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I woke up from the weirdest dream ever.
And not because it was a sex-dream – I had lots and lots of those as the young adult I was – but because Sawamura Eijun, my kouhai, was in it. As the main object of my desire.
I had dreamed of fucking the very man I, Miyuki Kazuya, constantly had to catch for considering how obnoxiously demanding he could get on a daily basis. My team and battery mate. The person who looked up to me so earnestly and still managed to get under my skin more often then not. The one who made it to Seidou just so that he could throw his pitches into my mitt, but still somehow disrespected me without even noticing.
I had dreamed of us winning our upcoming match with no given runs. And he was so excited he jumped on me, so I caught him like the good senpai I was, our bodies so flush it was hard to figure out where one ended and the other began. He could consequently feel how aroused his pitches had made me, but the weirdest thing was, in this fantasy of mine he got aroused too. So what could we do if not acting on that feeling, as bros helping bros?
I shot out of bed and headed straight into the bathroom, I undressed as fast as I could and took a long, very cold shower.
I’d liked Sawamura for a while now, but I knew I could do nothing about that. First of all he didn’t like me that way: he admired me alright, but he was too much of a baseball freak – much like me – to focus on anything else. Secondly I was close to graduation, which meant our time would be limited in any case. And I didn’t want to jeopardise what we had – I just couldn’t put our gaming dynamics at risk. Not when we were just a few games away from the Nationals and Koushien.
Secretly liking Sawamura was easy to pull out. No one suspected anything – except Kuramochi, because somehow my mind was a bloody open book for him. I kept it quiet enough, but of course my body had to go full-hormones in the worst possible moment and have me pine for someone I couldn’t have but constantly had by my side.
Because that was the first time I ever had a wet dream on Sawamura and I knew it would be hard looking at him without remembering every single bit of fantasy my brain had decided to create during the night.
I stood into the shower for what seemed like an eternity, trying to pointlessly shake those dirty thoughts off my mind. I took care of myself because not even freezing water managed to cool my boiling hormones down, then I dressed up and headed outside, taking a long, deep breath to brace myself for what I was sure would be one of the hardest days of my whole life.
***
I was right. Obviously.
The first thing I had to witness at fucking 6 in the morning was a shirtless Sawamura Eijun. He was with his friends – Kominato Jr., Furuya and Kanemaru – but I only noticed them later, because no matter how many people there were, my eyes just instinctively landed on him first. Every time, with no exception whatsoever.
They were getting ready for morning practice, but of course that clumsy idiot had to go and rip his bloody shirt by falling into the mud. He was looking into his bag for his spare tank top, shouting with all his might as his usual self. At least he was pumped up, right?
I subtly checked him out – gah , I was sort of a freak, wasn’t I? – as I approached, trying to put on my sarcastic bitch face. I could pull it out, right? Because I, Miyuki Kazuya, couldn’t possibly be stopped by the thought of having that lean body pinned under mine, with those calloused fingers trailing on my skin while I—
I smacked myself to come into my senses. Yep, that was going to be a very long, hard day.
“Miyuki-senpai, good morning,” Furuya greeted me with his calm and soothing voice. He was sleepy, as usual. Seeing him stand beside Sawamura was kind of funny to witness, considering how different they were: he, calm and collected, and the the hyped up dog bouncing along at his side. While Furuya was reserved and composed, Sawamura’s feelings were all over the place. They were rivals, but their friendship was unique and irreplaceable: they had each other’s back and I knew Seidou wouldn't be half as strong without one of them.
“Mornin’,” I greeted back, the hint of a smirk on my lips. I acted normal, but I was trying really hard not to stare at the kouhai I had dreamed about and who haunted my friggin’ mind like he had comfortably moved there to stay forever.
“Captain!!! Good morning!!!” Sawamura shouted as if I wasn’t just a few steps away from him.
I put a hand on my ear dramatically and clicked my tongue. “Why do you have to be so loud this early in the morning? Do you perhaps have a caffeine addiction?” I asked, glancing his way for the briefest moment in order not to end up staring at him and his still uncovered skin.
“I actually don’t drink that much coffee, no!!”
“Eijun, please stop shouting,” Haruichi asked, and I would have kissed him if I hadn’t had someone in mind already.
“I’m not shouting!” Sawamura replied like he meant it.
I raised my eyebrows. “You’re not?”
“Nope!”
“I really, really don’t want to experience a hangover in your presence,” I stated, scratching my head at the thought and shuddering.
Kanemaru laughed and agreed, causing Sawamura to stop looking for his tank top to launch himself at his friend and punish him for the insult. My half-smirk turned into a full grin, because there guys were just too much.
“Could you please catch for me later, senpai?” Furuya asked politely as I dropped my bag beside his, which I noticed was open.
