Archive of Our Own ^beta

When Eijun wakes up on Valentine’s Day, the last thing he expects is a love note.

It’s not that he thinks he’s an unpopular guy, but his popularity is mostly ranked high by his male classmates. Being a part of Seidou’s prestigious baseball team, and on the first string at that, is something that has earned Eijun some high praise amongst his fellow first years and the school as a whole. Having been given the chance to play in quite a few important games despite their untimely defeat earlier that summer—the disappointment at having narrowly missed their chance at National’s still stings—has increased Eijun’s popularity to an all new level.

But Valentine’s Day is notoriously known to be a girl’s holiday in Japan, and as far as Eijun can tell, his female classmates find him a little too loud and a little too aggressive for their tastes. He can’t really blame them, and it’s fine by him either way because he’s not interested in their attraction and he doesn’t know what he’d do if one of them suddenly confessed to him.

While Eijun doesn’t think he’s wildly unattractive, he’s also aware that his personality is a little bit jarring so he’s not expecting any kind of reciprocation of feelings at this stage of his life. It doesn’t matter to him though: he’s confident in who he is and his grandpa always tells him to just be himself because after high school, he’s bound to find a whole world of people who don’t want him to change.

So as February fourteen nears, Eijun doesn’t fret like the rest of his male classmates who have taken to guessing how many Valentine's Day chocolates each of them will receive. He’s tuned out most of their lunchtime conversations in favour of eating and sleeping at his desk, and has ignored all questions about who he’d like to be his Valentine. That’s not something he really wants to think about, nor does he think it’s in the picture for him yet.

But Eijun isn’t bitter because there’s something much better in his life that he doesn’t want to give up, and as long as he has baseball, he’s pretty sure that’s all the love he needs.

When he falls asleep on the eve of Valentine’s Day, Eijun is unconcerned about the next morning because he’s ready to treat it like any other day: chalk full of sleepily eating his meals, boring classes, and lots of gruelling baseball practice.

The morning of Valentine’s Day, Eijun is blissfully asleep, dreaming of a baseball themed amusement park where he can throw all the pitches he wants, and eat all the rice he can, enjoying his ethereal state very much when he’s jostled awake by his roommate.

While it’s not uncommon for Kuramochi to greet Eijun with a dropkick, or a headlock, or a flying elbow, he usually has some kind of warning so he can brace himself for the impact. Eijun also needs to have spoken first, so he’s had a chance to unintentionally—and sometimes intentionally, if he’s being honest—rile up his senpai before they get into an impromptu wrestling match.

Then again, maybe his sleep talking offended Kuramochi, somehow; Eijun wouldn’t put it past himself to have managed that.

What he doesn’t expect though, is the envelope smothered into his face, and Kuramochi’s angry accusations that Eijun really can’t comprehend first thing in the morning.

He’s never been a morning person. Eijun has enough trouble getting out of bed on the days where he’s had at least eight hours of sleep and wakes up naturally to a warm, sunny room and the sweet melody of chirping birds. Even then, he needs a good fifteen minutes to snooze his alarm, another fifteen minutes to roll around on his bed while he browses his phone, and then he’s ready to take on the day in a state that can be described as just one notch below zombie.

Getting past breakfast is an absolute nightmare for Eijun, and the only thing he can really manage in the wee hours of daylight are baseball practice because those moves have been carved into his bones. Eijun is pretty sure he can run, pitch, and maybe even field—now that he’s gotten significantly better—in his sleep.

What he can’t manage however, is being wrangled awake by Kuramochi, all remnants of his wonderful dream destroyed in an instant.

“What the hell is this?” Kuramochi growls.

Eijun blinks confusedly, but he can’t orient himself because Kuramochi is shoving whatever it is that he wants an answer for against his face. Eijun’s eyes try to focus, but he ends up feeling crosseyed, so he squeezes them shut and pushes back against Kuramochi with as much force as he can.

Without Masuko in the room, Eijun is often left to battle Kuramochi on his own. While the third year usually let the two of them duke it out in favour of enjoying his pudding cups while watching tv undisturbed, he at least took pity on Eijun once in a while and lent a helping hand. Masuko is stronger than both him and Kuramochi, and in this moment, Eijun sorely misses his sympathy and his strength.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about because you’ve shoved this—this—whatever this is, right in my face!” Eijun shouts.

“Don’t act like you don’t know!” Kuramochi yells back.

Eijun really doesn’t know what Kuramochi is talking about, but the more he insists on this, the angrier Kuramochi gets, jostling Eijun mercilessly, as he throws an array of curses that are both impressive and highly alarming his way.

Just what did Eijun do to rile him up like this?

He waits patiently and tightens his core, knowing that the only way he’s going to get out of this is when he finds a good opening. When Kuramochi leaves him one, Eijun pushes back against the second year with all his force and tumbles out of bed; with the help of gravity, he grabs the item Kuramochi was clutching furiously in his hand against Eijun’s face as he falls over his mattress and onto the carpeted ground below.

Kuramochi is flung off of him, and for a moment Eijun thinks that his roommate is going to tackle him all over again, but Eijun’s success at having thrown him off settles Kuramochi for the time being.

Ignoring how weird Kuramochi is, Eijun inspects the item in his hand.

When he realizes that it’s a pastel pink envelope, decorated with red heart stickers of varying sizes, and cats holding hearts drawn on it, and his name printed in the centre in very neat and bubbly writing, he is utterly confused as to what he’s looking at.

“What’s this?” he asks, dumbfounded.

“You tell me!” Kuramcochi demands.

“No seriously, Kuramochi-senpai, what is this?” Eijun insists.

He narrows his eyes in suspicion as he flips the envelope over and over in his hand as he inspects it. It’s crumpled from the aggressive way Kuramochi had been holding it earlier, but other than that, it doesn’t look damaged. In fact, it’s a really nice shade of pastel pink and Eijun can’t believe his name is on something so cute.

Without a second thought, he takes a sniff and oh, it even smells nice—a mix of bergamot and grapefruit, and the sweet earthy smell of papyrus and musk. It’s intoxicating, and a little bit familiar, but Eijun can’t quite remember where he’s smelled the scent before.

Kuramochi eyes him, arms crossed, but he must realize that Eijun is serious about his confusion. He relaxes slightly, vein in his temple slowly starting to shrink as he settles his previous annoyance.

“It’s a Valentine’s Day note,” Kuramochi says seriously. “Someone must have slipped it under the door this morning.”

“For me?” Eijun gapes.

“It’s got your name on it,” Kuramochi deadpans.

Oh. Eijun still can’t fully grasp what’s going on. Maybe it’s because he’s still groggy from sleep, or maybe it’s because he’s never gotten a Valentine’s Day note before, but the envelope suddenly feels heavy and Eijun’s chest erupts with butterflies threatening to beat their way out.

“Well, open it,” Kuramochi ushers him with both hands.

Kuramochi looks curious now, which is a big improvement from furious, and Eijun should find that reassuring, but he doesn’t. He just feels an insane amount of pressure and it’s like he’s back at his very first game pitching for the first string; tense, skittish, a stuttering mess.

Eijun carefully opens the envelope and is hit with a strong whiff of the heady scent the entire thing seems to be soaked in. He pulls out a note from within, printed on a pink mini memo pad complete with a little bear holding a red heart in the bottom left corner, and a bunch more pink and red hearts adorning the border of the page.

In the centre, it reads: You’re a HOME RUN.

The note is complete with a hand drawn doodle of a baseball in midair, squiggly lines all around it to indicate the whoosh of the ball flying out of the park.

Eijun squints at the note, reads it a few times, before he declares, “I don’t get it.”

Kuramochi leans over his shoulder to read the note, and within seconds, Eijun hears a cackle in his ear as Kuramochi’s demeanour changes from suspicious to humoured. Kuramochi clutches his side while he finishes laughing out the hilarity, and wipes a tear from his eye for good measure.

