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“He’s yelling at Furuya again,” Kuramochi droned, arms and chin resting on the back of the bench.
The back of Eijun’s head was bobbing around, his shouting loud enough to enter their hearing but too rough to make out the words. “Yeah, but he’s smiling,” Miyuki responded with equally low enthusiasm. Both of their sets of legs were slung lazily over the wrong side of the bench, their eyes regarding the field with exceptional boredom.
Kuramochi frowned into his arms, not bothering to adjust his gaze, “How can you tell?”
“Look,” Miyuki said, pointing a finger at the back of Eijun’s head. “His ears wiggle upwards when he smiles.”
Kuramochi turned a slow, disgusted look toward Miyuki, “You are so gay.”
“Yeah, I’ve realized, thank you.”
Kuramochi sighed and allowed his arms to flop forward, his chin now resting directly on the metal of the bench. “Of course he’s happy,” he mumbled. “His birthday is this weekend.” He tilted his head back toward Miyuki, “What’re you getting him?”
Miyuki turned to him, eyes blown wide and mouth slowly parting.
“Miyuki,” Kuramochi said with equal parts surprise and disdain, “there’s no way you forgo--”
Miyuki’s lips suddenly split into a wide grin, a chuckle humming in his throat. Kuramochi’s features crunched in on themselves, and he shoved his shoulder hard against Miyuki, “You jackass.”
“How on Earth could I forget,” Miyuki countered. “The kid’s been talking about it nonstop. He’s so excited.”
Kuramochi shook his head, “I know; he thinks this makes him more of a senpai somehow…” He massaged his temples, “It’s like he doesn’t realize that we all age at the same rate.”
“Just let him have it,” Miyuki instructed. “He’ll realize, eventually…” His eyes turned outward to where Eijun was chasing Furuya across the field, and he frowned, “Hopefully.”
“So,” Kuramochi continued. “What are you gonna do for him? Take him out? Cook?” His smirk cut across his face, sharp at the corners as his voice went coy, “You gonna ‘catch his pitch’?”
“Ooh, Kuramochi-kun,” Miyuki cawed, leaning against him. “Is that what you’re after? You want to hear exactly how we have or haven’t exchanged orgasms?” He spoke right next to Kuramochi’s ear, voice dubious and taunting, “You wanna know how many times? What positions? If it was in your roo--”
“Christ, God!” Kuramochi recoiled, kicking at Miyuki’s shins. “No! Stop it!”
“Hahaha!”
Kuramochi’s face was blistering red as his features warped in horror, and it only made Miyuki laugh harder. “You’re awful,” he told Miyuki seriously. “I can’t even imagine Sawamura-- you know what, never mind.”
“Ah!” Miyuki wheezed, clutching his stomach. “My sides!”
When Kuramochi turned his head, it was evident the blush had crawled down his neck. “I did ask a question though,” he mumbled. “You damned tanuki.”
“Oh, well,” Miyuki breathed, his laughter beginning to abate. “No cooking; I did that for Valentine’s Day.”
“Now that you mention it,” Kuramochi glanced at him, his face having recovered from its embarrassment. “Which one of you takes Valentine’s, and which takes White Day?”
“We weren’t sure,” Miyuki answered. He smiled big and broad, scratching at his jaw, “And we didn’t discuss it beforehand, so we both wound up surprising each other on Valentine’s Day.”
Kuramochi snapped his gaze away from him, “You two disgust me.”
“Although he said from now on he wants White Day to be for him…” Miyuki squinted over the field, “Because ‘you’re the one with the black soul, Kazuya’.”
Kuramochi burst into hyena-like hysterics, tears clinging to the corners of his eyes, “That Bakamura!” He actually kicked his feet in amusement, “The kid can be so harsh!”
“Like you can talk; he got that line from you!”
Kuramochi dabbed a tear away from his eye, “They grow up so fast…”
“He didn’t help me at all either,” Miyuki lamented. “When I asked him what he wanted he said, ‘Anything I could look forward to.’”
“Aww,” Kuramochi crooned, “he’d probably just be happy with anything.”
Miyuki glared over the field, “I think he’s just empty-headed.”
“Hey, you chose him.”
He propped his elbow on the back of the bench, watching as Eijun and Furuya fought relentlessly over a tire. There was a second tire literally a meter away from them. He gave a heavy sigh, “Well, I’m probably empty-headed too.”
