Chapter Text
Nakamura’s not a sports person.
He’s not, but he finds himself sitting in the itchy grass, watching the school’s baseball team practice. Each player is in uniform, sweaty and panting, running around the field. The sun is relentlessly blaring down. Nakamura has to squint to see what’s going on.
He’d never be here on his own, but when it came to Hirose…
Hirose sits next to him. His legs are out, hands propped up behind him. He’s absorbed in watching the practice, eyes relaxed and moving between the players and the practice game.
“Takeuchi wanted me to watch his team today. You wanna join? It might be fun.”
It wasn’t exactly his type of thing, but Hirose looks like he’s enjoying himself. He has enough fun just seeing the way the light catches his hair, the breeze gently tugging on the strands, relaxed and bright.
“You okay, Nakamura?” Hirose turns, tilting his head over at him.
Nakamura hugs his knees a bit tighter. “Oh, yeah, I’m good. What about you?”
“Good,” Hirose says, turning back to the field. “It’s kinda cool watching them play. Maybe I’ll go to more of the games.”
“Yeah? That sounds like fun.”
It sounds like fun imagining himself sitting next to Hirose, hearing him cheer and celebrate. Maybe he’d be so happy, he’d wrap his arms around his shoulders and lean in and -
Nakamura fights the daydreaming. Baseball. Right.
“Don’t worry,” Hirose says, “I know you’re not really into sports, so you don’t have to come with me.”
Nakamura shakes his head. He unravels his arms from his knees, putting his hands behind him on the grass to match Hirose’s. “I’m… I mean, true, I don’t really understand sports stuff and all that but - but I… do like being here. With - with you. So. I don’t mind.”
Hirose warmly smiles. “That’s -”
“Shut up, Takeuchi!”
The yell makes them jump. They turn to the field. The players are still in the field, frozen in their places. One of the players is pressing an accusatory finger into Takeuchi’s chest, pushing him back.
That’s not good. Before Nakamura can say anything, Hirose’s already up and walking toward them.
Nakamura’s up too, staying behind his boyfriend’s straightened shoulders and confidence stride. He’s not sure what the plan is here. They don’t have much information about what they’re walking into.
“Hey, hey,” Hirose interrupts. He crosses his arms. “What’s going on?”
“He’s definitely trying to sabotage the team -”
Takeuchi sputters. “What? I’m not!”
The player glares. “He messed up the drill. Again. He’s been messing it up all week.”
“I was trying to help - ”
The arguing between them continues. Nakamura tries not to sigh. It’s another thing he wouldn’t understand about sports. Aren’t they supposed to be fun? The vibe feels too tense and competitive for it to feel like it is.
Hirose looks like he’s hearing every word, nodding and throwing in an occasional what-if. Problem solving social things like this is definitely one of his strengths. Nakamura admires that. He’d have no idea how to handle similar situations.
They’re still standing there, listening to the arguing, when a voice in the distance calls out -
“Watch out!”
Out of the corner of his vision, he sees it - a white, fast blur coming straight for them. It’s unrelenting and heading straight toward -
His body moves before his thoughts do.
Nakamura lunges forward, his hands catching the sides of Hirose’s arms. With a sharp pull, he twists Hirose out of the ball’s path, turning his own body to shield him -
Bam!
The impact slams into the back of his upper shoulder, knocking him forward. His breath bursts out in a choked gasp as he stumbles into Hirose’s back, fingers clutching at his shirt. The pain is hot, rushing down from his shoulder.
There’s a piercing ringing. He shuts his eyes tight, trying to catch his breath again.
“...kamura! Nakamura!”
Nakamura blinks, trying to unblur his vision.
Hirose had whipped around, facing him. He’d caught him by the shoulders and steadied him upright. His wide eyes were darting between the spot the ball hit and him, face completely drained of color.
“You - ” Hirose’s voice cracks. “Why would you -”
Nakamura winces from his grip. Hirose immediately softens it, guilt flickering in his eyes.
“Are you -” Nakamura swallows, trying to talk over the pain. “Are you okay?”
For a few beats, Hirose doesn’t answer and a worried feeling spurs. Nakamura looks up to see if he did. Instead, he sees Hirose’s lips tremble, hands shaking on him. His breathing comes out in short bursts.
One of the players speaks up. “I can help take him -”
“I got it,” Hirose’s voice is sharp. He glares at the player, then looks back at Nakamura. “Sorry. Thanks, but I’ve got it.”