Eijun narrows his eyes, feeling left out. “What’s so funny?” he demands.

“Seriously?” Kuramochi chuckles, the remnant of laughter still evident in his voice.

Eijun nods his head.

“It’s a pun, you know home run like in baseball…” Kuramochi gestures vaguely.

“I know what a home run is,” Eijun scowls.

“Then what don’t you get?” Kuramochi angers.

Kuramochi is starting to lose his patience and Eijun can feel another wrestling match heading his way, but he doesn’t get it and he needs to know.

“I’ve never hit a home run,” Eijun says dully.

Not that he can’t, but he’s never done it at Seidou and it’s a little bit of a sore spot for him. He doesn’t understand why a Valentine’s Day note, meant to express feelings of love, would try and point out his failures.

“You really are hopeless,” Kuramochi sighs. “Okay, let me try again. Home runs are great, right?” he asks. Eijun nods; that much is obvious. “Well, the note is calling you a home run, so essentially, whoever sent this is saying you’re great.”

“Oh.”

What? Eijun is still dumbstruck.

“But—but—who would think I’m great? I mean, I am great: at baseball and making friends and eating fast and running!” he panics, words spewing out of his mouth without filtration.

“Geez, Bakamura, calm down,” Kuramochi puts both hands on Eijun’s shoulders.

He doesn’t realize that he’d been bouncing in place until Kuramochi anchors him to the ground again. Eijun’s face feels hot; he knows he’s blushing and he’s not sure why but he suspects it’s a mixture of surprise and embarrassment and maybe a little bit of stress.

In all seriousness, he doesn’t understand who would send him a note on Valentine’s Day, and the suspense is terrifying.

“What am I supposed to do?” Eijun panics.

“Nothing,” Kuramochi shrugs. “You don’t know who sent it, so you’re not obligated to do anything. Just enjoy the attention and call it a win.”

Eijun doesn’t think he can do that—his mind is already sorting through the possibilities of who could have sent him the note—but he nods his head to indicate agreement, if only because he doesn’t want to piss Kuramochi off again.

He stuffs the note back in the envelope carefully and hides it in his desk drawer, under the pile of unfinished mathematics worksheets that were due weeks ago, so he doesn’t accidentally run into it. He can’t find it in himself to throw it out; his inner turmoil aside, the note has a lot of character and work put into it, and Eijun is not someone who can ignore passion.

He just doesn’t want to be subject to that kind of attention.

Unfortunately for him, he doesn’t quite have a choice. He may not be seeking the attention, but the attention is certainly seeking him.

The moment Eijun walks out of the dorm room behind Kuramochi and turns his head to pull the door closed behind him, he stills. His mouth hangs open in shock, arms unable to do anything but remain limp at his side, and feet rooted to the spot as the horror of finding his dorm room door plastered in similar notes to the one that was slipped into his room that morning keeps him from doing anything but stare.

You’re a CATCH.

I wouldn’t TRADE you for anything.

You’re a HIT with me.

Here’s the PITCH: I want you for my Valentine.

There are just so many, Eijun can’t keep up with the sheer number of notes stuck to the door. There’s no blue paint left to see, only an array of pink and white and red, all with impeccably cute doodles drawn in black ink and oh my god why are there so many hearts, he thinks embarrassedly, then why is this happening to me?

“Okay, the first one was entertaining. This is fucking ridiculous!” Kuramochi shouts.

Eijun is inclined to agree, minus the fact that none of it was entertaining. Despite Kuramochi’s insistence that the first note was meant to be taken as a compliment, Eijun can’t help but feel that it wasn’t.

His face heats up again, but it’s made worse when the doors of his teammates, both former and current, fly open at Kuramochi’s shouting, and Eijun finds himself encircled like a rabbit during an eagle’s hatching season.

Eijun desperately throws himself against the door, clawing at the notes in a hopeless effort to take them off and away from the gazes of his teammates. They’re already laughing, most of them having caught the gist of the situation, but their laughter increases when they see Eijun haphazardly stuff the notes in his school bag.

He tells himself it’s because he doesn’t want to give anyone any accidental blackmail material, and not because he secretly likes the smell of the notes or the cute doodles, when he makes sure to take every last note down and fiercely throws the flap of his school bag close.

“There’s nothing to see here, people!” Eijun shouts.

He blocks the now bare dormitory door with his arms, starfished across to prevent entry to his room, even though there are no more notes for his teammates to see. Eijun just feels oddly protective, and he’s always been a physically expressive person.

The laughter around him increases and Eijun flushes at the sound. He looks to Kuramochi for a helping hand, but his roommate shrugs to indicate that Eijun is on his own.

Kuramochi is grinning now—a stark difference from a few moments ago—but annoying Eijun has always been one of Kuramochi’s favourite pastimes. Eijun supposes that knowing that he isn’t alone in being, well, alone, on Valentine’s Day perks Kuramochi’s mood too.

“Oho, what’s this?” Miyuki asks, wiggling his way to the front of the crowd. He bends down and picks something up off the floor. Eijun watches with horror as Miyuki reads a note that had slipped away from him aloud. “I love you to the centrefield fence and back.”

“Give that back!” Eijun cries.

He grapples Miyuki for the note, but his teammate throws his hand up and holds the paper above his head, gleeful smile in place. Screw him and his inch and half height advantage.

“Why? Someone special?” Miyuki smirks. He wiggles his eyebrows and has the gall to wink at Eijun for good measure.

“No!” Eijun says hotly.

“Then you wouldn’t mind if I kept this one?” Miyuki gauges.

Eijun does mind. Not because he cares about the comment but because he really can’t have extortion material in the hands of the swindling master himself. Eijun’s not sure what Miyuki wants with the note, but the way he’s smiling at Eijun expectantly can’t imply anything good for him.

“Hey, if anyone’s keeping that it should be me,” Jun shouts. “Centrefield is my position after all.”

He’s also managed to push himself up to the front and holds an outstretched palm out for Miyuki to hand the note over.

Miyuki looks at Eijun contemplatively, shrugs, then brings his arm down to give Jun the note.

“No!” Eijun shouts, clamping down on Miyuki’s arm. “It’s mine,” he insists.

He grabs the note before anyone else can mark their claim on it and stuffs it into his school bag with the rest of them.

“Eh, just let him have it, you probably don’t even know what it’s supposed to mean,” Kuramochi gestures.

Eijun does not like the implication. He does know what the words on the note mean; and he knows what the note from this morning implies too. He just hadn’t expected someone to think so highly of him. It’s not that he lacks confidence in himself—Eijun would say he’s a pretty self-assured person—but he’s never received praise in such a roundabout manner and it took him by surprise.

“Don’t worry, Jun,” Tetsu says, joining the group. Eijun doesn’t even know why he’s here since he’s not on the baseball team anymore, before he realizes he’s probably spent the night in Jun’s room. “I’ll write you plenty of notes expressing my love.”

Their teammates laugh at Tetsu’s bluntness. On any other given day, Eijun would have relished in Jun’s red face and his loud voice bellowing out profanities that Tetsu takes in stride. But Eijun isn’t in the mood to join the banter, so he takes the opportunity while they’re momentarily distracted and he stomps his way past his teammates, shoving at them a little more roughly than strictly needed.

He doesn’t have baseball practice this morning, which is a good thing, because Eijun needs to cool his head. He grabs breakfast to go from the cafeteria—a few packages of tuna mayo onigiri and some yogurt—and heads straight for the classroom. He doesn’t even meet up with Haruichi before class, which has ended up a routine for the trio.

But his best friend also lives in the dorms and if he doesn’t see Eijun before class, then he’ll probably know why. Haruichi is a good friend and in all honesty, Eijun thinks he should have sought him for comfort because the frustration doesn’t dissipate, no matter how many furious bites of his food he takes.

