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They always say the first kiss with the person you love is the best. Eijun certainly wouldn’t argue, his mind foggy with countless emotions the simple kiss made him feel. He had kissed Kuramochi after all.
Butterflies were flying in his stomach and he wondered if Kuramochi could feel them too. He felt as if his heart would burst out any second and start flying away. Truth be told, he couldn’t tell anymore if his body was reacting to his heart or the nervousness that had been piling up for days.
The kiss itself wasn’t exactly good or bad. In appearance it looked like a normal teenagers’ first kiss; awkward and hesitant. A simple kiss where lips had only slightly touched each other, gently pressing. Perhaps a few seconds too long, perhaps a few seconds too short. It wasn’t really worth being called a kiss, but it was enough. They knew many more would follow, some destined to be passionate and desperate, and some to be calmer and softer like falling asleep.
Suddenly, Kuramochi’s hands wrapped each side of Eijun’s face, bringing their heads closer. Embarrassed, the first year started to look at his hands trying to muster the courage to look at his senior. Kuramochi took the occasion to secretly burn in his memory the sweet expression Eijun was making, immortalizing the sight of the other boy’s cheeks tainted by a pale red that had quickly spread to the neck and the ears. Kuramochi sucked in a breath. He wished to every deity he knew to be able to see this expression at least once more. Finally, the pitcher let his eyes rise to look at Kuramochi.
As soon as he locked their eyes together, Eijun unexpected found himself overtaken by the intensity and genuine affection of Kuramochi’s gaze. He let himself linger in those emotions, meeting them for the first time. The more he stared the more it felt like the shortstop’s heavy gaze was making a promise. Kuramochi promised to make Eijun feel this way again, every day. So Eijun smiled. He smiled so wide his jaw hurt.
The southpaw knew he wasn’t good with words but was still eager to convey back to Kuramochi how much it all meant. Smiling was the only way he could accurately show his feelings. Ignoring the dull ache forming in his mouth, Eijun kept on smiling big and bright. Content, he closed his eyes and let his forehead drop on Kuramochi’s. The contact of their skin soothed the pitcher and he dared to hope he had managed to get his feelings across. He hoped he had reached Kuramochi the same way the older boy’s eyes had.
A comfortable silence surrounded them. They knew they didn’t need words; the noticeably fast and loud pace of their beating hearts was enough for them to grasp that this was the beginning of love.
A love that would keep drumming in their ribcage, a love that had Eijun’s cheerfulness and Kuramochi’s kindness.
A love of their own.