Archive of Our Own ^beta

“The park’s dinginess fosters a freewheeling atmosphere, where bleacher die-hards bang drums and heckle outfielders, while upper-deck denizens pack picnics and pass joints. [...] If Marlins Park is the flashy new nightclub, and Fenway Park and Wrigley Field are the historic pubs, the Coliseum is baseball’s last dive bar.”

Jisung has heard all the rumors about Oakland. He’s heard about the stadium’s foundation crumbling and the cracks in the walls. He’s heard about the possums that lurk in the underground tunnels toward the clubhouse. He’s heard about the dugouts smelling like sewage. He knows payroll is kept tight. He knows the seats at games are empty and the city of Oakland is uninterested in their little baseball team. He’s heard all the rumors, and he knows all the facts. And that’s why he’d prefer death to reporting to the Oakland Athletics’s spring training camp.

If you ask Jisung, he’ll tell you being traded is the worst thing to ever happen to him.

He’d worked hard all throughout college to ensure he’d be picked in the draft, and, when he was chosen by the Red Sox, he was convinced everything had paid off. It was a team with history, a big fan base and a lot of success behind them. What else could he ask for? Since then, he’d hit his way through the Red Sox’s minor league system, proving himself at every assignment the team offered him. With the team’s catcher aging, Jisung convinced himself he would be a big leaguer by the end of the year if he did well at training camp in the spring.

And then he got the call.

The Red Sox offered the Athletics Jisung along with his teammate, Seungmin, in exchange for the Athletics’s star first baseman and closing pitcher. The Athletics had taken the offer, of course. Like Jisung said, they kept payroll tight. Players with a few years of experience demanding millions was more expensive than Jisung and Seungmin, two unproven players who had never so much as breathed in a major league dugout before.

It had only been two weeks since he had been informed of the trade, but, to Jisung, it felt like a lifetime. He said goodbye to every friend he’d made in Massachusetts. He packed up everything he owned and moved across the country from New England to California. He made plans to spend the spring prior to the start of the season at the Athletics’s camp in Arizona. And he was miserable, every single second since he’d been told he was going to be an Athletic.

Even so, baseball was Jisung’s dream, his driving force in life. He would do whatever it took to play on a Major League Baseball team, even if that team was the sewage-ridden, cheapskate Athletics.

On the first day of camp, Seungmin wakes Jisung up to head to the field together. The day after the news of the trade was announced, Seungmin had called Jisung and proposed the idea of them living together while the team was in Arizona. It was cheaper to rent a two bedroom, according to Seungmin. He had apparently done all the research the day prior while Jisung had drowned in his own self-pity. Jisung agreed to everything Seungmin suggested because it meant he wouldn’t have to plan anything on his own.

“We’re going to be late if you don’t get up,” Seungmin announces. “We can’t be tardy on the first day.”

“Who the fuck says tardy? Is this junior high?” Jisung grumbles, but Seungmin has already left his room to continue getting ready.

Seungmin and Jisung’s careers had run tightly parallel thus far. They’d both played exactly three years of college baseball at opposing schools in the same division. Jisung was a hard-hitting catcher, while Seungmin was an intimidating force on the mound. They’d been selected by the Red Sox in back-to-back picks; Seungmin was chosen with the 29th pick of the first round of the draft and Jisung with the 30th. Once they’d started in the minor leagues, they moved through the system together. Seungmin could count the professional baseball games he’d pitched without Jisung across from him on one hand. Jisung had faced Seungmin more times than he had any other pitcher in his life. In some ways, it was only natural they’d be traded to this hell hole together, too.

Jisung pulls himself out of bed, takes a two-minute shower, then grabs his baseball bag and manages to make it out to his truck at the exact same time as Seungmin, who had gotten up early enough to eat a full breakfast and complete his morning stretches.

“Do you have everything?” Seungmin asks.

“What, you think this team is too cheap to let me borrow a spare glove?” Jisung snarks back as he climbs into the driver seat. Seungmin just sighs, following after him.

“You could have a better attitude about this,” Seungmin says. Jisung shrugs.

“Okay,” he agrees as he starts the truck and begins to back out of the driveway. “We have a great chance to make the majors this year now. Is that the attitude you want?”

“Yes,” Seungmin confirms.

“Yeah, when the entire organization is made up of players with a minor league skill level, it’s not hard,” Jisung explains with a smirk. Seungmin narrows his eyes, but he lets the moment pass. Jisung supposes a part of Seungmin agreed with him.

Arrival at camp goes about as well as Jisung could have expected. He and Seungmin meet their manager and other coaches. Jisung immediately notices that they're old. He guesses Oakland couldn’t afford staff that hadn’t been for the team for dozens of years, complacent with their outdated salary and set in their ways. When Jisung and Seungmin are shown to the clubhouse, Jisung is a little relieved to see their lockers are next to each other. They’re the furthest ones, all the way in the back corner, so Jisung thinks they may have been the only ones available, but Jisung is just glad he won’t have to small talk with whatever decaying veterans the Athletics are paying league minimum to fill up roster spots. Seungmin laments opposing sentiments.

As they make their way out to the bullpen so Seungmin can throw a practice session, Seungmin introduces the both of them to each player or staff member they pass. Jisung just kinda nods his head as Seungmin makes the same small talk about moving and the Arizona heat with every single person. At one point, Jisung grabs Seungmin by his arm and drags him toward their destination at full speed to stop him from talking to anyone else.

“You could be a little friendlier, you know,” Seungmin says as Jisung throws the ball back to him so he can throw another pitch. Jisung scoffs.

“These people aren’t our friends, Seungmin,” Jisung grumbles before crouching back down to catch whatever Seungmin chooses to throw.

“Yes, they are,” Seungmin argues, “at least until our salaries get too big.”

Jisung cracks a smile at Seungmin’s subtle admission that all of his optimism was just a front. Jisung couldn’t blame him for wanting to have a good attitude about the trade. It wasn’t like they could do anything about it now.

Just as Jisung gets up to throw another pitch back to Seungmin, he turns his head and locks eyes with a boy standing at the far end of the bullpen, wearing an Athletics hat and watching the pitchers and catchers warm up. Jisung looks away almost immediately, but he can’t get over seeing someone so young who wasn’t a player in the facility, someone so handsome.

“Did we meet him?” Jisung asks, gesturing toward the boy with his eyebrows to try and be as subtle as possible. Seungmin doesn’t take the hint, turning fully around to look at the object of Jisung’s affection.

“No,” Seungmin confirms. “Do you want to?”

“Later,” Jisung says, pulling his mask back down. “When there aren’t so many people around.”

“Bad idea,” Seungmin warns.

Jisung doesn’t care.

After he and Seungmin are finished, the pitching coach instructs Jisung to get to know the other pitchers. The task made sense. Every catcher needed to have a good relationship with his pitchers. Jisung had long prided himself for being able to get along with even the nuttiest of pitchers. Today, though, he didn’t feel like socializing.

Jisung does his due diligence, greeting each pitcher on the roster and catching a few of each pitch in their arsenal. He felt bad he’d yet to learn anything about these pitchers. He’d been too busy moving and complaining and, well, not caring. He lies and nods his way through all the sessions, and he doesn’t meet anyone whose pitching he’s very impressed by.

Just when Jisung is thinking it can’t get any worse, his coach instructs him to catch Hwang Hyunjin.

Hyunjin had made a lot of headlines when the Athletics had drafted him; at the time, he was a fifth year senior at a junior college who consistently threw over a hundred miles per hour. Jisung thought it was a gimmick to draft him, but here Hyunjin was, at the same major league training camp as him, fighting for the same roster spots he and Seungmin were. Jisung figured that was karma.

At first, Jisung is a little captivated by Hyunjin. He threw hard, and his velocity didn’t wane even as he became more exhausted. Jisung didn’t think there was any reason someone as bony as Hyunjin should be able to throw that hard, but his pitches were consistently faster than anyone else Jisung had ever caught in his life. After ten or so pitches, however, Jisung realizes he’s catching the same pitch over and over.

“Uh, Hyunjin,” Jisung says, pushing his mask up into his hair and making his way toward the other side of the bullpen. “Can I ask why you’re throwing so many fastballs?”

“What do you mean?” Hyunjin asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

“I just— I’m trying to familiarize myself with you as a pitcher, and it would be helpful to see all the pitch types you can throw,” Jisung explains. He was trying to be patient, to at least wait until his second day as an Athletic before he started making all his teammates hate him.

“That’s all I know how to throw,” Hyunjin says. Jisung just stares at him for a few moments before forcing a little laugh to break the tension.

“I almost believed you for a second,” Jisung admits, patting him on the shoulder. Hyunjin’s expression doesn’t change.

“When I was in college, I didn’t have to know how to throw anything else,” Hyunjin explains. “Not a lot of pitchers playing Division III can throw as fast as I do.”

“You’re serious,” Jisung realizes. Hyunjin nods.

Jisung sighs, pulling his mask back down to hide his frustration.

“We’ll work on it. For now, let’s see the heater again,” Jusung decides. Hyunjin nods once more, quickly taking his spot on the other side of the rubber as Jisung returns to the opposite side of the bullpen to catch.

He didn’t know how much of this he could take.

Jisung spends the afternoon working out and practicing his hitting. And, whether he was ready to admit or not, by the end of the day, he was growing lonely. As a pitcher, Seungmin didn’t bat in games, so Jisung was left to face his teammates on his own. For the most part, he doesn’t speak to them.

Throughout the afternoon, he sees the boy from before over and over. He watches batting practice from behind home plate. He observes the team conducting fielding drills from the outfield. Jisung even sees him watching as they run laps across the field. As practice closes, when the rest of the team is packing up the equipment for the day, Jisung spots him standing in the dugout. Jisung decides now was as good of a time as any to introduce himself to the only person in camp he had any interest in.

“Hi,” Jisung says, leaning against the dugout railing next to the boy. He’d scurried away from his teammates and into the dugout for the opportunity to talk to him.

“Hi,” he repeats back with a gentle smile. Jisung hadn’t expected his voice to be so warm. He’d figured anyone so comfortable watching from afar would be standoffish. “I’m Felix.”

“I’m Jisung,” Jisung replies. “I just got traded here.”

“I know,” he confirms, taking his hat off and running a hand through his hair. “Are the rumors true?”

“What rumors?” Jisung asks, though his jaw had instantly clenched up at the question. It was the big question surrounding his growth as a player—is Han Jisung mature enough to catch in the big leagues?

“That you have the ego of Johnny Bravo,” Felix says with a grin. Jisung scoffs.

“Who’d you hear that from?” Jisung asks.

“I read it,” Felix explains as he puts his hat back on and turns to face Jisung instead of the field. “In your scouting report.”

“You work in player development?” Jisung hypothesizes. Felix makes a hand motion to indicate that wasn’t exactly correct, but it was close enough. Jisung figures Felix is one of those tech nerds who run a whole bunch of numbers and calculate player statistics.

With this conclusion, Jisung is suddenly humiliated that the Athletics have been theoretically debating whether Jisung had the personality to be a major league baseball player. He imagines Felix and all his fellow staticians laughing at his scouting report and regrets ever approaching Felix.

“So, is it true?” Felix asks again, still smiling from ear to ear. Jisung couldn’t tell if he was taunting him or truly found the idea that his team had just traded for an immature, egotistical excuse for a catcher humorous. “Those were the scout’s exact words, so I’ve been really curious.”

“No,” Jisung swears. “I like to put my personality in my game, but the team comes first, always. I don’t even– I don’t even know where that came from. It’s insulting, frankly. This sport is a brotherhood, you know.”

Felix laughs with a shake of his head.

“You’re funny,” Felix remarks. “I don’t believe you for a second, though.”

“I literally live with one of my pitchers. He’s my best friend,” Jisung insists. He wasn’t sure he and Seungmin were that close, but he was the only person Jisung talked to on a daily basis. He hadn’t done a great job of staying in touch with his friends from back home.

“You live together?” Felix asks with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“What? It’s not like that!” Jisung exclaims. “We’re only living together for financial reasons. It’s cheaper to rent a two bedroom—”

“Oh, so it’s not because this sport is a brotherhood?” Felix mocks with a laugh. Jisung bites down on his tongue so hard he’s a little convinced his teeth touch. “Relax, Jisung. I'm just playing.”

Jisung exhales softly. He knew he wasn’t making a great first impression. He needed to relax.

“That’s a relief,” Jisung says, “because Seungmin only agrees to kiss me goodnight every other night.”

“The brotherhood really is a fraud,” Felix laughs.

