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Kazuya looks at the set of cardboard boxes before him. They seem to have never been touched for a while—perhaps years, which is evident due to the amount of dust that accumulated on top of them. He crouches down and holds his breath as he wipes the dust off from one of the boxes using his bare hands. He opens it up and sees a bunch of old items, all of them brimming with nostalgia. The sight of them made old memories and emotions come rushing to him all at once. He wanted to experience and feel these emotions all over again, he wanted to go back to those days when he was still full of youth and freedom. He wanted to go back to those days when he was still here.
He didn’t realize that he’s still holding his breath, so he lets out a shaky breath and continues to rummage through the box. He sees his old mitt that he used back in high school. It’s already worn out and no longer usable, but he still treasures it deeply because it’s the mitt that has seen everything, been through everything. The same mitt that caught Sawamura’s pitch when they first met, the same mitt he used during practice, the same mitt that he used when Seido went to nationals, the same mitt that caught the brown-haired pitcher’s pitch on his last day as a third year.
Remembering all those times he caught for Sawamura, he can’t help but hear that voice that kept bothering him to catch his pitches. The voice that he can’t help but miss hearing, that he wants to hear one more time, so bad.
“Catch my pitches, Miyuki Kazuya!”
He wanted to catch Sawamura’s pitch once more, he still wants to, to this day.
He sees more items. His old sports goggles, an old bat, his baseball uniform back in Seido, and other things reminiscent of the old days. Kazuya has never been the emotional type, never been the type to hoard old useless things for the sake of sentimental value.
“What’s in that box, Kazuya?” Sawamura asked, peaking at the cardboard box that Kazuya is holding.
“Oh this? Just a bunch of old stuff from high school. I can no longer use most of them, so I’m gonna throw them away. They’re gonna take up a lot of space in the apartment, you know?”
“Stupid! Those are the things that you should never throw away! They… they hold a sentimental value!”
“Didn’t know you were the sentimental type, huh?” Kazuya teased.
“Shut up, Miyuki Kazuya! Just… don’t throw them away, okay? Those are really important, even though you can no longer use them anymore. …Please?”
“Ugh. Fine. Couldn’t really argue back when you give me that face.” Kazuya leans in and kisses his boyfriend’s forehead.
“Hehe.” The younger boy chuckles and smiles, which made Kazuya feel warm inside that he couldn’t help but smile back.
Kazuya finds himself smiling at the sudden flash of memory. He still clearly remembers the way Sawamura used to smile at him. Whether if it was a smile full of fondness or confidence, Kazuya still remembers how it looked on his face. He misses his smile so much. He wants to see it again in person. He wants to feel the butterflies in his stomach once again every time he sees that smile. He wants to see that smile one more time, especially if he was the reason behind it.
But he couldn’t, and probably never will. This harsh realization makes him feel like he was punched in the gut. He tries to deny it—always tried to, but reality kept creeping up to him every single day. Especially if all he ever feels is emptiness, that something is missing from him—something is definitely missing from him, something that can’t ever be brought back, no matter what he does.
He wanted to stop looking through all these boxes anymore. He doesn’t want to look through all these things that reminds him of Sawamura. But he still wants to, he can’t stop. He still wants to because they remind him of Sawamura. They’re the only things left that screams Sawamura, the only ones left that’s related to him that he can see and touch.
He rummaged through another box and something catches his attention, so he picks it up. It was a photo frame, all dirty and dusty. He already knows what the photo is, but he proceeds to wipe the dust off with his trembling hands, wanting to see the photo underneath.
It was a photo of him and Sawamura, back in high school. His arm was around the younger boy’s shoulders, wearing his usual teasing smirk, not bothering to look at the camera but at the boy beside him. Sawamura, however, was looking directly at the camera, holding a peace sign, and wearing a huge grin on his face. It was just a photo, but Kazuya can feel the warmth that radiates through that grin, and he misses it so much. Kazuya holds on the frame tightly, and he could no longer hold back his tears despite trying so hard to not let them fall.
“Miyuki-senpai! The journalist wanted to take a photo of us! You know, because we’re the main battery and all that.”
“Oh? Are you sure this isn’t just an excuse to take a picture with me? You can just say so directly, you kn-“
“No, stupid tanuki! I’m serious!”
“Alright, alright. Jeez.”
“Okay here it comes! They’re taking the photo!”
“One… two… and…”
*click!*
Kazuya holds the photo to close to his chest and cries out, letting the tears stream down his face. He couldn’t really care how looked like right now, it didn’t matter at all. He just wanted to let it all out, he just wanted to break down. He misses him so much, he wants him back so bad. He wants to see that smile again, that smile brimming with confidence whenever he’s in the mound, with him a few feet away, waiting to catch his pitch. He wants to see that smile that he loves so much, that smile that’s full of light and happiness and warmth that the sun couldn’t even compare. The smile that has the power to brighten up his day. He wants to stroke his soft brown hair once more, he wants to just hold him, caress him, kiss him, even for one last time. But the world just isn’t that fair. He couldn’t accept the fact that he can’t—he can no longer do those things. Can longer see that smile that he loves so deeply, he can no longer hold him, can no longer hear his voice, because he’s gone—gone and will never come back. He knows that he could never come back, but he’s still hoping, no matter how stupid and impossible it may sound, that somehow, he will.
“I… I miss you so much Eijun… come back… please.”