Eijun manages to stomp his way across campus and to the school, ignorant of the horrified stares and poorly hidden pointing that’s being thrown his way. He’s practically fuming when he treks up the stairs and into his classroom, ears blowing out metaphorical steam.

But he’s got blinders on, eyes narrowly pointed, mind in a daze as he walks on autopilot, so he doesn’t notice anyone looking at him like he’s just gone crazy. It’s also why he doesn’t notice anything out of the ordinary when he walks into the classroom, flings his chair back harshly, and throws himself in his seat with a huff.

It’s a good thing he’s the first person in the class, otherwise his teacher would have certainly scolded him for making such a ruckus. He has ten minutes to cool down in solitary before the first batch of students start to arrive, which isn’t nearly enough time to calm his beating heart.

Eijun growls at the group of girls who enter, giggling and chatting nervously about the boys they want to give their handmade chocolates and love letters to. They startle at his presence but ignore him, and go back to talking loudly about Valentine’s Day.

It’s not even 9 am, and Eijun finds himself already over this stupid holiday.

Unfortunately for him, the holiday is just beginning.

“Hey,” Kanemaru greets, taking his seat behind Eijun at the sound of the warning bell.

Eijun grunt in response. He’s not in the mood to talk to anyone, let alone someone who witnessed his humiliation this morning.

“You might want to put that away before the teacher walks in,” Kanemaru says pointedly.

Eijun figures that Kanemaru is talking about his empty onigiri wrappers and yogurt cup, and he’s about to tell his classmate to screw off when he notices that’s not the only thing on his desk. There’s another letter, much like the one that was slipped under his door this morning, but this time, it’s in a bright red envelope. And in the centre, he finds his name written in that same bubbly writing that makes Eijun want to kiss the paper and crumple it away at the same time.

“Argh!” he yells in frustration.

He can’t believe he didn’t notice it until now. Eijun’s face heats up in anger as he swipes the letter off his desk and thrusts it into the open drawer underneath.

“Aren’t you going to read it?” Kanemaru asks.

“No.”

“Aren’t you the least bit curious?” Kanemaru hedges.

“... No,” Eijun denies.

He knows what Kanemaru is doing and Eijun is not going to fall for it. He won’t give in to the temptation of the letter because it’s too much for his already embarrassed self to take on at the moment.

But Eijun is not a patient person and his resolve quickly falters.

He shoots Kanemaru a glare, but pulls the letter out from under his desk and opens it quickly. The note inside is written on the same memo paper with the bear holding a red heart in the bottom left corner and an array of pink and red hearts in varying sizes that make up the border of the paper. But the words are different, and they’re not as mild as that morning’s notes.

Are we in the bullpen? Because you’re warming me up.

Correct use of baseball terminology in a Valentine’s Day note aside, Eijun is not impressed.

“Damn, you got yourself a good one,” Kanemaru says, reading over Eijun’s shoulder.

He’s leaning over his desk behind Eijun, look of amazement on his otherwise serious face. Eijun’s face can’t take the heat. He splutters a string of words that don’t make sense even to him in protest as he turns around and shoves Kanemaru’s face away from his shoulder.

“Oi, I don’t know what you’re so worked up about. I wish I had a Valentine,” Kanemaru sighs.

“You can have mine,” Eijun grumbles angrily.

“Really?” Kanemaru challenges.

Well, Eijun doesn’t know if he can call whoever sent him the notes his Valentine, and he also doesn’t know how ethical it is to trade people off like that, so he doesn’t give in to Kanemaru’s question.

It’s not that he hates the notes—they’re flattering in a weird way—but he sorely wishes he wasn’t thrust into a situation where he’s horribly outmatched. It’s all a teasing game right now, but what if whoever sent him these notes presents themselves, and then what’s he supposed to do? It’s too much pressure, and he can’t handle that kind of stress.

“Eh? Sawamura has a Valentine?” one of his male classmates shouts.

“I heard from a member of the baseball team that his dorm door was covered in romantic notes!” someone else adds, fuelling the fire.

“I guess he’s kind of cute,” one of his female classmates fake whispers to her friends.

Eijun glowers as murmurs of his morning flit through the air. He tries to ignore the questions thrown at him and focuses resolutely on his now bare desk in front of him. But it’s really hard to ignore the stares and comments when his classmates aren’t even trying to talk about him behind his back.

He really tries, but when there’s no nearing end to the chatter, he stands up and thumps his hands against his desk to gather his classmates attention before he shouts angrily, “I DON’T HAVE A VALENTINE!”

“Well that’s unfortunate Sawamura-kun, but it’s no excuse to disrupt class.”

Of course their homeroom teacher decides to walk in right when Eijun is making a scene. The old man has had it out for him from the first day of class, so Eijun can’t help himself when he retorts, “You’re the one that was late to class!”

The laughter of his classmates around him cheers Eijun up momentarily, before he remembers that he’ll probably be stuck on extra cleaning duty for his comment, and it’s all their fault for riling him up.

Eijun flushes at his sudden outburst and clears his throat before he sits down with his history textbook pulled out in front of him and a pen and paper ready to write down notes. His teacher shoots him a scathing look, but otherwise ignores Eijun in favour of starting the lesson.

Eijun relaxes in his seat, slumping forward as he lets his arms rest on the top of his desk. He’s even more uninterested in the lesson than usual and it has nothing to do with the fact that he’s never been too successful academically.

Thankfully, most of the morning passes by without a hitch, as the history lesson changes to mathematics, and then science.

It’s during English class, however, that Eijun is reminded of his uncomfortable Valentine’s Day predicament once again.

When the high from his morning fades, Eijun’s sleepiness returns. With it, comes a whole new tide of clumsiness and nonchalance. Eijun is not good at speaking English, but English literature is an entirely new category of pain. He can kind of get by on grammar, but he’s not a poet and their current unit of study is the most boring one yet.

So it’s not his fault when his head lolls forward and he loses consciousness for a few seconds, pen clattering out of his hand and onto the floor, as it rolls behind him under Kanemaru’s desk. Thankfully, it doesn’t make too much noise and the lesson goes on around him.

Eijun has half a mind to ignore his pen and call it a day. The lesson is almost over and the next period is lunch, so he’s pretty much convinced himself to deem the next fifteen minutes a lost cause, when he feels Kanemaru tap his shoulder to get his attention.

“Psst,” Kanemaru whispers.

Why did his fellow classmate and teammate have to find it in himself to be helpful today of all days?

Eijun contemplates ignoring him, but decides against it at the last minute.

When he turns around, he doesn’t see his pen in Kanemaru’s hand. Instead, Kanemaru is holding a light purple envelope that smells just like all the previous Valentine’s Day notes Eijun received that morning. Eijun’s blood runs cold, ice weaving its way through his veins at the sight because he can’t believe his torment isn’t over yet.

“What’s this?” Eijun whispers.

“Don’t ask me!” Kanemaru whispers back. “It was taped under my desk but it’s addressed to you.”

Eijun clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth in annoyance, but he grabs the letter before Kanemaru changes his mind and decides to keep it for himself. Eijun might not want it, but he also doesn’t want anyone else to have it.

Without a better plan, Eijun pushes the letter under him and sits on it. Out of sight, out of mind, he tells himself.

The saying however, does not work for him.

With only five minutes of class left to go, Eijun is practically bouncing in anticipation. As much as he knows he should wait until the end of class to avoid any further embarrassment before he opens the letter, patience is not his strong suit.

He pulls the envelope out from under him as quietly as possible and flips it open to reveal a note inside. This time, it’s written on lavender paper with pink, navy, and peach coloured baseball gloves with smiley faces drawn in the centre.

At the bottom of the page, the note reads: I want to see firsthand how fast your balls can go.

