Chapter Text
01
Slip and Foul
Laying his head down on the cool wood of his desk, Izumi is vaguely furious. The nerve of Hamada driving a conversation to something as inappropriate and unwelcome as Coach's personal life and... assets. He takes a deep breath and brings his arms up to cushion his forehead; there was a part of him that wasn't in particular surprised, and that, too, was frustrating. Hamada was still a growing young man, was still malleable, perhaps. At least-
Okay, yes, Coach had ridiculous proportions. It didn't matter where his interests lay, Izumi was still going to notice. And so, apparently, would Hamada.
There was nothing for it. It wasn't as though he had a right to be jealous; they had barely made it past cordial greetings in the morning and at practice. Had barely begun to speak to each other at school, in class together, at lunch- and only when there were other people around.
Izumi couldn't help it. He felt so skittish and helpless . And when he felt out of sorts he got mad, and when he got mad he wanted to cry or throw things or break something. Though, even when he and Hamada had been... doing what they had been doing... he had been skittish and angry, so what was the difference? It would have been better to have gone to another school, really. Would have been better to never see Hamada again. Time had done nothing to make the awful pressure and hurt and want fade away. Kosuke took a deep breath; no matter what he was doing, or feeling, stupid Hamada was always dominating his thoughts.
And it was totally unclear if Hamada was even sparing him a thought. The eye contact they had shared at the end of the first official game, in all its intensity, seemed like it had happened years ago, seemed untouchable now. Izumi was beginning to feel afraid- well and truly afraid- as if he had... imagined it all.
02
Little Spark
Hanai's mother is a pretty woman; her features are soft, and round, a little worn-looking, but still pretty. An older lady kind of pretty. A 'mom' kind of pretty. Her eyes, especially, are gentle and bright, and Tajima knows immediately that Hanai got his own pretty eyes from her.
Gentle and bright.
Tajima swallows hard, gives Hanai a sidelong glance, and stares with determination into the match.
Poorly Timed
Up until Hanai's outburst, Suyama had been enjoying Sakaeguchi's warm shoulder against his own; since the first official game, Sakaeguchi had been strangely, openly, affectionate. It was driving Suyama completely insane, but it was also, so so nice. Yuuto had spent a handful of weekends with him, had spent the entirety of his birthday with him, and had been generally very open and warm.
But... Yuuto was always open and warm. That was normal for him.
Shoji knew he had to stop reading into the behaviour. Had to remember that they were best friends, had been for quite a while, now. It had happened so easily, so organically, and the feelings that had followed had also come easily and organically. He knew he had to box them away and stay neutral- be the friend that Yuuto deserved. But it was difficult- beyond difficult.
His hopes had risen without his permission when Sakaeguchi had started spending even more time with him. Yuuto had suddenly begun calling more often, had made so much time for him, and had been so sweet. God, if only he wasn't so sweet. Shoji had never met anyone so in tune and empathetic to other people and their needs. He, himself, had been on the receiving end of Yuuto's gentle empathy. He was shocked that his best friend hadn't figured him out all the way- hadn't accused him of being...
Attached like he was.
It was too much. The push-pull of enjoying the extra attention and company and casual brushes versus the pain of not being able to go further, to say what he knew he should, or to risk Yuuto finding him out, was breaking him apart on the inside. It was violent in there. And Yuuto didn't deserve that.
A small part of him was glad for their captain's distraction.
A small part of him hated it.
And both parts ate him up.
Already Left
Momoe enjoyed the idle, baseball-related chat the two mothers threw at her, but as soon as it took a turn for Shiga, she was glad for the distraction of a cool drink.
Companionable
They're quiet, standing together, watching. Sometimes, things are like this. Easy, quiet- not at all stressful. Sometimes, they find themselves on the same wavelength, inexplicably but comfortably. It reminds Mihashi of the training camp, when he woke in the night to see Abe nearby, sleeping with his body curved toward the pitcher, as though he'd been watching over him before passing out. It reminds Abe of the rare, happy smiles that Mihashi sometimes affects; the ones that beam bright and cheery, because he feels appreciated, because he feels liked and a part of everything.
It reminds Abe of the feelings that come sometimes, the warm ones, in his stomach.
He glances at Mihashi, whose honey-brown eyes are fixed, stolid and determinedly, to the game in front of them. The feeling flares and he wonders at it; wonders at the way the barest summer breeze moves Mihashi's hair, wonders at the length and lightness of Mihashi's eyelashes, wonders at the curve of his neck and shoulders, wonders at his hard-working hands, and their familiar callouses.