“I know. It sucks because my main goal here is to build good enough relationships with the entire pitching staff that we’re all comfortable kissing goodnight,” Jisung jokes. Felix shakes his head in disbelief.

“This is what you’re going with as your pitch to make the team?” Felix wonders.

“Yeah,” Jisung says, “and I kinda think it’s working, at least on one person.”

“Maybe a little,” Felix admits.

Jisung thinks if he flirts his way to the majors Seungmin will be disappointed in him, so he’s a little relieved when their manager blows his whistle to call the team in for a meeting.

“I gotta go,” Jisung says. “Team players don’t miss team meetings.”

“Bye, Jisung,” Felix replies softly. Jisung has to shake off the image of Felix’s smile as he heads down the tunnel toward the clubhouse so he can actually focus on baseball.

When Jisung arrives in the clubhouse, he takes his seat next to Seungmin in front of their lockers as they wait for all of the other guys to pile in the room.

“Who was that guy you were talking to?“ Seungmin wonders.

“I don’t know,” Jisung admits with a shrug. “He works with the scouting department, I guess.”

“Don’t make me say it,” Seungmin grumbles. Jisung rolls his eyes.

“Whatever do you mean?” he asks sarcastically.

“Seriously, Jisung, it’s a bad idea to hook up with guys who work in the organization,” Seungmin warns. “You could get in trouble, or they could trade you again.”

“If I get to kiss a cute guy and get the hell out of Oakland, it sounds like a pretty sweet deal,” Jisung jokes. Seungmin purses his lips together in disapproval. “Will you relax? Arizona is boring. I need something to keep me entertained.”

“Have you ever heard of Tinder?” Seungmin snaps.

“Good idea. I’ll check Tinder, too,” Jisung jokes. Seungmin has never looked so defeated.

“Listen up,” their manager barks as he takes his place center stage. Seungmin immediately straightens his back and gives the man his full attention. Jisung doesn’t move an inch, just shuts his mouth. “I don’t have a lot to say since I talked to you all this morning, but I did want to make a quick announcement before you all go home to get some much needed rest.”

Jisung tries to hold back a yawn at the mention of sleeping.

“Some of you may have heard that the majority owner of the Athletics organization has decided to step away from the team,” he explains. Jisung’s ears perk up at the mention of a shift in ownership. He silently prays whoever’s in charge next has deeper pockets. “In his stead, his son will be taking a more active role.”

Jisung zones back out. Same family, same cheap mentality. Same crumbling ballpark and empty seats.

“Felix, do you want to introduce yourself?” the manager asks.

Jisung’s entire body goes cold as he watches Felix join their manager in the middle of the room.

“Hi everyone!” Felix says enthusiastically, showing off the same pearly teeth and bright smile as before.

He continues talking, but Jisung can’t focus on his words, only on the red hot embarrassment flushing through his body. He had proudly strutted over to the owner of the Oakland Athletics’s son to flirt with him. He wants to evaporate more than he had when he found out he had been traded.

“Now do you understand why it’s a bad idea?” Seungmin whispers.

Jisung nods.

For once, he could admit Seungmin was right.

The next day, Seungmin drags Jisung out of bed early enough to meet with a few of their teammates for breakfast. Jisung was in what Seungmin would call one of his moods, which meant he was untalkative and fickle. He mostly sits in silence as Seungmin tries to socialize with their teammates.

“So, what do you guys think of Felix?” One of the team’s outfielders, Changbin, asks. He was known for the extreme duality in his at bats; he either hit a homerun or struck out, every time. He’d managed to hold down a place on the team for a while because his tendency to hit it out of the park made him just good enough to keep around while his incessant strikeouts kept his salary low. Jisung thought, if he could learn to be more patient during his at bats, he would be a pretty decent player, but he doesn’t offer that criticism.

“He’s just here to watch everything burn,” Minho replies. He was the longest tenured player on the team, having been their center fielder since he was a rookie. Jisung liked watching Minho play when he was in college, but, somewhere along the way, he lost his spark. These days, he was like a baseball zombie, never deviating from his standard, unenthusiastic play.

“Oh, c’mon, that’s not true,” the team’s newest addition, Chan, argues. He was a first baseman, having been signed to replace one of the players traded to the Red Sox for Jisung and Seungmin. Chan was a nice guy, but he’d spent the past three years playing in Korea after being unable to hold a spot on a team in the majors the first time around.

“It’s true,” Minho insists. “I hear ownership already has a land plot picked out in Las Vegas for where they’re gonna build a stadium.”

Jisung, who had been staring at a wall, ignoring the conversation and waiting for an opening to leave, sits up straighter hearing these words. Las Vegas?

“They’re not going to do that. The team has been in Oakland for half a century,” Seungmin offers in an attempt to back Chan up.

“No, Minho’s right,” Changbin says with a sigh. “We’ve been hearing for years the goal is to get the team out of Oakland. Felix being here is the board’s way of saying they’re leaving the team out to dry so that attendance will be abysmal when it’s time for the league to decide if they’ll allow the relocation or not.”

“The goal is for no one to come to games?” Chan asks in disbelief. Changbin nods.

“That way ownership can argue that the team has to move because baseball will never thrive in Oakland again,” he clarifies. Jisung feels anger flush through him like he’d never felt before. He’d worked his entire life to play in the majors, only to end up on a team owned by some cheap bastard who preferred his team lose in front of an empty stadium. It didn’t feel fair that his dreams were coming true, but it was nothing like he imagined.

“Well, at least the stadium in Las Vegas won’t have rats dying in the soda machines,” Chan mumbles hopelessly. “We just have to survive a couple years of losing to get there.”

“I don’t like to lose,” Jisung announces. Minho raises his eyebrows.

“You’re on the wrong team then, Han,” he teases. Jisung just sighs, slumping back into his chair. Every day he was on the Athletics, he felt his life was getting worse.

At practice, Jisung follows the same routine. He’d done a little digging on his pitchers the night before, so he was better equipped to call their pitches and direct their throwing sessions. He works out and he practices hitting on his own, just like before.

Felix also observers quietly, the same as yesterday. The only difference is Jisung catches Felix watching him multiple times throughout the day. Jisung knew that was his fault. He was the one who approached Felix, who flirted with him and drew attention to himself. Still, it didn’t feel great to have the owner’s eyes on you at all times.

At the end of the day, Felix is standing in the dugout, just like before. When the coach calls the team into the clubhouse for final remarks before he lets everyone go home, Jisung tries to quickly sneak by him in a gaggle of other players, but he fails. Felix was looking for him.

“Jisung, can I talk to you?” Felix requests, grabbing Jisung by his elbow to stop him. Jisung sighs.

“Last time I checked I can’t say no,” Jisung replies. Felix furrows his eyebrows.

“Did I do something wrong?” Felix asks. He felt his heart sink physically when Felix looked at him like that.

“No,” he assures Felix. “I just— What do we have to talk about? Isn’t your job to just run this team into the ground so your dad can relocate from Oakland?”

“What? No. That’s not what I’m trying to do,” Felix promises.

“That’s what everyone is saying,” Jisung informs him.

“I don’t believe the rumors about you,” Felix explains, “so I would like it if you didn’t believe the rumors about me.”

Jisung sighs softly.

“Fine,” he agrees. “What’s up?”

“I want to save this team,” Felix announces. Jisung stifles a laugh.

“I don’t know how to tell you this, Felix, but less than a month ago your general manager traded your best players for two minor leaguers,” Jisung reminds him with a finger pointed to himself. “You probably should’ve told him of your intentions before he did that.”

“So, that’s the thing,” Felix says. “I don’t have control over the budget. That’s still my dad’s money, and he wants to move the team to Las Vegas.”

“So why don’t you just let daddy have his way?” Jisung argues. He couldn’t fathom how Felix thought he could reform this team without any money.

“Because Oakland is my home,” Felix explains. “I’ve lived here since my dad bought the team when I was two. I grew up going to games in that old stadium, and I fell in love with the drumming in the outfield and the songs and the chants. And I remember how electric it is when the fans are proud of the team on the field. Oakland is special, and it doesn’t deserve to lose this team to fucking Las Vegas.”

“I would love to believe that, Felix,” Jisung says, “but if there’s no one at the game, there’s no one to drum in the outfield.”

“I swear, Jisung, you will understand after you play in the coliseum,” Felix pleads. “There’s something there you can’t get anywhere else.”

“Even if I believed you, what do you want me to do?” Jisung argues. “I’m a rookie catcher that isn’t even guaranteed a spot on the team.”

“All Oakland needs is something to rally behind,” Felix explains. “I know you’re competitive, and I know you can be the leader we need. Help make this team into something Oakland can cheer for.”

“I think you think a little too highly of me, Felix,” Jisung decides. “I’m sorry your dad is moving your team. I think you’ll like the Athletics in Las Vegas, too, though.”

Jisung makes a movement to go toward the clubhouse, and Felix again grabs him by the elbow.

“If you won’t do it for Oakland, do it for your teammates,” Felix begs. “The plan is to start over in Las Vegas. My dad wants to release or demote most of the team once we relocate and replace everyone with big names in free agency.”

Jisung pauses, and, for a second, he thinks about himself and Seungmin, stuck in the minors again. This image almost sparks something in him, but he pushes it away.

“Maybe that’s what this team needs,” Jisung says. As soon as the words leave his lips, he hurries down the stairs to avoid further discussion.

The rest of Spring Training is more of the same. Jisung studies his pitchers and practices hitting and mingles with the other players at Seungmin’s insistence. He finds some of them are easy to get along with, and he slowly begins to accept his circumstances. If he kept his head down and played the best he could, he would probably be traded again in a few years. Before training camp ends, Jisung, Seungmin and Hyunjin are all informed they will be making their MLB debuts at the start of the season. Seungmin and Hyunjin are thrilled; Jisung just feels numb.

In early April, the team travels from Arizona to Oakland to set up home base for the season. Jisung, again, rents a place with Seungmin. They justify the choice with a desire to save money, though Jisung isn’t sure he would ever get to practice or games on time without Seungmin.

The first time Jisung steps onto the field in Oakland Coliseum, all he feels is disappointment. After waiting his entire life to play on a major league field, it felt dull, anticlimactic. He thought he would be more excited. Instead, he stands behind the plate, looks out to the outfield, and reminds himself everyone leaves Oakland eventually. Their first away series would come soon enough.

In Jisung’s very first game in the major leagues, he catches for a veteran pitcher who had been very good in his prime, but that had been over ten years ago. The pitcher gives up five runs before the fourth inning. By the eighth, Hyunjin has given up three more. Jisung calls a meeting on the mound just to try and trick the batter into thinking they had any sort of strategy. In actuality, all Jisung could do was ask Hyunjin to throw fastball after fastball.

In the ninth, Jisung has his final at bat. By then, any nerves had disappeared. The game was lost. No one seemed to care. Minho was standing on second base after hitting a double early in the inning, but Jisung knew he didn’t care if Jisung got a hit or not. As always, he was ready to do what he was contractually obligated to and then go home.

On the third pitch of the at bat, Jisung swings at a ball just a little too high to be in the strike zone, and it goes scorching past Minho’s head. Minho takes off running, and Jisung does the same. By the time the opposing team’s players are able to wrangle the ball, Minho has passed home and Jisung has safely secured a double.

Jisung hears a chant of his name, and he turns around to see the fans in the outfield going crazy, dancing and banging and cheering like the one run Minho had scored was anything compared to the eight the opposing team had scored before that. Jisung supposes Felix was right; some fans in Oakland would always care.

After the game, Jisung is forced to talk to reporters. He gives them all the same canned answers the Red Sox had taught him to when he was in his first season of professional ball.

“It’s really special,” Jisung tells one reporter. He rambles for a while about how the team will excel once they get comfortable in the majors then adds, “We’re still looking for our footing.”

Once he survives that interrogation, he returns to his locker, still located next to Seungmin’s, and prepares to shower and go home. He’s roughly ten feet from the door when he hears someone calling his name.

“Jisung! Jisung!”

Jisung bites his lip, turning around to see Felix running toward him.

“Great work today!” he exclaims. Jisung grimaces.

“We lost by seven runs,” he points out. Felix shrugs.

“We can only take it one game at a time,” Felix says, grin juxtaposing the scowl on Jisung’s face. Jisung felt awkward being in a bad mood when Felix was in front of him, smiling like always.

“Yeah, I guess,” Jisung grumbles in response. He glances down to break eye contact and notices a baseball in Felix’s hands. “Is that…?”

“Yes!” Felix says, handing the ball to Jisung. “Congratulations on your first hit, Jisung.”