“Sure. Have something new to show me?” I said as I started stretching. I had to keep my mind occupied with anything that wasn’t Sawamura Eijun or I would risk a hard-on right in the middle of practice.
“No, but my throws need… polishing,” he replied. He didn’t stretch with me, probably already had before I even arrived.
I was glad for his offer, really. If I was with Furuya I wouldn’t have to think about that attention-seeker of a pitcher, who would practice with his oh-so-loved first year catcher. Not that I was jealous. It was a good thing for someone else to learn to catch his pitches: I wouldn’t be there forever, would I?
I sighed. “Gotcha. But first, let’s start this day with our general morning practice, huh?”
Furuya nodded. We headed to join the others on the field but Furuya stopped next to Sawamura and tossed him one of his spare shirts.
“Don’t forget yours next time,” he said, not waiting for a reply as he started running. Sawamura smiled and my heart actually skipped a beat.
“Thanks!” he replied, grinning as he put on his friend’s shirt. It was a good fit, but I diverted my gaze soon enough.
I just couldn’t help but wish it was my shirt he wore, not someone else’s. But I was also glad that wasn’t the case, because if it were I was positive not even one hundred cold showers would be of any help.
***
Sawamura was mad at me.
I tried to ask him why, but he ignored me. More than once.
I tried to settle it with an extra catching session he agreed to, but nothing had come out if it. He’d gotten too good: he just threw the ball right were my mitt was, no complaint, not an inch of distraction. Which was what worried me the most, because the only emotions his pitching expressed were anger and frustration. There was no passion, no connection between us. It was like he was shutting me out. Like he didn’t want to communicate at all, in any way.
And for someone who shouted his thoughts and feelings at the world with both words and actions, that was saying something.
This unusual behaviour was what led me to following him after practice. Everyone had tried to cheer him up unsuccessfully – even Kuramochi had failed and had been a breath away from beating Sawamura’s shit out of him. So, as a Captain and a Catcher, it was my duty to make sure he was alright. Wasn’t it?
I found him sitting on the bench next to the vending machine, an energetic drink in his right hand and a creased expression on his face. I knew Sawamura was able to do some deep thinking on things when he wanted. He was loud and childish but also reliable and serious. He was just… complete, like a palette so full of colours one couldn’t even begin to count them all.
I liked that about him. I liked how I could just be my bitchy self around him, how I’d found someone who was up to the challenge just as much as me, on and off the field. I liked how he wanted to continue improving and tried to find more and more ways to do so, because he made me want to get better as well.
But I found I hated knowing he was mad at me.
“So, you’re on your period?” I sarcastically asked, hoping to make him laugh. He always laughed at my jokes.
But not now. Now, he didn’t.
He didn’t even face me as I sat beside him. He didn’t flinch, didn't say a thing, just kept staring at the floor in front of him.
“Why are you mad?” I tried again, but still no answer. I hated that silence.
I eyed his energetic drink, still untouched.
“You gonna drink that? ‘Cause I’m thirsty, here,” I said, hoping to crack the ice around him. But he still didn’t answer. I saw his grip tighten on the can, though.
I sighed. “Is there something you wanna tell me?”
“No.”
Well, at least it was an answer – and one more meaningful than he could understand. Because now I was absolutely certain he wasn’t just upset, he was specifically mad at me.
“What did I do?”
“Nothing.”
“Sawamura, I’m not stupid.”
“Aren’t you?”
“You’re one to talk.”
He tsked at me. I raised my eyebrows questioningly but he ignored me again. I sighed.
“Listen, we have a game tomorrow. We can’t be out of sync, this is important, you know?” I said, fisting my hand because what the hell did I ever do to him? I’d basically avoided any unnecessary interaction because each time my gaze landed on him I wanted to jump on him and confirm that his skin was as soft as I pictured it to be, and that certainly would be an annoyingly bothersome thing to explain.
“We will not lose tomorrow,” he stated. He was quiet, and he was never quiet unless he was very, very serious about something.
“I certainly hope so,” I replied. I turned towards him just slightly, my knee touching his for a second before he stood up with the clear intention of leaving.
I took his wrist. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Showering?”
“Bullshit.” I said. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Sawamura stared at me for a while, silent. I held his gaze, so penetratingly heavy I wanted to die. He parted his lips and then sealed them again. Unusual. I raised my eyebrows again to invite him to talk, and after a few more moments, he did.
“I overheard you… speaking with Furuya, earlier.”
I blinked. He said nothing. I blinked again. “Do elaborate.”
Sawamura gritted his teeth and looked away before speaking again. “You asked him if he was planning on going pro. And you said you are.”
I gulped. “I am.”
He looked at me again and I could swear he looked hurt. “But you were never this earnest with me. And you never asked me that, as if you…” he closed his eyes and gulped. “As if you didn’t even consider the possibility of me going pro. Of maybe, someday, playing in the same team again. Of catching for me in the future, too.”