“Did you tell him?”
“What?”
Kuramochi exhaled as if truly exhausted, “Did you give him something to look forward to?”
Miyuki almost snorted, “What? No. I told him absolutely nothing, of course.”
Kuramochi stared at Miyuki, appalled, “You’re a demon.”
“Thank you!”
“You are actually the honest to God worst,” Kuramochi informed him. “The kid asked for one thing and you refuse to give it to him.”
“He can look forward,” Miyuki explained with a gentle wave of his hand, “to the surprise.”
“The worst.”
___
“Sawamura.”
Eijun flipped around, eyes wide and blazing like he was ready for a fight. “Miyuki-senpai!” he greeted way too conspicuously. His voice echoed off the dorm walls and broke the silence of the night. “How are you on this fine night of May!”
“Do you have to yell?” Miyuki approached him slowly, hand in his pocket and sandals shuffling against the concrete.
Even with the brusqueness of his voice, Eijun’s eyes were sparkling, his lips breaking into a grin despite all his efforts to hold it back. “I’m excited,” he told him lowly, like it was a secret.
A small smile played across Miyuki’s mouth, “I know you are.” He rested his hand atop Eijun’s head, “You remember you told me I got you all day tomorrow, right?”
Eijun clenched his fist in excitement, “Yes sir!”
“Good,” Miyuki said, lightly tousling his hair. “We’re gonna be taking a train around four, so if you planned on running early or something, be ready before then.”
“Four,” Eijun echoed softly. He was already in his own world, mumbling to himself, “What could it be…”
“You’ll know tomorrow!” Miyuki said, smacking him firmly on the back. He turned to walk away, “And I’ll make you lunch if you wan--”
“Miyuki!”
Miyuki paused mid-step, turning his gaze back toward Eijun.
His eyes were darting around, flipping from grass to concrete and back again; it was entirely different from his normal head-on-collision approach to conversation. “Th-Thank you,” he finally said, bringing his eyes to Miyuki’s face. There it was-- there was the hyper-focused, burning bright gaze of Sawamura Eijun that Miyuki had come to know so well. “For spending the day with me,” he finished, features and voice resolute.
Miyuki blinked at him for a moment, then he turned his head away quick. “Idiot,” he responded, voice teasing as he started walking back toward his dorm room. “Don’t just say stuff like that.”
“Wha--!?”
Miyuki looked up at the sliver of half-moon visible in the deep blue of the sky, and buried his hands deeper in his pockets.
I don’t know how to respond.
___
Eijun fidgeted for the entirety of their train ride. He was more tolerable when he was talking, so Miyuki kept him going by bringing up the team, or his grades, or the new shoujo manga he had borrowed from one of the managers. That kept him rambling the longest, and his love for this new heroine was honestly extraordinary. Miyuki contemplated bringing up that the manager who lent him this new series was definitely romantically interested in him, and then decided to keep it to himself.
“WHERE ARE WE GOING?” he moaned.
Miyuki ignored the looks from other passengers, just as he had when Eijun had begun tearfully reciting manga lines. “We’re almost there,” he consoled him. “Just be a little more patient.”
Eijun leaned his head back on the seat and squeezed his eyes shut, the bill of his baseball cap cutting off the rays of sun that had been lighting up his cheeks, “The waiting is physically painful.”
“You’re also going to have to wait through dinner, because we’re going to stop and grab something first.”
Eijun snapped his gaze toward him, actual despair in his eyes.
Miyuki grinned. “Happy Birthday,” he cooed, the sway of the train lightly jostling him in place.
Eijun roughly crossed his arms over his chest, “I’ve never been so mad about receiving kindness from anyone!”
“This is proof that today has been executed perfectly.”
“You’re a mean boyfriend,” Eijun said, but his lips were curling up into a shy smile, his freckled cheeks going pink. Even after all these months, the word still got to him.
“Sap,” Miyuki said, lightly knocking their shoulders together.
“You’re a sap too, I know it,” Eijun grumbled, returning the bump. “You just hide things better.”
“Um, yeah,” Miyuki responded bluntly. “Everyone hides things better than you.”
His nose scrunched up, “Hiding things takes too much energy.” He shrugged, “It’s so much easier to just have it all out and in the open.”
