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The Three Things
1. His hair gets in the way.
It doesn’t matter if they’re kissing or if they aren’t. Miyuki’s hand is always perpetually itching to brush the brown strands away from his eyes.
“Are you ever going to cut your hair?” Miyuki asks one day as he watches Eijun repeatedly push away his bangs as he works on his (overdue) homework. He's done it about a grand total of seven times in one minute.
“You mean this thing?” Eijun points at his bangs as he looks up from scribbling at his notebook. His eyes are wide and partially hidden by his bangs and Miyuki’s left hand twitches. He also fights the urge to roll his eyes so far in his head to the point that he could see his skull.
“What else would I mean, Bakamura?”
Eijun throws his eraser in the general direction of Miyuki and — thank the heavens for his fast reflexes — he dodges it just in time. The offending piece of rubber gets lost somewhere in between the wall and the bottom bunk. Eijun groans.
“Stop calling me that! Look what you made me do, Kazuya,” Eijun pouts, his bottom lip jutting out and Miyuki’s eyes narrow. He tries his best to focus on anything but that.
“Haha! I didn’t do anything.”
“You!” Eijun spins around on his chair and glares at him. “Why are you so mean?”
“Thank you!”
“Wasn’t a compliment, you tanuki-bastard!”
When Eijun spins back around to try working on his forgotten workload and brushes his bangs away again, Miyuki just about runs out of patience. He pulls (read: attacks) his drawer open and brings out a pack of elastics he keeps in store (don’t ask him why he has them).
He pads across the room and settles himself behind Eijun who, upon feeling a presence behind him, freezes up. Miyuki — the mother hen that he is, really — combs at the front portion of the pitcher's hair with his fingers and gathers it in one bunch.
“What are you—”
“Shh!” Miyuki cuts him off. He quickly grabs at the elastic held by his teeth and does a quick job of tying it repetitively around the fluff of hair at his hands. Seemingly satisfied, he steps back to admire his handiwork.
“What did you just do ?” Eijun half-yells, brushing his hand against the fountain of hair atop his head. And although Miyuki’s initial intention was to embarrass the living hell out of his boyfriend — and help him with his studies, of course, of course — he can’t help but feel like his plan backfired.
Why, you may ask?
Because, with a frown on his own face and his heart stuttering dangerously beneath his ribcage, Miyuki Kazuya realizes: damn, his boyfriend is fucking cute. Beyond adorable. Fuck. Eijun is pouting again, his eyes fully in view after escaping the tendrils of his goddamn bangs and the rest of the baby hairs that weren’t long enough to be tied frames his face and — damn. What has he done?
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Eijun asks after a long moment of silence no thanks to Miyuki’s frothing hatred for himself seething inside. “Kazuya?”
And that’s all it takes, he guesses. In a single stride, he’s right in front of Eijun. In one moment, he’s staring at impeccably golden eyes and in another, he has said owner of these eyes locked in a rather messy (desperate?) kiss.
Eijun pulls away to laugh, and Miyuki has the pitcher’s head trapped in between his hands. He’s cupping his cheeks, the ends of his calloused fingers playing at the ends of Eijun’s hair. “Am I that cute? Maybe I should have my hair up like this more often.”
“Shut the fuck up.” Miyuki pulls him in again.
Needless to say, Eijun never cuts his hair. Miyuki hates it — though perhaps not in that way.
2. He gets up early.
"Miyuki Kazuya!"
Miyuki's eyes crack open, only to find a blurry face a few inches away from his. His eyes meet a gold hue, and he just about knows what time of day it is. There is struggling against his clasped hands, but Miyuki refuses to let go.
"Do you know what time it is, Eijun?"
A growl — a growl — makes its way out of the boy's lips. "I know exactly what time it is, Miyuki Kazuya! It's time for me to run! Now let go!"
At this, Miyuki wraps his arms around his squirming boyfriend's waist. If there is one thing that the entire Seido Baseball Club can agree on, it's that he is the human incarnation of stubbornness. And Miyuki, staying true to this particular trait, refuses to let go.
"Could you stay? Just a little longer?" Miyuki nearly whines. (Though Eijun would argue hours later that he did, in fact, whine.)
"These fats aren't going to burn themselves, Kazuya," Eijun says condescendingly, poking at his own stomach through his shirt. Miyuki raises both eyebrows, affronted, because Lord knows — he himself knows — that underneath the bubbly layer that Eijun dresses himself in, he's actually got one hell of a body.
"Fats?" Miyuki repeats, his right hand catching Eijun's left hand mid-point and entangles his fingers with the pitcher's. "I'd like to see where. Or maybe feel?"
Miyuki feels the smirk that he's oh-so-desperately trying to hide slowly push its way up his face. He had already let go of Eijun's hand and is now brushing his fingers against the hem of his shirt.
"Kazuya!" Eijun yells — right into his ear at that — as redness creeps up from his neck to his ears. It suits him, and this is the precise reason Miyuki constantly has to brainstorm for more teasing material.
"It's much too early! For-for uh—"
"For what, Ei-chan?" Miyuki chimes, a single finger pushing the offending fabric up and fleetingly touches what Eijun had referred to as fats. Quote unquote.
