Chapter Text
His teammates are talking about the upcoming matches but sound dulls as Kazuya stares at his flip phone.
“Have you gotten your graduation certificate yet?” he’s asked Eijun.
His phone vibrates immediately. “Miyuki-senpai, I like you! Go out with me!”
A strange feeling flutters its way up his throat and his lips stretch. He can’t wipe the smile away even if he tried. Kenji drapes an arm over his shoulder and whoops.
“Miyuki’s checking his phone? That’s new!”
“Is it your girlfriend or something?” someone behind asks and Kazuya snickers.
“I’ve got one now.”
“What the hell!” his friends yell as Kazuya looks up at the brilliant blue of the sky. The sun is nowhere to be found; it has long wormed its way into his heart and set everything ablaze.
—1 year ago—
It’s summer. The heat seeps in like a persistent draft, only worse as sweat mats his hair and sinks into his compression wear. It’s summer, but somehow, it doesn’t feel so bad as he shifts his position, mitt held out.
60 feet and 6 inches.
Eijun lets out a whoop of excitement, left hand up in the air. Bewitching golden that makes Kazuya’s heart thump against his ribcage. Behind the pitcher, the sky is an endless expanse of cerulean.
He stands.
“I wanted to throw more,” Eijun protests as Kazuya approaches, his grin fast becoming a pout. He opens his mouth again, but it seems the words are caught somewhere as Kazuya closes the distance between them, so close he can trace the beads of sweat trickling down Eijun’s temple with his eyes.
Searing heat as Kazuya leans in and presses his lips against Eijun’s.
When they separate, Eijun’s gaze is indescribable, something between wonder and shock.
The second time Kazuya leans in, Eijun meets him halfway.
They don’t talk about it afterwards.
Kazuya locks that summer day away, keeps it tight in his heart when Eijun stands on the mound at Koushien, carrying the hopes and dreams of Seidou, wearing the ace number on his back.
Sawamura Eijun is the sun. It is an irrefutable fact.
***
Naturally, signing a pro contract immediately upon high school graduation presents unique challenges, apart from the exponential increase in difficulty. Kazuya’s practices are more important than ever, so he spends late nights studying the Giants’ past games and then waking up at the crack of dawn to jog or practice his batting.
The moment the Yomiuri Giants laid claim to him during the televised draft, his future was decided. While it’s an unwritten (and unfair) rule, the moment the Giants announce their pick, the other teams are expected to back off.
It’s hard to believe that a whole year has passed since he started playing baseball professionally. Kazuya has worked his way up to the second string and if keeps up his in-game performances, he just might make the first string in the next year or so.
He didn’t realise until he looked around his apartment, felt that something was missing, that he had assumed Eijun would follow (as he always has, unfaltering).
This particular morning, he has set two steaming bowls of rice on the table and there’s a plate of fried pork and ginger in the middle. The miso soup is simple, made with leftovers vegetables from dinner.
The doorbell rings and Kazuya almost flies to the door to open it to a bright-eyed Sawamura Eijun, his cheeks flushed from the summer heat and something that makes Kazuya’s senses tingle.
“Miyuki-senpai!” Eijun yells, dropping the bags in his hands and throwing himself into Kazuya’s arms, vibrating with energy. He pulls away (too fast) and bounces on his heels, an infectious grin on his face.
Kazuya can’t help the laugh that escapes him. He wonders if Eijun can hear the wonder in it.
“I have arrived!” Eijun shouts again, in his usual obnoxious fashion. Kazuya is fairly certain he’s going to get complaints from his neighbours.
“You should have let me come,” Kazuya says, helping Eijun bring his suitcase and boxes into the apartment.
“You have more important things to do,” Eijun shakes his head, pumping his fist up. “You should know that this Sawamura Eijun is a reliable and strong man.”
Kazuya snickers. “Yeah, like that time you showed us at Koshien.”
“That was once!” Eijun yelps, his ears taking on the same flush dyeing his cheeks. His instinctual understanding that Kazuya is making fun of his unfortunate fall at the mound, and not his two victories at the Summer Koshien, is part of what makes the pitcher so endearing. What can Kazuya do? He is fun to tease.
Later, when they’re both collapsed on the floor, shoulders pressed up against each other as they watch the clouds drift by in the afternoon sky, Kazuya steals a glance at Eijun. His big, round eyes are wide open and there’s still a smile lingering at the corner of his lips.
Eijun turns that gaze on him a moment later, eyebrows raised in question. “What is it?”
Kazuya is a lot of things, but he’s not exactly a regular at the honesty department.
“Nothing,” he snickers, flicking Eijun’s nose and pressing a kiss to his forehead.
He doesn’t think “boyfriend” can encompass what Eijun is to him, but for now, it’ll do.
I love you, he thinks.
“Welcome home.”