Eijun throws the paper out of his hands like it’s on fire, the dual meaning of the note setting in. He flushes, red from his neck all the way to the tips of ears, and hot to the touch.

There’s no way these are serious; no one can be this forward, right?

Eijun realizes belatedly that with the note on the ground, it’s anyone’s game, and his teacher seems to think the same thing.

“What’s this?” he asks, swiping the note off the floor before Eijun can reach for it. He brings the paper up to his eyes and reads aloud, “I want to see firsthand how fast your balls can—”

Eijun really wishes he would have listened to reason and waited to open his note.

The class erupts into laughter as his teacher glares at him like Eijun is the one who told him to read the note aloud. Now they’re both mortified.

“This is entirely inappropriate, Sawamura-kun!” his teacher yells, face red, nostrils flared.

“Why are you getting angry with me? I didn’t write that, it’s addressed to me!” Eijun shouts back, appalled at the accusation.

His teacher looks like he wants to argue, but he contemplates Eijun’s words for a few seconds before he silently concedes that Eijun has a point. Instead, he turns to the rest of the class, eyes narrowed in rage, “Who wrote this?” he demands.

“It’s because he plays baseball!” someone shouts from the back unhelpfully.

Eijun doesn’t think it’s a problem of understanding the metaphor so much as how forward it is.

The class only laughs harder, which pisses off their teacher more, but the lunch bell rings and there’s a scramble to rush out of the class as fast as everyone can. Usually, their classroom is a hotspot for lunch groups, but today, no one wants to stick around and face their teacher’s punishment.

“You’re on your own, buddy,” Kanemaru puts a hand on his shoulder to wake Eijun from his daze before he too takes off with the rest of the class.

Eijun balks when his teacher gingerly places the note back on his desk before he can leave; his teacher’s face is contorted in disgust and he wipes his hand against his pant leg to wipe away the dirt from the note.

Eijun can’t believe he’s being judged for a suggestive note that he didn’t even write.

“Good day, sensei,” he bows stiffly before he stuffs the note into his bag with the collection he’s amassing and sprints out of the classroom.

While he does like pitching, he’s not sure he wants to do that kind of pitching just yet, and he most certainly doesn’t want anyone in the school knowing his business. He silently thanks the gods that there’s only a month left of school and he’ll hopefully never have to deal with this particular teacher again.

Unfortunately, it’s not his teacher that Eijun needs to worry about. His classmates can’t get enough of Eijun’s comical day and he still has two more years left with them by his side.

They spread the news like wildfire, and by the start of lunch, the whole school knows that he’s the guy who has been getting cheesy Valentine’s Day notes all morning. He doesn’t feel loved so much as tortured, and Eijun’s not sure how much more of this he can handle.

What he also can’t manage is the newfound attention his predicament brings him. Suddenly, he feels more popular with the girls in his year as they bat their eyelashes at him, and send him cute little waves of their hands, as he walks past. He’s read enough shoujo manga to know that when a guy gets a girlfriend, he becomes more popular and more sought after by other girls..

Except, Eijun doesn’t have a girlfriend and he sure as hell hopes no girl confesses to her crimes, as Eijun insists on calling them.

He’s planning on eating alone, but Haruichi interrupts his thoughts.

“Come eat lunch with me and Furuya-kun,” Haruichi says kindly.

Eijun feels bad for ditching his friend on their usual walk to class this morning, so he concedes when Haruichi requests they eat their lunch together in his classroom.

Class 1-B is more crowded than usual, but Eijun ignores the looks he receives as best as he can and flips a chair one-eighty against Haruichi’s desk to sit with his arms resting across the back. He’s not really hungry but the company of his best friend and Furuya, who Eijun begrudgingly admits is also his friend, helps soothe his temper.

They talk about yesterday’s practice, and new video games they’ve played, and what their plans are for the spring holidays before the new semester begins in April.

When the conversation calms down significantly, Haruichi looks at Eijun before he tentatively asks, “You’ve had quite a morning, huh Eijun-kun?”

If it was anyone else, Eijun might have gotten angry for prying into his life. But Haruichi has always had his back and Eijun doesn’t feel pressured to say anything he doesn’t want to. Furuya looks between them with mild interest, but he’s mostly just concentrating on eating his tamagoyaki, and Eijun doesn’t sense any malevolence from him either.

Besides, a little venting will probably do him some good.

“Tell me about it!” Eijun agrees. “I can’t believe someone is going through all of this to tease me,” he sighs.

“I don’t know about that,” Haruichi frowns.

“What do you mean?” Eijun asks.

“Don’t get me wrong, it sounds incredibly embarrassing and I have no idea how you’ve survived your morning,” Haruichi says carefully, “but the notes look like they’re all handmade and no one goes through the trouble of doing that unless they really like you.”

Eijun also noticed the effort in the notes, which is why he couldn’t bring himself to throw them away. That, and the fact that he can’t let them fall into the wrong hands. But he had just brushed off the effort as commitment to a cause.

Now that he thinks about it though, he supposes the cause is him, which is way more embarrassing than the whole charade being designed for pure entertainment.

“Do you really think so?” Eijun nervously asks.

Haruichi nodd, bangs swaying slightly.

“Um… can I see the most recent one?” he asks hesitantly.

There’s a small blush splayed across his cheeks at the question. That, paired with the fact that Haruichi is incredibly trustworthy is why Eijun digs through his bag and hands the note over to his friend.

Eijun’s blush increases when his eyes finish scanning the note, and Eijun silently feels bad for his friend. Haruichi is as pure as fresh snow, and Eijun can’t believe he’s accidentally tainted him.

“Interesting,” Haruichi concludes. He hands the note back to Eijun, and thankfully does not wipe his hand down, which is oddly comforting after Eijun’s last encounter.

“What’s interesting?” Eijun asks.

“I think—I feel—never mind,” Haruichi shakes his head.

“Do you know something? Tell me, please,” Eijun whines petulantly.

Haruichi sighs, but gives in under Eijun’s best puppy dog eyes. “I’m not sure, but I feel like I know that smell.”

Eijun nods fervently. “Right? That’s what I thought!”

Haruichi opens his mouth to say something, but Furuya decides to join in at that very moment.

“That reminds me, I have something for you,” Furuya says to Eijun.

He puts his chopsticks down and rummages around in his bag before he pulls out a box of chocolates and slides them across the desk to Eijun.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Sawamura frowns, not liking where this is going.

“This was in my locker this morning,” Furuya points. “I think it was a mistake because it has your name on it.”

“I don’t want it,” Eijun shakes his head.

“Then can I have it?” Furuya questions.

Furuya is serious, and suddenly Eijun feels oddly jealous of Furuya touching chocolates that are meant for him.

“No!” Eijun reaches forward and throws his arms over the box of chocolates, bringing them close to his chest.

“But you said you didn’t want it,” Furuya frowns.

He probably just wants to eat some chocolates but Eijun isn’t thinking clearly. He really doesn’t know what’s going on with him, but before he has a chance to think things through, he unties the big red bow and lifts the lid to reveal tiny heart-shaped chocolates in an assortment of Valentine’s Day themed colours..

Each chocolate holds a letter written in this white icing at the top, and together, the individual pieces spell out: You must be sweet because you’re certainly eye candy.

“Argh!” Eijun groans. He slams the box down on the desk between them.

Furuya leans over from Eijun’s left, eyes scanning across the chocolates inside the box before he says, “That’s nice.”

“I’m being tortured!” Eijun shouts in frustration.

“I agree with Furuya-kun, the sentiment is nice,” Haruichi says shyly.

Eijun can’t believe they’re teaming up against him. They’re supposed to be his friends; they’re supposed to take his side. While the chocolates are objectively nice and they look quite delicious, Eijun is so confused as to what alternate reality he woke up to this morning and his confusion is making him feel like he’s going insane.

