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If you asked Miyuki Kazuya if falling in love with Sawamura Eijun was easy, he would raise an eyebrow, and question why you were asking him out of all people.
But it’s a lie.
The true answer, at least relative to Miyuki, is more complicated than that.
***
He never really thought about his relationship with the younger boy. The teasing, an arm hooked over a shoulder, rewarding praise after a particularly well-pitched inning, and the soft smiles that snuck their way on his face when he thought no one was looking were all natural to him. As easy as breathing.
However, was it love?
Perhaps it was adoration, acknowledging the skills of the newly minted ace. Maybe it was an obsession, the sound of the glove catching his pitch sending chills down his spine. Or even pride, not of the younger boy, but himself, for being able to train such a diamond in the rough (no pun intended).
It wasn’t love.
It wasn’t that strong yet.
***
After a normal practice, as normal as a practice could be at Seidou, like clockwork, Sawamura asked for Miyuki to catch for him. His eyes, bright as always, looked into the catcher’s, who rejected the question instantly. Sawamura pouted, lip jutting out and face turning to look away. Deep in Miyuki’s heart, there was a soft noise, something clawing to get out. He pushed it down, covering any trace of worry with a smirk, and tossing an insult at the pitcher, who squealed, rather embarrassingly, in response. The catcher laughed, hands clutching at his sides, and the clawing seemed to grow louder. If he ended up changing his mind and taking up the pitcher on his request, well, that was nobody’s business.
***
It wasn’t love.
It couldn’t be.
It was normal to look at another person when they weren’t looking, wasn’t it? Normal to find your mood getting better just by listening to them talk. To have a small smile as you watched them from afar. To think about what the future holds and what new heights you could reach together. It was just in terms of baseball, he would tell himself, shaking his head if he caught himself staring.
Maybe it wasn’t just baseball.
***
He had heard, from his teammates (albeit teasing), coaches, opponents, audience members, and everyone who had ever had the pleasure to meet Sawamura Eijun, that he was the sun. The brightness that he brought, sunshine radiating from his every movement.
Miyuki knew better.
The sun never stopped shining. Sawamura Eijun did.
He remembered the hit by pitch, the scream of pure joy that was let out by the hit batter, and finally, finally, looked into Sawamura’s eyes to see that they lost their shine. They had sunken in on themselves, no hope, only fragments of shattered glass as Sawamura had been broken, broken for far longer than Miyuki would’ve guessed. The breakdown was in motion from the beginning. The pressure built up and pulled him under the water, effectively downing him.
He also remembered the confident smile not long later after he shook off Miyuki’s pitch, one that he returned. Sawamura Eijun had bounced back. He grew like he always had. His smile grew wider as he repositioned his body, all sound drowning; the only thing he could hear was his heart beating loudly.
No, Sawamura Eijun couldn’t be the sun.
For the sun wasn’t as strong as he.
To Miyuki, there were no words for the enigma that is Sawamura Eijun.
Until he was asked by the man himself. He was asked if he could compare him to one thing, what would it be?
Miyuki spoke without thinking, reveling in the shock that graced Sawamura’s face. Spluttering, the younger boy waved his finger at the other, only being able to say the full name of the captain before him.
Miyuki had laughed it off, simply saying it was because he was stubborn.
Stubborn as a weed.
There was some truth to that, yes, but there was more to it than meets the eye.
Weeds don’t seem significant at first. They show up unexpectedly. You don’t notice them, but as they begin to spread, they take over more of your yard and they forcibly capture your attention. You don’t have a choice. They’re in your life and you can’t get away. Then, you pull them out. You think you’ve gotten the best of the weeds. They don’t show up for a while. Your yard looks barren, empty, and almost less lively. However, this is probably for the best.
Then they return. They pop up in every inch of your yard, smothering you. They fill your senses and you’re overwhelmed. You thought you had removed the impact they had, the traces they left.
They had never left. They were waiting for a comeback.
Yes, Sawamura Eijun may not be the sun, but he had consumed Miyuki’s life nonetheless.
If Sawamura Eijun was a weed, Miyuki Kazuya was an open field, a field that was inevitably going to get invaded.
And Miyuki had no complaints.
Maybe it was love.
***
If you asked Miyuki Kazuya if falling in love with Sawamura Eijun was easy, he would raise an eyebrow, and question why you were asking him out of all people.
But it’s a lie.
The true answer, at least relative to Miyuki, is more complicated than that.
And maybe I lied.
Maybe the true answer for Miyuki isn’t as complex as one might think.
Falling in love with Sawamura Eijun is incredibly easy. You won’t even know that you fell until it is too late. Not that Miyuki had any regrets, of course.