He took a deep breath and when he spoke again, his voice cracked . My heart did, too. “This made me think. Is it really over for us, after this? How much time do we still have together, when we reach Koshien? Because we will reach it, Captain. I wanna play with you longer, I want to live as many more matches as I can. But then it’s all over, isn’t it?”
I didn’t even realise I’d started crying until warm drops fell on the fisted hand sitting on my lap, the one that wasn’t holding Sawamura. And I didn’t let go of him, not yet, because how could I?
Truth was I wanted to keep on playing with him for as long as it was humanly possible. But I couldn’t acknowledge that, now could I? Because if I did, it would only get harder to stop. I knew right there and then that if I admitted I wanted to stay with him as a player, that would also mean I wanted him in my future life, too. Which was the truth, really, but I wanted Sawamura in just so many more ways I couldn’t even cope with it myself.
I didn’t know if I was ready for a lifetime of pining.
“I…”
“The thing is,” Sawamura cut me off with that cracked voice I just couldn’t bear to listen to, “you didn’t open up to me , but to Furuya. And I have to respect that even if it hurts like hell!”
I searched for his eyes, but he kept avoiding mine. Was he… was he jealous? He couldn’t be, could he? I was just imagining things, just like the dream I had.
But how was I supposed to solve this shit now? I couldn’t joke on it, that would disrespect his feelings. I couldn’t deny the truth, either.
It was all fucked up already.
So what did I have to lose anyway?
I cleared my throat as my grip on him slightly tightened. “It’s… it isn’t over if you don’t want it to be. I’d wait for you to catch up on me even for a hundred years if that meant catching your pitched even one more time.”
Sawamura breathed. “Because my pitches are good?”
“Because it’s you, Bakamura. And I know it’s cheesy, but it’s true. I couldn’t open up to you because if I did, I would also admit I wish for you to be in my future not just as a pitcher and a colleague but as a person as well.” I let go of his wrist and his arm dropped to his side. I didn’t look at him, because how was I supposed to bear the look of disgust I was sure would be displayed on his handsome face? “I’m greedy, Sawamura. I want much, much more than what I am allowed to have.”
He stayed silent for a while, then dropped on the seat beside me again.
“You want me in your life… as a friend.”
“At the very least, yes.” It wasn’t technically a lie, but I knew we would always be friends. Just like I was with my senpais and like I would always be with Mochi or Nori.
“What do you mean?” he asked innocently.
“Oh, read between the lines!” I snapped, scoffing but also repressing a soft laugh.
“I can’t,” he said.
“True. Your naïveté is one of the reasons I like you.”
He said nothing for a while. And then I realised what I said. “Oh, fuck. Forget that, I didn’t mean—”
“You like me?” Sawamura asked, and I felt his eyes fixated on me. I locked my gaze with his and it was like his irises were piercing right into my soul. I shuddered as i nodded slightly.
“I do.”
I feared that would be the end of it all. How could he be my battery mate now that he knew? How could he look at me and trust me, when I hadn’t even been honest with myself? How could we win a match if we couldn’t talk to each other?
Telling him had been the dumbest idea ever and I blamed my hormones alright.
But then he smiled. He grinned like the day the coach told him his pitches were good. He grinned like the day he became our Ace. And I knew right there that no matter what, I wanted to keep on looking at that grin for the rest of my existence.
“Fucking finally!” he shouted, and a bright pink blush coloured his cheeks. He was adorable.
But wait.
“What?” I asked, confused.
“Well, it took me a while to win you heart over, but I did! I mean, I was always honest and loud about liking you, but you ignored me until now so when I accidentally eavesdropped today, I thought: ‘Ah, that’s because he likes him, then’. And it hurt like hell! Because damn, why Furuya out of everyone? But then you come and blurt out that you like me, and my heart went all swoosh and badum and—”
“Oi, slow down,” I begged, still processing what he said. Sawamura had, in fact, said he liked me. But he’d been so loud, so spontaneous, that I let it slide as something superficial.
I blushed. I legit blushed.
And when my brain flashed me my dream again, I probably became purple.
Sawamura kept on talking and talking. I couldn’t really hear him, though. I just watched him speak and speak and speak and then I snapped.
I reached out and placed my lips on his, finally shutting that loud mouth of his, which I found was even softer and gentler than I’d imagined. I was dying to try out one or two of the fantasies my brain kept on serving me involving precisely those lips. But maybe another day.
Because right then I only wanted to feel him close to me, his mouth on mine, his tongue in my throat, his body so close I could feel every single cell react to my presence. Satisfyingly so.
***
After a 20 minutes making out session, we parted and I smiled. “So, no more secret pining, then.”
“It wasn’t secret at all,” he replied. “There are bets on us.”
I tsked. “I’m gonna beat ‘em all.”