“Compared to the last note, I suppose,” Eijun mumbles in begrudging acceptance.

He eyes the chocolates again when his stomach lets out a betraying grumble. He should eat a proper lunch before the afternoon practice, but Eijun isn’t thinking about that anymore. The longer he stares at the chocolates, the more tempted he is to pop one in his mouth—or maybe eat the whole box.

They look handmade, the detailing on each so unique and intricate that Eijun is both humbled by the thoughtfulness and astonished that someone would go through this trouble for him.

The longer he thinks about it, the more willing he is to accept that maybe whoever’s been sending him these notes and chocolates really does like him.

“What if it’s not a girl,” Haruichi says knowingly.

“What’s not a girl?” Eijun asks.

“The person who’s been sending you the notes and chocolates,” Haruichi explains.

Eijun hasn’t considered that reasoning until now. He’s not one to stereotype, but Haruichi does have some truth to what he’s suggested; if it’s not a girl, that would explain the vulgarity in the previous note. And oh, the realization that maybe it’s a boy who’s sending him these Valentine’s Day gifts brings about a whole new level of panic.

“That would make sense,” Furuya agrees.

Eijun looks between the two wildly. He doesn’t expect such a calm revelation from his friends, but he’s very grateful for how normal they’re treating the whole thing. It gives Eijun some much needed confidence as he asks, “That wouldn’t be weird?”

“Of course not, Eijun-kun,” Haruichi reassures.

Eijun doesn’t realize he’s been holding on to such burrowing thoughts until he hears his friend’s comfort. Furuya also helps, face as impassive as either, but no evidence of distaste on his face.

In an instant, Eijun’s chest feels much lighter, a bright smile back in place for the first time in what feels like forever.

“Are you going to try one?” Furuya asks curiously.

“I guess,” Eijun nods, poorly feigning nonchalance.

He can’t deny the chocolates look really good and well, it’s the least his Valentine can do for him after torturing him all morning. Eijun looks over the selection and settles on a milk chocolate heart-shaped piece with pink icing. It has strawberry filling on the inside and it tastes better than any chocolate Eijun has ever had.

“Wow,” he says embarrassedly, speaking through his mouthful.

Then, because he feels bad, he nudges the red box towards Haruichi and Furuya, indicating for them to try. Haruichi ends up getting a mango-filled one and Furuya’s is mint dark chocolate, which they both agree are very good. Eijun happily shares his chocolates with his friends and before they know it, the box is empty, no remnants of the cute message written on top remain.

“Here, you can have some of mine too,” Furuya says, pulling out a new box from his bag.

“You got one too?!” Eijun asks, suddenly very jealous.

Furuya shakes his head. “It looks different than yours. This one’s from a girl in our class… blonde hair, sits at the front?” he looks to Haruichi for help for a name.

“You got Valentine’s Day chocolates and you wanted to eat mine?” Eijun gapes, unsure whether to be amused by Furuya’s one track mind or annoyed.

“Yours looked better,” Furuya argues. He doesn’t look the least bit remorseful.

“Furuya-kun…” Haruichi scolds lightly.

Eijun settles on being amused. He’s had enough annoyance for one day, and Furuya is offering more chocolates, which Eijun can’t turn down. So, he bickers back and forth with his fellow pitcher until they finish Furuya’s box of chocolates too, at which point Haruichi shyly admits he got some Valentine’s Day chocolates that they can share too.

Eijun’s laughter is back in full at that, as he thumps Haruichi on the back affectionately. He feels his heart swell with pride when his friends admit that Eijun’s chocolates had been the best. He doesn’t know why he feels proud of that, but it’s the small victories that count and on a day like today, Eijun needs all the wins he can collect.

When Eijun returns to class, he’s in bright spirits. Until he sits down at his desk and notices an array of notes covering the wooden top of his otherwise clear desk. He glares at the paper, and ignores the snickering of his classmates around him.

“Who did this?” Eijun glares menacingly.

Some of his classmates ignore him, choosing to whisper about him instead, while others lift their hands up in defense and shake their heads to indicate that it wasn’t them.

Eijun removes the notes, stuffing them into his bag to add to his growing collection.

People might think you’re too much but natto me!

Cats must love you because you’re purr-fect.

There’s no way you’re left handed because you just seem so right for me.

Are you from Nagano? Because if you ask me on a date I’m na’ gonna say no.

They’re actually quite amusing, each note filled with a hand drawn doodle specific to the note. There’s a small bowl of natto with an ‘x’ drawn next to it, a calico cat, two hands with a heart drawn in the middle, and an outline of Nagano prefecture, which are all very detailed and artistic.

Eijun is bemused by the puns, but how he manages to keep missing whoever is finding ways to leave him these notes stops him from taking part in the enjoyment.

Besides, some of these notes are way more personal than Eijun expects. He tries to think of people who know these details about him but he’s not exactly a private person and Eijun shares a lot of details about his life.

The problem isn’t who knows, but rather, who remembers these things about him.

Eijun can’t recall anything, and it frustrates him to try and think too long about the topic, so he grumbles a little to himself and slumps forward on his desk, ready to sleep through the geography lesson that’s about to start.

Thankfully, the geography class goes by without another hitch, and he’s lucky enough to have physical education back to back for his last two periods. They’re playing basketball today, and while it’s not his favourite sport, the physical exertion is a good distraction.

There’s also no way that Eijun can receive any unwelcome notes while in the gym, which proves to be true. So even though Eijun had two periods of P.E., he’s energetic as ever as he heads back to the dorms to grab his baseball gear for practice.

He manages to skip all the way back from the school building to his dormitory, but comes to an abrupt stop when he finds a crowd around his room, much like that morning.

Eijun can already feel the regret build up, as he pushes his way past his teammates and comes face to face with his door, which similar to that morning, has no remnants of blue paint left. The only difference is that unlike the assortment of notes that covered his door this morning, there’s only one giant note that reads: Let’s head to the bedroom and CHANGEUP these clothes.

The word ‘changeup’ is bolded and bubbly, filled in with what looks like gold glitter, while the rest of the sentence is in Seidou-blue ink. There are well-drawn baseballs all over the door-spanning note, dashed lines to show the movement of the pitch.

The attention to detail is remarkable, if only it wasn’t being used to push Eijun well into the depths of Valentine’s Day agony.

“Ah, looks like our little pitcher has a wild side,” Ryousuke remarks.

“Onii-san!” Eijun shouts, jumping at the sound of the third year’s voice behind him.

He’s always been a little intimidated by Haruichi’s older brother. Even though he hasn’t done anything wrong, Eijun suddenly feels the need to apologize.

“I quite enjoy the humour,” Tetsu observes.

He crosses his arms over his chest and cocks his head to the side, as he appreciates the wittiness in the note on Eijun’s door. Eijun thinks that the former Captain is probably the only person who can find amusement in the puns. If Tetsu wasn’t spoken for himself, Eijun might have guessed the notes were from him, but that thought is preposterous and Eijun is pretty sure Jun will kill him for even entertaining it.

Not that Eijun would ever accept anything akin to romance from anyone on the baseball team except for maybe—nope, the thought that starts to bubble is even more ludicrous so he stores it away, thankful that everyone is too busy laughing it up to notice his blush.

“Only you, Tetsu,” Jun sighs, swinging an arm over his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“I have to agree, I’m with Tetsu-san,” Miyuki says, “I think the notes have some flair, don’t you Sawamura?”

Eijun glares at Miyuki. “No,” he says hotly. “They’re not funny at all!” Eijun declares.

“I didn’t say they weren’t funny,” Ryousuke adds unhelpfully. “I just found it unexpected that Sawamura here would indulge in that kind of behaviour,” he shrugs.

“As long as he’s not doing it in our room,” Kuramochi shudders.