Jisung stares at the ball for a few moments. That’s when it sets in that he’s a Major League Baseball player. He didn’t feel that way when he stood in Oakland’s old stadium or when he batted with Minho across the diamond, picking at his nails, but he felt like a pro when he was holding the ball he’d whacked into the outfield for his first ever major league hit.

“Thank you,” Jisung replies, “and thank you for this opportunity, even if it was your dad’s fault or whatever. I don’t know if I would’ve gotten to play in the majors this year if I was still with the Red Sox.”

“I’m really happy you’re here,” Felix says back. “I believe in you. As an Athletics fan, not a team owner.”

When Jisung returns to his and Seungmin’s apartment, he clears off a section of his bookshelf and puts the baseball Felix had given him on display. Then, he makes a promise to himself that he’s going to make sure he fills the rest of the shelf with memories from his time in the big leagues, moments as special as his very first hit.

The season gets off to a predictably terrible start. The Athletics continue to lose games and find themselves at the bottom of the division standings. Much of the roster struggles to get hits, including Chan, who Jisung was convinced was purposefully hitting the ball perfectly in an outfielder’s glove every time. Worse than the batting is the pitching, and Hyunjin is the worst of the worst. Every time he was on the mound, Jisung braced himself to give up at least a couple of runs.

The only bright spot on the team was Seungmin, who was living up to expectations of him. He was effective and calm, and he and Jisung worked well together. He made his debut in the majors days after Jisung, and Jisung makes sure not to let him forget it.

“I’m a veteran compared to you,” Jisung would taunt.

“Shove it,” Seungmin always barked back.

Still, after Chan catches the ball to secure Seungmin’s first ever out, Jisung calls him over and intercepts it for his bookshelf of memories.

Two weeks into the season, the Athletics’s shortstop slips on the deck of his boat and breaks his leg. Jisung thinks it’s a joke when he hears the news. The team was bad enough already; they couldn’t handle any injuries. Nevertheless, the Athletics call up a player even younger than Seungmin and Jisung from the minor leagues to replace their injured shortstop: Jeongin.

Jisung could admit Jeongin was the least of the team’s problems, but he was certainly annoying. He caught an attitude quickly and didn’t hesitate to complain about things he didn’t like. Seungmin compared him to a bratty little brother; Jisung thought that would’ve been a compliment.

The worse the Athletics play, the more they’re made fun of. First, it’s only other teams' fans. Then, the media joins in. Soon, opponents and their own fans are mocking them, too. Each jeer Jisung hears, the angrier he becomes. He tries to stay focused, collect memories for his bookshelf and remember he just had to survive for a couple of years, but Jisung didn’t hate anything the way he hated losing.

Jisung is doing his pre-game stretches on the field before the finale of a three-game series against the Astros when he’s approached by the opposite team’s catcher.

“Hey, Han, right?” the catcher asks.

“Famously so,” Jisung replies.

“Congrats on your debut!” he cheers. Jisung looks up at him with a soft nod.

“Thanks, man,” Jisung says, forcing out his best fake smile. “It means a lot—”

“It took me a few years longer than you, but I guess that’s because, you know,” the catcher says, gesturing to the stadium around them. Jisung clenches his teeth.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Jisung says, though he fully understands. This guy was playing for a contender, a team only a few years removed from a World Series win. Jisung was playing for a team that had a feral cat infestation in the upper decks of their ballpark.

“Well, I think anyone could make it to the majors if they were playing for this team,” the player explains. Jisung had said almost the same to Seungmin before, but he’d been joking, self-deprecating. Hearing it from someone else filled him with rage.

“Gonna suck when we beat you, then,” Jisung declares confidently. “Good luck tonight, though. I think you’ll need it.”

Then, he gets up and offers the catcher a half-wave before returning to the Athletics’s clubhouse and, naturally, immediately beginning to panic. Jisung is thankful Seungmin is pitching that night; he certainly hadn’t thought of whether or not the team was actually capable of winning when he said those things.

The first few innings go well. Seungmin allows a few hits, but the Astros aren’t able to score any runs. However, after the sixth inning, Seungmin’s pitch velocity starts to fall as he gets more and more tired. Their coach decides to take Seungmin out and replace him with a different pitcher, much to Jisung’s chagrin. The Athletics had yet to score, either, and he didn’t have a lot of trust in many of the other Athletics pitchers.

By the bottom of the ninth inning, the Astros have scored two unanswered runs. The inning starts with Jeongin, who hits a quiet single into the infield to get on base. After him, Minho walks, moving Jeongin to second base while he stands on first. Chan grounds out. Changbin strikes out. And then it’s Jisung’s turn.

For the first time, Jisung feels real, genuine nerves about playing in the big leagues. If he could hit a double, the game would be tied. If he could hit a homerun, the Athletics would win, proving that catcher wrong. If he didn’t get on base, they would lose.

Jisung watches the first two pitches of his at bat fly by him. They were too wide for him to risk swinging at, especially when he was this anxious. He steps away from the box to fix his grip on his bat before the next pitch, and he happens to look out to the outfield, at the same group that had cheered him on after his first pitch. Just like before, they were more enthusiastic than any of the other limited fans in the stadium.

Jisung had heard about them before ever stepping foot in Oakland; they were known as the ‘Bleacher Creatures’ due to their permanent seats in the back of the park and their tendency to get rowdy toward opposing team’s outfielders. They brought instruments and picnics and alcohol and drugs and made every game a party. Jisung thinks back to Felix’s pleas on that second day of spring training. He’d mentioned the fans in the outfield then, too.

The next pitch of the at-bat is lower than Jisung would typically like, but, with no strikes against him, he decides to go for it. He drops his bat low, nearly falling to his knees as he makes contact. The ball goes flying. Minho and Jeongin take off running, but Jisung takes his time. Just from the sound of the bat, he knows this game is over. The ball doesn’t let up until one of the fans in the outfield has collected it and raised it into the air as their personal souvenir.

As soon as the ball is out of the park, the fans start to chant Jisung’s name, with the creatures playing their instruments alongside the cheers as Jisung heads toward home. They even raise a flag with the Athletics’s logo adorned on it to symbolize the win.

When Jisung reaches the dugout again, Changbin picks him up and spins him before putting him back down. The others take turns patting his head or high-fiving him until he reaches Seungmin at the end of the line.

“First of many,” Seungmin whispers. Jisung just pulls him into a hug. He hadn’t even realized how much he was smiling.

Not long after, Jisung is pulled aside to do an interview for the television broadcast of the game. Like before, he uses the strategies the Red Sox taught him, claiming it was a team effort and that Seungmin is the real hero of the game.

“Jisung, I have to ask,” the reporter says, “how did it feel to hear this place cheering just for you tonight?”

Jisung hesitates for a second, and his brain fills with the sound of the crowd chanting his name and the image of the flags waving in the outfield as he rounded the bases into his teammates' arms. And then he decides someone else had put it into words better than he could.

“Oakland is just special,” Jisung says. “There’s something here you can’t get anywhere else.”

Seconds later, Jisung is drenched in powerade and the interview ends abruptly.

Jisung doesn’t even bother changing out of his Mountain Berry Blast flavored clothing before marching his way up to the suite that belonged to Felix’s family. He knew Felix would be there; as far as he knew, Felix never missed a game.

He forces his way into the room, past uppity men in suits with his unbuttoned jersey and blue sweat covering his face. He finds Felix in the corner talking to an executive wearing an elephant lapel pin.

“Felix,” Jisung calls. Felix's face lights up as soon as he sees the monster approaching him.

“Jisung! Jisung, you were so good tonight. That’s what being an Athletic is all about!”

Felix continues to ramble, and, for a moment, Jisung is caught in the headlights of his praise, proud to have impressed Felix and thankful to see him so overjoyed at the team performing well. He has to force himself to focus on the reason why he’d dragged himself up to a billionaire’s stadium suite in the first place.

“What’s your plan?” Jisung asks suddenly.

“Excuse me?” Felix asks through a disjointed laugh, clearly not following.

“How are we going to save this team?”

After Jisung showers, Felix takes him to a diner a few blocks away from the park. The place reminds Jisung of somewhere he and Seungmin would go with their minor league teammates after games. It was homely and, if the faded and dated decor were any indication, cheap.

“Aren’t you too wealthy for a place like this?” Jisung asks as he climbs into a booth across from Felix. Felix sighs.

“I’ve been coming here after games since I was a kid,” Felix explains. “It used to be the only place open this late.”

“So you aren’t cheaping out on buying me dinner?” Jisung teases.

“N-no! Of course not. We can go somewhere nice next day game–”

“I’m just joking,” Jisung admits. He liked when Felix got all flustered and Jisung could see the panic filling his eyes. “Thanks to your dad, I can afford my own dinner.”

Felix nods solemnly. Jisung thinks he’s still a little embarrassed.

“So,” Jisung says, leaning on the table towards Felix. He’d been antsy since the game ended, partially because the adrenaline hadn’t totally faded yet. “What’s the master plan, boss?”

“It starts with Hyunjin,” Felix states. Jisung nods in agreement.

“Yeah, he needs to go to the minors,” Jisung assesses. “He has a major league fastball and nothing to back it up.”

“He needs to stay,” Felix declares. Jisung blinks at him in disbelief, so Felix continues. “I know he’s not where he should be baseball-wise. But people like him.”

“People think he’s hot,” Jisung corrects. Felix shakes his head.

“He’s charming. People want to root for him,” Felix reasons. “He has a good story, too.”

“Listen, I like the guy,” Jisung says, “but he needs a curve and maybe a cutter before you even think about letting him on a major league field again.”

“I was thinking the same thing!” Felix enthuses, eye lighting up in agreement.

“Awesome. So, tell that to a pitching coach in the minors,” Jisung advises. Felix shakes his head.

“I’m telling a catcher in the majors,” Felix points out. Jisung scoffs.

“I’m not a pitching coach, Felix. I’m not even a pitcher,” Jisung says. “If you really don’t want to send him to the minors, get our pitching coach to work with him.”

“You know our coach staff isn’t what it should be,” Felix argues, “which is why I’m asking you. If you would get Seungmin to help with his grip, I know you could turn him into a real pitcher.”

Jisung sighs.

“So, what? You think if pretty boy Hyunjin learns to throw a curve, Operation Las Vegas will be canceled?” Jisung asks. Felix shakes his head.

“I think if he was a legitimate pitcher, we could market him better,” Felix explains, “and like I said, people think he’s charming.”

“I hate to break it to you, but one player isn’t enough to save a franchise,” Jisung reminds him.

“I know. That’s why it’s good that we traded for someone else charming,” Felix says with a little smile. Jisung’s face falls.

“You can’t be serious,” Jisung grumbles.

“C’mon, Jisung, have you checked Twitter since the game ended?” Felix asks. “The fans love you. That whole thing about Oakland being special? They adore it.”

“I stole that from you,” Jisung snips.

“I saw the way you were looking at the fans after you hit that homerun, Jisung,” Felix informs him, “and I know the reason why the trade was so disappointing to you was because you didn’t think there would be people supporting you like that in Oakland.”

“And?”

“And there would be a lot more people cheering you on as you rounded the bases if you would let them know you’re here,” Felix explains.

Jisung feels something inside him tighten. He wanted that. He wanted to be successful and to make the fans proud no matter where he played. He wanted to make Felix as happy as he had been earlier in the night. Coming to this realization, Jisung sighs softly and taps his hands on the table.

“Do you want to get pancakes?” he asks. Felix seems confused at first, but he nods.

They order, and soon after Felix continues explaining all the ways he thinks they can make the team better and attract more fans to games. Felix had marketing strategies and plans for developing each player’s brand and playstyle into something the fans would like. Jisung was impressed by how intricate it all was. He supposed Felix had enough time and money to make a project like this as extensive as he wanted.

“Don’t you think this is all kinda a long shot?” Jisung wonders as Felix rambles on about his different strategies and ideas.

“Maybe,” Felix replies, “but I have to try.”

When Jisung goes home after he and Felix’s conversation, he can’t quite convince himself that anything Felix had conjured up would get fans back in the Coliseum. The team was too far gone. Ownership didn’t want the team to play in Oakland anymore. Fans resented the ownership for letting it get to this point. Even if the stadium wasn’t poorly maintained and the team wasn’t in last place, Jisung and Felix couldn’t singlehandedly make fans forgive his father, especially when he wasn’t interested in their forgiveness.

The next morning, Jisung drives Seungmin and himself to the ballpark before their game, and he hesitates as he walks through the stadium. It was empty at this hour except for the team and its staff, but that didn’t stop Jisung from imagining the fans running up and down the concourse during games.