He wonders why they can't always be like this- in tune and comfortable and stress-free.
Mihashi seems finally to feel his gaze and glances back; their eyes meet and Abe's mouth goes, for a moment, dry. There is an open, trusting look there that Abe isn't sure he deserves, isn't sure he wants.
But then Mihashi gives a small, tentative smile, and Abe re-thinks everything.
Underweight
Abe frets after him and Mihashi can't help but like the attention. It makes him feel... wanted.
There are other words for the feeling, but he can't bring himself to use them. Can't possibly believe they could surface in his mind to begin with. Abe has that effect on him; his presence is so commanding and his opinion means so much. Mihashi knows it must be hero-worship. He fears failing Abe, fears making his turn his back; the idea of losing Abe is devastating in every way, though he isn't sure how he would go about losing Abe.
Abe makes him feel so many odd, incalculable things. Especially when he speaks softly, gently; especially when he looks his way to check up on him. Mihashi likes the attention so much. So much, so, that being underweight doesn't really bother him at all.
Temper, Temper
Abe manages to scare Mihashi away- though he is nominally aware of how absurd this escape mechanism of Mihashi's is. The boy's demeanor can be so infuriating sometimes. Between his bouts of sweetness and lightness, he is jittery, worried, and scared , and does stupid things because of that mentality. And the fear- that's what sets Abe off.
Because Mihashi seems to be afraid of him, and that, for all the strangest reasons, hurts . And, unfortunately, the only way Abe knows to deal with that hurt is to lash out, lose his temper, and scare Mihashi away.
Self-perpetuating the myth, making things worse, and leaving him stumped as to how to proceed.
A little part of him, though, thinks, I care. I think that's why he sets me off so much. He drives me crazy, and even though I want this team to succeed, even though I want to go to the top with him, I can't help but worry. Because I... I really...
I really care about him.
Oh.
The things that Oki says... they do and they don't help. Abe covers his mouth in astonishment at himself. I've really been underestimating my... temperament?
A long pause.
...
Even my laugh?
Pep
Abe's voice is a sudden thing, large and startling. Mihashi wants to run away- but can't. Embarrassment at his last freak-out keeps him rooted, but the tone in Abe's voice as he asks him questions... Oh, there is fear. And when Mihashi makes a mis-step, he gets a little punishment- the familiar push of Abe's knuckles against his skull.
But it isn't as rough as it has been, and Abe's voice doesn't go as loudly as it has, and he seems... patient. It is astounding and brilliant, and casts Abe in a light that Mihashi can't shake. He listens, respectful, but a part of him is somewhere else- in a place of wonderment, where he can only see Abe's grey eyes, where the shadows meet the light.
The moment passes when Abe asks him a particularly distressing question, and a long silence stretches between them. Abe's face is a mask of dis-quieting, dark humor, and though Mihashi knows the answer, he is afraid to speak. He's going to yell at me, he's going to yell at me--
“Ba... Ba...”
Abe smiles a weird smile and shouts, “Yes! The batter! Great.”
And Mihashi's insides implode with happiness.
Sweat
After the team run, the group scatters to the drinking fountain or the dug-out, or to whatever team-mate needs gossiping with, but Tajima heads to the rear of the dug-out and Hanai sees. The shorter boy has flung his jersey and undershirt to the ground, and is working on his pant buttons.
It doesn't take any time at all, but it's irreversible. Hanai's mind has taken a snapshot of what it sees; an image that will haunt him as soon as his head hits the pillow for weeks at a time. A small, sturdy frame, back taut, sweat running down tanned skin. Dark hair stuck to the nape of his neck...
The most unwelcome image- accompanied by a wave of heat below his belt- is now a part of Hanai's memory, un-eraesable. As he yells, his mind rushes. He has been in the showers with the guys before, yes, and he's looked, yes, but that's all normal.
Isn't it?
What edge of voyeurism makes his heart leap into his throat as he catches Tajima stripping beyond the fence, uncaring, wild, free?
Just what is this? And why?
Breathless
Abe watches the air stutter in and out of Mihashi's small chest. His hands are balled to his chest, and his eyes are far-off. In the end, he might be too small for a one-hundred percent level of their work-outs. It's worrisome, especially with the next match approaching.
The way Mihashi lies is also worrisome; Abe assumes the pitcher doesn't want anyone to worry, and that's exactly what sets off Abe's feelings of misgiving. He wants to set Mihashi down, somehow, re-set him, make him better.