Eijun doesn’t think anything can get much worse than a Valentine’s Day note splayed across his door, suggesting activities that are far too embarrassing for Eijun to even say aloud. But this interrogation, for a lack of better words, is pretty close.

“I think it’s inappropriate,” Masuko says. Eijun grins brightly, finding a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness, but he’s quickly forced to take back his respect for his former roommate. “Sawamura-chan should not be deflowered in these dorms.”

The peals of laughter from Eijun’s teammates is like a knife cutting through his ears and Eijun knows that if it was anyone else, he would have laughed. Why does it have to be me, he thinks dully.

“I’m not—I’m not having sex,” Eijun defends.

But his words seem to only rile his teammates up further in their amusement, and Eijun is left to sulk by himself until Haruichi shyly tells everyone to leave him alone.

It’s only when Chris, ever the authority figure, reiterates Haruichi’s sentiment that the group listens. The third years quickly dissipate and go back to their studying, and the rest of the team heads off towards the field too, for fear of Coach Kataoka’s wrath against them for being late.

Eijun is about to ask Haruichi to help him take down the note, because as much as he also fears Coach Kataoka’s punishment, he really can’t have a reminder of this obnoxious note when he returns from practice, exhausted. But Miyuki offers to help instead, which is both unexpected and welcomed, because he’s taller than Eijun and that will help in reaching the top of the door where the large Valentine’s Day note is hanging.

Miyuki easily pulls down the note from the top, and folds it, but doesn’t give it back to Eijun. When he sees Eijun staring pointedly at him, Miyuki’s face colours slightly but the blush is quick and by the time Eijun blinks his eyes, it’s gone.

“You want to keep it?” Miyuki asks, surprised.

“Yes,” Eijun nods shyly.

“Why? I thought you hated it,” Miyuki frowns.

“I don’t hate it,” Eijun shakes his head.

He really doesn’t hate the attention; what he hates is that everyone is privy to it and he doesn’t know who the attention is from.

“You don’t?” Miyuki asks again, shocked.

Eijun doesn't know why he’s suddenly so interested in Eijun’s feelings when Miyuki had been teasing him with the rest of the baseball team just moments ago.

“No, I…” Eijun hesitates.

Miyuki is surprisingly patient and calm—no teasing or meanness in his voice. It’s the only reason Eijun decides to be honest with him. If he doesn’t say something, he feels like he’s not going to make it through practice and Eijun can’t afford to screw up; especially with the new first year’s arriving soon.

“At first I was worried that I was receiving Valentine’s Day notes from a girl, which made me panic because I don’t know how I would react to that. But then Haruichi said it was probably a boy, which was better,” Eijun admits. He tries to gauge Miyuki’s expression for any kind of weirdness, but there’s none, so Eijun continues. “Now I’m just irritated because I don’t know who they’re from and I guess I’m just shy about intimacy,” Eijun sighs.

He drops his head to stare at the ground beneath him, embarrassed to face Miyuki after the admission. Eijun doesn’t know why he cares so much—well, he does know but he doesn’t want to admit it. It’s easier for everyone if Eijun keeps his feelings to himself.

“So, what you’re telling me is that you like the messages, but prefer that they were delivered more privately?” Miyuki asks.

Eijun lifts his head up in confusion. That wasn’t really his point, but he supposes if Miyuki wants to boil it down to one sentence, then what he’s said isn’t incorrect.

“I guess you could say that,” Eijun says slowly.

He doesn’t know if he should be thankful for Miyuki’s unexpected lack of clarity, or grateful for the unforeseen ambiguity. But Eijun doesn’t know if he can deal with anymore confusion today, so he settles on gratitude and shoots Miyuki an appreciative smile.

“That’s good to know,” Miyuki nods.

“It is?” Eijun asks.

He may have initiated this conversation, but somewhere between expressing the disarray of feelings he’s had all day and now, Eijun lost sight of the end.

“Yes,” Miyuki agrees. “I know what to do, so I’ll see you at practice, Sawamura,” he greets.

Miyuki shoots Eijun a smile that flies straight through Eijun’s chest and lodges itself deeply into his heart. Eijun has to steel himself before he collapses from sheer bliss at the sight, and by the time he comes to his senses, Miyuki’s already handed Eijun the door-spanning note and is jogging off lightly towards the field.

Eijun stares at the back of Miyuki’s figure until he’s a mere dot in the expanse of green before he comes to his senses and realizes that if he doesn’t hurry up, he’s going to be running laps all practice.

The fear of facing Coach Kataoka’s wrath shoos away all the flutters from Eijun’s chest and he quickly heads inside his room to exchange his school bag for his practice bag before he takes off towards the baseball field in a run.

He’s thankfully on time. The Coach does shoot him a withering look for making it to practice without a second to spare, but since Eijun is technically on time, Coach Kataoka doesn’t do much except stare him down, which also doesn’t last too long as practice begins.

Practice starts off without a hitch and soon enough, Eijun falls into a rhythm where he is able to ignore all the strangeness in his day so far. Eijun runs his usual laps, lifts a few weights, poorly practices his swings with the team before he heads off towards the indoor bullpen for his individual regimen.

The winter season has put a damper on their usual training, but Eijun isn’t complaining about getting to play baseball, no matter the form.

He’s only just finished warming up his shoulder when he sees a shadow behind him. When he turns around, Miyuki is standing with his catcher gear already on, ball in one hand and glove in the other. His arms are folded over across his chest and Eijun belatedly realizes that Miyuki is waiting for him.

With Chris and Miyauchi’s departure from the team, they haven’t exactly been teeming with catchers. As the first string catcher, Miyuki’s time is split between Eijun, Furuya and Nori, with the latter two getting most of his attention. Eijun would be remiss to admit that he hasn’t been doing so well lately, which is why he’s very surprised to see Miyuki not so patiently tapping his foot as Eijun gathers his thoughts.

“Well, come on then,” Miyuki says after Eijun just stares at him in silence.

“You want to practice with me?” Eijun asks slowly.

“We are at practice,” Miyuki reminds.

Eijun isn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so even though he feels like he’s been in an alternate reality all day today, practicing his pitches with a catcher like Miyuki is not something he’s willing to question for too long.

He finishes the rest of his warm-up with a renewed bounce in his spring and follows Miyuki to one corner of the bullpen, ready to finish off the day on a much better note than how it started.

His first few pitches are wobbly, but they often are until he gets into the groove. Once Eijun has warmed up, he’s having the pitch of his life. It feels so good to be able to transfer all that stored energy in his leg to the baseball, to watch the ball whoosh in the air and land in Miyuki’s glove with a satisfying thump. It feels good to be able to play, to sweat, to smile while he’s doing the one thing he loves most in the world.

Eijun’s all but forgotten about the Valentine’s Day notes, especially when Miyuki makes it clear that he’s not going to be practicing with anyone else but him today. He’s on cloud nine and there’s nothing that can bring him down now.

Or so Eijun thinks.

“Hey,” Miyuki shouts, catching Eijun’s attention. “Let’s try a cutter next,” Miyuki says, tossing a ball to Eijun.

Eijun isn’t entirely comfortable with the new pitch yet, but he’s on a high and he’s willing to try. He looks down at the ball to try and maneuver the seams between his fingers—he’s not familiar with the feel of it with his eyes closed just yet—but his heart drops to his stomach as he turns the ball around in his hand.

Written neatly on the baseball is: I hope you’re good at catching because I’m starting to fall for you.

Eijun stares at the ball miserably for a few moments before he takes it and throws it down on the ground angrily.

“Argh!” he yells in frustration.

How someone can possibly ruin his favourite time of the day is beyond him, and yet somehow, Eijun is finding himself unimaginably irritated at the sight of the baseball.

“Okay, let’s try again,” Miyuki frowns. He ignores Eijun’s outburst and tosses him a second ball.