“Are you okay?” Seungmin asks, noticing Jisung was dawdling more than usual.

“I’m fine,” Jisung replies. “It’s just… Do you think it’s possible for this team to be successful? Here?”

“After last night, yeah,” Seungmin admits. “There were probably only 10,000 people here, but it felt like 50,000.”

“I thought the same thing,” Jisung grumbles. “I felt like I was at fucking Yankee Stadium.”

“It’s crazy how much this team means to some of these fans,” Seungmin remarks, and Jisung can almost hear the drumming in his ears again.

“Crazy,” Jisung repeats quietly.

They continue down to the clubhouse, and Jisung sets up at his locker and begins changing into his cleats before practice. He has one shoe on when he sees his coach making his way toward him. Fuck.

“Han!” their coach calls as he approaches Jisung. Jisung sighs. The coaches never had anything good to say to him.

“Yes?” he replies. His coach tosses him a baseball before turning to leave.

“What’s this?” Jisung asks, spinning the ball in his hand as though it would bring back memories of where the ball came from.

“Your walk-off ball,” the manager says nonchalantly as he walks away.

“I thought an Astros fan caught this,” Jisung recalls. He’d seen the video and assumed he would never get his hands on it. His coach stops and returns to facing Jisung.

“The Bleacher Creatures can be very persuasive,” he explains, “and you’ve won their favor. Oakland is just special, after all.”

Jisung smiles to himself before stashing the baseball in his backpack to take home with him.

It’s then he decides that he’ll do whatever he has to to help Felix.

Felix’s plan has two phases, which he referred to as ‘baseball’ and shenanigans.’ Felix believed that before they got caught up trying to beg fans to come to games, they needed to become a team fans would want to watch. Jisung agreed.

During his time observing the team, Felix had made a list of players he thought had potential to play well and attract fans. The first were Jisung and Seungmin themselves. They were first round picks in the draft with talent to spare. Felix considered them both to be core pieces of his plan.

Jisung was the obvious first step. He was a top-rated prospect, and there wasn’t a lot Felix could critique about his actual play style.

“You just have to keep doing what you’re already doing,” Felix advises one morning as he watches Jisung take batting practice. “You saw how the fans reacted when you hit that walk-off homerun the other night.”

“Keep playing the hero. Got it,” Jisung says jokingly as he lines up his stance to foul off another ball. “Harder than it sounds.”

“I believe in you,” Felix says with a soft smile. “You’re already my hero.”

“Don’t hit on me, Felix Lee,” Jisung teases. Felix rolls his eyes.

“I meant because you’re helping me,” Felix explains. “I couldn’t do this without you.”

“I’m doing this for the team,” Jisung reminds him. “I don’t want to spend the first half of my career as a loser.”

“Well, helping the team is helping me,” Felix says, “so you’re going to have to get used to being my hero.”

“Can you focus?” Jisung requests as he practices his swing again. “You really don’t want me to do anything?”

“Well,” Felix says, gripping the netting with one hand as though he was hesitant to explain himself to Jisung.

“What?” Jisung asks, narrowing his eyes and turning to face Felix.

“I’ve noticed you thrive under pressure,” Felix notes. Jisung sighs. He knew what Felix meant by that. Throughout college and the minor leagues, Jisung had been known by his teammates and coaches for his ability to come through in big moments. If the bases were loaded or the game was tied, Jisung could hit a monstrous homerun or double down the middle. When his team was already winning or he had no shot of helping them do so, though, he didn’t perform as well.

“A lot of people have,” Jisung replies.

“I think you should lean into it,” Felix says. “There’s something magical about how, when your team needs you, you’re there.”

“Oh, whatever,” Jisung grumbles.

“I’m serious! You’re clutch, Jisung,” Felix insists. “Think about it, we could make it a whole thing, talk about how you’re powered by fan’s cheers.”

“Clutch,” Jisung repeats quietly.

“A hero,” Felix tells him. Jisung hates how much he likes being called that.

The next time Jisung is up to bat in one of his signature high leverage situations, he thinks of Felix and swings for the fences.

Felix’s plan for Seungmin is similarly simple. He had taken note of Seungmin’s unique pitching motion that brought his arm all the way around from the side of his body.

“He’s like a sidewinder,” Felix explains to Jisung before a game Seungmin is set to pitch. It was the first time Jisung had ever heard Seungmin compared to a snake. Fans and friends had definitely compared him to puppies and bear cubs and fluffy animals galore but never anything reptilian. His eyes were too kind, words too gentle.

“Softest snake I’ve ever known,” Jisung remarks. Felix shakes his head adamantly.

“Not when he’s on the mound. He’s venomous,” Felix exclaims. “He’s a viper out there.”

That night, after the game, Jisung is talking to reporters when he chooses to set Felix’s plan into motion. A reporter asks him about Seungmin, and Jisung repeats after Felix, “he’s a viper out there.”

By the next day, sports fans online and casters on ESPN have taken to the nickname, referring to Seungmin as the Oakland Viper. His start in the game gets more coverage than it ever has before, all because people want to tell the story of Jisung comparing his pitcher to a snake.

Once Seungmin has solidified himself as the snake in his opponent’s boot, Felix sets his sights on his biggest project: Hwang Hyunjin.

Despite Felix’s campaign, Jisung still didn’t quite believe in Hyunjin. Jisung thought he threw a great fastball and that he was charismatic and hardworking, but he didn’t think he was ready to play in the majors. He needed more time. He told Felix that over and over, but Felix wouldn’t accept it.

One Sunday night after a day game, Felix, Seungmin, Jisung and Hyunjin meet in the batting cages. Felix had convinced Jisung to come by offering to take him to dinner. Seungmin had agreed without complaint, hoping he could help the team improve.

“Let’s get this over with. I want to get out of here before restaurants start closing,” Jisung behests, pulling on his shin guards. He was too scared of how hard Hyunjin threw to catch without his pads on.

“We can always get brunch tomorrow,” Felix assures him. Jisung scowls.

“Do I look like I get brunch?” he says.

“You love breakfast food. We go to the diner all the time,” Felix reminds him. Hyunjin raises his eyebrows at this news. Jisung ignores him, though he knows Hyunjin, the team gossip, will have told everyone on the roster that Jisung has been regularly eating dinner with ownership by tomorrow morning.

“Fine,” Jisung agrees, “but I want to go somewhere with mimosas. The diner doesn’t count.”

“Okay,” Felix beams.

“Alright, Hyunjin, show me your curveball grip,” Seungmin instructs. Hyunjin hesitates.

“He doesn’t have one,” Jisung says. Seungmin fakes a laugh.

“Seriously,” Seungmin says, handing Hyunjin a baseball. Jisung rolls his eyes.

“He doesn’t have one,” Jisung repeats. “We’re not exaggerating. He throws a fastball. That’s it.”

Seungmin just stares.

“I thought the issue was his curveball was bad,” Seungmin says in awe.

“The issue is it doesn’t exist,” Jisung confirms.

“Which is good! You don’t have to correct bad technique,” Felix argues. Jisung hushes him.

“I’m a fast learner!” Hyunjin insists.

“So, why didn’t you learn one before, then?” Seungmin asks. Hyunjin just blinks at him. “I don’t know why I asked.”

Seungmin shows Hyunjin how he grips the ball when he throws the two different pitches Jisung wanted Hyunjin to learn and lets Hyunjin watch as he throws the pitches himself a few times. Jisung feels lucky when Hyunjin is right; he does pick up on the pitches quickly.

“Be careful of that elbow!” Seungmin calls as Hyunjin gets into form to throw Jisung another cutter.

“I think it would help if there was a batter,” Hyunjin announces. “I can’t visualize an at bat that well.”

“Okay,” Seungmin agrees. He grabs a bat out of a tub a few feet away before stepping into what would be the batter’s box.

Jisung and Seungmin take turns batting against Hyunjin, and he appears to adapt as they go even without Jisung calling his pitches for him.

“You wanna take a turn, Felix?” Seungmin asks as he steps away from the plate.

“Me?” Felix gasps.

“It’s okay if you’re rusty. I don’t usually practice batting, either,” Seungmin promises him.

“What? You own a baseball team and can’t take an at bat?” Jisung asks. Felix shakes his head.

“I played,” Felix insists.

“What position? Equipment manager?”

“Second base,” Felix says.

“That’s kinda cute actually,” Jisung admits. Felix looks away to hide his embarrassment.

“Can you two stop it so I can pitch?” Hyunjin complains. Felix nods, immediately grabbing a bat and getting ready to swing. Jisung crouches down to catch, but, after a few pitches, he can’t hold back his laughter.

“Lix,” Jisung says, hopping to his feet, “why don’t you rotate your hips when you swing?”

“What?” Felix exclaims. “I do!”

“You don’t!” Jisung swears. “You are never going to hit a ball like that!”

“There’s nothing wrong with my swing!” Felix maintains. Jisung rolls his eyes.

“You swing a bat like someone who got cut from their high school team,” Jisung informs him. Felix bites his lip. “Don’t tell me you were cut from your high school team.”

“I won’t tell you then,” Felix snaps.

“All that money and no baseball lessons,” Jisung teases.

“Shut up!”

“Here, look,” Jisung says. “Get in stance.”

Felix follows his instructions, and it immediately becomes glaringly clear to Jisung that Felix has never been much of a baseball player.

“Well, first of all, bend your knees,” Jisung instructs. “Even Seungmin knows to do that.”

“I know how to hit a baseball, Han Jisung,” Seungmin barks back. Jisung ignores him.

“Now, swing, but make sure you’re turning your hips with the bat,” Jisung says. Felix attempts this, but he proceeds to do the exact same thing he was already doing. “Felix, you have to turn with the bat.”

“I am!” Felix insists.

“No, Felix, look,” Jisung says with a sigh. He rests a hand on either side of Felix’s hips and guides him through a swing, forcibly turning them along with the bat. “See? If you don’t put your hips in it, you’re not gonna have any power. The ball’s gonna go, like, two feet.”

“Right,” Felix confirms behind flushed cheeks.

“Listen, this is a great lesson and all, but I think we need to teach Hyunjin how to pitch instead of Felix how to bat,” Seungmin reminds them. Jisung grits his teeth in embarrassment as he takes a step back from Felix.

“Go ahead, Hyunjin,” Jisung says as he returns to position to catch.

Felix finally gets a good swing on a ball after that, but it goes barreling straight back toward Hyunjin. Hyunjin just barely ducks in time to avoid getting hit in the face. Seungmin promptly bans Felix from batting.

The two new pitches give Hyunjin and Jisung a lot of room to breathe in games. He still relies heavily on his fastball, but it trips batters up more easily now that they don’t always know what pitch is coming. After a few weeks, Hyunjin becomes the Athletics’s closing pitcher, in charge of coming into games in the later innings and wrapping things up. Fans love him; they sing and chant and praise him for his ability to throw fast. After a while, he becomes affectionately known by fans as ‘the Freak.’

“Why?” Jisung asks.

“Only a freakshow can be that skinny and throw the ball that fast,” Minho answers. Jisung nods in agreement.

Hyunjin hits both of them with his glove.

With Hyunjin pitching well, Changbin is the next player on Felix’s list. Jisung and Felix both identify his problem quickly: he has no patience. He swings at nearly every pitch. He was confident and driven to a fault. Jisung and Felix also both know how hard it is to train a player to recognize pitches. Felix doesn’t let this stop them.

Every morning before team practice, Changbin, Felix, Hyunjin and Jisung meet on the field. Changbin bats. Hyunjin pitches. Jisung catches. Felix provides moral support. Every time a pitch leaves Hyunjin’s fingertips, Jisung calls out whether he would swing.

“High!”

“Low!”

“Inside!”

“Outside!”

“Go!”

They continue this system everyday until Changbin doesn’t need Jisung to call the pitches anymore. Changbin’s improved selectiveness about what pitches he swings at makes it a lot easier to get on base. In turn, Changbin enters a career renaissance. Jisung finds that he likes hearing the fans chanting Changbin’s name.

Jeongin is a unique problem for Felix and Jisung because his issues surround his mindset. He knew he was younger than most of the players in the league, so he was desperate to prove himself. Every at bat, he went out there with the intention of hitting a homerun. A single wasn’t good enough, nor was a double. Jisung thought he was the only player with a bigger hero complex than himself.

Jisung and Jeongin are practicing fielding at third base and shortstop respectively when Jisung decides to try and break through to him.

“Have you ever thought about making it, like, your brand that you’re younger than everybody else?” Jisung asks as a ball is batted into right field.

“My brand?”