“That,” Miyuki said, knocking his knuckles against Eijun’s chest, “is why I--”
Miyuki’s mouth went dry, and in a moment of panic, he was wordless.
He carefully closed his mouth, pretending his sudden loss of words was due to a catch in his throat. He coughed. “-- wanted to catch for you,” he finished, mostly smoothly.
Eijun laughed, launching into a narrative about his energy keeping him on the mound, unabashed pride sweeping over his features. Miyuki pretended to listen, as if he could hear words over the sound of his heartbeat in his ears.
___
“HOLY CRAP THIS IS YOKOHAMA STADIUM!”
Eijun was gaping at the ticket lines winding out of the stadium, his whole body tensed and ready for action. “This is indeed Yokohama Stadium,” Miyuki confirmed calmly.
“AT NIGHT!” Eijun shouted.
“In half an hour or so, yeah.” Eijun was quaking beside him, eyes big and starry and mouth lolled open in awe. “Have you ever been to a night game?” Miyuki asked, pretending he wasn’t highly invested in the answer.
“NEVER!” Eijun yelled. He gaze snapped up to Miyuki, “This will be my first time!”
There was a tight squeeze in his chest, but he responded with a coy smile, “Figured.”
“Who are the Bay Stars playing today!?” Eijun crowed, staring up at him as Miyuki gently guided him into the ticket line.
“The Hanshin Tigers,” he answered, eyes moving to the side just enough to peer under his glasses and glance Eijun’s reaction.
“AAH I’M SO EXCITED!”
This time there was nothing to be done in the way of hiding Miyuki’s smirk.
The sun was setting behind the stadium as they waited, orange and gold burning off into deep, muted blue. The smell of grilled chicken and fryer grease was already drifting through the rafters, following the constant purr of excitement just beyond the walls. The moment their tickets were torn and taken, Eijun grabbed hold of Miyuki’s wrist. “Yakitori!” he declared. “Everyone needs to eat yakitori during games!”
Miyuki allowed himself to be dragged along; Eijun’s insistence was impossible to counter even if he had wanted to. When they breached the outer walls into the bleachers, it was with a stick of grilled chicken in each of their hands. Eijun was still clinging to Miyuki’s wrist with the other, as if the excitement had given him a fear of falling.
The field was laid out before them, the ground carefully manicured and visually untouched. The seats clung to the edges of the field, blue and orange curling protectively around the grounds.
“It’s so big,” Eijun whispered, gaze combing over the mass of fans filling the stands.
“Jingu Stadium is bigger,” Miyuki told him, watching how he took in the crowd with awe. “And Koshien is even larger than that.” He furrowed his brow, “Do you ever pay attention to what’s going on around you, or do you just exist on the field?”
Eijun gave a light shake of his head, “I never really noticed…”
Sheesh. What a guy.
“Come on,” Miyuki said, taking a step forward and tugging on the arm that Eijun still had in his grasp. “Let’s find our seats.”
As they sat, the lights for the stadium blazed to life, blistering white triangles piercing through the dusk and illuminating the field and stands. Eijun jumped in his seat, recoiling in shock, and Miyuki cackled. The air was cooler at night, and mostly rid of the humidity that they had to fight through during their own games. Every now and then there was even a breeze, the faintest trickle of air over their necks, so it was easy to get comfortable as the game began and the crowd and players roared to life.
“This is incredible,” Eijun said the moment the game started, his eyes stationed on the pitcher. The field was lit bright enough to pass as day even with the solid black of the sky acting as a constant reminder behind the stadium lights.
“Night games are viewer friendly,” Miyuki agreed.
“No, but…” Eijun looked at his hands. “The energy up here.” Miyuki tilted his head, blinking in intrigue. Eijun turned his eyes toward him, “It’s like I can feel how much everyone loves this game. Here in the stands…” He brought his gaze back to the field, smile cracking white and bright like the lights over the field, “I feel so lucky, as a player…”
Miyuki turned his head back forward, a smile denting the corner of his mouth, “Yeah, I know what you mean.”
Eijun was focused on every pitch that was thrown, and he responded to each with varying levels of pomp and jealousy.
“I’m bad at gifts,” Miyuki finally said in the third inning. Eijun’s attention snapped to him immediately, but he didn’t turn his head. “I’m not really good at that stuff, but I thought about it as best I could.”