Eijun is almost too scared to check it for any writing, but his curiosity wins out.

His eye twitches as he reads: If you were a baseball and I was a bat, would you let me hit that?

“What’s wrong?” Miyuki asks, jogging over to Eijun.

“This!” Eijun shouts, pointing at the ball in his hand.

Miyuki looks down at Eijun’s palm and holds back a smile as he takes the baseball and inspects the writing on it. Eijun glares at him in response. It’s not funny. All day today he’s had other people deliver these notes to him and Eijun just wants to know who it is that’s been sending them. While he can admit the genius in setting this up so perfectly, Eijun is not very patient.

His curiosity combined with his frustration is starting to turn his temporary insanity into something slightly more permanent.

“I thought you liked the attention, you just wanted it more directly,” Miyuki says.

“You call this direct?” Eijun asks, appalled by Miyuki’s lack of understanding.

“You don’t?” Miyuki balks.

“No!” Eijun seethes.

The banter between him and Miyuki is normal, which is why Eijun completely misses the point of the conversation in order to focus on getting his opinion across.

“Okay, I think I get it,” Miyuki nods.

Eijun sorely doubts that Miyuki does because for one, he’s letting Eijun babble without so much as asking for clarification. Unless Miyuki is a mind reader—which sometimes, Eijun can totally believe that he is—he has a feeling that Miyuki does not understand what he means.

But Miyuki is surprisingly patient and supportive in the moment, which helps calm Eijun down a little. He wills himself to breathe at a normal pace so he doesn’t accidentally hyperventilate. He closes his eyes and sucks in the air around him, which catches him off guard because it’s sweet and citrusy but earthy at the same time.

Eijun concludes it’s these baseballs that are adding to his dilemma. Who the hell sprays baseballs with perfume, anyway?

The absurdity of it all takes Eijun’s mind off of his current quandary and he decides that he’s good to keep throwing a few more pitches before he calls it a day.

Eijun gets settled in his spot, and waits for Miyuki to toss him another ball so they can practice. He watches in confusion as Miyuki sorts through the baseballs in the bag to his side, wondering what he’s up to but as soon as the thought crosses his mind, Miyuki’s picked a ball and is throwing it to Eijun.

He knows he should feign ignorance and throw a last good pitch and call it a day. But Eijun is not the most sensible person; he wears his heart on his sleeve and that means taking every situation that comes at him head-on.

So, the suspicion that there’s another note for him on the baseball is one that Eijun can’t ignore.

He’s proven correct when the new baseball in his hand reads: Are you my glasses because when I’m with you I see the world in a whole new and better way.

Eijun doesn’t even have the energy to shout, which is an entirely new feeling. He lets the ball drop out of his mitt with a resigned sigh.

“Okay, you can’t tell me that one wasn’t direct,” Miyuki says, frowning at Eijun’s reaction.

“How can you call that direct when I don’t even know who it’s from?” Eijun demands.

“Hah?” Miyuki’s mouth drops open in shock.

“What?” Eijun asks tetchily.

“You’re telling me that you don’t know who it’s from? That’s been the problem all day?” Miyuki asks.

“Yes,” Eijun narrows his eyes. He feels like he’s being scolded and he doesn’t like it.

“Did you even read the note?” Miyuki accuses.

“Of course I did!” Eijun retorts. Then, because Miyuki raises his eyebrow at Eijun in a way that screams he doubts Eijun’s words, he begins to quote the note, “Are you my glasses because when I’m with you—”

“I know what it says,” Miyuki growls in irritation, cutting Eijun off.

“I don’t understand why you don’t see the problem then,” Eijun argues.

“Me?!” Miyuki shouts. “I don’t get how you don’t know what’s going on.”

By this point, there are plenty of eyes on them but no one dares to interrupt their arguing, which Eijun isn’t sure if he can count as a blessing or a curse.

It’s not that Eijun doesn’t know that he isn’t the brightest person—after all, his test scores are pretty good proof of that—but he’s not entirely unobservant and he has a right to his feelings. He doesn’t like being belittled and on a day like today, he’s not going to take it anymore.

Before Miyuki can further accuse him of being stupid, Eijun turns on his heel and calls it a day. He’s never walked out of practice early before and he realizes he’s probably pushed back his chances of becoming Seidou’s ace just a little more, but he honestly just wants to go back to his dorm, pull the covers over his head and sleep away this miserable day.

To his luck, Coach calls an end to practice as Eijun walks towards the baths. He doesn’t know if he should be grateful, or upset that he’s not going to get time to himself in the baths.

Eijun still manages to keep to himself though, only grunting in response when Haruichi asks if he’s okay. He’s not really, but Eijun has always been quick to anger, and quick to forget. He’s certain that by tomorrow he’ll be just fine and he doesn’t want his friend to worry about him unnecessarily until then.

He sulks in the corner of the large tiled bath, away from the rest of his teammates who are chatting quietly but without the usual energy around them.

Eijun feels like it might be his fault that his teammates aren’t as lively, but he’s in no mood to fix a situation he didn’t directly create so he soaks in the hot water until his fingertips prune before he mopes his way out of the bathroom and back to the locker room to change.

It’s a welcome surprise when there is no Valentine’s Day note pinned to his locker or one inside, but he feels an unexpected pang of regret at the thought.

The notes are objectively nice, the attention is nice. What isn’t nice is Eijun being kept in the dark.

He can’t deny that he does miss the intoxicating smell that came with the notes. Even the baseballs from practice earlier were dipped in the perfume that Eijun can’t seem to get his mind off of. He’s sure he’s going insane—he’s already tried to put his both legs through the same pant hole twice now—but he feels like he can smell that wonderful citrusy sweet scent now just thinking about it.

“Earth to Sawamura,” Miyuki says, waving a hand in front of Eijun’s face.

Eijun snaps his attention to the second year who is now standing in front of him in his sweatpants and no shirt. Eijun blushes at the sight, but then he reminds himself that he’s seen Miyuki naked on many occasions—not that Eijun had been deliberately looking then.

He tries to find something else to focus on while he steadies his heart rate that has somehow shot through the roof since his daze was broken. It’s hard to think though, when he feels consumed by the intoxicating scent his Valentine’s Day notes were doused in. It doesn’t help that he can feel the eyes of their teammates on them and suddenly, Eijun feels even more lost than he did all day.

“I wanted to apologize about earlier,” Miyuki rubs the back of his neck with his hand sheepishly.

He looks almost embarrassed, which is the closest thing to remorse that Eijun has ever seen on Miyuki’s face.

“You do?” Eijun startles.

He’s so distracted by the smell around him that he barely hears the words coming out of Miyuki’s mouth. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity to hear Miyuki apologize and of course that would occur at the exact same moment Eijun feels like he’s about to uncover where that sweet, citrusy, musky smell is coming from.

He wonders if it would be appropriate to sniff around the locker room until he uncovers the source.

“Yes,” Miyuki nods. “I didn’t realize how much the notes were bothering you and I shouldn’t have put you in that position,” he apologizes.

Eijun cocks his head to the side in confusion. “It’s not like you’re the one who sent the notes,” he says.

God, where is that smell coming from?

“But that’s just it, I—” Miyuki stops mid-sentence, confusion etched onto his handsome face. “What are you doing?” he asks Eijun tiredly.

Eijun looks towards Miyuki and he realizes he’s been caught craning his neck in an unsubtle attempt to get a better sniff around the room while Miyuki is talking to him. Most of their teammates have dispersed, leaving the place fairly empty but somehow, that just makes the heady scent even more beguiling.

“I’m—nothing,” Eijun shakes his head embarrassedly.

“Sure,” Miyuki says drily.

He looks annoyed and Eijun is about to apologize when he takes an accidental whiff too close to Miyuki’s face and his heart just about stops. There’s that wonderfully citrusy scent of bergamot and the earthiness of papyrus and musk, all wrapped up in the unfairly attractive package that’s Miyuki.