“Yeah, like, I think you feel like people look down on you because you’re young,” Jisung points out, “but really that means you’re in your prime, right?”

“Yeah,” Jeongin replies faintly. He pushes Jisung out of the way to catch a grounder and return it to first.

“I don’t know,” Jisung says. “Being young just means that you have so much room to grow and you look at the game differently and you can relate to fans better. Maybe stop letting people make you feel bad for your age and make them feel bad that they're old instead.”

Jeongin pauses for a second, then he turns to Jisung and grins.

“I think you’re onto something.”

Jisung is surprised when Jeongin takes his advice to the extreme. Instead of just being comfortable in who he was and being proud of the fact he’d made it to the majors so young, he starts making his age his primary feature. He makes his walk-out song Baby by Justin Bieber. He changes his instagram username to YungYang. He asks an umpire giving him unfair calls why he’s bullying a child.

Jisung thinks Jeongin may be worse off than before. He soon announces his formal resignation from the Jeongin Task Force to Felix.

While Felix sets his sights on Jeongin, Jisung finds himself going rogue. If they were going to try to fix his teammates, there was no one he saw more potential in than Chan. He excelled in pitch recognition and could make quick decisions on the field. He was also kind and optimistic, the kind of personality you always needed on a team. His only flaw was that he couldn’t turn any of that into hits on the baseball field.

Their next off day is between two road series against the Royals and Orioles. The team has an extra day in Kansas City, so Jisung decides to use it to the best of his ability.

He wakes up early in the morning and knocks on Chan’s hotel room door.

“Hello!” Jisung sings as soon as Chan opens the door. His hair was sticking out in every direction and he could barely open his eyes. “Wanna hit the cages?”

“What?” he grumbles. “Jisung, go back to sleep.”

“Please,” Jisung pleads. Chan bites his lip, slowly pushing a hand back into his hair to deal with the wily situation on his head.

“Give me ten minutes,” Chan requests.

Jisung drags Chan out to the batting cages to practice, and for a while, he just watches while Chan swings. He watches when he swings and how he swings and where he aims. He thinks about Chan’s biggest problem: flying out to left field. He could make good contact with the ball, but it didn’t go far enough.

“Chan,” Jisung says, “can I give you some advice?”

“Help is always welcome from Hero Han,” Chan sings. Jisung tries his best to ignore this comment.

“Follow through,” Jisung says. Chan furrows his eyebrows. “You need to extend your swing all the way back. It’ll help you send the ball further, so it doesn’t always end up in an outfielder’s glove.”

“You think so?” Chan asks. Jisung nods.

They spend the rest of the morning practicing this. Jisung critiques Chan’s swing the best way he knows how to, and around lunch time, Seungmin arrives to throw to Chan so he can test out his newly modified swing on a human.

In Baltimore, Chan goes on a hit streak. He tracks the ball well and he makes use of all the suggestions Jisung gave him. Jisung bites his tongue whenever the broadcasting team and journalists credit the changes to their hitting coach. He wanted to say their coaches were useless, that they’d let the team fail if no one intervened. Instead, he ignores it. The goal was to improve the team. The team was improving.

The final piece in the puzzle is Minho. He was plenty talented, and he’d been the anchor holding the team down for most of his career. The only problem was that he wasn’t energetic or motivated anymore.

“He just comes here to collect his pay check and leave,” Jisung argues as he picks at a plate of eggs in front of him at the diner. Felix sighs.

“He wasn’t always like that,” Felix informs him. “He used to love baseball.”

“Oakland sucked the life out of him,” Jisung decides. Felix kicks him under the table. “What? It’s true.”

“Maybe it is,” Felix admits. “I think he’ll come around, though.”

“Why?” Jisung asks.

“You did, didn’t you?” Felix points out with a smile. Jisung thinks there are several factors that led to him agreeing to help that don’t apply to Minho, but he just accepts Felix’s assessment of the situation. “Besides, Minho always comes through for Oakland.”

“He better,” Jisung replies. “He needs to be on base when I’m up to bat.”

Felix laughs, leaning across the table and stealing a piece of bacon off Jisung’s plate.

With or without Minho, the team starts to find its rhythm. With Changbin and Chan getting on base more often, it allowed more opportunities to score. Hyunjin’s additional pitches made him a reliable reliever in situations where, at the start of the season, Jisung would’ve counted the game as good as lost. The wins start to stack up, and soon enough, the Athletics have moved up to third in the division from their previous spot in dead last.

With each win, Felix gets more and more excited, and Jisung feeds off his and the rest of the team’s energy. News outlets begin to cover the story of the ‘Miracle Athletics,’ and Jisung is quickly branded one of the best catchers in the game. In their usual post-game meals, Felix jokes that it’s good Jisung has embraced his hero persona, otherwise he might collapse under the pressure. Jisung thinks he might get there anyway.

Jisung finds comfort in hanging out with Felix. They sit together on the team plane, splitting Jisung’s airpods and playing cards. They explore all the cities the Athletics travel to for games, though Jisung is fairly positive Felix has been to all of them before and is only humoring him. After every big game or play, Felix is the first person Jisung looks to for praise. He obliges.

“Have you thought about just telling him?” Hyunjin ponders one afternoon during a bullpen session before their game.

“Telling who what?” Jisung asks as he throws the ball back to Hyunjin. Hyunjin catches it, but doesn’t return to his pitching form.

“Are you joking?”

“No,” Jisung replies with a shrug.

“Felix,” he clarifies. That’s all he has to say for Jisung’s cheeks to flush and his heart to start pounding. Hyunjin just smiles in satisfaction.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Jisung says through clenched teeth. Hyunjin laughs.

“Listen,” he says, pushing his headband further up into his hair. “I know Felix loves this team, but he’s literally a billionaire. I think he could find better things to do with his time, and yet, he is here, at this disgusting stadium that has rats living in the concession stands, watching you practice, every single day.”

“Don’t tell me that,” Jisung grumbles.

“Why not?” Hyunjin whines. Jisung probably could’ve guessed someone as sensitive as Hyunjin was a romantic, too.

“Because I’ve convinced myself he’s here for all of us,” Jisung says before admitting, “and if I entertain otherwise, I’ll start thinking about how I feel about him.”

“How’s that?” Hyunjin asks.

Jisung could think of a hundred different ways to describe how he felt about Felix. And he couldn’t say any of those words to Hyunjin.

“Throw your cutter,” he orders, desperate to exit the conversation.

“Out of curiosity,” Hyunjin begins, “do you have plans after the game tonight?”

Jisung hesitates. He and Felix were going to go to the diner and discuss phase two of his plan now that the Athletics were winning more games. Of course, Jisung didn’t care about discussing the plan as much as he cared about splitting a plate of pancakes with Felix and teasing him for how much sugar he puts in his coffee.

“Throw your cutter,” Jisung demands again, more firm this time. Hyunjin just smiles in satisfaction.

“Han! Jisung!” Felix calls, waving his hand in Jisung’s face to get his attention. They were sitting at their usual booth in the diner, and the waitress had arrived to take their order, but Jisung had been thoroughly zoned out ever since they sat down.

“Huh?” Jisung grumbles. Felix furrows his eyebrows, turning his attention away from Jisung.

“He’ll have orange juice, please,” Felix requests from the waitress. She nods and leaves to go collect their drinks. Jisung just sighs. “What’s wrong?”

“I just have a lot on my mind,” Jisung replies.

“You played fine, Jisung,” Felix offers in support. Jisung shakes his head. He hadn’t been worried about that, though he did have a rough game, partially due to how out of it he was.

“Why do you come to practice? And every single game?” Jisung asks suddenly. Felix cocks his head to the side like the question puzzles him.

“Because I like to watch you play,” he replies. “Why?”

“Me or the team?” he continues, ignoring Felix’s question.

“Both,” Felix answers. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” Jisung insists. “I was just wondering. You don’t have to do that, you know.”

“If I didn’t I wouldn’t see you and the rest of my As as often,” Felix sings. “You know you’re my favorite baseball player since Coco Crisp.”

“Since Coco Crisp? The 2011 AL stolen base leader? That’s a high honor,” Jisung laughs. Felix shrugs.

“It’s deserved,” Felix says. “You could surpass him, maybe.”

“I could surpass the Coco Crisp?” Jisung asks, feigning surprise. Felix nods.

“Gonna have to make it to the playoffs to do that, though,” Felix decides. “Coco went three times.”

“I don’t have to win? Just go?” Jisung points out. Felix nods.

“Coco didn’t win either,” Felix admits. He pauses for a few seconds before adding, “hopefully we can get there this year.”

“This year?” Jisung exclaims. “You can’t seriously expect us to make the playoffs this season, Lix.”

“I don’t expect it,” Felix corrects, “but I really want it. Any tangible success would be the cherry on top to keep the team in Oakland.”

“We need to go to the postseason to keep the team here?” Jisung infers. Felix shrugs, but he nods as he does.

“I think the money generated by a postseason run would put us over the edge,” Felix explains, “especially if attendance keeps going up.”

“So, I have to get this team to the postseason,” Jisung decides.

“You don’t have to. Do your best, and we’ll figure the rest out,” Felix promises. Jisung shakes his head.

“Coco Crisp would do what it takes to keep this team in Oakland,” Jisung declares adamantly. Felix furrows his eyebrows.

“Coco Crisp was traded to Cleveland for cash and then retired unceremoniously,” Felix points out. “I think he coaches a high school team now. He wasn’t exactly the savior of the Athletics organization, Jisung.”

“Well, I’m gonna be,” Jisung announces. “I’m going to do what Coco Crisp couldn’t.”

“What’s that?”

“Win you the whole goddamn thing,” Jisung says.

Felix just looks at him like he’s lost his mind.

Phase two of Felix’s plan is, thankfully, easier than phase one, but Jisung dreads it more than he could ever dread any training regiment.

His first order of business was giving Jeongin the password to the team’s Instagram. Jisung watches in horror as Jeongin replaces graphics showing the team’s stats in the media grid with daily photos showing off his cleats and batting gloves for each game. Eventually, he and Hyunjin start a trend of posting victory selfies following each win. Jisung thinks it’s all ridiculous until Felix shows him how much traffic has increased to their social media accounts. Then, he thinks Felix is a genius.

Next, he convinces the team to coordinate their walkup songs each home game. As each player approaches the plate prior to their at bat, the stadium fills with themed songs of their choosing. They do Britney Spears night, and Minho and Jisung fight endlessly over who gets to walk up to Toxic. They do boy band night, resulting in a civil war in the clubhouse about whether *NSYNC or the Backstreet Boys are better. They do Beyoncé night. They do pop punk night and Disney night and Justin Bieber night. Jisung is impressed by how many themes Felix can think of.

Felix’s quest for content continues, and he has the team doing whatever it takes to get people’s attention online. He convinces Changbin to race Minho while wearing the Stomper the Elephant mascot costume. He has Hyunjin and Jisung record a video of themselves attempting to capture an opossum that had started living in the press box above the field. Seungmin and Chan compete in a hot dog eating contest on Instagram Live, and Felix is horrified when they both throw up. Jisung is thrilled.

One day before a game, Felix has them all sit in a circle in the clubhouse and attempt to record a ‘Pass the Phone’ TikTok.

“I’m passing the phone to someone who pimps homeruns but gets angry when the other team does the same thing,” Changbin announces before handing Felix’s phone to Jisung. Jisung begrudgingly accepts it.

“I’m passing the phone to the person who has the worst walk-out song,” Jisung says, then he gives the phone to Seungmin.

“What’s wrong with Imagine Dragons?“ Seungmin snaps.

They continue like this, making videos and posting pictures, and Jisung and Felix watch as Athletics fans fall back in love with their team for their personalities and their play on the field.

“We love an underdog here,” Felix sings happily shortly after showing Jisung their increasing attendance numbers.

Jisung participates in the second wave the best way he knows how: running his mouth. The A’s certainly had their own fan’s attention; now it was time to get the opposing team’s, too. Their reputation was spunky and scrappy. Jisung wanted to make sure it was clear they weren’t afraid of anyone.

Felix sends him on a podcast run by one of the most popular commentators in baseball, and, once he’s there, Jisung uses the opportunity to generate headlines.

“So, let’s talk about awards,” the host suggests. He spins around in his chair to face Jisung. “There’s been a lot of talk that you’ll win Rookie of the Year. What do you think about that?”

“It’s exciting for sure,” Jisung says, “but if I’m being honest with you, I’m setting my sights a little higher.”

“Higher than Rookie of the Year?” the host asks with a fake gasp.

“I want the MVP award,” Jisung announces, “and I want a World Series trophy.”

