud, obnoxious kid to follow him, surely, steadily, wherever he might go. But as he didn't stop in his tracks to look anymore, the noise died down along the way and once he turned around again, he was alone and the southpaw was gone. In this moment, the truth burned low in his body, muscles sore from running and hiding, breathing heavily as he knew it was too late to chase a fading shadow from the past. There was never anything else inside of him than a hollow, fragile yearning, deeper than any fear of being exposed and vulnerable.
***
A weak smile blossomed on his face, thin lips that appeared to be lacking blood, frail and pale and wound from biting on them during too many thoughtful moments in the last weeks. His gaze was wandering along the field of his dreams, the hours of practice recalled in his mind as an ever-lasting picture, that would never fade from his vision when he closed his eyes at night and opened them in the morning – just like the face in front of him right now. Eijun tried his best to stay composed, while unspoken words and undone actions were hanging in the air between the two, in the space and the void that had grown without them realizing.
So he held his hands high in the air as in surrender, bare to explore for the greedy eyes of the boy in front of him. The boy that was a blank page now. Full of unspoken words, unwritten stories that would never happen. Something in the chest of the pitcher tightened. Before he could stop himself, words were spilling out of his mouth and he knew: They had changed without one of them realizing, they had changed in silence; for themselves, alone.
“You know.” He gulped down the last bit of hesitation, the dry weight in his throat. “We used to be happy. It's feels like a long time ago. And I guess it's best for us to live our lives – you got your life to live.
And I got mine.” He got up, subconsciously wiping his cheeks, tears that never fell and glancing over to the face of the man he grew to love over the time.
A hand was placed on the door frame of his old classroom, baseball diamond drenched in red and orange by the setting sun to be seen through the windows; he looked back while there was still no reaction from his counterpart. Just familiar chestnut-colored orbs darting into gold. But no familiar smirk, no familiar grin. There was no place in his life to give anymore.
“We can still meet again. Drink that coffee you always loved so much. Or walk along the fields of Seidou. Talk about all the old times.
Happy times. Not about the times here and now. The things that went missing.”
Somewhere, his thoughts drifted to the sunset-colored mound and pitching nets, the dry earth under his shoes when running with his tire until night fell over him, a single body on a wide field under an endless sky, harbouring dreams far greater in his warm heart and bright eyes, a grin so big it could rival the stars and the moon and the sun.
Eijun turned around and started to walk away, leaving behind the person that he promised to remember forever. The person that once was home, that once guided him, the person that was meant to be his light in the darkness, devoted and selfless and everything he ever wanted. Everything he's ever dreamt of, a fleeting, beautiful dream. One step, another step, walking away from what held him all those times. With another gulp, he ignored the wet trails on his cheeks, the shivering in his legs, the twisting and clenching of his guts, a silent broken sob that crept through his dry lips. He ignored his arching heart, he forced himself to ignore the sound of tears that weren't his falling, falling quietly, secretly from wonderful cheeks he had kissed countless times. Eijun kept walking , and if he had broken a heart by now, he knew his own was the same since long ago. They used to be the same, and this pain would be the last thing they shared. He thought he heard footsteps behind him and he didn't knew whether they were leaving or not, maybe he didn't want to know over the rushing noise in his ears, blood pumping through his veins that now was like hot liquid, melted the ice inside of his bones. Something in his chest tightened, an urge to turn around, to go back to all these things that weren't meant to work out any more. The realization of this loss was written in dull eyes, suddenly the air around him was so close to choking him, to making him crumble and fall apart.
Miyuki said nothing as he left.
And upon the walls of the hallway he had walked for so many times when he was just a little younger, the ground of Seidou that made him dream so high he thought he might reach for the stars in the sky he always gazed at when he was running at night, the loud steps of his feet on the floor echoing in the empty building, it was merely a whisper over all the noise in his head, voices he remembered, memories so dear to him, fragile and nostalgic and he chuckled breathlessly to himself because among all the emotions that were running through his veins after all these years – regret wasn't one of them.
So he blew all caution to the wind one final time, thinking "What else is there for me to lose at this point", turning around at the end of the hallway to look after that back of his former teammate, catcher, captain, the back that once was home; and for a short moment, just the blink of an eye, the southpaw was sure he saw the familiar '2' on white fabric again, pieces of a perfect battery, the same picture that haunted him for so long, that back he always chased and could never reach.
They knew it would be the last time he would see this back that had been shouldering all of his dreams. A sigh was the last thing to be heard, a whisper all that was left in that empty hallway.
„I loved you, Miyuki Kazuya.“
Yeah. It was merely a dream now.
~*~*~*~