"For, you know," Eijun whispers now despite them being the only ones in the room, the redness on his face intensifying by the second. "For that."
Miyuki lets out a triumphant laugh.
"Hahaha! If it's much too early for this, then it's much too early for you to run!"
"Miyuki Kazuya!"
3. He never shuts up.
Miyuki is walking across the hall of the Spirit Dorm when he hears it.
It's distant and loud and indecipherable, but he knows it just the same. From the way his tone rises at the end of each sentence to the abrupt laugh that cuts in between, Miyuki Kazuya knows that his sunshine of a boyfriend is within the vicinity.
He strains his eyes against the glare of the early sun and tries to find the source of all the noise that he doesn't see when he nearly bumps into someone.
"Oi, Miyuki," the green-haired shortstop greets once he's regained balance. "Tell your boyfriend to shut up."
Miyuki grimaces and adjusts the glasses on his nose. "You know Eijun," he says. "There's no getting him to shut up. If you tell him to, he's only going to get louder."
Kuramochi wrinkles his nose. "Well do something. He'll have us running laps if Kataoka catches him screeching on the field like that."
Miyuki shudders at the thought of having to run extra laps. And just because his brain works at a faster level than most — and because he’s Miyuki Kazuya — he immediately comes up with a rather snarky idea.
"I don't like that smirk on your face, Bakayuki. Take it off."
"Oh, don't worry, Kuramochi-kun. It isn't for you," Miyuki says and saunters off towards the field. When he sees a bouncing figure in the dug out, his eyes narrow on his target. He's about three feet away when the other notices his presence.
"Ah, Kazuya! Help me out here and tell Kanemaru that I'm right when I say that bunting is all in the hips. In the hips!"
"Can you get any more annoying?" Kanemaru rolls his eyes at Eijun, who is demonstrating his bunting from — hips jutted out and right for Miyuki's taking. And naturally, as anyone who knows Miyuki Kazuya would expect, he does.
"Whaa—?" Eijun blurts out, alarmed as he's suddenly enclosed in a backward embrace. With a skillful spin, Miyuki now finds himself face to face with the southpaw pitcher. "What-what are you doing?"
Miyuki doesn't give him an answer. However, he does something even better. He quickly leans down and gives Eijun a quick peck — it's fast enough that Miyuki barely felt their lips touch, but it still somehow leaves a churning sensation in his stomach and tingling in his toes.
When he pulls away, Eijun is blinking at him with wide eyes. His mouth is opening and closing as he tries to figure out what to say.
"Shut up, Bakamura," Miyuki fills in.
"That's fucking gross," Kuramochi's voice pops up from behind Miyuki. "Granted, it worked. Just don't do that again."
When Miyuki leans forward once more, he finds himself blocked by a metal bat.
"Don't."
So it's only after five laps around the practice field (thanks, Sawamura) and hidden behind the equipment shed later (without Kuramochi within the general area — Miyuki makes sure of that, lest he take a bat to the face) that he continues to try shutting Eijun up.
It works every time.
The One Thing
1. That Eijun is his.
Because when Eijun’s hair gets in the way, Miyuki finds that it's now a habit of his to brush it off his face. He finds it more than amusing to be able to run his hands across Eijun's surprisingly silky hair as he let his fingers get lost in it.
And when he puts his hair up in that certain way, goddamnit . Miyuki can’t help but feel like all those times Kuramochi had cursed him had been right — that he really was satan-incarnate. He really did not have the time of day to be dealing with his puppy-like boyfriend and his big, round eyes, but he can’t help it anyway. Especially in that stupid hairstyle. (He was never letting him cut it, fuck that.)
And because even when he gets up at the asscrack of dawn, Miyuki can’t help but ask him to stay.
It’s almost a routine, really. Eijun waking up in his arms — struggling, usually — and then Miyuki refusing to let go. There’s an exchange of words here and there and the constant lewd comments courtesy of one Miyuki Kazuya that leaves Eijun turning five different shades of red. (Miyuki loves it.)
And on Miyuki’s lucky days — which are rare, Eijun relents. He could feel his heart nearly explode from the words ‘okay, fine’ and feel the grin forming on his face as the restless pitcher settles back in his arms. It’s always so warm and Miyuki’s cheeks always hurt from smiling too goddamn much, but who is he kidding? (He is so goddamn in love. )
And because when Eijun gets loud, he certainly doesn't mind shutting him up with kisses, peppering his skin here and there, from his lips to his jaw to his cheek to his hairline — it's all for Miyuki to explore. It’s all his, his, his — he can’t believe it.
And it’s during their usual banter that Miyuki finds himself at home. It was almost like constantly raising their voices was some sort of comfort for him. Their relationship is fairly new, and he probably couldn’t place it quite well just yet, but he suspects it’s because it fills the constant silence in his head. Eijun’s voice — no matter how loud it gets — is home to him. Like the idle chatter during the afternoon at a home or the familiar and reassuring sounds of nature outside. It settles him in some way (Kuramochi thinks it’s witchcraft). And by any and all gods out there, he wasn’t going to complain.
Not when he gets to give those kisses — the ones that leave his toes curling and his heart fluttering. It’s stupid and absolutely not-Miyuki, but it is.
It so is.