“Woah! Most people wait a couple of years before they start dreaming of those!” the host remarks.

“I’m not most people,” Jisung replies, “and I won’t stop until there’s a parade in the streets of Oakland. I promise I will get us to the postseason this year.”

The clip is re-shared by every major sports network by the end of the day.

Jisung continues this behavior every time there’s a camera pointed at him.

“Do you have any thoughts on the upcoming matchup with your former organization?” a short, stalky reporter asks Jisung during a post-game press conference following a win in Anaheim.

“Who?” Jisung replies smugly.

“The Red Sox. I was wondering if you have any mixed emotions since New England was your home for a time,” the reporter elaborates. Jisung shakes his head.

“Oakland is my only home,” he alleges, “but I do think it’ll be fun to make them regret the day they traded me and Seungmin.”

“You think you can make them regret it?”

“Absolutely,” he confirms, “and I intend to.”

Unfortunately for Jisung, the series against the Red Sox doesn’t go as he plans. Despite his attempts to draw attention to the team, they’re easily defeated in the first two games. The pitching staff gives up more runs than they can afford, and the bats don’t string together hits the way they should.

On their third night of playing the Red Sox, things start to come together. By the 8th inning, the Athletics have managed to score twice, and the Red Sox only once. In his last at bat, Jisung gets a nice pitch in the heart of the strike zone and puts a good swing on it, sending it directly into the seats behind right field where the creatures lingered. Jisung feels confident the Athletics will be able to beat the Red Sox at least once.

And then things fall apart again.

The Athletics give up three runs in the 9th inning, and go down in order when it’s their turn to bat.

Jisung is humiliated. He’s forced to do post-game interviews and eat his words about making the Red Sox regret trading him. Every word out of every reporter’s mouth stings and he feels the unquenchable need to lock himself into an empty room somewhere where no one can find him.

When the reporters finally leave, his teammates follow suit, and Jisung is left alone in the clubhouse, sitting in front of his locker and wishing he was better than he was.

“Hey, superhero,” a voice says quietly. Jisung looks up and sees Felix’s bright eyes staring straight into his. Felix sits down next to him with a soft exhale.

“You know, I’ve always hated Boston,” Felix says casually. Jisung rolls his eyes.

“Me, too,” he admits. “Oakland is way better.”

“I agree,” Felix says cheerfully. “You know their park is sixty years older than our stadium?”

Jisung stifles back a laugh.

“That’s because their park is historic,” Jisung corrects. “Our park is collapsing.”

“It’s charming,” Felix insists. Jisung couldn’t argue with that.

“Sometimes,” he replies. He didn’t want Felix thinking he was too fond of this place.

“So, what’s there to do in Oakland on a Friday night?” Felix asks quietly, leaning in as close to Jisung as he can manage in an attempt to make him smile. It works, though Jisung tries to hide it.

“You know you’ve lived here twenty more years than I have?” Jisung whispers back, gently pushing Felix out of his personal space.

“I do,” Felix says. “This is my subtle way of asking you to hang out with me.”

“You think I’m going to be good company right now?” Jisung asks. Felix nods.

“When I’m with you, I’m always in good company,” Felix sings. Jisung scoffs in disbelief, but Felix hops to his feet and offers him a hand. “C’mon. We need to get out of this stadium. I hear the feral cats get vicious at night.”

“That’s not true,” Jisung insists with a laugh, but he takes Felix’s hand into his anyway.

Felix takes Jisung to Rickey’s, his favorite pizza place in the entire city. It’s too late for dine-in, but Felix orders one to go for them to share.

“Where do you expect to eat this? My car?” Jisung asks as he tucks the pizza box under his arm while Felix pays.

“I know a place,” Felix insists.

Felix directs Jisung toward the bay, and, after retrieving a six pack from a gas station, they eventually park near an office building not too far from the water.

“C’mon,” Felix instructs. They get out, and Jisung follows him until they reach the entrance to the building. Felix takes a set of keys out of his pocket and uses it to unlock the door.

“You own this fucking building?” Jisung assumes. Felix shrugs.

“My dad does,” he acknowledges. Jisung sighs. He sometimes forgot that Felix had more money than Jisung had seconds on earth.

Jisung follows Felix to the elevator. They take this to the top floor, then Felix leads Jisung up a rickety set of stairs that head to the roof.

“I used to sneak up here all the time when I was a teenager,” Felix confesses as he sits down near the edge of the roof. Jisung takes his spot next to him and offers Felix his first slice of pizza. “I would come here when I wanted to clear my head.”

“Is that why you brought me here? To clear my head?” Jisung asks. Felix nods.

“And to watch the bay with me,” Felix sings. Jisung smiles softly to himself.

“How many guys have you brought up here?” Jisung asks. Felix furrows his eyebrows.

“Like, how many players on the team?” Felix wonders. Jisung shakes his head.

“No, like, how many times have you brought guys up here?”

Felix softly bites his lip, then confesses, “you’re the only person I’ve ever brought up here.”

“The only one?” Jisung asks in disbelief. Felix nods.

“It’s kinda my special place,” Felix explains, “and I never had anyone I wanted to share it with before you.”

“Not even Coco Crisp?” Jisung teases. Felix shakes his head adamantly.

“Only you.”

Jisung can hear his heart in his ears.

Felix takes another piece of pizza from the box and stares straight forward at San Francisco Bay in the distance. Jisung couldn’t look at the water; all he could focus on was Felix.

“Jisung,” Felix whispers. Jisung raises his eyebrows in expectation. “I’m really glad you’re on the team.”

“Even though I embarrassed us by talking trash about a game we couldn’t win?” Jisung asks. He’d never felt more pathetic than he did after that game.

“Yes,” Felix confirms. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“The same things you’ve been doing,” Jisung assumes. Felix shakes his head.

“If you weren’t here, I wouldn’t be able to do any of this,” Felix insists. “You’re the reason the other guys trust me. You’re the one who made everything a reality.”

“You don’t have to say stuff like this to cheer me up,” Jisung says. “I’ll get over it. The Red Sox have shown they don’t need me before.”

For a second, Felix doesn’t say anything, just eats his pizza in silence and watches the soft waves in the distance.

“Can I tell you something?” he asks. Jisung nods. “Ever since I was a kid, this team is the one thing me and my dad have ever had in common. When I was little, he’s the one I went to the diner with after games. I thought he loved this team as much as I did.”

“What changed?” Jisung wonders.

“At some point, the team stopped being profitable enough for him,” Felix admits. “Turns out I loved the memories, and he loved making money.”

“I’m sorry, Lix,” Jisung mumbles. Felix shrugs.

“I guess that’s the real reason I wanted to do all this, to keep the team in Oakland. I was hoping it would help him remember how much he loved the Athletics,” Felix explains. He tosses his slice of pizza back into the box like his appetite had abandoned him. “I don’t know if it’s working on him, but it reminded me that this team means a lot to a lot of people who aren’t me and my dad, so it’s more important to me than ever that we succeed.”

Jisung reaches over and knits their fingers together, squeezing Felix’s hand tight.

“What I’m trying to say is that this team needs you. I need you,” Felix says finally, “and that trade was the Red Sox’s loss.”

Jisung looks up to meet Felix’s eyes, and he’s never been so certain someone wants to kiss him before. He’s never been so certain someone cared about him before. He’d dated a lot of people and he’d kissed a lot of people, but no one had ever made him feel as wanted as Felix did.

So, Jisung does what he does best.

He complicates things.

He rests his hand on the back of Felix’s neck and slowly pulls him into a kiss. Felix cups his cheek in turn, readily leaning in. For a few seconds, Jisung is happy. He’s happy with Felix close to him and he’s happy to think someone genuinely cares about him.

And then reality dawns on him.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Jisung grumbles, pulling completely away from Felix. “I think I’ve turned into a lightweight.”

“It’s okay,” Felix whispers.

“It’s not,” Jisung maintains. “Can we just forget that I did that?”

“Forget it?” Felix repeats. Jisung nods.

“Yeah, like, just act like it never happened,” Jisung clarifies. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable because I’m drunk and stupid.”

“I’m not–”

“The team comes first, right?” Jisung asks.

Felix pauses, biting his lip like he has more to say. Jisung knew he did. They were both fully aware Jisung wasn’t intoxicated, and he had known exactly what he was doing. But Jisung needed to use his brain instead of his heart, and Felix knew he couldn’t stop him.

“Right,” Felix confirms.

The pair spends the next few hours on the roof, finishing their pizza and talking about baseball and their siblings and the water. Jisung enjoys himself; he just wishes he could kiss Felix goodnight.

The next day, once the field opens to the public, Jisung marches from the clubhouse to the dugout all the way to the back of the stadium.

“Creatures!” Jisung shouts, waving his arms at the fans seated in the outfield. Jisung has come to accept that, if not for a certain freckled distraction, they would be Jisung’s favorite thing about Oakland.

“Hanji!” they all bellow back in near perfect unison. He’s impressed by their timing despite seemingly no rehearsal.

“I need a favor,” he declares.

“Anything for you!” one of them calls back.

“I’m looking for my homerun ball from last night,” Jisung explains. “I think it landed in your section.”

“Oh, Hives, didn’t you catch that one?” a tall, skinny creature asks the man next to him. Jisung didn’t have to ask why they called him Hives. He was bright red, and Jisung just knew as soon as the game got stressful he would live up to the nickname.

“Sure did,” Hives confirms. He leans down and grabs his backpack, unzips the front pocket and reveals a banged up baseball Jisung can only presume is the ball he was after. “Can I ask why you’re interested in the ball? It wasn’t a milestone or anything.”

“Ah—”

Jisung thinks back to Felix. He thinks back to pancakes at the diner and sitting together on the plane and the time they spent on the roof the night prior. Jisung thinks of Felix’s laugh and his smile and how he made Jisung feel understood. That’s why he needed the ball. Because of him.

“Can I be honest with you guys?” Jisung asks. The creatures nod and gesture and incoherently offer their confirmation. “I like to keep balls from games that fall on dates that are important to me on a personal level, and I spent last night with someone really special.”

There’s a series of cooing from the creatures, who are clearly satisfied with the answer.

“Our boy’s a romantic!” one of them shouts.

“A monster on the field and a teddy bear in life!” another adds. Jisung cringes at the idea he’s cuddly in any shape, way or form.

“Give him the ball, Hives!” the creatures all urge.

“It’s the first one I’ve ever caught!” Hives complains. Jisung bit his lip, patting his pockets to see if he had his phone or wallet or anything he could use to provide Hives with compensation for the ball. In his back pocket, he finds his batting gloves.

“I’ll trade you,” he announces, dangling his forest green batting gloves in front of the creatures. “I was wearing these last night.”

“Deal!” Hives proclaims, fully aware that game-used batting gloves were more valuable and rare than a homerun ball. Jisung chucks his gloves up to the creatures, and they pass them over to Hives, who throws the ball down to Jisung. “Enjoy, Lothario!”

Jisung decides to let that comment go as the other creatures punish Hives for the remark. He needed to go see if Seungmin had his own gloves in his locker.

He heads back to the clubhouse and, not seeing Seungmin, helps himself to the gear in his locker. He eventually finds a pair of white batting gloves neatly folded on the top shelf. Just as he pulls them on to test the fit, he hears someone clear his throat behind him.

“By all means, help yourself to my things,” Seungmin snips.

“Sorry,” Jisung mumbles. “I, uh, lost mine.”

“Lost them?”

“I gave them away,” Jisung admits. Seeing Seungmin’s furrowed eyebrow, he decides to change his story. “To a child. A sick child. It was like a Make-A-Wish thing.”

“You gave a sick child your musty batting gloves?” Seungmin summarizes. “They usually like bats and jerseys better, Han.”

“Well, I would’ve considered that if I had actually given them to a child and not a grown man,” Jisung confesses. Seungmin rolls his eyes.

“Why did you give a grown man your batting gloves?”

“He had something of mine,” Jisung claims.

“What? A stupid ball for your little bookshelf?” Seungmin infers. Jisung hisses in response. “I’ll take that as a yes. Jisung, I can’t think of anything you need less than a homerun ball you hit against the Red Sox.”

“It’s not about them,” Jisung snaps.

“What’s it about then?” Seungmin asks, crossing his arms.

“You know exactly who it’s about,” Jisung grumbles. “The reason I’m always home late.”

“Felix?” Seungmin whispers, as quietly as he can.

“Shut up,” Jisung growls.

Seungmin smirks, putting his bag in his locker behind Jisung.

“I knew you’d fall in love with Oakland,” Seungmin declares, “but I didn’t know you’d also fall in love in Oakland.”