The way he holds his breath and squirms, the shaking and the attempt to be well- there are parts of Abe that are scared. Overwhelmed, surprised, and... scared.
He brainstorms; there has to be a way to win and take care of Mihashi; to protect him.
Because the team- and Mihashi- needs him to.
03
Funny Thing
Sakaeguchi has been feeling more confident lately. After their win, after Suyama's help, he had begun to stand straighter and carry himself with more confidence. It came and went, at times, but it was always sort of... there.
He laughed more often, and girls had started to notice him more, which brought him absurd levels of pride, and equal levels of embarrassment. The embarrassment came from Suyama; no matter how he brought it up or phrased it, his best friend would flush and look away, hardly responding before accepting any change of topic.
Sakaeguchi didn't quite understand; he liked girls well enough, especially if they were cute, but it wasn't as though he was embarrassed by the idea of them. Perhaps Shoji was just a late bloomer. Yuuto had considered it at length and felt he could relate somewhat. He had only really started thinking about girls a couple of summers ago, and only because his older cousin had come to visit for a couple of weeks.
Before then, he hadn't really thought about girls; for Yuuto, it had been school and baseball and his team-mates. Even now, girls were a peripheral thing. So for Shoji, maybe girls just weren't part of the equation at all, yet. In a way, that was fine by Yuuto. He didn't want a girlfriend or anything, because that would interfere with baseball, and he didn't want Shoji to have a girlfriend because that would interfere with-
His train of thought stuttered and stalled and he almost dropped his glove.
Me?
Sleeping
Abe pretends to nap while Sakaeguchi speaks to Mihashi; he had come over immediately, curious as to what they might be saying. Curious to what Sakaeguchi might say to his pitcher. As he relaxed and listened, he gave in to the understanding that he might be somewhat possessive over the blonde. But it was for the betterment of the team, so that was okay- wasn't it?
A little voice- the little voice- told him No. This is something else entirely.
And when Mihashi confesses that, despite his own inclination to stay on the mound no matter what, if Abe told him to come down, he would , the possessiveness spikes and wanes and hardens in Abe's gut, turning into something that is warm and thoughtful.
Sakaeguchi goes on to confess their need to keep Mihashi healthy and able to pitch because of Hanai and Oki not being ready, and Abe's agreements come out louder and more reassuring than he remembers himself ever being.
Mihashi's face is surprised, and Abe can read some measure of betrayal in them. He wants to say more, then, something extra reassuring to put Mihashi at ease, but Hanai shouts at them, and there is no chance a resolution to the feeling of contrition in Abe's chest.
More
Mihashi is never certain what to think or do or say; he wants to do whatever the right thing is, but it's never clear. Most especially, he just wants to gain Abe's approval. Nothing matters so much as pitching and earning a smile or a word of praise from the catcher. He is like a tsunami, hovering and peaked and ready to crash- tumbling over Mihashi and keeping the breath out of him, sometimes.
Sometimes, at night, Mihashi can hardly think straight, turning over thoughts of Abe and his presence, for all its ups and downs.
Sometimes, he dreams about Abe.
Sakaeguchi jogs off, and Mihashi has to look away from the darkness of Abe's eyes and the way his mouth sits at an impassive angle. There is a nervousness chewing at him, a kind of anxiety which has grown from some seed he cannot remember being sewn in his solar plexus. He gulps.
Abe had agreed, if he couldn't pitch, they were goners. The team needed him. His face had burned, warm and surprised and happy, and it was like Abe needed him. The feeling now seems silly, childish, and strange.
“I... was wrong... I won't...” he murmurs, hand sweating inside his glove. Abe is looking away, a peculiar and pronounced look on his face. He seems a little flushed. “I won't... say anything anymore.”
Abe's face snaps back toward him, with a look of frustration in its most extreme form, and suddenly his hands are on him, his knuckles against his temples. “You've got it all wrong! I want you to talk more!”
Mihashi can hardly think straight. Abe's chest is close, his voice loud, and that slinky, hopeful feeling is snaking its way around his tummy and throat.
Abe releases him, cursing vehemently, and Mihashi apologizes.
Mihashi thinks how odd it is that Abe is so red in the face, still so close, and almost smiling.
Theory
Shoji leaned on one arm while Sakaeguchi rambled; he was going a mile a minute, taking small breaks to cram fries in his mouth or take a long gulp of soda. It was their rare treat. Secretly, once a month, they would go to a burger joint the next district over, and eat one terrible, delicious meal.