Hirose moves, gently taking Nakamura’s good arm and wrapping it around his shoulders. Nakamura’s weight leans into him, taking pressure off the stinging on his other shoulder. It helps - the warmth and the steadiness.
The walk there is mostly quiet. Sometimes the pain squeezes enough for a shaky breath. Hirose periodically stops them, making sure he’s okay, before adjusting their pace.
Hirose’s quietness is more concerning than anything.
By the time they reach the nurse’s office, Nakamura’s shoulder is still pulsing. He sits on the bed, trying not to wince every time the nurse presses cold fingers around the bruise on his bare back.
Hirose’s standing close against the wall, not touching him, but close enough to keep a watchful gaze.
“Try not to move,” The nurse says, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Then it’s just them.
Nakamura lets the emotions roll through him. It relaxes his shoulders and he closes his eyes. Hirose didn’t have any injuries. He’s glad he was able to step in on time before anything worse happened.
“Why?”
Hirose’s hushed, sharp voice blinks him out of his thoughts.
Hirose’s fists are shaking beside his sides. He’s glaring at the floor, bangs over his face. It hides his expression, but not the tightness in his jaw. “Why did you do that?”
Nakamura blinks, confused for a second. “You could’ve gotten -”
“Don’t,” Hirose snaps, breathing heavy. “Please. I would’ve - I would’ve been fine -” Hirose sputters but suddenly shuts his mouth.
Nakamura swallows. He speaks up slow. “I… I don’t think you were going to see it.”
He hears Hirose’s breath stutter. His fists are still shaking, shoulders are tight, like he’s trying to hold himself together. Then he lifts his head and the heavy emotion from his widened eyes is raw and sharp.
Nakamura reads it instantly. Fear.
“I don’t care if I didn’t.”
Nakamura opens his mouth then shuts it. That’s - that’s awful to hear.
There’s a mix of guilt and disbelief and anger building up in his chest from what Hirose's words. It's suffocating, squeezing tighter and tighter. He doesn’t regret stepping in. He’s still relieved that Hirose wasn’t hurt - but he couldn’t believe Hirose would say that he didn’t care if he got himself hurt -
But then everything shifts and it shows up - Hirose taking that hit for him instead.
It's one moment, something distant and blurry, but he thinks he understands a bit more of what's going on. It doesn’t change everything he feels - he almost wants to shake Hirose's shoulders out of thinking he'd should get hurt instead - but he thinks he sees what Hirose does a little clearer. It dissipates some of the intense feelings.
But his feelings make sense too. He should try to explain it.
"I -" Nakamura holds his hands tight together, looking down at his lap. “I just…”
How... does he explain it? It was an overwhelming feeling that screamed to hurry and cover him. It’s one where he was never going to just stand there and see Hirose get hurt. That Hirose taking that hit would’ve hurt him more than the baseball did.
His throat tightens. He looks down at his hands, fingers trembling slightly. “I couldn’t let it hit you,” he says, barely above a whisper. “I just… couldn’t.”
There’s a heavy silence between them. It feels like it lasts an eternity.
He’s scared to look up. To see more of the fear on his face.
Hirose’s the first one to move. He hears his steps moving slowly, coming to a stop when he’s right in front of him.
Warm hands slide to the back of his head.
Hirose gently moves him forward until the side of his face presses into the fabric of Hirose’s shirt. There’s the scent of grass, the heat of his heaving chest, the uneven rhythm of his heartbeat pounding against Nakamura’s cheek.
Hirose’s shaky breath stutters.
Then small, wet droplets hit the top of Nakamura’s head. Another. And another.
Hirose’s cheek presses against his hair, holding him tighter, and his voice breaks.
“I'm - I - I was just so scared and - and - I - I’m so sorry -”
Nakamura’s shoulders sag down. He pulls his arms in, careful of the injury, and wraps them around Hirose’s waist.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs, the words muffling in Hirose’s shirt. “I’m okay.”
And they stay like that.
Hirose’s arms hold him for a long time. His breath evens out against Nakamura’s hair, still shaky, but slowing down. Warmth and weight settle.
There’s still a throb in his shoulder, but it’s duller.
“Thank you.”
The whispered words are soft and steady, brushing warm against his hair.
Nakamura closes his eyes, breathing in deep and letting it out. He knew they’d need to talk about this again sometime… but they didn't need to right now. Not with Hirose holding him like this, like he's something precious. He wanted to stay in this moment with him. Safe.
Nakamura’s eyes flutter closed, sinking further into Hirose’s warmth.