“I’m not in love,” Jisung says. Seungmin just nods, but Jisung can tell from the grin on his face he doesn’t believe Jisung. Not for a second.

The weeks continue to go by, and Jisung focuses on the game as best he can. All he could do was try to move past his mistakes and get this team to the postseason. Still, he continues spending time with Felix; he couldn’t deprive himself of this.

“Hero Han,” Felix calls, standing in front of Seungmin’s locker as he watches Jisung fix his hair in the mirror after his post-game shower. “I need a favor.”

“Does it involve opossum hunting?” Jisung asks.

“It involves a magazine cover,” Felix replies. Jisung raises his eyebrows. “They want to write a story about you.”

“Why me?” Jisung wonders.

“You’re fun and stylish,” Felix explains, “and handsome.”

Jisung swallows hard.

“I’ll do it.”

Jisung wishes he wasn’t putty in Felix’s hands.

When the day comes, Jisung picks Felix up before heading to the photoshoot. Felix had wanted to be there, and Jisung didn’t want to go alone. Felix can tell by Jisung’s incessant drumming on his steering wheel that he’s nervous.

“Jisung,” Felix whispers, resting his hand on top of Jisung’s to make the tapping stop. “It’s just some pictures.”

“I know,” Jisung says, “I’m just not the kind of guy who gets his picture taken.”

“There are literally thousands of pictures of you online,” Felix reminds him.

“Of me playing baseball,” Jisung corrects. “It’s different.”

“It’ll be fine. The photographer will tell you what to do,” Felix promises.

They arrive at the studio, and Felix has to practically drag Jisung into the building. Jisung resists the entire way, and it doesn’t get any better when makeup artists and stylists start messing with his hair and face. He mouths ‘fuck my life’ to Felix, but Felix acts like he doesn’t understand.

Things get even worse when the stylist hands him a pair of jeans and his jersey then tells him to change.

“Do you want me to, like, undo a button on this? It looks kinda weird if you wear it all the way up with casual pants,” Jisung notes, observing the clothes he’d been given.

“All of them,” the stylist replies.

“Excuse me?” he practically squeaks.

“You work out every day of your life,” she tells him. “Now’s the time to show it off.”

Jisung wants to refuse, but he looks at Felix and knows he can’t. Instead, he does as he’s told despite his reservations.

Once he’s changed, the stylist takes a glob of some sort of oily substance and smears it all over his stomach. Jisung closes his eyes tight to hide from having to look her in the eye.

“Alright, you’re ready. Give us a couple of minutes and we’ll start,” the stylist advises shortly before taking her leave.

Jisung just sighs, glancing up at Felix for validation.

“You look so good,” Felix says with a grin. Jisung reflexively wipes the concealer off the mole on his cheek now that the makeup artist has walked away.

“These pictures are going to be framed in the clubhouse by Tuesday,” Jisung predicts.

“I hope so!” Felix enthuses. Jisung just sighs. Felix was incapable of thinking something was cringe.

“I’m losing literally any and all respect my teammates had for me by doing this,” Jisung announces. Felix waves him off. “Imagine if they find out a stranger just rubbed oil all over my abs.”

“They didn’t respect you in the first place,” Felix insists. Jisung narrows his eyes as Felix laughs.

“Well, they’re definitely not going to respect me wearing my jersey like a vest,” Jisung gawks, gesturing to his clothing. Felix rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling.

“Probably not,” he admits.

“Ugh,” Jisung groans, starting off toward the set. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Ah, Hanji, wait,” Felix says. Jisung stops, and Felix immediately takes a step close to him and begins carefully putting each strand of his hair where it belongs. “You got your hair all messed up.”

Jisung bites his cheek, rolling his eyes to the left to look at the wall instead of Felix hovering that close to his face. Jisung wants to hook an arm around his waist, to drag him close and feel his body warmth radiating against the exposed skin of his chest. The thought alone is vivid enough to have Jisung stammering in an attempt to form a sentence long after Felix steps back away, but Felix decides to make the situation even worse by gently reaching up to caress his cheek with the back of his hand. Jisung’s brain malfunctions.

“You’re so fucking handsome, Jisung,” Felix says softly. Jisung’s mouth is so dry that, for a few seconds, he can’t form a reply.

“You just think anyone in an Athletics uniform is hot,” he finally mumbles back. Felix shakes his head.

“I think you are hot,” Felix argues, “and the Athletics uniform is just a bonus.”

Jisung hesitates, and, for a second, he’s certain he’s going to grab Felix by his jaw and kiss him until he’s out of breath.

“Jisung! We’re ready for you!”

Jisung doesn’t know if he’s thankful for the photographer stopping him from making the same, colossal mistake he’s already made once or if he resents the fact he couldn’t kiss Felix again.

The photoshoot itself is Jisung’s nightmare. He’d always prided himself on being confident, but it turns out that most of that came from his ability to swing a bat and call a baseball game, not from his appearance. He awkwardly attempts all the poses the photographer asks for and prays to god he doesn’t look too stupid. As the shoot goes on (and he’s allowed to change into outfits that don’t make him feel like he’s in an Abercrombie advertisement from 2006), he starts to feel more comfortable, but he’s still grateful when the photographer calls it a wrap.

“You owe me,” Jisung snaps at Felix as he pulls a dark green Athletics hoodie on to escape the clothes he was forced to wear. Felix laughs, picking up the clothes Jisung was shedding and putting them back on their hangers for the stylist.

“Lunch?” Felix asks. Jisung nods.

“You better take me to the kind of place where you have to order the sides separately,” Jisung orders. Felix just grins.

“I will take you wherever you want, Han Jisung,” Felix promises.

Jisung hates how his heart flutters every time Felix says his name.

The day after the photoshoot pictures hit the internet, Jeongin makes sure they are on full display for the team, just as Jisung had predicted.

“You look ridiculous,” Seungmin announces to Jisung as they view the photos on the bulletin board. “Where’s your shirt?”

“It’s fashionable,” Jisung insists as though he hadn’t been equally scandalized when the stylist had asked him to wear his jersey unbuttoned.

“It’s douchey,” Seungmin corrects.

“I was just doing what Felix asked me to,” Jisung snaps in annoyance. Minho, who was standing at his locker a few feet away, scoffs. “What’s your problem?”

“Nothing,” Minho replies. “I just think it’s funny you’re so in love with a guy who you are completely expendable to.”

“I’m not expendable,” Jisung says, crossing his arms in defiance as he turns toward Minho.

“Not yet,” Minho agrees.

“Not ever,” Jisung maintains.

“Listen, if you’re happy being ownership’s little toy, that’s up to you,” Minho says, “but remember how you got here, Han. And remember how most people leave.”

With this, Minho grabs his bat and leaves the clubhouse, presumably to go practice hitting. Seungmin sighs.

“Don’t listen to him. He’s jaded,” Seungmin offers.

“Yeah,” Jisung whispers back, but a part of him can’t help but wonder. What if he’s right?

As the season starts to reach a close, the Athletics pick up their pace. The wins start to add up, and they do their best to catch the Astros to win the division. Unfortunately, that seems firmly out of reach; no matter how well they played, the Astros maintained pace. This means, if the Athletics want to participate in the playoffs, they have to resort to their backup plan: the Wild Card Game.

The Wild Card Game was one of the most stressful events a baseball player could partake in in their career. Because there were three divisions in the league, there was a necessity for a fourth team, who had lost their division, to participate in the playoffs. Thus, the Wild Card was born. It was a single, win-or-go-home game held between the two best teams in the league who had failed to win their division. Because the Athletics couldn’t beat the Astros, the Wild Card was their only option to make the playoffs.

On the last day of the season, the team watches a game between the Blue Jays and the Orioles on the television in the clubhouse together. If the Jays lost, the Athletics would host the Wild Card Game against them at home at the Coliseum the following day.

“This is making me nauseous,” Hyunjin complains throughout the game. The others mostly ignore him because, for once, they were just as worried as he was.

When the Orioles secure the last out in the ninth, the clubhouse explodes with cheers as the team celebrates.

As the team discusses the game and fantasizes about the following day, Jisung pulls Felix aside.

“What are we doing tonight to celebrate?” he asks.

“Are you kidding? You have the biggest game of your life tomorrow,” Felix reminds him with a laugh.

“So? We don’t have to go out,” Jisung insists. “We can go to my apartment and just hang out.”

“Go to your apartment?” Felix sqwaks.

“Don’t make it weird,” Jisung laughs. “I just want to, like, watch The Sandlot with you or whatever.”

“Fine,” Felix agrees with a smile. “Only because I love Benny the Jet.”

Jisung is thankful that Seungmin already has plans that night because it means he can bring Felix home without having to explain himself as soon as he walks in the door.

“I’m guessing Seungmin is in charge of interior design,” Felix infers from their exceedingly minimalist living room layout and decorations.

“Yes,” Jisung says, “and he doesn’t like clutter.”

Jisung leads Felix back to his room, which, admittedly, also followed Seungmin’s commitment to minimalism. For him, it wasn’t an active choice. He just didn’t know how to decorate his room and had never bothered to buy anything that wasn’t a necessity. Still, Felix doesn’t seem to mind it.

“Can’t wait to tell the whole executive board that I’ve been inside your bedroom,” Felix teases.

“Please don’t,” Jisung laughs. “They’ll all want to come see it.”

Felix just grins, floating around Jisung’s room as he takes in every last detail.

“What are all these?” Felix giggles as he examines all the seemingly average baseballs stacked in square cases on Jisung’s shelf.

“You know,” Jisung says, gesturing toward various baseballs. “First hit, first home run, first walk off.”

“What about this one?” Felix says, pointing to one of the balls Jisung had failed to identify.

“Don’t tell Seungmin,” Jisung orders, “but it’s the first out from the first time I caught him in the majors.”

Felix smiles so wide Jisung can barely look at him.

“The brotherhood is real after all,” Felix teases.

“I– It’s not like that. He’s just– he’s been there with me for all the shit I’ve been through,” Jisung explains, “so knowing we both made it– I don’t know. I got a little sentimental.”

“I can’t believe he’s only kissing you goodnight half the time when you’re this much of a romantic!” Felix exclaims in faux surprise. Jisung rolls his eyes.

“We both know Seungmin is not my type,” Jisung declares. “He’s too…”

“Brainy?” Felix suggests.

“I was going to say annoying,” Jisung claims, “but that works, too.”

Felix decides not to humor Jisung and instead refocuses on his shelf.

“What’s this one?” Felix asks, pointing to another ball on the shelf. Jisung feels the blush creep onto his face.

“I don’t remember,” Jisung lies.

“What are you hiding?” Felix wonders with a laugh.

“Nothing,” Jisung insists. “I just don’t remember.”

“Tell me or I’m telling Seungmin about the other ball,” Felix threatens. Jisung gasps.

“You wouldn’t,” Jisung theorizes.

“Try me,” Felix orders. “I think Seungmin would benefit from knowing he’s secretly your best friend.”

“Fine,” Jisung snaps. “It’s the homerun I hit the night I kissed you.”

Felix just stares at him, and Jisung closes his eyes tight in hopes when he opens them he’ll be anywhere else except in this room.

“You’re lying,” Felix decides. “How would you even get that ball? You didn’t know we were going to kiss beforehand.”

“I’m not lying,” Jisung maintains. “One of the Bleacher Creatures caught it. I traded him a pair of my batting gloves for it.”

“Why would you do that?” Felix asks, gently reaching out to touch the glass case Jisung had placed the ball in. Jisung can see a tiny smile inching across his lips, and he feels sick.

“Because,” Jisung grumbles, and he wants to add all the things he’s never said. He wants to add that he’s never been as happy as he is sitting at the diner together. He wants to add that their night eating pizza together on a roof in Oakland was the best non-date he’s ever been on. He wants to add that his life ever since he was traded has been a cycle of hanging out with Felix and wishing he was hanging out with Felix. Instead, he lets his silence speak for itself.

“Well, I’m glad you did,” Felix declares. He turns to look at Jisung, and Jisung doesn’t think he could find the words if he wanted to. Felix takes this as his cue to keep talking and continues, “because, even if tomorrow doesn’t go how you want it to, you’ve definitely surpassed Coco Crisp in my heart.”

When Jisung hears this, for a split second, he’s happier than he’s ever been. Then, he remembers how every player leaves Oakland, how Coco Crisp left Oakland, how Minho told him he was destined to leave Oakland.

“Felix,” Jisung says, “what would happen if your dad wanted me traded?”