“I was thinking this a little while ago, from watching him and Abe. At the beginning, you know, he wouldn't let go of the mound at all. But now, because he looks up to Abe so much, he said he would. In junior high, I think he was ignored pretty severely, so he didn't feel like he properly existed.”
Shoji nodded, eating fries one at a time. When Yuuto was excited, his whole face lit up, and his eyes seemed to sparkle with thoughts, all tumbling around, trying to find their way out.
“But the game can't go forward without the pitcher, right? So as long as he was on the mound, he existed. And I can remember how nervous and small he held himself when we got started, so...”
Yuuto paused to think; an idea was rolling around his mind, partially formed and struggling for grip. He stole Suyama's drink cup and drank the rest of his best friend's soda. “I think... he feels like he exists outside of the mound because of Abe.”
He blushed, knowing how it sounded. More strange than that was the way Suyama blinked, laughed a little, and looked up at the ceiling, where exposed rafters lent the family burger place its rustic charm. Finally he responded, “I think I can understand that.”
Stress Response
There is something wrong with him. Something sick and weird and unyielding. Hanai had tried to treat it like a normal thing, had tried to give it the attention it demanded, but there was too much, all the time. He tried to be mature about it- but it would not vanish or dissipate.
In the end, there wasn't anything he could do.
And seeing Tajima nearly every day did not help. And seeing Tajima run, or jump, or catch, or bat, or strip and shower, made it worse. It was insane. Beyond comprehension. And now they were embroiled in an official game and he was terrified that Tajima had begun to notice.
Soon
From the safety of the dugout, Suyama watches Sakaeguchi bat. He does his job well, and it is a marvel to see him smiling as he returns, not hurt in the least at not getting on base. There is nothing special about this moment, nothing out of the ordinary, but Suyama finds him completely mesmerizing.
He'll have to say something, sooner or later.
Sudden
Tajima is high on cloud nine; things are going well. He's confident, assured. Watching Hanai approach the plate, he bounces on his heels, wondering what to do with the antsy, anticipatory feeling building up in his chest. Sometimes Hanai pisses him off. Sometimes Hanai makes him want to... dance or something.
He frowned. No, that wasn't it.
There was no accurate facsimile. No word meant what Hanai made him feel. Perhaps, though... excitement.
It reminds him of how some of his older siblings talk and he feels, suddenly, so irritated. Hanai isn't allowed to do that to him. That's just not allowed.
Another run is scored and Hanai enters the dug-out. He's pulling his gloves off of his strong hands- not allowed- and a small line of sweat is disappearing down his neck- not fucking allowed.
“Don't be too content.” He says, words more calm than his interior by a wide mile. Hanai seems surprised. Good. Shake him up. Scare him off. Keep him at a distance. “Don't tell me you are?”
And then he walks away.
Sudden
The implications of Tajima's words ricochet inside of Hanai's head; there is a feeling attached. Some kind of anger, some kind of gut-churning anxiety. He's second-guessing himself. Tajima might be right.
Tajima might be better than him.
Is.
Suddenly, Hanai wants to break something.
Back to Good
It makes me happy to be counted on. Mihashi thinks, jogging to the mound. Abe counts on him. It feels better than forcing an out, better than hitting, better than winning, better than pitching . It feels so amazing. He lets out a small, nervous laugh. Abe counts on me.
Jeering
Experimentally, Abe says, “Quite a lot of heckling out there.”
Mihashi is unstrapping one of the catcher's shin guards; “Yeah. But I'm okay.”
It's simple, but it means everything. Abe had been worried about Mihashi's frame of mind, had wanted to protect him from being hurt, but the pitcher is doing all right on his own. Is perfectly content.
Abe goes on, “Everything's going to plan.”
“Y-Yeah,” Mihashi giggles, pulling the guard away. Abe's airy, happy voice makes his stomach feel funny.
“Your smirk was a nice touch, too. It'll annoy them.”
Mihashi blushes, grinning and feeling a little stupid. “Right.”
And Abe is grinning, too. He's relaxed and his shoulders are rolled back and his eyebrows are tilted in a funny, confident way and Mihashi's stomach is just literally not making any sense. He tries to look away, but the awe is too great. Abe's devil-may-care face is something Mihashi isn't sure he'll ever forget.
Inside Joke
When Abe's mother meets Mihashi's mother, she apologizes for how brusque and bossy Takaya can be. Sweetly, Mihashi's mother reassures the other woman. It's a funny thing. Neither of them have any idea what will come.