Eijun dipped his head to peer up at him, hoping to catch a secret expression under his hat and glasses, “I don’t get this; this isn’t like you at all. And this is great, so--”
Miyuki bit the inside of his cheek, then cleared his throat, “You said you wanted something to look forward to.” Eijun stopped midsentence, but kept his eyes on Miyuki’s face. Miyuki pointed out to the field, at the pitcher’s mound. “That’s my answer.”
Eijun’s eyes followed the finger’s trajectory, his mouth going soft and thoughtful. “Pitching?” he asked. “I should look forward to pitching?” His eyes burst into sudden fire, “AM I GOING TO BE STARTING--”
“It’s not about the next game.”
His passion went dead for a moment, the wind stolen straight from his sails, but he turned his eyes back toward the field anyway, “I don’t…”
“What is he?” Miyuki asked, watching the pitcher throw a deep sinker. The catcher’s calls were pretty good; the game had been a stalemate thus far.
“A pitcher,” Eijun answered resolutely.
“Yes…”
Eijun’s mouth dragged into a deep frown.
“For…” Miyuki led.
He blinked once, staring at the mound, “The Bay Stars?” There was another pause, and he looked at Miyuki, “The pros?”
Miyuki’s lips tilted upward, and he knocked his knuckles against Eijun’s chest, “That is what I think you have to look forward to.”
Eijun stared at him for a long time, completely motionless. Miyuki was just beginning to sweat when he leaned forward, eyes big and glassy, and he whispered, “You think I might be able to go pro one day?”
“Yep,” Miyuki chirped, leaning heavily on their shared armrest. “With as much as you’ve improved in such a short time, I don’t doubt it for a second.” He shoved the bill of Eijun’s hat down over his eyes, “And I look forward to experiencing that with you.”
Eijun was quiet again-- the most terrifying thing Eijun could be-- and it wasn’t until his mouth started wobbling around on his face that Miyuki realized.
“Oh come on,” Miyuki said, knocking the cap back up so he could see Eijun’s face. Tears were clinging to his eyelids, desperate to spill over onto his cheeks. “Don’t cry,” Miyuki pleaded, voice thinning with panic. “Eijun--”
“That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard!” Eijun sobbed, loud and sudden. Miyuki flinched, and Eijun wheezed, “Even in shoujo manga!”
I’m actively competing with shoujo heroines.
Eijun smeared tears across his cheeks with the palm of his hand, his effort to blot them away entirely unsuccessful as they kept falling in large, heavy drops.
“Come on,” Miyuki said, taking hold of Eijun’s shoulder. Eijun sealed his mouth shut, but whimpers still rattled around his throat.
“Hey,” Miyuki grasped the back of his neck with one hand and cupped his jaw with the other, forcing Eijun to look at him through his teary eyes. Eijun sniffled, his features an absolute watery mess, but he focused on Miyuki anyway. “You’re the most impressive person I’ve ever met,” Miyuki told him. “And I want you to realize that your growth has no limits. Okay?”
He tried to nod, he really did, but what came out was another sob, and Eijun threw his arms around Miyuki’s shoulders, burying his snotty face in his neck. “K-Kazuya--” he hiccuped.
Miyuki pursed his lips, lightly petting at the back of his neck. He very purposefully did not look around at their neighbors in the stands. He didn’t give a shit what they thought, anyway.
“For all your gloating you really do need to have more faith in yourself,” Miyuki commented quietly.
Eijun lifted his face, the bright stadium lights catching at all the tears stuck to his cheeks. “Thank you,” he whispered, voice thin and raspy.
Miyuki lips slid upward, warm and genuine, “You’re the one who did it, idiot.”
Eijun’s face split in half with his smile, and he curled his hand in Miyuki’s t-shirt. He leaned forward, eyes sliding down to Miyuki’s mouth, and just when Eijun was close enough to smell the sun on his skin, the bill of his hat bumped against Miyuki’s forehead. He winced.
Miyuki coughed a laugh as Eijun blushed, and he snatched the hat off the top of Eijun’s head.
“Is that why you wear yours sideways…” Eijun mumbled, eyes skirting around their laps.
“Absolutely not,” Miyuki said, leaning back forward. “But it’s a bonus.”
He touched Eijun’s chin, tilting his face back upwards, and kissed the soft pout of his lips. They were salt-stained with tears, smelled like the sun, and slowly curling into a smile.