“That’s not gonna happen, Jisung. You make the league minimum salary,” Felix assures him. Jisung narrows his eyes.

“But what about in a few years? When I don’t make the league minimum anymore?”

“That’s why we’re doing all this, to stop that from happening,” Felix reminds him.

“I know,” Jisung says, “but if your dad wanted to trade me—”

“He doesn’t want to trade you—”

“But if he wanted to—”

“Jisung—”

“Would you let your dad trade me? That’s the question,” Jisung snaps.

“I— you know I don’t have control over that,” Felix admits.

“You’d just sit there and let your dad uproot my entire life to save himself the equivalent of what is pocket change to the two of you?” Jisung practically barks.

“It’s not up to me—”

“But you wouldn’t stand up for me. Just like you didn’t stand up for any of the players who came before me,” Jisung concludes. “Because Minho was right. He was always right. About this team. About your family. About you.”

“Jisung, I never want to hurt you,” Felix whispers.

“It doesn’t matter. Because, at the end of the day, this is just a passion project for you,” Jisung says. “If this all fails, you have nothing to lose. Well, this team is my whole fucking career, my whole fucking life. It’s all I have.”

“You can’t blame me for something that hasn’t even happened yet, Jisung,” Felix argues. “This is crazy.”

“Yet,” Jisung repeats back to him. Felix’s face falls in realization of what he said.

“That’s not what I meant—”

“Will you get out of my apartment? I have a game tomorrow,” Jisung requests. “It decides if I get to play in this city with my friends next year or not.”

“Okay,” Felix says quietly.

Just like that, Felix turns and leaves Jisung’s room. Before Jisung can even think of regretting his actions, he’s gone.

He thinks the feeling in his chest is probably a bigger distraction than Felix could ever be on his own.

The next day, Jisung arrives at the field feeling drained. He’d gone to sleep at the right time, eaten the right breakfast. Nothing could stop him from feeling like he’d wasted his entire season. He’d done everything Felix had asked. He’d worked his ass off to improve not only himself, but his team, too. He’d done it all because he believed in Felix and in the Athletics. And last night made him feel like he’d been naive.

“Are you okay?” Seungmin asks. The pair were playing catch while waiting for the game to start. They’d already warmed up, so now it was just a matter of surviving all the pre-game ceremonies.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Jisung counters.

“You have your yearning face on,” Seungmin informs him.

“I’m not yearning,” Jisung snaps.

“You’re definitely yearning,” Seungmin decides, “and I can tell it’s the sad, pathetic kind of yearning, so it better not affect your game.”

“I’m not letting a boy get in the way of me and a championship,” Jisung asserts. “I’d rather die.”

“Even if the boy gets a ring if you win said championship?” Seungmin points out with a click of his tongue. Jisung chucks the baseball at Seungmin, then uses his free hand to flip him off. “Do you want to, like, talk about it?”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jisung says back. Seungmin shakes his head, resulting in both of them breaking into laughter.

“Just– remember that, no matter what happens, you made this season worth playing for all of us,” Seungmin tells Jisung, “and you made this team worth watching for all of them.”

Jisung looks up at the crowd filing in the seats around them. The Coliseum was fuller than it had ever been, packed to the brim with fans donning green and gold. Jisung instantly felt motivated. He supposed Felix was right about one thing; he was powered by fans’ cheers.

“Let’s win this thing, Seungmin,” Jisung declares as he pulls his face mask down onto his face.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Seungmin agrees.

The game turns into a pitcher’s duel as soon as it begins. Seungmin does a great job of keeping the opposing team off the base paths, but the other team keeps up with his pace equally well. Each inning, Seungmin insists on continuing to pitch. After the seventh, Jisung tries to stop him, but Seungmin doesn’t allow it.

“I’m not done yet,” he snaps.

When the game is still scoreless heading into the final inning, Jisung starts to get nervous. They couldn’t afford to enter extra innings with a team that couldn’t hit and a bullpen that couldn’t be trusted.

Jeongin starts the inning off, and Jisung can immediately tell that the pitcher is nervous. His pitches are all over the place, and Jeongin just stands there for four pitches until he’s able to walk to first. This was their opening; Jisung knew it. They needed to score now.

Jisung stands outside the dugout alongside Minho as they wait for their turn to bat. He didn’t know if he’d ever been so scared to find out the outcome of a game.

“Han,” Minho says with a smack of his gum as he pulls his batting gloves onto his hands. Jisung raises an eyebrow at him. “Wanna end this?”

“I didn’t know you cared,” Jisung scoffs back. Minho rolls his eyes.

“Just because I think Felix and his dad are full of shit doesn’t mean I don’t care about this team,” Minho explains. “I’ve spent my entire career here. The reason I don’t like Felix’s family is because I love this team and I’ve been forced to watch his dad rip it apart over and over again.”

“I know what you mean,” Jisung remarks softly. “Felix isn’t like him, though.”

“Maybe not,” Minho says with a shrug, “but all I care about right now is winning this game so we can be a step closer to winning that trophy.”

“Agreed,” Jisung confirms.

“Good,” Minho accepts just as Changbin takes the final strike of his at bat. “I’m going to get Jeongin to third. You get him home.”

Jisung nods in confirmation.

Minho approaches the batter’s box and, on the third pitch of his at-bat, he hits the ball as softly as he can down the third base line. In the time it takes the opposing team’s fielders to get the ball to first to get Minho out, Jeongin safely advances to third, just like Minho had planned.

“All you now, Han,” Minho whispers as he passes Jisung on his way back to the dugout. Jisung feels his entire body go weak.

Jisung steps up to the plate, and he decides he’s going to be patient. He’ll wait for the right pitch. The first one is too inside. The second one is too high. The third is too low. He swings at the fourth, but he doesn’t make contact where he’d like to and it goes flying into the stands for his first strike. The fifth, though, is just what he’s looking for. Jisung times it just right and brings the barrel of his bat in to send the ball straight back between the center and left fielders. Jisung doesn’t stop running until he reaches second base, and he looks up just in time to see Jeongin and Minho high fiving after Jeongin crosses home plate.

With this, the Athletics are officially on the board.

Chan grounds out in his next at bat, and it’s the Athletics’s turn to pitch once again. All they had to do was keep the other team from scoring for half an inning, and they’d move on to the next round.

Seungmin continues pitching in the 9th inning. He swears to both Jisung and his manager he can handle it, but it quickly becomes apparent this isn’t the case. The first batter is an easy out, but, after Seungmin gives up a single and a walk in the two subsequent at bats, the crowd starts grumbling in a low discomfort. Jisung calls for a timeout and approaches the mound to speak to Seungmin.

“Are you doing alright?” Jisung asks as the infielders crowd around Jisung and Seungmin on the mound.

“I’m fine—”

“BRING OUT THE FREAK!”

The chants echo in the Coliseum so loudly Jisung swears the field itself vibrates. Seungmin buries his face in his glove.

“Kim Seungmin,” Jisung whispers. Seungmin glances over his glove at him. “Hyunjin can handle two outs.”

Seungmin pauses for a second like he doesn’t want to go, but they both knew he was losing precision by the second. In a game this close, they couldn’t risk it. When he nods to give Jisung permission, Jisung gestures to their manager to switch pitchers. Seungmin returns to the dugout, and Hyunjin grabs his glove and heads toward the mound.

The Coliseum fills with the first few beats of Let It Rock. Jisung would never admit it, but it brought him comfort to see the entire stadium rally behind Hyunjin. If this many people believed in him, Jisung thought he should, too.

“The looks on your faces are making me nervous,” Hyunjin admits as he approaches the group huddled together on the mound.

“You’ve got this!” Chan encourages, shaking Hyunjin by his shoulders. “It’s two outs.”

“Two outs,” Hyunjin repeats to himself. “I can do this.”

“You can do this,” Jisung promises, looking straight into Hyunjin’s eyes. Hyunjin nods. “Remember, if they can’t make contact with your fastball, they can’t get on base.”

“Roger that, Captain,” Hyunjin confirms. Jisung feels a chill run up his spine at being called captain, but he lets it go.

Jisung returns to his spot behind the plate and catches a few warm-up throws before signaling to the umpire they were ready to continue.

Hyunjin, usually dramatic and emotional, turns into a robot for the next two batters. He uses his fastball to get ahead in the count, then uses his curve and splitter to encourage the batter to swing outside of the zone. It works like a charm.

When the final strike is secured inside Jisung’s glove, he jumps to his feet, running past the batter directly into Hyunjin’s arms. Jisung picks him up and swings him around, and the other players quickly surround them seconds later.

The next few moments are a blur. They empty the cooler all over Hyunjin, and Jisung thinks he hugs every single person on the roster. They scream and dance and jump around, and once Jisung has replaced his jersey with a commemorative t-shirt to celebrate the occasion, he runs back to the outfield to find the Bleacher Creatures, still in place, watching the team celebrate.

“I made a promise, did I not?” Jisung calls out to them.

The response is unintelligible yelling. He expected as much.

“Hey, Hanji!” someone yells. Jisung follows the sound of the voice until he locks eyes with Hives. “How did your boy like the baseball?”

“Uh–”

He remembers the look on Felix’s face the night prior, and he thinks that, for a couple of seconds, they’d both been really happy.

“He liked it. Thanks, Hives,” Jisung says back.

“Glad to hear it!” Hives sings back. “Remember, a member of the Oakland faithful is always a keeper!”

If just being a member of the Oakland faithful made someone marriage material, Jisung thinks that makes Felix, who had spent the entire summer coming up with ridiculous ways to boost attendance because of his loyalty to Oakland, was a trophy husband.

The longer Jisung stands in the outfield, taking in the ruckus the creatures caused, the more he misses Felix, who taught him to appreciate the creatures in all their unruly glory in the first place. He begins to regret snapping at him, to regret blaming him for hypotheticals and his dad’s actions. And then, Jisung has to see him.

Jisung bids the creatures a farewell, then he exits the field and makes his way up to Felix’s suite, the same way he did the night he decided he wanted to help Felix in the first place. He hadn’t see Felix on the field, so this was the only place Jisung knew to look for him.

When he arrives, he pushes the door open and his heart sinks when he realizes there’s no one left in the room. Then, Jisung spots a figure in the corner, watching the field from the window.

“Felix?” Jisung calls as Felix jumps to his feet across the room as though he’d been waiting for this moment. “Where is everybody?”

“They went down to the field to celebrate,” Felix explains.

“And you didn’t?” Jisung asks as he approaches Felix.

“I had faith a certain catcher would come to me,” Felix admits, “and he did.”

“Crazy how that works,” Jisung mumbles. “Are you accepting apologies from that catcher?”

“Only if I get to say that I’m sorry, too,” Felix replies. Jisung sighs softly. “I should’ve told you that I would fight to keep you here because I would. You’re important to this team, and you’re important to me. I promise that I want to keep you here as much as I do the entire franchise.”

“It’s okay,” Jisung assures him. “I’m sorry for pretty much everything I said yesterday. I let Minho get in my head, and I shouldn’t have. It’s just– Some of the rumors about me are true after all.”

“So you are Johnny Bravo?” Felix asks. Jisung shakes his head.

“The ones that say I’m immature and selfish,” Jisung corrects. “The truth is that I want you, and I have wanted you the entire summer. I just didn’t think I could possibly be worth someone like you, and I wanted to break my own heart before you could, so, when Minho told me I’m expendable to you, I guess I took the opportunity.”

“I would never break your heart,” Felix promises, “and I don’t believe you’re selfish either.”

“Debatable,” Jisung says with a wince.

“I’ve seen how much you love this team,” Felix says, “and I’ve seen what you’ve done for Changbin and Chan and everyone else. And I can look out the fucking window and see what you’ve done for the fans here.”

“Felix,” Jisung whispers, “I love Oakland. I do. But I did this for you. I did it because you made me feel the love you have for this team and this city. And I wanted to make you happy. Like Coco Crisp.”

Felix bursts out laughing, carefully lowering his hand to knot his fingers between Jisung’s.

“But Oakland’s special,” Felix reminds him with a tiny smile.

“So are you,” Jisung replies. “Maybe more so. But don’t tell the Bleacher Creatures I said that.”

Felix finally leans in and presses his lips against Jisung’s, and he’s soft and gentle and full of affection just like before. Jisung melts into him, finding comfort in the familiarity and excitement in the feeling all at once.

“Oh no,” Jisung mumbles when he finally lets go.

“What?” Felix asks just as quietly. He remained close to Jisung, fingers still firmly wrapped around his.

“I just remembered I still have to win you and Oakland a World Series,” Jisung says. Felix just laughs, pulling Jisung into another kiss.