Slowly, Eijun begins to realize what this all means.

It’s him.

Without a second thought, his shock turns to ire and he shoves a finger against Miyuki’s chest accusingly.

“You,” Eijun hisses.

Miyuki stares at him over the rim of his glasses. “Yes,” he says flatly.

“You’ve been the one sending me Valentine’s Day notes all day!” Eijun shouts.

“It’s not like it was supposed to be a secret,” Miyuki defends. “I’m pretty sure you’re the only person who didn’t know by now, and besides, that’s what I was trying to tell you right now before you rudely interrupted me.”

Eijun growls in response. He didn’t interrupt Miyuki. He was just trying to figure out where that scent was coming from and—that’s not even important anymore. The more pressing issue is that Miyuki’s been sending him Valentine’s Day notes, and Eijun isn’t sure if this is a joke or serious or—god, he can’t even think anymore.

“You’ve been the one driving me crazy!” Eijun continues to poke Miyuki’s bare chest.

“I assure you that was not my intention,” Miyuki reminds.

He puts his hand on Eijun’s finger and brings it down to his side. Eijun expects Miyuki to let go, but he doesn’t. Instead, he wraps his hand around Eijun’s, and holds it firmly; it’s not tight enough to hurt but definitely with enough pressure to feel warm, wanted.

“I—you—what—why?” Eijun splutters.

Miyuki laughs and Eijun relaxes slightly. His laugh is comforting but above all, Eijun doesn’t feel laughed at.

“Why do you think?” Miyuki says lightly.

The obvious answer is that Miyuki likes him, but Eijun can’t quite bring himself to say the words aloud. There’s still a part of him that’s hesitant, but he doesn’t have to dwell over the thought for long.

“Because you like to tease me?” Eijun says shyly.

Miyuki stares at him flatly, and Eijun almost hits his head with his hands because he can’t believe he just said that aloud.

“I like you,” Miyuki says seriously.

Eijun’s heart speeds up at the sincerity in Miyuki’s voice. As much as Miyuki likes to joke and tease, and as much as Eijun tends to be on the receiving end of Miyuki’s quips, he also knows firsthand how serious Miyuki is about the things he cares about. Eijun has played baseball with him enough times to know that glint Miyuki gets in his eyes, the way eyebrows furrow and his face turns sincere, no trace of playfulness in sight.

Eijun has been on the receiving end of that look many times, but never with as much candour as Miyuki is exuding right now. He blushes against the ferocity of Miyuki’s gaze, but it’s not unkind; in fact, it makes Eijun’s whole body feel hot with desire because Miyuki likes him and Eijun is starting to understand that it’s real.

“Like like me?” Eijun says nervously.

There’s still a part of him that’s expecting Miyuki to change his mind.

“Yes,” Miyuki laughs. “Like I want you to be my boyfriend and go out on dates with you and kiss you senseless like you,” he grins.

Eijun blushes, and because he can’t handle how honest and open Miyuki is with his adoration, he puts both hands on his cheeks, shielding his eyes from sight.

But Miyuki has other plans, and he doesn’t let Eijun hide away for too long. He puts his hands on top of Eijun’s, and carefully peels them away. He doesn’t let go, even when Eijun’s eyes are open and he has the perfect view of Miyuki’s face, and the muscles of his still bare chest. Instead, he wraps Eijun’s hand in his own, fingers laced through perfectly. He steps in closer, until there’s only a few inches of space between them.

The intoxicating scent of Miyuki’s perfume fills Eijun’s nostrils and he finds himself leaning in closer in his daze.

“You’re not joking are you?” Eijun asks dizzily.

“Ah, you seem like you’re having a hard time believing me,” Miyuki says with a fake sigh. “I guess I’ll just have to prove it.”

Eijun is about to ask him what that means, but Miyuki is quicker. He tugs on Eijun’s hand and closes the space between them, lips coming down to press against Eijun’s. Eijun’s eyes fly open in surprise, but the surprise is short-lived because holy shit Miyuki is kissing him.

He closes his eyes just as quickly, eager to kiss Miyuki back. Eijun would be lying if he said that he hadn’t dreamt of kissing Miyuki before, but the fantasy doesn’t even hold a candle to the reality of it. Miyuki’s lips are warm and soft; they move fluidly against Eijun’sand he has half a mind to wonder how Miyuki got so good at kissing but Eijun can’t complain when Miyuki pulls sounds out of him he didn’t think were even possible.

Miyuki’s hands leave his, only to slide up Eijun’s waist, one hand resting against his hip while the other travels further and cups Eijun’s cheek for a better angle. Miyuki deepens their kiss and Eijun feels his heart clench in desire. His mouth is burning, his limbs are numb, his lips ablaze with want.

Just this morning, Eijun didn’t even have a Valentine, and now, he’s trapped with his back against the locker room and Miyuki’s legs between his, kissing the last person he ever thought he would.

When Miyuki finally pulls away, Eijun is breathless, and Miyuki looks just as dishevelled, hair and glasses askew.

Eijun finds a goofy smile weave its way onto his face. He’s still incredibly red and flushed to the tips of his ears, but he doesn’t feel like hiding away anymore. Not when Miyuki is staring at him with such passion. Eijun is content to stare back, eyes finding delight in the happy smile on Miyuki’s face.

He feels like he could stay like this forever… but that’s way too good to be true.

“I’m going to take this moment to remind you two: keep this shit away from our dorm.”

Eijun snaps his head away from Miyuki’s to find Kuramochi standing between them, arms crossed over his chest and a look of resignation etched into his almost-permanent scowl.

“You were watching us?!” Eijun shouts in surprise.

He almost forgot that they were still in the locker rooms and their teammates had been eavesdropping this whole time.

“I didn’t have to watch to hear your stupid sounds,” Kuramochi shoots back, much to Eijun’s dismay.

“Come on, Kuramochi, we should be happy for them,” Nori says earnestly.

He looks genuinely excited, and Eijun is grateful that the mild-mannered pitcher is probably one of the only people to successfully calm Kuramochi down.

“Yeah, Kuramochi, you should be a better friend and support our debauchery,” Miyuki says, taking advantage of the situation.

Before Eijun can protest that they most certainly will not be doing any such activities in his shared dorm with Kuramochi, Nori deadpans, “That’s not what I said,” and Kuramochi yells a string of profanities, most of which involve threats of offing Miyuki.

“Eh, semantics,” Miyuki waves off.

He takes a step away from him, and Eijun frowns at the loss of warmth. When Miyuki moves away to his locker to grab a shirt and cover up his bare chest, Eijun feels his mood drop a little further.

But then Miyuki walks back towards him and puts an arm around his shoulder, fingertips running along the length of Eijun’s arm. He shivers against Miyuki’s touch, which doesn’t go unnoticed by their teammates, who shout about the PDA, which of course only riles Miyuki up further.

“I told you to keep that shit away from me!” Kuramochi yells.

“Don’t be so jealous,” Maezono scolds, pulling Kuramochi away.

Eijun most definitely likes being the centre of attention, but the congratulatory pats on the back from his teammates and friends is starting to embarrass even him. He blushes when Haruichi offers him two thumbs up, and Kanemaru takes the opportunity to recall their lesson earlier in the day.

But Miyuki is right there with him, and when Miyuki kisses his cheek, if only to tease him along with the rest of their teammates, Eijun only protests out of show.

He doesn’t mind when Miyuki’s lips fall against his cheek, and he’s most definitely waiting in anticipation when Miyuki kisses his lips again, amidst the shouts and gripes of their teammates.

Eijun supposes out of all the ways his Valentine’s Day could have gone, this wasn’t something he could have ever predicted—not even in his wildest dreams—but despite the rocky road it took to get here, it wasn’t so bad after all.